Lyric

I clung to Hustler’s broad back, my hearing muffled by the solid black helmet I was wearing, but the wind rushing past us still made a faint sound. We were hurtling down the freeway, cars zipping past us as we rode into the setting sun. After stopping once earlier for gas, we’d been driving and talking through the enclosed headset in the helmets, his smooth voice explaining different things as we drove past. With my arms wrapped around him, his body between my legs and his voice in my ear, I felt safe enough to enjoy the ride.

He was so patient with me and my millions of questions, explaining things that must be common and ordinary to him, but were exotic and strange to me. I mean, I knew about the outside world, I’ve watched plenty of movies, seen the news, and all of that. But actually seeing it first hand, smelling it, tasting it, was a whole different experience. Speaking of tasting, my stomach was rumbling.

“Hey, can we stop for something to eat?”

Hustler’s voice purred back in my ear. “Yeah. I know a place not too far from here.”

A few minutes later we drove down the busy two-lane street of some town, the crush of humanity doing weird things to my head. It was like I was having trouble processing everything, like there was just too much happening for me to absorb. We rolled into the crowded gravel parking lot of Tom’s Taco Shack, a small, weathered wooden building surrounded by mature trees with a large picnic area out front. Most of the tables were taken, and a bolt of apprehension raced through me at the thought of being around so many strangers.

I reluctantly slid off the back of Hustler’s bike, my thighs protesting the long ride.

Hustler helped me take my helmet off, and as soon as I did, the sounds came rushing in. Traffic, beeping horns, engines revving, people talking and laughing. A million different sounds that bombarded me as I attempted to straighten out my braid. Delicious smells of roasting meat and spices filled the air, and I was more than aware of the people watching us. They were probably looking at Hustler—he was a good-looking man—and wondering what a quiet little church mouse like me was doing with him.

Stretching out, Hustler’s shirt rode up, exposing a nice slice of his tanned, muscled stomach, making his big biceps bunch beneath his T-shirt.

During one of our rest stops he’d put on his leather cut—that’s what he’d called it, a cut, not a vest—and I ran my eyes over the various patches covering it. It had his name, the word “Enforcer” and a bunch of symbols I had no idea about. On the back, a stylized horse’s head with a flaming mane stood out among all the black leather, along with the words “Iron Horse MC” at the top, and “Austin Texas” at the bottom. The vest was held together in the front by a series of three loose chains that draped nicely over his flat stomach.

Watching me gingerly stretch out, he smiled. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Just a little stiff.”

“I’ll give you a rubdown when we get to our hotel.” My mind instantly went to all kinds of dirty massages, and it must have showed in my face because the grin he gave me was heated. “Grab a table and I’ll order us some food. You like tacos?”

“Yeah.”

He left me at the bike, swaggering off in the direction of the line extending out from the small building. Looking out over the crowd, my heart rate picked up and anxiety made my palms sweaty. So many strangers, and it felt like they were all looking at me. Judging me and finding me lacking. Like they could somehow sense I wasn’t like everyone else, that I didn’t belong here.

Keeping my gaze on the ground, I quickly shuffled over to the nearest empty table. The wood was smooth and worn, and there were names carved into the surface here and there. I hesitated, unsure if I wanted to sit with my back to the crowd, or facing them. In all reality, no one was really paying me any mind, but I chose to sit with my back to the trees instead of the people. My anxiety continued to build and doubts began to pick at me, like little needles jabbing my skin. If I couldn’t even handle sitting in public, in a lovely outdoor setting, how was I going to handle being around a bunch of bikers?

Then again, all the bikers I’d met at the wedding had been super nice to me, in their own rough way.

I looked down at my unpainted nails and picked at my thumb, imaging I could feel the weight of a dozen stares on me. My thoughts turned to my grandmother, to Tess and June, and then to my mom. Tears burned at the back of my lids and I swallowed hard, trying to keep them from falling. So much had happened and I struggled to get ahold of myself.

The bench creaked next to me and I looked up, startled, as Hustler sat down.

Smiling, he placed a tray full of food onto the table, but when he looked over at me, his expression fell.

“Lyric? What’s wrong, baby?”

Blinking rapidly, I laced my fingers together and looked away. “Nothing. I’m okay.”

“Did someone say something to upset you? I need to kick someone’s ass?” He said the last part in a loud, angry voice that silenced some tables near us.

Laying my hand on his arm, I urged him to sit next to me. “No, no. I’m just thinking about home.”

He pulled me into his arms, uncaring of the people watching us. “Shhh, everything is going to be okay.”

“No, it’s not.”

His deep chuckle relaxed me as he rubbed his hand up and down my back. “Yeah, it is.”

I gently pushed out of his arms and looked up at him. “Everything is so messed up.”

He opened a bottle of iced tea, the condensation gleaming on the glass surface. “Tell me what’s on your mind and we’ll see what we can do to make it better.”

“I wish you could make it better.”

“Eat and talk, Angel.”

With a huff, I did as he ordered, a tiny sense of relief coursing through me as I unburdened myself. I didn’t mention anything about being forced to marry Clint, but I did tell him about finding out that Evelyn wasn’t my birth mother. He kept mostly silent, only asking a question or two here and there as I unloaded on him.

“And you just found this all out?”

“Yeah.” I wiped my mouth with my napkin, surprised to see I’d managed to wolf down two big steak tacos while talking.

“Shit…that’s fucked up.”

“It is, but it explains so much. No wonder she could never love me, I wasn’t really her daughter.”

My voice cracked on those last words and Hustler sighed, then took both of my hands in his own. “Listen to me, your mom being a bitch is entirely on her, not you. Understand.”

“Yeah.”

“And it’s her loss if she didn’t recognize how amazing you are. Lyric, you’re one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever met, inside and out.” He laid his big hand on my upper chest, above the swell of my breasts, but his touch wasn’t sexual. “This heart beating beneath my hand is so full of love. I’ve never met anyone as giving as you are, as sweet and kind. Don’t ever think that you’re unworthy of being loved.”

I placed my hand over his, stroking my fingers over the smattering of hair covering the back of his hand. “Okay.”

“Okay.” He searched my face, then leaned forward as if he was going to kiss me, only stopping at the last moment. “You full?”

“Stuffed.”

“Let’s go.”

The hotel that we checked into was twelve stories high, and so big we had to drive around it to be close to the elevator leading to our rooms. I marveled at all the different cars in the parking lot, all the license plates from all over the country. And the bright red flowering bushes surrounding the building were like nothing I’d ever seen, their vibrant colors searing into my eyes. Hustler parked his bike up front, near the doors, and by the time we went inside it was fully dark. The interior of the hotel was strangely quiet, and after the constant noise of the outdoors, a welcome relief. When we entered the room, I took in the two queen-sized beds and was disappointed. In my fantasies, we’d be sharing a bed tonight, not sleeping in separate ones.

Yes, I knew Hustler said he couldn’t be with me, and yes, I knew his very legitimate reasons why, but damned if the sight of those two separate beds didn’t sting.

Hustler seemed oblivious to my disappointment as he tossed his saddlebags onto the bed with a sigh. “You want the shower first? I imagine you want to scrub some of this road dirt off.”

“Oh, sure. I’ll…um, do that.”

I waited, hoping maybe he’d suggest we shower together, but he was busy on his phone so I went into the brightly lit bathroom with a sigh.

The counter was a pretty brown and green marble, and there was a hairdryer attached to the wall. As I sat my backpack on the counter, I took a moment to inspect all the little travel-sized bottles of various soaps, uncapping them all and smelling their contents. After winding my hair up into a bun at the top of my head, I quickly washed, grateful the wax job Sarah had given me before the wedding was still holding up two weeks later. Women at my church didn’t shave, or at least I don’t think they did. We never really talked about that kind of stuff; at least the older women didn’t.

For us kids, well, while some of us planned on living pious lives, the rest of us were normal teenagers with normal urges. We played with kids from other compounds, and we had the same curiosity and hormonal explosions as anyone else. Behind closed doors, we whispered about sex, and I knew more than one of my friends didn’t wait for marriage to have sex. A pang went through my heart as I thought about all the people that had moved away from the church, then paused.

Wait; I’d moved away as well, I could see them again.

Stepping out of the shower, I dried myself quickly and smiled. I could see my friends. Sure, I didn’t know where most of them were now—once they left the church, they were excommunicated and might as well be dead because that’s how we were told to treat them. That once they were out of the church they were dead in the eyes of God.

My breath caught. Crap, I was excommunicated. Pastor Middleton made it a rule that anyone who left the church couldn’t come back without divine intercession…whatever that meant. So far no one that left had tried to come back.

Exhaustion tugged at me as I scrubbed my teeth, my muscles aching from the ride.

Silently thanking Mimi, I slipped on a cute pale-yellow shorts and T-shirt combo with tiny daisies embroidered around the hem. The shorts were a little long, and the shirt a little tight across my breasts, but it would do. For sure, it was better than my long, frumpy nightgowns from home.

In fact, I felt…pretty…when I looked in the mirror. Tired, but not too bad. While I’d never be a centerfold, I had to admit in these clothes I didn’t look as chunky as I usually did in my shapeless dresses. On impulse, I took my hair out of the braid I’d automatically put it in and let it flow around me. When I was little I always wore my hair down, but once I hit puberty I had to braid it back like every girl on the compound. Loose, it felt to my hips and I sighed as I ran my hands through it. Really, it was too long at this point. When your braid could fall in the toilet at night, you learn the inconveniences of really long hair quick.

Maybe I could cut it. Not a lot, but maybe just to my waist so it was more manageable. For the first time in my life, I was free to make any decision for myself I wanted.

Elation filled me and I had to share my revelation with Hustler and burst out of the bathroom, startling him.

“I can cut my hair!” I shouted. “No one can stop me!”

“What?”

“At my church women weren’t allowed to cut their hair other than a trim, and we had to wear it back in a braid. But now I can cut it!”

Slowly, ever so slowly, he set his phone down on the dresser and ran his eyes up my body.

I could feel his gaze like a caress, whispering over me like velvet stroking my skin.

“Baby, you can do whatever you want. But I gotta say, your hair is gorgeous. Looks so soft, like a cloud, but it’s your hair and your decision. Whatever you decide to do, you’ll look beautiful.”

Flushing, I resisted the urge to duck my head so my hair would hide my face. “Thank you.”

My heart beat harder as I took a step closer to him, closing the distance between us.

He’d taken off his cut at some point, and his T-shirt hugged his body. When I looked into his eyes I found them dark with hunger, his desire for me pouring off of him in invisible waves. Moving without real thought, I took another step closer, less than two feet of space separating us now. Neither of us spoke, and electricity burst through me as my craving for this man roared to life.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he growled, his voice tortured.

“We’re not doing anything,” I replied, and took a bold step closer.

If he took a deep breath, his body would touch my breasts, brush against my stiff and aching nipples. “I can’t endanger you.”

His head lowered and now our mouths hovered mere inches apart.

“I want you.”

“Lyric, this can’t happen.”

“Yes, it can.”

“I can’t give you what you need. Once we reach Austin, we can only be friends. That’s it.”

“I understand.”

“Do you? Do you really? I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Lorenzo…” I used his real name to make sure I had his attention. “I’m not a child, I’m a woman. You’re not taking advantage of me, I’m going into this with my eyes wide open. If tonight’s all we’re going to have, then let’s make it count.”

The groan that tore from his throat sent darts of pleasure running straight to my clit, so intense it was almost painful. I could smell him, the wild scent of him, the subtle spice of his sun-warmed skin. Cinnamon filled my senses as I breathed in his exhalation from the gum he favored. I wanted to lick that taste from his mouth, suck it off his tongue. Our previous time together kept replaying through my mind, and I wanted the pleasure I knew he could give me. The orgasms while I was filled with his beautiful, pierced dick.

“Angel, please…”

“Daddy, please, my—my pussy feels so empty,” I whispered back, my voice trembling with a mixture of need and aroused embarrassment at how bold I was being.

He jerked as if I’d slapped him, then slid his hand into my hair, fisting it and using his grip to press my body into his. “Such a naughty girl.”

The slight pain from his grip lit me up inside, and my knees went weak. “I am.”

To my surprise, he tossed me back on the bed, then moved between my legs. When he spread my thighs, I winced. My muscles were tight and the movement made them ache.

Rolling off of me, Hustler grunted. “Shit, I’m doing this all wrong.”

“No!” I shouted and sat up, pulling him back on top of me. “You’re not going anywhere until you put your penis inside of me.”