Nightmares
~Caroline~
“You said yes.”
“To dinner as friends,” I reply harshly.
“Come on, you can’t be that naïve. You want this as much as I do. Give into it. No need to deny either of us.”
“Chad, I don’t feel this is appropriate, since we work together.” And, since I think you are a complete douche, we really shouldn’t do this. I get the distinct feeling now is not the time for me to share this with him, though.
“No one will know. Work is irrelevant unless you plan on telling someone.” He has his hands on my waist, making my skin crawl. “You can’t deny me. You won’t deny me. You’ve made yourself available to me for months now.”
“What?” I shriek in disbelief. “Are you delusional? It was all for my job, not for you.”
He runs his hands up and down my arms, sending a cold chill down my spine.
“I’ll make you feel so good,” Chad says seductively as he pulls me to him. His erection presses against my belly, making me want to vomit.
I shake my head back and forth. No. No. No.
He has the wrong idea. This was supposed to be a celebratory dinner after securing my first new client.
His hands move up to my neck. As they close in on my throat painfully, adrenaline kicks in. In fight or flight mode, tears prick behind my now closed eyelids while his lips crash down on mine as he squeezes my windpipe.
The pressure to breathe builds. The helpless feeling engulfs me. Panic sets in. He is choking me firmly as he sucks harshly on my bottom lip before biting down. I am numb in fear as I taste the metallic flavor of my own blood.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
My alarm blaring brings me out of my slumber. I am, yet again, drenched in sweat as I rouse from my nightmare. Shaking off the negative thoughts, I look around me. The soft grays and lavenders of my very girlie bedroom come into clear vision slowly. My grandmother’s rocker sits by my window for reading, unmoving, as I remind myself I am safe. The delicate swirls of color beam off my Tiffany style lamp on my night stand as the blinking of my alarm clock seems to bring my world to life.
“He didn’t get me,” I whisper to the air around me.
A knee to his groin and an elbow to the back of his head as he hunched down from the first impact secured my small window of time to run.
And run I did, straight to my car, and then I drove to Delilah’s house. That was my second mistake. My first being to ever put myself in the situation I was in with the likes of Chad the scumbag.
In my panic, I couldn’t think of anyone or anywhere safer than Delilah ‘Doll’ Reklinger, now Crews, and her Hellions MC family.
She put me up at her place for a few days until I could make some decisions and sort my life out. Afterward, facing my fears, my insecurities, and my mess of a life, I picked up the pieces and went back to work, realizing I could handle the ass-hat on my own—well, sort of. All in all, I have it under control in my own way, and I was hoping Doll would drop it. Wrong.
Some things are better left alone. Too bad she disagrees with me in this situation.
Worse than that, her man, Tripp, got involved. Then Tripp’s cousin, Rex, joined the pity Caroline party that wants to feel sorry for me; the party that wants to simply fix what I created. I did this. It is completely my fault. Why don’t they stop feeling sorry for me and see this is a product of my own stupidity?
Rex refuses to understand my stance on remaining quiet. Yes, my college best friend, Delilah, got her man and his band of bikers to swoop in and put a watch on me, a watch that one Drexel ‘Rex’ Crews has decided to make his personal mission to handle.
Rex doesn’t even know what happened; Delilah has kept my secret safe about that night. She only reached out to tell them that I was having problems with a guy at work. I shouldn’t have put myself out there. Rex doesn’t want to hear any of this, though. He is hell bent and heaven sent on finding out every little detail. Why can’t he let a sleeping dog lie?
Climbing out of my bed, I immediately start stripping my sweat-soaked sheets. Ugh, this is getting old.
All those years of school, all the focus and dedication I used to graduate at the top of my program, wasted. While Delilah and Savannah enjoyed our college years, I tucked myself away studying over laws and numbers.
All for what?
To end up a two bit whore to my supervisor? Fuck that! Women have worked for decades before me to secure a place for the female sex in employment. Women have sacrificed money, time, and having families of their own to pave their way in so many male-dominated industries, such as corporate accounting. The mountain may be high to climb, but I refuse to give up just because some male chauvinist pig feels my only place is under him in business, in bed, or both. I am blessed to have this job, and I refuse to give it up easily, even if it is a battle of wills to get up and make my way in every single day.
Kenna, a friend of a friend of Delilah’s and the Hellions motorcycle club, actually secured the junior position for me. Since we didn’t truly know each other, I feel confident that I got the job on my own merit. She merely opened the door by putting her name out there to get the interview for me, so when it came time for assignments, she didn’t feel comfortable being my direct supervisor. Favoritism and all that, I get it.
This left me with Chad, the devil’s spawn, himself. Chad, my head accountant, my lead, my direct supervisor. Also, the man who has pushed every boundary there is and made sure to set it up so it could be portrayed as my doing. Chad, the master manipulator. Chad, the scumbag. Chad, my boss who I have to face every single day, including today.
I am not powerless. I am not powerless. I can do this yet again, I continue repeating in my head as my new morning mantra. I have to remind myself I got away, remind myself I have the power to push through this and so much more. He will not win. He will not run me off. I will stand strong. I will move on, one foot in front of the other, one step at a time, one day at a time.
Never the lesser, never be weak, rise above, and power through.
~Rex~
Time heals all wounds, or so they say.
I may have physically healed from crashing my bike, but mentally, I am far from it. I know someone was watching over me that night. To walk away from a crash like that with only road rash is a miracle.
Too bad I can’t say my bike fared so well. It resembles my life: pieces hanging by a wire, unrecognizable paint, and only running by sheer force.
When I look in the mirror, I don’t know the man staring back at me. I am going through the motions by mere willpower to do better tomorrow than I do today and did yesterday.
I failed him.
I failed my son.
I failed his mother.
I failed Pops.
I failed myself.
I failed, period, end of story.
With the road laid before me, I took the wrong path. I guess, in some ways, I have always been on the wrong path. Pops taught me better than that. Did I listen, though? Fuck no.
Tripp and I have always been rebels, until Roundman came along and gave us a different direction. Beyond my brotherhood in the Hellions, my world is all about me, always has been. What I want, when I want it, and how the fuck I want it.
I slap my hand down on the bar to let Corinne know I need another beer, and she immediately uncaps and sets the ice cold brew in front of me. Corinne is cute enough; a short little thing with tits and hips. She has sucked me off before in the stockroom here at Ruthless … the stockroom that I can’t go back into without rage overtaking me. Just thinking of that room and what happened to Tessie, my blood boils.
Sensing something is off with me, Corinne rounds the bar and stands beside me. She is in a short denim skirt, a tight as fuck black halter top, and black heels—optimum clothing for prime tips.
“Rex,” she says huskily, the tips of her nipples poking out the fabric of her shirt, making it known she isn’t wearing a bra.
I don’t reply immediately; I run my hand around the back of her leg, up her thigh, to the sweet juncture between them. As I suspected, no panties, either.
I barely dip my fingertip in the wetness of her core. Circling the edge of her cunt, I tease her as her juices build on my fingertip. Her breath hitches and she moves closer to me.
“So wet, you dirty girl. Were you thinkin’ of me all day? Were you waitin’ for me to come here today and pet this little pussy of yours?” I rub my fingers through her folds and over her clit as she moans in need.
“Yes, Rex. My pussy wants all your attention.” Corrine pushes herself onto my hand more.
I shake my head as I remove my hand and stand. Then, nodding to Purple Pussy Pamela so she knows she is on her own for the next few minutes, I guide Corinne to the back pool room.
She turns around to face me, and I wrap my large hands around her neck as her eyes get big, and her pulse races. I don’t apply pressure, but my hands are in a spot that I know makes her feel vulnerable. I also know she gets off on this.
When she licks her lips in need and want, I release her neck and turn her around. She is short. Add my height to the mix, and she barely makes it to my pecs.
Positioning her facing the wall lined with chairs and dartboards, I lift one of her legs, bending her knee and setting that sky high, fuck me heel on the edge of the chair. Pushing her skirt up, I expose her ass, and she arches, giving me even more.
Unbuttoning my jeans, I then unzip them enough to release the beast that is my cock. Grabbing a condom from my wallet, I sheath myself carefully, avoiding any possible tears on the condom from my piercing.
Corinne turns her head to look over her shoulder at me. Tugging roughly on her hair, I twist her head sideways and push her into the wall. Without warning, I use my other hand to spread her ass cheeks and slam my rock hard cock in her dripping pussy. Oh, yeah, the girl likes it rough, and that is how she is going to get it, too.
Her mouth drops open to make an ‘O’ as I pound away relentlessly. Forgetting everything and everyone around us, I slide in and out of her heat, taking my frustrations out as I squish her face into the wall. Her head slides up as I slide in balls deep, and she hits the bottom of the dart board, causing it to fall off the wall and hits my arm, as well as her back, on its way down. She tries to reach out to grab it, but I only pull her hair harder, causing her to put her hands back on the wall to seek relief. The dart board crashes to the floor with a thud. I pound away.
Her head hits the wall as I continue my unforgiving rhythm. Her pussy clinches me, milking my cock. Her body is begging for release. She is on the edge; I feel it as she tenses further with each thrust. Oh, yeah, she is right there. I almost laugh when she moans loudly.
She moves one of her hands off the wall to touch her clit. She wants it. She wants that high. The build-up. The anticipation. The games we as males and females play. The tease. The seductive dance of getting off. She is so close I can taste it in the air around us. Normally, getting a girl off would feed my ego. Any other time, I would push her hand away and be the one to send her over the edge.
Thinking of going over the edge, I feel my balls tighten. The tingle climbs my spine, and I slam into her harshly one last time, releasing my seed into the condom between us.
She rocks back into my softening cock, seeking her own orgasm. Any other time, I would have held back on my release to give her hers first since she was right there. Suddenly, though, I feel sick and pull out of her.
As I let go of her head, she looks at me and pouts.
Fucking pouts.
I shake my head as I remove the condom, tying off the top before tossing it in the trashcan in the corner.
Corinne is taking her foot down when I reach out and pull her to me. Using the bottom of her shirt, I wipe my dick off before putting it in my jeans.
A fire of pure, contained fury dances in her eyes. She is pissed, rightfully so.
“I was so close, and you just stopped, fucker.”
“Yeah, I did,” I reply arrogantly.
“You really wiped your cock off on my shirt?”
“Yeah, I did. Watch yourself, Corinne; you’re testing the waters. Keep treading the way you are, and you’re gonna drown.”
“Fuck you, Rex.” She huffs, pulling her skirt down and trying to gauge the damage of the stains of my cum on her shirt.
“Know your place, Corinne. This is the only warning you’ll get from me, and you’re lucky I’m givin’ you that.”
Buttoning my jeans, I feel my phone vibrate in my back pocket. Rather than continue to give any more of my attention to Corinne, I turn and walk out of the bar without a second look back as I take my phone out of my pocket.
As I step outside, the fresh air assaults my nose. The bar is always smoke-filled, and the night air is a welcomed reprieve to my lungs.
“Yo,” I answer my phone, knowing it is Tripp.
“Got a nine-one-oh. Meet me at the office in ten.”
He disconnects the call that just informed me that I have a club run to handle. Great. My head is so not in this. Push on, though, because that is the name of my game, for now.