One

Dragon…

1992

I counted through the bills as I strode into the bank on old Main St. I didn’t have much in the way of a need for banks, but I wasn’t keen on handing the dealership so much cash. It was a good way to get on law enforcement’s radar. Especially for the likes of me. Nope, they wanted me to buy it, a cashier’s check would have to do. I didn’t pay no mind to the openly-curious stares or the looks of outright disgust. I just stood in line and counted my money and waited for the dude in front of me to get the fuck out the way.

“Next!” the woman called, and I walked up to the counter. I looked up into the prettiest goddamned face I’d ever seen. Pale, perfect skin, smooth the likes of a porcelain doll. And wide, big brown eyes. Her hair was neat and perfect, framing her face and brushing the tops of a pair of perfect fucking tits that were, unfortunately, covered in an ugly-ass blouse that belonged on some librarian twice this angel’s age. It was a-cryin' fuckin’ shame too.

“Can I help you, or are you just going to stand there drooling all day?” she demanded quietly, and those eyes of hers sparked fire.

Well, I’ll be fuckin’ damned.

I glanced at the little plaque declaring her name by her window, “Seriously? A pretty girl like you, and they name you Matilda?” I asked. She looked nonplussed and I grinned.

“Can I help you?” she repeated pointedly.

“Need a cashier’s check.”

“And for how much?”

“Ten-thousand, five hundred ought to do it,” I said and she blinked once, slowly.

“Seriously?” she asked looking me up and down and I admit, I didn’t look like much. Grease stained jeans, beat-to-shit riding boots, equally-stained grey tee with a red, white, and black flannel tied around my waist. My jacket was showing some wear, but my cut? It was relatively new. I’d just started my club a few months back with six buddies of mine.

One of ‘em had a connection with a guy who was in it with a cartel, and we were making it huge running coke up the east coast. The shit came out of Bogota and across the border. My guy’s guy picked it up there and met up with us, and we ran it up north to NYC from there. We were raking in the cash hand over fist and the bike I was currently on, God love her, was about done for. I couldn’t afford to break down on a run, so I needed something new. The trick was skating under the radar when it came to making a big purchase like this. I still held down a part-time job as a mechanic and had been living on one of my guy’s couches for the better part of the last six or seven months to make this look good. First, a bike, then me and my boys had our sights set on picking ourselves up a clubhouse, solidifying our power base, and making it damned clear The Sacred Hearts ruled this area.

“You got a problem, Sweetheart?” I asked, and she looked me over one more time.

“Do you have an account with us, sir?” she asked and shifted uncomfortably the more those lovely brown eyes roved over me. Couldn’t blame her. I worked my ass off to be this cut and I knew my faded tee hugged my chest to show it off. I was just vain enough. And the way she was looking at me right then, a faint little blush across her pale skin, my dick was getting hard just thinking about it.

“No, that a problem?”

“Not if you don’t mind the fee associated with a non-member transaction.” She leaned closer, which gave me a view and a half down her ugly-ass blouse. “It’s free to open a new account and it’d save you a few bucks.”

“You want to see me again?” I asked, grinning, and she smiled a secret little smile.

“Not particularly.” Damn. “But any chance I have to cost my dad a few bucks, I’ll take it.” She leaned back and raised her eyebrows, smiling conspiratorially with me. Fucking little minx!

“Alright, how do I open a new account then?”

“I’ll get Brad, the branch manager for you…”

“Dragon,” I told her.

“Oh, come on, that can’t be your real name,” she scoffed.

“It’s not, but it’s the only one that counts in my world, Sweetheart.”

Two

“Oooh, here comes trouble, and it looks like it’s got its sights locked on you, D!”

I looked up from the bottle of beer in my hand and glowered at my buddy, Unkind. “The fuck you talking about?” I demanded. He pointed with his own bottle of Bud before swilling some down. I turned and raised an eyebrow. Fuck. Me.

It was the girl from the bank a few days back, the one with the old woman’s name. Mildred… no, Matilda! That’s right. She stopped next to me and trailed fingertips over the seat to my new ride.

“So this is what you were after, then?” she asked, lightly.

“Yeah, you like it?” I asked, and the two brothers I was with started laughing at me.

We were at a house party, the yard strung up with lights between the trees, some of that modern hip-hop rap shit blaring out of the house. I was a classic rock man myself, and whatever this black bastard was hopped up on, he was fucking annoying as shit. Kept going on about baby got back. Of course, I couldn’t complain too much, I did enjoy some of the shit I grew up listening to sometimes, which included Mariachi. I was proud of my wet-back beaner heritage.

“It’s nice,” she said, and she was standing real close-like, looking up at me. I sort of remembered her being taller at the bank.

She was a pint-sized thing in a white peasant blouse and cut-offs that didn’t leave a fuck of a lot to the imagination. She had shapely legs despite being such a short shit, and I wouldn’t mind too terribly much gettin’ between ‘em. Shit, the girl had it going on.

“Matilda, right?” I asked, taking a drink of my beer, playing it cool in front of my Bros who were each watching me, grossly fascinated. She made a face like she’d tasted something bad and looked down at the bike.

“I hate that name. My mom and dad are German, they thought it was great. My friends call me Tilly.”

She looked up at me again and damn, those big brown eyes slayed me. I was getting hard in my jeans and it was getting a mite uncomfortable. Didn’t help that the little minx wasn’t wearing a bra under the thin rag she had on, her nipples pert and pressing against the thin fabric. Fuck me swingin’! I loved me a nice pair of titties and Tilly had a gorgeous pair.

“That what we are, Sweetheart? Friends?” I said with a reckless grin.

“Depends, Dragon,” she said slowly with a smartass little smile, she opened her mouth to say more but was cut off by a shrill voice from across the yard.

“Matilda! Oh my god, Matilda! What are you doing!?”

Tilly looked up at me with the fire of mischief in her dark eyes and said, “Oh, we are definitely friends, if you get me away from her,” she said.

I handed my beer across my bike to Unkind, “Say no more, Sweetheart. Climb on.” I got on my bike and she got up after me, her lithe form snug against my back. The woman who had been striding across the yard in our direction shrieked in protest, which I cut off real damned quick by starting up the bike. She was coming across the yard at a full tilt as I pulled us out and onto the road. The high, wild laughter that poured out of Tilly over my shoulder was a fucking turn-on for sure. I was so getting into that pussy if I could help it. God damn!

Three

I drove us out of town and up to the overlook. It was a clear, warm summer night and I figured being up a little higher and out by the river, it might be a little cooler. It damned sure would be a little more private. I pulled into the gravel lot and kicked the stand down on the bike, leaning her onto it.

I got up, stretching a bit, and took a bit to admire the stars. It was beautiful up here, but I was more interested in the beauty on the back of my bike. I turned to catch her sitting cross-legged, her wedge sandals dangling near but carefully away from the hot pipes while the engine and exhaust ticked and cooled.

“So, who was that?” I asked. She made a face and then laughed again. I could easily get addicted to that sound.

“My sister, Margaret. She’s a little over a year older than me and thinks it automatically makes her the boss.”

“You always get on the back of a bike with strange men?”

“Nope. The first time, actually. I kind of live for adventure like that.” She winked at me. Actually winked at me.

“Not afraid I’m going to rape you?” I asked. For some reason, I wanted her safe, and if I had to scare her a little to get her to think twice about pulling this shit with someone else, someone who wasn’t me, I could live with that.

“Can’t rape the willing,” she stated flatly, and gave me a curious look. “You honestly didn’t think I would get on the back of the bike with a dude I thought was ugly, did you?”

I laughed outright. Jesus Christ, she was direct! I liked that about a woman. Thought it was sexy as hell when they knew what they wanted and weren’t afraid to take it or ask for it.

“You want me to fuck you?” I asked incredulously.

“Well, I was sort of hoping you would talk with me first, then maybe you would kiss me a little before we got to that part.” She met my eyes and her own sparkled with laughter. I stepped up to her and she jumped down off my bike and met me halfway.

“You’re really serious, aren’t you?” I asked her. She raised herself on her tiptoes, her hands against the leathers on my chest.

“Yep. You game?” she asked, her breath warm and gentle against my lips.

Fucking hell yes, I was game! I pulled her tight up against me and holy fuck, it was like she was meant to be there. I crushed her mouth with mine, forcing my way past her lips, and she was sweeter than pure sugar on my tongue. The scent of woman and roses surrounded me and I was drunk on it. Drunk on her. I hauled her up my body and her legs wound around my hips. I marched us to the picnic table nearby and set her on her feet, never giving up on kissing her the whole way.

She cried out in protest, which I swallowed whole when I set her down but there was no fucking way… I shrugged out of my jacket and cut and laid them out on the rough wood surface behind her. She was struggling with my belt and made a happy noise when she got it to release. Holy Christ on high, this was really happening!

As soon as her hand wrapped around me, I groaned. Shit, there was still way too many clothes between me and her. I went for the button and zip on her shorts. As soon as they were free, she gave this sexy little shimmy of her hips and they slid right down her silky legs.

I’d broken the kiss to watch and heard myself moan, “Oh God, yeah,” at the sight of her little striptease. I put my hands on her hips, fixated on that barely-there landing strip, inviting my eyes to the apex of her thighs and I lifted her up and she gave a happy squeal along with a little giggle. I planted her ass firmly on the satin lining of my jacket and pulled her forcefully to the very edge of the table so I could get at her.

“Spread those legs for me, Sugar,” I murmured, and she gave me a salacious little grin.

“No glove, no love,” she taunted, and held a condom out to me. I blinked. Where the hell had that come from!? I didn’t care. I tore it open with my teeth, let my pants fall around my thighs, and rolled it on. She wiggled closer to the edge of the table with another sexy little shimmy and I grinned.

“Last chance to say no, Baby,” I told her and she smiled up at me with an intense carnal glee.

“You chickening out on me?” she asked, her voice sexy and low.

“Fuck no.” I slicked my head against her lips and pushed my way inside. She moaned, deep and throaty, and threw her head back as I pulled myself into her. I closed my eyes and breathed deep, drowning in the smell of roses and sex.

“Goddammit, you’re tight,” I said between gritted teeth.

“Oh, you feel so good!” she cried, and edged her hips to meet my thrusts.

She was so warm, wet, and alive! This beautiful, writhing creature in my arms… and I didn’t know a thing about her. Shit, though, from the moment her lips touched mine, the second my cock slipped inside her, she was mine. This weren’t no one-and-done. Mmmm, I liked this bitch and I was determined. I was gonna find out everything there was to her.

“You are so fucking beautiful,” I breathed and I tried to hold off for as long as possible before I came… but nothing, nothing ever came close to that first time; to my Tilly.

“Oh, god,” she groaned, “yes,” as I spilled myself into the condom inside her.

I drew back and gave Tiffany a sad little smile.

“Mm, you are entirely too fucking good at that,” she said. “No wonder half the bitches up in here want to do you or say not to say no.” She gave me a smile that was miles sadder than I’d given her.

I pulled out and tucked myself back into my pants, condom and all, and wouldn’t look at her. I wanted to hold on to the vision of my wife, of that first time, for just a little bit longer before the guilt and the fractured heartache crept in. The close quarters of Sugars’ back room pulled me completely from the memory of that long-ago night, that first time, way sooner than I was ever ready to let it go. It was the way of things now. My punishment. My cross to bear. My fault, for letting it happen and for getting her killed.

“And who you calling beautiful? Sure as hell didn’t sound like you meant me,” Tiff said lightly, voice edged with forced sarcasm. I traced a gentle finger down the scar along the side of her face, the reason she would say that to me. Tiff wore a Venetian mask when she danced or she hid behind her long brown hair that was so like Tilly’s. Almost nobody got close enough to see the scar, let alone touch her. I felt privileged the girl would let me pay her to fuck her. She was that kind of stunning. And to the right kind of man, the scar only added to that beauty; it didn’t detract.

“You are beautiful,” I said and I meant it. “You’re just not her.”

Tiff was young and had a story, it just wasn’t none of my business. We kept it to sucking and fucking every once in a while when she was short on rent. I tried to treat her right, I definitely overpaid her, but there was only so much my broken heart had to give and money wasn’t going to buy her happiness. Just her body from time to time.

“Hey, don’t.” She touched the side of my face and regarded me with sad blue eyes. “You do that and this won’t work for either of us anymore and I need the money,” she said softly. She moved her barely-there scrap of panties back over her puss and slid off the backroom’s counter.

“You’re good to me, Dragon. I can’t do this if you feel guilty for it. I can’t…”

“Sorry, Darlin’,” I stopped her soothingly with a crooked grin, pulling her short satin robe up onto her lithe shoulders.

“Don’t be,” she said with a brave little smile and pulled the two sides of her robe together, retying the belt. “Can you do me one favor, though?” she asked quietly.

“Sure,” I said, finishing doing up my pants and belt.

“Who was she?” she asked. She was back to hiding the scarred side of her face behind her hair. I brushed it aside and drew her close, laying a line of soft, butterfly kisses along the length of the seam in the side of her beautiful face.

“She was bold, unafraid, an adventurous woman. She was my wife.” I told her, leaving off the ‘And I killed her.’ I handed Tiff a wad of bills, I never paid any of the other girls I did this with. I didn’t have to. Most of them were just happy to have the President’s cock in ‘em. Tiff was special. Tiff was young and didn’t need to let me fuck her, but she needed the money. When one of the more seasoned girls had come to me and told me about her, that some of the guys were getting a little rough with her, I had her sent my way.

“Thank you,” she said somberly. I hooked a hand around the back of her neck and pulled her forehead to my lips.

“You need to find a different line of work, Baby,” I murmured against her hair and she nodded.

I let her go, and went out the back exit into the summer night, intending to head back to the club. I found myself at the overlook instead. Palms flat against the scarred wood of that fucking table. If I closed my eyes and breathed in real slow and deep, I could almost smell it… that hint of roses and sex.