CHAPTER TWENTY
Brick
I don’t want to say goodbye to Starlet—not like this. I’ve tried holding back, especially considering our circumstances. But I’m pretty sure she figured everything out back at the clubhouse on her own. Tomorrow I have to make a call that’s going to change her life forever. The freedom she fought for, dreamed of since she was a girl, that’s going to be ripped away. The thought of her in the hands of Silver, fucking a guy she hates, living a lie—it’s twisting me up inside—messing with my head.
She squirms in my hands, tangling her fingers in my hair. She tastes so damn good—feels perfect against me. I lick her in long, small strokes, letting the pleasure build. She rotates her hips against my face and I can’t take it anymore. Standing, I lift her and she locks her ankles behind my back. I search for the closest wall and press her up against it, using one hand to unbuckle my belt and unzip my jeans.
“Brick…”
“Hold on, baby.” I spring free, my throbbing cock painful as hell. I brace her against the paneling, position myself at her opening, and claim her lips just as I thrust deep inside her. Tight and wet, I pump harder. It’s fast and brutal—the only way I know how to express myself without saying the words she deserves to hear.
I live in the moment—combing the country for anything that will cover up the painful memories of my childhood. Now, instead of walking away from someone who brings all of those feelings back, I’m holding onto her. Desperate to keep her—insane for torturing myself this way. It all ends tomorrow, whether I want it to or not. She belongs to another man. Another MC. And I’ve broken every rule, both personal and otherwise.
“Brick…”
“Say, Austin…”
“Austin,” she whimpers.
She’s so close now, I can read it all over her beautiful face. Starlet is a fucking mess, so expressive. “That’s it … give it up, sweetheart.”
Opening her eyes, she smiles at me. “I did that the night we met, Brick.”
Shit… What does she mean exactly? I recall the note she left me at the hotel, having read it so often, I’ve memorized every word. You’re amazing. Funny. Incredibly beautiful. Everything I’m not. And just in case you’re thinking I’m a coward for running away without saying goodbye, please don’t. It took a lot for me to walk into this hotel room and wait for you. I’ll think of you often…
I grip her bottom tighter with one hand and gently hold her throat with the other. “You talk too much.” I nip her bottom lip and she moans seductively.
“Kiss me.”
I want her to feel what I feel, see what I see … realize that I don’t want anyone hurt her. Shit. I can’t control my body. I explode, shaking all over as she cums with me, digging her long fingernails into my shoulders.
After a long pause, I lean into her, resting my forehead against hers. We’re both sweaty and panting like we ran a marathon. “Can you explain what’s between us yet, sweetheart?” I ask.
“I-I don’t know. Never felt anything like it before.”
She’s right. I’m not even sure how to describe it. Maybe it’s simple chemistry. But as she caresses my face and draws me in with her sad eyes, I’m starting to think it’s more.
But it can’t be. I won’t let it. I close my eyes as I lower her to the floor. After my mother left when I was a kid, my father drilled into my head that women were nothing. Faithless whores who are only good for two things, sex and bearing children. Maybe that’s why I never committed to anyone for longer than a weekend after I left home. Maybe that’s why I joined the MC and became a nomad. Maybe that’s why I volunteered to make the call to the Devil’s Crusaders tomorrow, because I know something is happening between Starlet and me, and need to send her away before it’s too late.
I’m not a heartless bastard, though I can come off as one. I put the patch before the woman, before anyone. But if that’s the right thing to do, why do I feel like such a bastard? I lean into the wall now, oblivious to anything around me, remembering things long put to rest.
“Open the goddamned door, Austin…” My father bangs violently on the flimsy wood.
I look at Charlotte, the girl I’ve been fucking for three months. She’s scared, trying to get her shorts on before my dad breaks into my bedroom.
I roll off the bed and stand between her and the door just as my father kicks it open.
“How many times have I told you never to lock that door?” he snarls, drunk as a motherfucker and looking for a fight.
Charlotte cries out.
“It’s okay.” I won’t let him touch her.
“What was that?” My father stumbles forward. “Thought I’d be out for the night and decided to bring your little whore over here. In my house?”
“Don’t do it.” I square my shoulders, ready to protect my girl and myself.
“Brick?” Starlet touches my shoulder, massaging it gently. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” I open my eyes and turn around. Damn, she’s beautiful when she’s wearing that freshly-fucked look, her hair a tangled mess and her body slick with sweat.
“Where’d you go, Brick? I’ve never seen you look like that, zoning out on me.”
“Nothing you need to worry about.” I’ll take certain memories to the grave.
“Hey.” She reaches for my face but I step back.
“Don’t try to make this more than it is.” Time to put some distance between us. She’s leaving Louisiana and my life forever.
“You just fucked me without a condom again and I’m not supposed to make this more than it is?”
“That’s what you’re worried about, Starlet? STDs? I’m clean.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she says, sounding angry. “I was trying to make a point. If I trust you with my body like I do, maybe you should consider returning the favor.”
I stomp to the kitchen and open the mini fridge and take out a beer. Leave it to Shorty to keep a fresh stock of alcohol at his cabin. I twist the cap off and take a deep drink. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“No?” She joins me across the room. “I know enough.”
That’s the second time I’ve heard that today—first from Shorty, now her. What kind of fucked up vibes do I give off? “What’s that even mean?” I look at her.
“Give me your hand, Brick.”
I roll my eyes. “Wanna play fortune teller now?”
She crosses her arms over her breasts, jutting her chin out. “Why do you always make fun of what I do for a living? My great grandmother was Romani, immigrated to the United States from Europe. It’s in my blood.”
“The whole Louisiana voodoo thing isn’t real.” Why am I taking out my anger on her?
“Oh, really? Just so you know, there’s a world of difference between what I do and voodoo, which is a respected religion, by the way. I think you’re afraid to let me see into your soul, Brick.”
Maybe I’m being an asshole, but I really don’t have a choice. I can’t keep her. She’s not mine. She belongs to Silver, a motherfucker I’ve never met but hate already. As for the seeing into my soul thing, she’s right. “Wanna add to your own pain, sweetheart? Go ahead, read away.” I shove my open hand in her face, half hoping this is a game, that she can’t really read palms or whatever the fuck it is she does.
Her shoulders relax as she takes hold of my hand and stretches my fingers out. There’s a small window over the sink with light streaming through it. She angles my hand and traces the lines with her fingertips.
“Your patterns are different than most.” She gazes up at me. “I’ve never seen anything like it. This is your lifeline, Brick. Do you see how many breaks there are? Every break accounts for a traumatic experience—an illness, death, or even violence. What did your father do to you?”
I don’t need to confirm her observations.
“And this is your heartline. It’s long and curved and reaches the base of your middle finger. Passion drives you. I should know.”
“I won’t deny it.”
She gives me a sad smile. “Everyone has the right to be happy.”
“Even you?”
She shakes her head. “I’m the exception, Brick. My life isn’t my own, is it?”
I look away from her. Guilt washes over me. That face of hers is worth risking my patch over. But her heart—that shit is purer than anything, and it kills me to know where I’m sending her. Silver needs to die. “I didn’t want to tell you tonight.”
“Tell me what? What I already know? I’m sure the majority of the brothers voted against me.”
“Had to be unanimous, sweetheart. I’m sorry.”
I watch as she walks back to where we stripped down and finds her bra and panties. “We tried, right?”
Not hard enough.
“Don’t worry,” she says, “I won’t fight it. I’ve already jeopardized Juanita and now your club. I’ll be a good little old lady and marry Silver. Cook and clean for him, and suck him off every night.”
Goddamnit. I growl and rush over to her, grabbing her arms. “Why do you have to put that kind of picture in my head?”
She frowns at me. “Truth hurts sometimes, Brick.”
Like a motherfucker. “Doesn’t mean I want to hear it. Not that version of the truth, Starlet. It cuts too deep—makes me want to do bad things.” I let her go and take a deep, calming breath.
“Since we’re brimming with confessions, I have something else to tell you.” She puts her skirt on, looking vulnerable and out of place in the cabin. “I think I love you, Brick.”