Music blasted loudly in my living room as I sat in the middle of the floor, papers spread out so far around me that I wasn’t quite sure how I would even escape the mess when I finally needed to get up and move. My pencil scribbled across the pad I held propped against my knee, sharp lines forming skirts and tops, beautiful designs that I couldn’t wait to find fabric for so they could come to life.

This was my escape, it had been that way for a long time. It was a way to focus, to keep my mind off those things that haunted me, the whispers in my ear that drove me to the edge. It kept me busy when all I wanted to do was lose my mind and sink back into that hole that I’d climbed out of, and reminded me that I had a purpose, that I could do some kind of good, and give people something they might not have had before.

I’d grown up in a rich family, one where you never wore anything that didn’t come with a label or a well-known designer’s name on it. Money was no expense, you had to look and act like you’d just stepped off the runway at all times, even if you were just going up the road to buy milk. I’d grown up thinking that was normal, that people who dressed to look anything less than perfect were beneath me.

But as I grew up, I realized that it was all false, that the world I lived in was so fake.

A part of me had always felt like I was different to the girls I went to school with. Freedom and excitement seemed just out of reach when you had parents who made you feel like you couldn’t even sneeze without worrying whether people would look sideways at you.

I attended a private girls school, where the focus was less on education and more on grooming us to be perfect wives and members of society. We learned how to cross our legs, how to cook, how to greet guests and host parties for hundreds of people.

I guess it wasn’t all a waste though.

It was the lessons on style and beauty where I found my love for designing and creating. My mother thought she’d hit the jackpot the day I came home and told her that I desperately needed to go to the mall and go shopping. I still remember the look on her face as her eyes lit up with joy and she practically jumped out of her chair, grabbing her purse on the way to the car. She craved normality, she wanted a picture perfect family that could rival that of royalty, and I was dragging them down.

Up until that point, I’d already become so frustrated with playing to their rules that I’d begun to rebel and refuse to take part in my father’s company balls or dinners and started hanging out with a group of older kids in town who attended the public school. They weren’t horrible kids, most of them had ambitions and dreams for their future. They wanted to go to college, earn degrees, and work hard for their success. But they also knew how to have fun, how to make the most of their young lives, and live them to the point of no regrets.

Yet, I was still spending most of my school day learning how to put a fucking piece of steak in my mouth and chew ‘like I had a secret.’ Just thinking about it made me so angry.

My older sister Eva though, she was the perfect daughter, the role model student. And by the time she graduated from high school, she already had a ring on her finger and was making plans to be married. Her husband was the son of one of my father’s business partners. A rich asshole who, as my sister told me while she was drunk at her bachelorette party, had a tiny cock.

Yet, she never even thought twice about marrying him.

Desperate to be the trophy wife in the image of which she’d been created.

I hadn’t spoken to her in over eight years.

Much like my parents, she’d disowned me when I hit that stage in my life where people began to notice that I was… different. My parents thought it was just a phase, trying to play it off as some kind of defiance disorder that they could cure with a few pills and some strict rules. But that just pushed me further into the darkness. It isolated me, making me feel like a freak or a weirdo.

Shame followed me around, and the way people were looking at me sideways like I had some kind of disease, it made me sick.

I guess that was still one of my biggest fears. Knowing if people found out the truth about the darkness I harbored inside me, that they would see me as less capable, that they would strip me of the dignity that I’d fought so hard over the past six years to gain back in my life.

I wasn’t that person anymore.

I caught glimpses of her occasionally. After the voice message and my breakdown, I’d tried my best to throw things in the opposite direction. I was trying to keep things under control, but I couldn’t push back that feeling in my gut that said something was coming.

Wrench was my saving grace.

His touch, his presence, it all soothed the demons that were trying to break free. Wrench wasn’t like a lot of other guys, not even like other club members. He didn’t demand my attention constantly, he didn’t always need to touch me or kiss me like we were horny teenagers. He let me have my space when I needed it, he let me do what I needed to do, but he encouraged me to pursue my passions. He was content with spending time with us, not just me but Harlyn too. He made sure she was a priority in his life, even if it meant hanging out with her when I wasn’t around. I felt as though I could breathe again.

The only problem? He wanted to come clean with Optimus and the club, to let them know what we were feeling for each other was real. It was more real than anything I’d ever felt before. But I was scared, and I knew he was growing frustrated.

What if he lost his patch?

What if because of me, everything he cared about was torn away from him?

He kept telling me that Optimus would understand. That he would see it. If not straight away, then eventually, but I couldn’t help thinking of the risks.

What if he blamed me?

What if he was given an ultimatum and decided to walk away?

I’d pushed my secret stash away, feeling more comfort from Wrench than they had ever given me. He could protect me, the warmth he created inside my body was one I’d never felt from anything other than… well... pills. I was on a high, one that felt like I could never come down from, one that I never wanted to lose.

“Holy shit, you’ve been robbed.”

My body jumped as his voice boomed inside the small space, but it soon settled when I looked over and saw him leaning against the wall with a smirk on his face. I picked up the stereo remote and shut off the music before pushing my aching body to its feet.

How long had I been sitting there?

“It’s not that bad,” I replied, poking my tongue out at him like a spoiled toddler.

He laughed. “You say as you stand on your little island surround by a sea of papers. You couldn’t have stacked them in a nice neat pile?”

I rolled my eyes and held my arms out wide. “I need to be able to see them all, so I know which designs I’ve already drawn, and then sometimes I can match some with others to make outfits or entire collections,” I rambled, explaining the method to my madness. “There’s a process I have to go through, you know.”

He held his palms up and leaned back. “Okay fashion Nazi, should I just go and leave you to it then.”

“No…” I grinned. I was happy to see him and feel his energy. The last few days had been hard, but I’d thrown myself into work, and that had held my focus for long enough. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

I tiptoed over all my pictures, there must have been at least a hundred, give or take a few. I smiled in victory as I made it to the other side without disturbing too much of my mess.

He shrugged, but a smile filled his face. “Dunno. Saw Harlyn at the clubhouse. Op said she was staying there the night.”

My body buzzed, his words a subtle hint, but they sent shivers through me. I chewed on my lip as I took a step closer to him. “Yeah, needed the extra time to get this all sorted for my meeting tomorrow with the landlord of the building downtown.”

I swept my arm around the room. It wasn’t just the papers that had taken over, but also four clothing racks that held clothes I’d already designed or purchased from other women who had ambitions like mine and needed their work showcased to buyers. That and there was a station set up in the corner with my sewing machine and piles of material and threads.

“Looks like a sweatshop in here,” he chuckled, folding his arms across his chest.

“You know, that’s not a bad idea. How are you with a needle and thread? I could put you to work,” I joked, wiggling my eyebrows.

He pushed off the wall with his shoulder, stalking toward me with two large steps, not even pausing before bending and hooking his hands under my legs and lifting me up. I squealed in fright, wrapping my arms around his neck while my legs rounded his waist and held on tight as he turned and headed down the short hallway.

“Feel free to put me to work, but I had a different job in mind,” he whispered as he ducked inside my bedroom and kicked the door closed behind him. He dropped onto the edge of my bed, my body still clinging to his. Our faces were only a breath apart, our noses almost brushing against each other.

I skimmed my hand up the back of his neck, tugging on his cap and pulling it off his head, tossing it to the floor. “What did you have in mind exactly?” I asked as I brushed my fingers through his flat hair, fluffing it up.

His hands moved to my hips, holding me snug against him as his lips descended on mine. “This,” he murmured before our mouths met. It started out soft but I was needy, desperate to feel him around me, inside me, any fucking place I could have him. So far, sex had been off the cards, both of us content with touching, playing, creating maps of the other person’s body and committing them to memory.

Wrench was determined to hold off, telling me that when that came that it would be a time where we could lose ourselves within each other, and not have to worry about what time Harlyn would be home from school or whether someone would come looking for him.

I flattened my body against him, getting lost in his kisses and the way his hands trailed over my back and thighs—one moving one direction, one moving the other.

“Damn,” he growled, pulling back and inhaling a deep breath. His eyes drifted down, taking in my dress. I’d made it myself. It was cute and summery, a bright yellow flower pattern with buttons that ran the entire length from my breasts to the hem.

“This one of yours?” he asked, and I brightened.

“Yeah. Do you like it?”

“Is it easy to fix?”

I raised my brow and looked down. “What do you mean? It’s not—”

Both his hands reached for the hem, and I gasped as he tugged with what seemed to be little effort. The buttons began popping off, flying across the room as he pulled it wider and wider, until the last button that held it together just above my breasts pinged off to the side, hitting my vanity mirror.

I was exposed, my mouth hanging open as I stared down at what was left of one of my favorite summer dresses. “You just… I can’t…”

“I did, and you better believe it,” he said with a smug smile on his face.

Without giving me a second to reply, he stood up with me still hanging on him and turned, dumping me on my bed on top of the soft covers. I laid there, gaping up at him as he tossed his club cut onto the chair in the corner of my room and pulled his shirt over his head.

“Better close that pretty little mouth, gum drop, before I put something in it,” he told me as he grabbed my ankles and pulled me toward the edge of the bed.

My torn dress fell around my body and he hooked his fingers in my panties, gently pulling them down my legs. With a flick of his wrist, he sent them flying across the room, his eyes continuing to hold mine, his cocky grin sending a thrill through my body.

With a hand on the back of each of my thighs, he pushed my legs apart. All I could do was watch as he leaned forward and swiped his tongue through my center.

“Fuck,” we both groaned together, his eyes hazing over in a fog of lust.

He dipped forward again, this time, taking my clit into his mouth, sucking and swirling his tongue around the swollen bud like it was his favorite lollipop.

I pushed myself up on my elbows, watching him as he used his mouth to torment me, my breathing becoming more erratic by the second as he lapped at the wetness he was creating. His touch which usually calmed and pacified me was now electrifying my body.

I threw my head back and twisted the comforter in my hands as I struggled to breathe. My hips had a mind of their own as they lifted toward his mouth with each touch, begging for more, screaming out for some kind of release. He wouldn’t allow it, though, pulling back just as the heat of my orgasm began to build inside me.

I lifted my head and glared at him. “Really?” I rasped, unable to find my normal voice, my throat dry.

He released the buckle on his jeans and then flicked the button open. Before they fell to the floor, he hooked his hand in his pocket and pulled out his wallet that was connected to a chain. This was something I noticed a lot of the boys did, I assumed it was in case it fell out while they were riding. Between two fingers he pulled out a condom before letting everything else fall with a heavy thud to the floor.

His cock sprang free, no boxers or briefs, just his hard length pointing directly at me.

I pulled my bottom lip in between my teeth as I watched him roll the condom on. It was strangely fucking erotic so see him touch himself, and as I sat up my hand drifted down between my legs. He reached out, grabbing it before I could touch myself and my bottom lip dropped like I was sulking.

“Don’t even think about it,” he growled, using his grip to pull me to my feet. My legs shook, but he held me up. His lips glistened in the light, and for a moment I wondered if he kissed me, whether I would taste myself.

“Turn and get on your knees,” he ordered his face stern.

I shuddered. I couldn’t argue. The attraction to a man who knew what he wanted made me burn with excitement. I did as I was told, turned and climbed onto the bed, kneeling at the edge. He pressed up behind me, but as I bent forward to brace myself on my hands, he placed his palm on my chest holding me up. With his free hand, he pressed his cock between my legs until the head settled against my pussy.

“Waited a long time,” he groaned, his lips brushing against my ear.

“Then hurry the hell up,” I threw back, arching my back and spreading my thighs, urging him to do something.

Fucking anything.

In one swift movement, he pushed his hips forward, his cock thrusting straight up inside me.

“God!” I cried out, grabbing hold of his wrist where he held me against his body, while the other went back and hooked around his neck. My head lulled back against his shoulder as he continued to penetrate me, one torturous trust after another.

His lips found my neck, starting underneath my jaw, they trailed down pressing feather light kisses to my heated skin, over my shoulder and back again.

“So good,” I moaned, chewing on my lips and allowing my eyes to fall closed.

His rough hands tugged at my bra, pulling down the cups and releasing my breasts. He took one in his hand, squeezing it tightly and pinching the nipple between his fingers. I met his rhythm, pushing my hips back against him as he threw his forward, forcing himself deeper and harder inside me.

“So fucking beautiful,” he whispered breathlessly. His fingers threaded through my hair, and he forced my head to the side. “Open your eyes.”

I pried them open, only to find an image of myself. Inhaling sharply, I watched us together in the mirror atop my vanity. His hands on my body, the arch of my back and the way we moved together was mesmerizing. His muscles contracted every time he plowed forward, his abs, his biceps, even his ass muscles were something made to be admired.

They were fucking perfect, beautiful even.

He moved faster, his eyes meeting mine in the mirror as his hand dipped over my slightly rounded stomach and he began to rub his middle finger around my clit. My breathing got heavy and my mind cloudy. I didn’t know which I wanted more. My hips were struggling to figure out which they wanted to have more pressure on, my small bud or if they wanted him to be deeper inside me.

“Fuck,” I cursed. “Wrench, damn you!”

He chuckled in my ear as each thrust became faster and more powerful. I grabbed a fist full of his hair in my hand and held on tight, riding him harder.

“You’re gonna come all over me, and it’s gonna feel fucking amazing,” he hissed. “You ready?”

We both watched the mirror, our eyes connected as he flicked his finger back and forth over my clit, faster and faster.

It hit me like a ton of bricks, and I cried out as my body shook. I squirmed in his arms as he refused to let up his assault on my body, the overwhelming pleasure making me feel like I was falling off the tallest cliff only to hit the bottom with a jolt and explosion of colors.

“Shit!” he cursed, his trusts slowing and his teeth grinding in my ear. “Motherfucking Jesus.”

Sweat formed at my hairline, my skin feeling like it was on fire. I fought for air, my starved lungs screaming and my heart racing so fast it was like a constant hum. With one last thrust, he forced himself inside me, my pussy clenching around him like the aftershock of an earthquake.

“Your pussy is trying to hold my cock captive,” Wrench groaned in my ear as he wrapped his arms around my waist and held me against him. I was thankful, unsure at that stage whether if he let go I would collapse.

“Good,” I said breathlessly. “Because what you just did with him should be fucking illegal.”

He chuckled. “You are fucking illegal. I feel like an addict, I’m not sure I’ll ever have enough.”

I tried not to cringe at his use of those words, reminding myself that he meant no harm by them. “You’ve gotta go home at some point, so I guess you better get your fill.”

His cool lips pressed against my hot skin and I sighed. “Not sure I’ll ever have my fill, but for the rest of my life I swear I’ll fight for anything you’ll give me.”

Everything.

I wanted to give him everything.

But with everything, came the truth. It came with parts of me that any normal person would run from. It came with the fear that I’d be the one left with nothing.