THREE
Peyton
Believe it or not, I'd had weirder nights.
Many, in fact.
It had been a long time since I zoned out on the drive home - then the walk from the building parking lot to my door - because I was replaying what had just happened in my head.
Not the gay rave in the sticks either.
That was all but forgotten.
Well, sort off. Once I scrubbed off the body glitter and got off this goddamned thong that had been riding up so high, I could feel it in my damn throat.
But it wasn't the strobe lights and little baggies of X being handed around like candy that was on my mind.
It was a sexy, scarred biker whose eyes - as it turned out - were gray. Freaking gray. Who the hell had gray eyes? Like he wasn't already too darn good-looking.
I slipped inside my apartment, trying to shut the door quietly, not wanting to wake up the puppy - or the person crashing on my couch.
But as it turned out, Jamie was a light sleeper.
The second the door closed, she had shot up from her sleeping position, somehow looking completely awake in a blink.
Jamie was, well, was it P.C. to say butch? I mean not that I was the most politically correct person in the world, but the jury was out on that one. I would have to ask her. But that was what she was. She was six feet in her red Converse, her body wide, but not fat. Just stocky. Strong. For a girl. That was a phrase I knew she would hate. Just like she hated That kinda girl. So I used it all the time simply to push her buttons. Her chest was actually rather impressive, but for as long as I had known her, the only time she didn't bind her tits was directly after the shower. Her face was a bit soft. There was no mistaking the femininity in her bone structure, no matter how short she kept her brown hair. She had these deep blue, soulful eyes that many a girl had fallen in love with. Even though Jamie was a serial non-monogamist.
Style-wise, I wasn't sure I had ever seen her in anything other than plaid - spring through winter. Right now, she was in a red and blue one, a brown henley layered under. Her jeans were what chicks would call 'boyfriend jeans,' but in reality, she just got them from the men's section.
You know how nice it is not to have to worry about sizes? Just go in knowing your waist circumference, and you got yourself a pair of jeans.
"It's about time, young lady," she said to me, lips curving up at one side. It was moments like this that I understood how she got more pussy than most hot guys did. She just had something. I couldn't even say what it was. I didn't swing that way, but there were definitely times that Jamie made me consider it. "You smell like a prostitute," she added, lips twitching as she moved to stand, going across the room into the kitchen area to turn on the Keurig for me. She was a saint that way. It was why she was still crashing on my couch a month after she said she would be out of my hair.
"Well that is my signature fragrance," I agreed, smiling.
"We gotta talk, sweetheart," she said, spreading her hands wide on my counter, leaning forward like what she was about to say was of the utmost importance.
"About?"
"The fucking pillows, Peyton. Your cock pillows," she said, shaking her head.
Okay, yeah.
So... my throw pillows on the living room couch from far away kind of looked like flowers. But if you got close, they were just a bunch of flaccid dicks varying in length, girth, and whether they were snipped or not.
I bought them on a whim at 5 a.m. when I hadn't been able to sleep. They were one of my favorite things in the apartment.
"I have successfully kept my face away from cocks my entire life," she went on.
"And now you are literally drooling on them every night," I finished for her. "Well, if it would help, I can get the same pillows with little pussies all over them."
"That's all I'm asking," she said, smile big again as she mixed my coffee for me then handed it over. "I think pussy pillows will inspire pleasant dreams. So did you get him railed or not?"
I chuckled at that as I sipped my coffee. "When have I ever failed at getting someone railed if they want - or in his case, needed - it?"
"This is true. You make a great wing-woman. No calls from the police station tonight. I'm almost disappointed in you, babe."
"Well, in lieu of getting arrested for a fun story, I totally gave a broken-down biker a ride back home tonight. And he was hot. And, get this, a Henchmen."
"No shit," Jamie said, nodding her head, always impressed by the situations I so often found myself in. "Did you fuck him?"
"I would look even more of a hot mess if I fucked him."
"Fucked who?" another voice that hadn't been in my place when I left - though wasn't odd to find here without permission - called as she walked down from the direction of my sister's old room.
Where Jamie was more boyish, Savea was pure girl with her long, wavy, Pantene-commercial shiny black hair, sweet round face dominated by huge dark brown eyes that she spent a lot of time accentuating with perfect mascara, and large lips that were almost always hiding her obnoxiously perfect white teeth since she wasn't as prone to smiling as Jamie was. She was short and slight but with an ass that would make any girl jealous. Generally, she didn't dress all girly. But this was mainly because her job wouldn't allow it, not because it wasn't her preference. When you worked at a pet shop and were constantly covered in the hair of various animals or fish water, wearing a pretty satin tank wasn't really an option. So she opted for somewhat oversized unisex tees in dark shades.
Right then, that was all she had on. Her short, but shapely legs bare right up to her pretty peach lace panties.
"You can't talk about sex without me. It's a rule," she told us, taking my coffee from my hands to drink it herself.
"No sex. Unfortunately. Though I did kinda force a kiss on him," I told them, shrugging it off. A kiss was like a handshake most of the time. I had never been the butterflies-in-the-belly kind of girl.
"Oh, who was he?" Savvy asked as I rolled my shoulders, feeling hot and sticky and gross.
"If we are going to do it, let's move it to the bathroom," I suggested, making my way there already, letting them follow.
Jamie put down the lid of the toilet, sitting down. Savvy hopped herself up on the sink vanity as I filled the tub and stripped out of my dress and the thong that was about a centimeter away from needing to be freaking surgically removed.
Maybe for most friends, this was a weird situation.
But I had never been known to be shy about my body. These two - and Ronny who had been around even longer - had seen me bare ass naked more times than they could likely count.
"Savvs, hand me a washcloth so I can get this shit off," I demanded, waving at the glitter all over my neck and chest and, as it melted its way down, my tits and the top of my stomach.
"Good luck with that," Jamie said, smiling. "That shit isn't coming off until mid-winter at the earliest. So tell Savea here about the hot biker since the details do nothing for me."
"Right. So he's a Henchmen. And you know how they are."
"Each one more delicious than the last," Savvy said, clutching her chest dramatically.
"Exactly. They are all smoking. But this one had something extra. First, he has maybe a like upper Jersey or maybe Long Island accent. It makes him drop off his end sounds, which is panty-melting in and of itself. And he has this James Marsters bone structure with dark hair, gray eyes, and this sexy as hell scar through his lip. From - get this - a jealous boyfriend at a bar wielding a broken-off piece of beer bottle."
"Hot," Savvy agreed.
"I know," I said, pouring bubble bath onto the washcloth to scrub my skin raw if that was what was required. "So why didn't you close?"
"Two words. Mallicks... and Rivers."
"Oh, talk about dreamy," Savvy said, eyes going soft - something that she was not known for when it came to men. But, well, homegirl had a crush on the Rivers brothers. Every last one of them.
"Ew," I said, small-eyeing her. "So not dreamy."
"Oh, shut up. If they weren't practically your brothers, you know you would have boned at least two of them by now."
Maybe she wasn't wrong about that.
They genuinely were some of the hottest guys in town. Which was saying something since this town meant you couldn't turn around without bumping into some hottie. All were tall, built, dark-haired, dark, soulful-eyed, and ex-criminals. Well, the jury was still out on if all of them were as ex as they claimed, but that wasn't the point. The point was that they had that confident, mysterious, slightly dangerous vibe to them.
It was catnip.
All the pussies in town came sniffing around.
Hell, I had flirted a bit with Rush the first time I met him. And Kingston was the stuff that wet dreams were made of. But as soon as they became family, it was like someone poured ice water over me when I thought of them being attractive.
"Regardless, this guy gave them a run for their money."
"What's his name?" Jamie asked, not into the looks talk.
"Suga."
"As in Baby Bash?" she asked, reminding me why I loved her so fiercely. She simply got me. And all of my references, no matter how vague or obscure they were.
"Yep," I agreed, managing to get the sparkles off my stomach and most of my tits, but figuring that Jamie was right about my chest. I'd be picking flecks off for weeks.
Leaning back, I wet my hair to get the sweat out, reached for the shampoo, scrubbed it in, and leaned back again.
"So you are going to let a tongue-lashing from the Mallicks and the Rivers stop you from taking a ride on the biker?" Jamie asked.
Savvy made a low, whimpering noise, making Jamie's lips curve, her brow raising. "What, hon?"
"Just... you know... tongue-lashing and Rivers. What!" she shrieked when we both openly laughed at her ridiculous ass. "I haven't gotten laid in two years, guys. Years."
"Babe," Jamie said, still grinning, her eyes lit up. "That is because your come-hither look is a dead ringer for your I'll-stab-you-in-the-balls look."
"I can't help it if I have ball-stabby eyes, damnit!"
"And let's not forget that if any guy gets close to you, he gets covered in various critter hairs. Like I bet the guest room sheets are," I said, shaking my head at her.
"And that you refuse to date a guy who doesn't have a pet," Jamie piped in.
"Even though you yourself don't have a pet," I added.
"How dare you!" Savvy said, mock insulted. "We share Hannibal!" she argued, meaning my dog. Which, to be fair, was somewhat accurate. If I was working and she was off, she usually dropped by to take him for a walk, to play catch, or to the local dog park. And she was constantly bringing him treats and toys and new beds - since he was a fan of destroying them - home from her work.
Hannibal, who slept like the dead and made the worst watchdog in the history of canine-kind - even though his breed was supposedly good at such things - was a favorite of anyone who met his usually lazy ass. How could you not like his long, dopey ears that literally swiped the ground when he walked? And his half-hearted howl from his position on the couch when a stranger came to the door.
He was the kind of dog who would watch you steal my television, stereo, and computer, without so much as lifting his head from his bed.
If I knew him at all - and I did - he was likely asleep right in my spot on the bed where he knew he wasn't supposed to be.
"And I work a lot. It would be cruel to keep a dog locked up in my apartment. Or a bird."
"Right... but that still leaves rabbits, guinea pigs, hamsters, rats, fish, and cats."
"Shut up with your logic," she said, narrowing her eyes at me. "I clean cages all day at work. I would prefer not to have to come home and clean more. I want a dog. But since I can't have my own yet, I will settle for a man who has a dog that I can love on. Besides, the way a man takes care of his pets says a lot about him."
Since none of us could argue with that, we stayed silent.
"Maybe you should make Savvs your next project," Jamie suggested as I drained the tub and took the towel she offered me. "If you could get Sad Ronny laid, you can get Savvs laid. I mean look at her," she added, moving to stand to grab Savea's face and turn it to me. "Looking like this, she should be beating off guys with sticks. She just needs some of that Peyton magic."
"If her hermit ass would come out at night, I could get her laid."
"I get up at five a.m.," she told as though we already didn't know she had to get to the shop early to get the cages all spiffy before potential customers would come by. "I can't be out drinking until two."
"Sure you can. You just need to commit to it," I objected, reaching for my brush, whacking her on the upper arm with it so she would hop down so I could look in the mirror myself.
"Your roots are coming in," she said, trying to change the topic. I had a feeling - which was why I didn't push like I did with Ronny - that she didn't want just to get laid, that she was celibate because she wanted more than just a fuck. And while that was not an issue I myself suffered from, I guess I could understand that most people wanted more than to scratch an itch.
"I have an appointment with Benny tomorrow," I told her, making a face at my blonde roots.
I was perhaps a bit old for a rebellious stage, but parts of me still rebelled from the things from my childhood. Like the rules my parents set about not being able to dye my hair or wear makeup or pierce anything. Seeing my blonde roots sneaking in still somehow reminded me of them, even if I literally didn't remember the last time I had set eyes on them. To say we weren't exactly friendly would be putting it nicely.
Autumn didn't ever see them either. And while they loathed the fact that she owned a sex toy store, the blood between them wasn't quite as rancid as the blood between them and me.
I guess because Autumn only ever rebelled in quiet, secretive ways that she shared with me but kept from them.
I, on the other hand, had been the type to rub their noses in it whenever I did something I knew they wouldn't approve of. And it would be putting it mildly to say shit hit the fan about it after Autumn moved out.
Clearly, I was still bitter about it.
"Benny is the best," Savvs agreed while Jamie made a face, the two of them having a small amount of distaste for each other since Benny dated her friend Kyle years back and dropped him to start dating someone new within a few days, something that had crushed Kyle, and pissed off Jamie. "At hair!" Savea added, rolling her eyes. "Do you even have time to get some sleep?" she went on as I scrubbed off my makeup, then shooed them out of the bathroom, following them in just my towel.
"Um, a few hours I guess. I'll be fine. I keep a closet full of Red Bull and Visine for this very reason," I told them, adding a bit of enthusiasm even though - just this once - I wasn't feeling it.
It wasn't like me to feel blah. But I was most definitely feeling quite blah.
Maybe - like Savvs - I needed a good pickle tickle. It had been a few months since I had had the cobwebs cleared out by anything other than my own fingers and maybe some of the toys that I had taken home to do product testing on from Phallus-opy. It wasn't like me to hit a dry spell. Almost as a rule, if I wanted sex, I had sex. But the last time I hit a bar, the options hadn't inspired anything close to the kind of stimulation I would need to get to an orgasm. And a quick scroll through my usual backup ugly-bumping buddies had left me uninspired as well.
I had chalked it up to needing something new and fresh to play with, and then had just been distracted by work and friends since then.
It was time to end the drought.
I would feel better after a good orgasm.
"Alright. I'm hitting it," I said, waving toward my bedroom. "Savvs, you are getting ready for your day, I imagine."
"Kinda pointless to go back to bed now," she said as Jamie went back to the couch, giving the penis pillows a grimace as she sprawled out.
"I'll let Hannibal out before I head to work," Jamie promised.
"And I will come to pick him up at my lunch break. He can come hang at the store with me. Cam said he doesn't mind here and there since all he does is lay around and eat treats."
See, this is why having a network of friends was awesome. Hell, some mornings I woke up to find French toast on the stove. Or came home at night to find Jamie had stripped the bed, washed my sheets, and remade it.
Since Autumn left, I had never really gotten used to living alone. I was too used to having people around, having someone to talk to all the time, having another person to cook for because cooking just for yourself was lame. It was lonelier than I had imagined to be on my own. So when people wanted to crash for a few weeks - or months - like Jamie, or stayed over at night because they were too tired to drive home, like Savea, I didn't mind. In fact, I kind of preferred it.
"You close early tomorrow, right?" Savvy asked, following me into the doorway of my room as I rummaged in my dresser for panties and and pajamas.
"Yeah." On Saturdays, the library was open until seven instead of nine. Which meant I only worked a three-hour shift. Which was kind of ridiculous. But since it was a Saturday, and I wasn't an old lady yet, it worked. I had time to head home, get changed, eat, and head out for the night.
"I don't close until nine if you want to pick Hannibal up on the way home."
"Will do," I agreed. "Can I persuade you into coming out tomorrow night? You're off Sunday," I reasoned.
"If you promise not to get too crazy," she stipulated. "And in case your Crazy Compass isn't calibrated the same as mine, that means nothing that would get us arrested. Or somehow end up at a frat house hazing party."
"That was one time!" I said, dropping down into bed. "And no one made you coat that kid in honey."
"Except you shoving the little bear into my hands!" she shot back.
"Good times. Besides, don't act like you aren't still Facebook and Instagram buddies with that kid. I've seen you like his posts. Now go get to making some kind of awesome breakfast," I demanded, nudging Hannibal, the world's laziest Basset Hound, which was saying something - away from my pillow so I could rest on it instead.
"Hannibal!" she called in her sing-song animal-calling voice. "Hannibal the Animal," she went on as his tail started thumping against my thigh. "Do you want a treat? A yummy yummy liver treat?"
"Only if you pair it with fava beans and a nice Chianti," I told her as he jumped down so I could pull my blankets over my body.
"I'll see what I can do," she said, leading him out of my room and closing the door.
Try as I might, I had the worst sleep.
It wasn't something I was normally afflicted with.
I generally had long days that involved a lot of eye-strained reading. By the time I dropped into bed, I was beat, and asleep in minutes.
Even considering the fucked up shit I read as bedtime stories, I wasn't often bothered by bad dreams or tossing and turning.
But tonight, I was tossing and turning, flipping over my pillow, kicking off my blankets, convinced I must have been uncomfortable in some way, that that had to be the culprit because there was no way in God's green Earth that I was tossing and turning because my brain couldn't stop thinking about a guy that I met for two-point-five seconds. Nope. That wasn't me. I wasn't that kinda girl. I was the kind of girl who forgot your name the day after I made out with you and started to refer to you as You know, the guy with the raven tattoo on his shoulder that always smelled like cinnamon vape?
I definitely never tried to analyze the shade of gray your eyes were. Or wonder if there were other badass stories to go along with your scars and ink.
Ugh.
Around eight, I rolled out of bed after having maybe gotten one solid hour of sleep, knowing it was useless to keep trying. This was what coffee and energy drinks were made for.
I walked out to find Savvy and Jamie and Hannibal all already gone, a fresh pot of coffee in the carafe, and a plate loaded up with an egg and cheese sandwich... with a side of grapes and bananas because both Jamie and Savea were mom-friends like that.
I ate, showered - though did not accomplish getting much more glitter off - and beat my face for a while, remembering last minute to take out my contacts to rinse them, staring at my blue eyes for a long moment before I slipped the brown contacts back in. Dressed in blood splatter and caution tape leggings and a tee that had half of Pennywise's face next to the words You'll Float Too, I headed out the door to grab She's Bean Around to bring Benny one of his obnoxious caramel mocha more-sugar-and-milk-than-coffee drinks and an extra large coffee with two shots and a dash of sugar for me, I made my way to Kennedy's salon.
Only when I was a foot inside the door did I remember something.
Kennedy belonged to Pagan.
A Henchmen.
And something was going on with The Henchmen lately that meant when one of their women was at work, they had a guard or two there with them. Reese constantly had someone at the library with her. And Kennedy, of course, had people at her salon with her.
It wasn't just my overly tired eyes deceiving me either.
One of the men there was in paramilitary garb, clearly from Hailstorm up on the hill.
But the other, oh, the other was a very newly familiar face in jeans, a black tee, and this time... his cut.
His head had popped up from his phone to look over when the door chimed, seeming as shocked to see me as I was to see him there.
"What? You stalking me now, baby?" he asked, lips curving up ever so slightly.
"Don't flatter yourself Suga Suga; I have a hot date with Benny," I told him, keeping my tone unaffected even if my sleep-deprived body was maybe a bit in overdrive.
"Hot I am," Benny agreed from behind the chair of a woman who had clearly just gotten fresh highlights. "Oh, is that for me, you beautiful thing you?" he asked, doing gimme-hands to the coffee I was holding. "So how do you know Mr. Hottie Mc Sexy Accent over here?" he asked, giving Sugar a smoldering look.
"I gave him a ride home last night."
"Oh, the rave! How was it?" he said, catching Sugar's attention.
"A rave?" Sugar asked, smirk just a bit condescending. "What are you, eighteen?"
"It was a gay rave to help my buddy get nailed," I specified, ignoring the faux shocked look some old lady shot me. If they were in this salon, they knew better than to expect talk about the weather.
"Did you do it?" Benny cut in again.
"Totally. I got a text this morning of them smiling at brunch. Your kind moves fast. I bet they'll be dating by the end of the day."
"My kind," Benny snorted, rolling his eyes. "Honey, if you think gay men move fast, it is only because your weirdo ass has never had a relationship in, what, ever?"
He was right.
It was never.
I was the mystical unicorn.
I had never been in a serious relationship.
Had I been on a few dates before sealing the deal? Sure.
Had I maintained years-long fuck-buddy situations? Yep.
But the whole... I'm your girlfriend, you're my boyfriend thing? God no. Why would I want to do that? So I could have someone to answer to? To tell me what I could or couldn't do? Hell fucking no. Not in a million years. It sounded like a prison. And not the good kind like Oz with all that yummy guy-on-guy fucking. I had spent all my youth under someone else's thumb. I wasn't going to volunteer for more of the same as an adult.
"That's right. Never," I agreed with a nod as I dropped myself down. "Why would my fabulous ass want to do such a boring, normal thing?"
I could feel Sugar's eyes on me as I spoke, but purposely kept my gaze on Benny - or the girls in the seats on my sides. I didn't need more reason to toss and turn at night.
"To have someone to come home to," Benny suggested.
"I have Hannibal to come home to," I said as he moved behind me to separate my hair, inspecting the new growth of blonde. "And my friends who are always crashing. And they make me breakfast... and don't tell me I can't have baby goats."
"You want a baby goat?"
"No, but more importantly, I don't want anyone telling me that I can't have one."
"You're hopeless," Benny declared, spinning me to face the mirror. "So what are we doing? Just touching this up, or something different?"
"Why don't we try half lilac and half a sea-foamy, turquoisey color?"
"Really committing to the mermaid look," he said as he flicked open a cape, and draped it around my shoulders, reaching under to free my hair.
"So did you give him a ride in that hearse of yours?" Kennedy asked, half-distracted by the blowout she was doing, and therefore clearly missing my 'don't go there' signals.
"Well, since my horse-drawn carriage was in the shop..."
"It came with a coffin when she got it," Benny informed everyone around us, smirking because if there was anything Benny liked, it was being in the know.
"No shit," Sugar said, lips quirked up. And, damn it, I knew this because my eyes totally found his face in the mirror. I mean, not that anyone would blame me. It would take superhuman skills to avoid looking at that perfect freaking face of his. "Where is it now?"
"Bet she sleeps in it," Benny said as he carefully parted my hair.
"I do not," I objected, but only because I was a sleep roller. "I have it set up in my guest room as a dog bed."
"In case anyone is not aware at this point," Benny announced to anyone within earshot, including the girl, Aven, leading someone into the back room for one of her specialty facials things she had finally talked Kennedy into letting her do instead of waxing. And after having to do my own wax at home, I really missed her ass. I mean, I don't know how familiar you are with pouring hot wax on your lady bits and ripping the little hairs out with a strip of paper. But let me tell you from personal experience, I am pretty sure I ripped half my labia off with it. It was truly a skill for which I did not have a hand at. "Peyton is a character."
I couldn't be absolutely certain, mind you, but I was pretty sure I heard Suga Suga mumble Got that right under his breath. And if I wasn't mistaken - and I usually wasn't when it came to the hot-as-shit opposite sex - he said it in a way that sounded a bit, well, interested.
Of course, I didn't want him to be interested. Or, more accurately, I knew I shouldn't want him to be interested. Because of all of the reasons I let roll around my head the night before while I was not sleeping. But there was no denying the little swirling sensation in my stomach that said I did want him to be interested... and that I liked it more than I should have.
Why did all the hot guys have to be outlaw bikers? And hitmen? And hired muscle? And mob members?
And why did my damn sister have to get herself shacked up with a man who had a loanshark family who didn't approve of me dating outlaw bikers, hitmen, hired muscle, and mob members?
With a sigh that I hoped only I could hear, I forced my eyes closed as Benny went to work. I thought about what I was going to wear to go out later with Savvs. And what I could force her to wear that wasn't a roomy tee and jeans. And where we would go. What we would drink. If there would be some hottie there that could distract me from the man just a few feet behind me who - when I occasionally peeked - was either glued to his phone with a tight set to his jaw, or glancing over at me, not even bothering to look away when he saw me catching him looking.
An hour and a half later, I was dyed, washed, dried, and styled, but didn't have the usual light and happy feeling I got when trying something new with my hair. I just felt sluggish and frustrated. Sexually. And otherwise.
And since I was not someone who often suffered from down moods, it was weighing heavy on me as I paid, avoided Sugar's gaze, and left the salon, making my way to grab something to bring to the library with me for my short shift that I spent reading a snuff erotica that did manage to lift my mood for a few hours.
As I drove home, though, it was still settled there, heavy and oppressive, something Jamie picked up on and kept casting drawn-together-brow looks at me as I moved around the apartment getting ready and waiting for Savea to show.
"You coming tonight?" I asked after I finally got Savea into the sexiest outfit I could make her wear - super tight black skinny jeans and a wine-colored tank top that slipped up ever so slightly in the front to reveal a sliver of stomach. I had slipped into a deep purple club dress, heavy on the down-to-fuck vibe even if I knew I was forcing myself to feel that way rather than feeling so organically.
Jamie looked down at her outfit - jeans and a purple and white plaid shirt, shrugged, and stood. "Someone has to keep an eye on you two looking like that," she offered. "Please tell me we are staying close," she pleaded, knowing that it wasn't completely uncommon for me to drag us forty-five minutes away to go to an 80's-themed club, or even an hour and change to get to the city for some bar hopping.
"I was thinking Chaz's tonight. Keep it simple."
So that was where we went.
And that was when it all started.