***Faya***
I feel like I’m on a roller coaster. Not just an emotional one, but one that makes your belly flip and gives you the high of pure joy. But in fact I’m on the back of a bike, holding on to a guy who took and gives me all.
I’m wearing new clothes, a new leather jacket, blouse, and black jeans that fit perfectly around my curves. And to me that means a lot. I can never find a pair of jeans that’s a good size and comfy at the same time. Yet he walks into a store with me, tells the girl behind the register to get me the best pair of jeans. She would have worked faster if she wasn’t slipping over her own drool.
Shit. I was getting annoyed with the little bitch that was fluttering her eyes every chance she got. Yet there was no need for jealousy because Crane was only watching me, he didn’t even give her the time of day. Even when he paid the bill he didn’t utter a single word to her, just threw the money and grabbed the bags before he guided me out of there.
Yes, I said bags. Filled with clothes that are in the saddlebags of his bike. He bought me a whole new wardrobe. I’m not wearing my comfy moccasins anymore. Nope, I’m wearing black, chunky high heel boots. The yellow silk blouse I’m wearing underneath the leather jacket feels amazing. And I’ve not even mentioned the lingerie that is all lace and gorgeous. I think I’ve never owned clothes as expensive as I’m wearing right now.
My arms tighten around the man I owe my life, and everything else, too. I feel him pat my hand before he picks up speed. I love the feel of the wind, the rumble of the bike, and the man who gives me everything without asking anything in return.
Crane guides the bike toward a large gate that opens when we’re almost to it. Up ahead is a large building with a row of bikes in front of it. Here and there are fire pits, a few people are standing around them. Some are smoking a cigarette or drinking a beer and it looks like they are having a good time.
The bike comes to a stop and that’s when I get nervous. I heard the other guy on the phone earlier loud and clear. The one who shot my roommate, and sent Crane after me, Tico Borgio, wants me brought to him. For three days I was scared that they would kill me. But knowing Tico wants me to be brought to him? It makes the thought of them killing me less scary because I have no clue what he wants and my mind can only skip to torture.
With the abuse I’ve lived through, pain is a living hell where time is irrelevant. Making seconds drag by and seem like hours that will stay rooted in your brain forever. So the thought of getting killed is final and the thought of anything else is much scarier.
But I chose to trust Crane. Because ever since he stepped into my life and practically took over, my life took a turn upwards.
I gasp when I feel Crane’s fingers slide over my lower back, dipping inside my jeans and giving a tiny pull on my thong. “I fucking love these jeans on you.”
I smack his hand away and step off his bike. Trying to glare and failing, I tell him, “Behave.”
His chuckle makes my newly bought thong instantly drenched. And the look he gives me tells me he’s aware of that little fact. “Let’s get this handled so we can get back to exploring our bodies some more, what do you say?”
“I say that sounds about perfect.” I hum before placing a quick kiss on his lips.
Except before I pull away, his hand grabs the back of my head, tilting it so he can thoroughly dominate my mouth.
We’re interrupted by a voice coming from behind Crane. “Gonna introduce me to the woman, or do I need to come back when you’re done mouth fucking her?”
Crane chuckles into my mouth before he bites my lip playfully. “Meet my Prez, Faya. Damn pain in the ass, but if there’s any Prez or MC that considers me a member...”
He steps back and the guy steps up and holds out his hand. “I’m Ronin. And don’t believe a fucking word he says about me.” He gives me a wink and adds, “I’m worse.”
I grab his hand and give it a firm shake. The smile he gives me tells me he is indeed worse. Or it might just be the three scars that go from eyebrow to his chin on the left side of his face. Weirdly enough, they add to the rough handsome appearance. Yet he doesn’t hold a candle to the man that’s mine.
Mine. This realization makes me step closer to Crane, who instinctively tucks me underneath his arm. “Let’s go inside and talk business, I have other things in mind for the rest of the day.”
“Ah.” Ronin lifts his chin. “Lemme guess, more mouth fucking.”
“Among other things,” Crane agrees before he guides me toward a large black door with the same patch on it that’s on the back of every biker that’s walking around here.
Inside it looks like one big space. There are several old couches here and there, along with thick carpets. The corner in the back looks like it’s a gym because there’s a bench press and dumbbells laying around. Plus a very tattooed man is doing chin-ups, hanging from the ceiling. This space definitely has a whole man cave vibe to it. There isn’t one single feminine touch and nothing seems to fit together and yet everything as a whole kinda does.
There is a bar in the left corner and four women with their tits strapped up high are standing in front of it. They don’t make me uncomfortable and yet their presence does because every single female inside here has the figure of a model. I’m like twice their size.
“Don’t give ‘em another thought, sweetheart. That’s entertainment for the men here,” Crane whispers while he nuzzles my neck.
“Oh, it’s not that. It’s...never mind.” He doesn’t have to know the real reason I’m uncomfortable.
The sharp sting on my left ass cheek makes me gasp in shock. Did he just smack my ass?
“Don’t fucking tell me those skinny bitches make you uncomfortable because you’re more woman than them. Because let me tell you, sweetheart, fucking that,” his voice is raised and my cheeks might be resembling a tomato right now, “have them screaming my name, begging for me to stop, cause they can’t handle my cock, is a huge turnoff. You, on the other hand, scream my name in pleasure, demanding I stop slacking and give you some more. Get it why you’re perfect and my Old Lady? That’s the fucking difference and the reason why they are passed around while you....”
“I’m yours,” I breathe before I grab his head and kiss him.
“Fuck, brother. You claimed her? Is that your way of handling it?” Ronin states from behind us.
Crane doesn’t respond but just keeps swirling his tongue lazily against mine, taking his time to enjoy our kiss before he nips my bottom lip and finally turns toward Ronin.
“She’s my Old Lady. It has nothing to do with me handling things but everything to do with her being mine because she was made to be.” Crane’s voice carries enough authority to have all the heads inside the room snap toward us.
“I see.” Ronin nods. “That kind of changes things.”
“It does,” Crane agrees, his fingers digging into my hip.
I should be nervous about what might happen next, except…I’m not. Okay, maybe a little, because I want to live my life to the fullest. Meaning I want Crane to be there right next to me every step of the way.