CHAPTER FOUR
Jillian
AN HOUR LATER I END UP falling asleep. The same dream of the Devil’s hand clamping on my shoulder returns. The rough, reptilian hand slithers down my chest, and fondles my breast. Its sharp claws shredding my shirt, it’s rough skin coarse against my sensitive nipple. I sigh loudly, Zeek’s name ripping from my chest. The scaly hand applies pressure, its talons digging into my flesh pouring warm blood down my abdomen. Pain ignites throughout my body like I’ve never felt before, and a shrill cry erupts from my throat, as it tears into my chest, grasping my heart in the heel of its palm.
Crimson spills from my mouth as the hand leaning over my shoulder takes my heart with it.
“Jillian!” A horn honks, and I jump awake. My body soaked with sweat, and my chest heaving for air. I glance over at Zeek, who is halfway out of the driver’s seat, worry stretched across his face. “What the fuck?” he growls.
“I—I had a bad dream.” I pant, rubbing my forehead. Shaking his head, he situates himself back in his seat. “It was nothing. Don’t worry about it. How much longer?” I ask, my voice muffled with fear.
“Well, I am worried.” He exhales a deep breath. “We’re almost there.”
Sitting up in my seat, I grab a bag of chips that hasn’t been opened, revealing three other unopened bags underneath it.
“Fucking stoners,” Zeek chuckles, grabbing a bag of Cheetos. “They get the munchies,” he continues, a boyish smile fitting his face. I try not to laugh, but I fail, and a small smile breaks through. “Ah, she smiles, finally.”
Kicking my feet on the dash, I open the bag of sour cream and onion.
“Don’t get used to it. Baby steps.”
We sit in silence, well, mostly silence. The chomping of chips, and the crinkle of the bags the only noise.
“Look in the glovebox for some pain relievers or maybe he’ll have some pot left over.”
“Really, you want me to look for drugs?” I can’t even hide the amount of sarcasm in my face.
“It’s weed, the Indians used it for healing and shit. Hell, it comes from the ground, like fucking flowers and shit, it’s natural.”
“Flowers? Really? I don’t see anyone sitting around smoking lilies,” I smart.
“I’m sure someone has tried it before, and if it made you feel like weed did, people would be smoking lilies, I’m sure.”
I roll my lips into a thin line to stifle my smile.
He pulls on the homemade tourniquet on his arm, the white rag nearly soaked with blood. Swallowing, I sit up and open the glove compartment. He’s not wanting it for the thrill of getting high, he’s in pain.
He was shot trying to save my ass.
“There’s nothing.”
“Shit!” His husky tone vibrates through me and I wonder how much pain he truly is in and if it’s bearable at this point. Should he even be driving? I question as I glance back over at him, my eyes zoning straight in on where the blood soaked rag is.
“You sure we shouldn’t see a doctor?”
“Yes!” he snaps, making me jump in my seat. Asshole. He glances at me out of the corner of his eye, like he didn’t mean to lash out.
Having had enough of this interaction I turn in my seat, looking out the window.
An hour goes by, and I can’t help the incredible urge to pee any longer. I’ve been holding it for the last twenty minutes.
“I need to pee.”
Zeek huffs, looking over at me.
“Can’t you hold it, we’re almost there.”
“How close?”
“I don’t know. Ten minutes, maybe?”
I could hold it, but I want to be a pain in the ass. After all, he put me in fucking cuffs again.
“No, I need to go now.”
His shoulders rise, his eyes piercing me knowingly. He knows I’m trying to anger him. I can’t help the smile breaking through my lips. “Really bad, too.”
Motorcycles zoom past us, but it’s too dark to read the insignia on their cuts.
“We really are close,” I state.
Zeek pulls the van over, a bunch of cars, and bikes parked around a building about a block up.
“Why are you parking back here? Aren’t you going to go in there, guns blazing and shit like you normally do?”
“No, I’m not.” He exhales, sitting back in his seat. “Normally I would. But things are different.” He pauses, his lips rolling over one another in thought. He seems conflicted, or worried. To be honest I don’t know what it is, I’ve never seen this look on Zeek’s face before. “I killed one of their members,” he mutters, his words coming off like he’s not proud. I almost forgot Zeek and his brother, Lip, got into a war, resulting in a member of the Devil’s Dust being killed at the hands of Zeek.
“Remorse, an emotion I don’t think I’ve seen the King of Vegas display before.” Snapping his head up, he glares at me, making me suck in a tight breath. The way his hair falls into his eyes, and the intense way his jaw clenches. His shoulders rising as his arms flex, it’s scary.
“I wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for trying to keep you safe.” His words hit me hard, like a punch to the gut knocking the wind right out of me. I don’t know how to take his comment, because although I didn’t ask him to keep me safe I am glad that it is him keeping me protected, and I don’t want him to regret doing it at all.
“You think he’s really going to help?” I ask, switching the subject.
Shaking his head, he rests his hands on the steering wheel.
“We don’t have anywhere else to go.”
The music is blaring from down the block, half naked chicks and stumbling men walking around. Seems like a big party is going on. There’s so many people walking up and down the street you’d think there was a concert going on instead of a small party.
“I don’t think tonight is the best night to waltz in there,” I state, eyeing the scene more carefully.
“And why’s that?” he questions, looking out the windshield.
“People have been drinking, probably doing drugs. When they see you, they won’t be thinking clearly, and everyone will side with the Devils leaving you and I without a chance.” I point across the way at a silver Crown Vic about a block away from the club in the opposite direction. “Plus, they got heat on them.”
Zeek’s head whips in the direction of my finger. “Seriously? How do you know?” His tone frantic.
I shrug, and continue on.
“It’s a popular car among law enforcement, it looks out of place, and it has a coffee cup on the dash. Looks like a classic stake out.” Memories of my first stake out with my dad come to memory.
“Dad who are we watching?”
My dad replied, reaching for his coffee.
“A criminal, honey,” he said, not looking at me as he took a sip. His tone of voice mimicked the sound of voice he made when a sneaky snake slithered into the garage. I looked around the car, hoping for something to do while I sat there. Dad took me on a lot of his shifts when my mom was helping the church. He didn’t want me home alone, even though I felt being ten years old was plenty old enough to be left at home alone.
“What did he do?”
“Get down!” my dad whispered loudly, slouching in his seat. I dropped to the floorboard, knocking the box of sprinkled donuts to the floor as I tried to contain my giggles.
Headlights splashed across the headliner of the car, before disappearing. “This man has been dealing drugs to kids, he’s very good about not getting caught though. He never touches the product. I’m watching to see who he’s in contact with, see if I can use any of them as an informant.”
I picked at the vinyl seating, still hunched down in the floorboard, one of my knees smashing one of the donuts that escaped the box. “So they will tell on them?” I questioned, wiping the icing from my knee with a finger and bringing it to my mouth.
“Exactly.”
“Why would they tell on their friend?”
“Because,” he looked down at me, his brows narrowed. “I always find a way.”
“Shit. We can’t go in there, that guy could be in Frank’s pocket, you’d never know and we’d play right into his hands.” Zeek’s masculine voice pulls me from my trip down memory lane.
“Yeah, exactly what I said.” Sarcasm drips from my tone, earning me a sideways glance from Zeek.
“You whore, you know you blew him!” A half-naked girl hollers, catching up with a group of girls.
I lower my head, my lips pressing into a thin line. I would never fit in at a motorcycle club’s party. The way these girls just flaunt their bodies without a care in the world, it’s a courage I wish I had. I, on the other hand, pick at every flaw I have when I’m completely clothed.
I can feel Zeek staring at me, but I continue to look forward.
“You know you’re way sexier than them, right?” Tucking my bottom lip between my teeth I hide the smile wanting to slip through my insecurities.
“I’m nothing like them. They wear those sexy clothes, and make-up, I could never pull that off.” I hate how pathetic I sound.
“That’s exactly what I love about you. You’re everything they’re not.” My heart thunders in my chest, and my face warms with adoration. I hate how he can be a complete asshole one minute and then know exactly what to say the next. It hooks me every time.
“So now what do we do?” I cross my arms, ignoring his compliment. I’m too afraid if I respond he’ll say something even sweeter and I’ll melt into his arms. I need to resist him, for the sake of my father’s memory, if anything.
He rubs at his chin. “I have a friend who lives around here, I’ll hit him up and see if he can hold us up for a while, at least until that car disappears. Tonight we’ll stay here.”
“Here?”
“Yes, here, as in the back of the van. If we try and turn around we will draw attention. If that guy in that cruiser is with Frank, we don’t want him spotting us and calling him.”
Running my hands through my hair I growl, frustrated. “I really do have to pee, so you’re going to have to turn around and make a scene anyway.”
Zeek bends down, fishing something from the floorboard.
“Use this.” He hands me a mostly empty Gatorade bottle.
“What am I supposed to do with this?” I ask taking it from him.
“We ain’t moving from this spot, and you got to pee, so…” He nods toward the bottle, and my eyes flare when I realize what he’s suggesting.
“You want me to pee…in this?” I deadpan.
A sly smile crosses his face.
Scowling I shove past him, and head into the back of the van to pee.
Zeek
“CAN YOU AT LEAST take the cuffs off?” Jillian huffs from the back of the van.
“No. Last thing I need is you to run out there and make us both a target.”
“Gaaaah!” she growls, throwing shit around in anger.
“We tried it your way, the nice way. Remember that? Then you fucked me over, and ruined that trust between us. Therefore you stay in the cuffs until I can trust you again. “
“Fuck you. You’re just a controlling asshole.” Her words are a slap to the face. I have no doubt I have controlling tendencies, but when you run a motorcycle club, it comes with the territory.
She shuffles back up front, and throws the bottle of piss at me, missing me completely and flying out the window.
And that is why I’m so obsessed with this infuriating woman, she doesn’t take my shit lying down.
“I hope you don’t have to piss again, ‘cause that was the only bottle.” I give her a big toothy grin, one to anger her, and push her buttons.
“I should go out there and get it, just to throw it at your head again,” she jabs.
A couple of drunk girls stride our way, and I sink into my seat. Jillian following the action.
“We should move to the back. I don’t want someone to recognize us.” Glancing in the back of the van, I notice a bunch of blankets, and no seats. A big hookah strapped against the side of the van so it won’t fall when the van is in motion. Fucking stoners.
Slipping into the back I arrange the pillows and blankets, Jillian following me.
She grabs a pillow, and fluffs it before lying down. Her back facing me. She moves her hair from her neck, bunching it above her head. Her silky neck coming into perfect view. It has a couple of beauty marks, and looks soft as fuck. She sighs, and the white blouse that is too big for her, slips off her shoulder.
Fuck me.
I bite at my knuckles as my dick strains against my jeans painfully. I want to lick her shoulder, nip at the sensitive skin on the nape of her neck. Fist her hair, and fuck her until her eyes roll in the back of her head.
Blowing out an agitated breath, I close my eyes trying to think about something else.
The Pledge of Allegiance comes to mind. Aren’t you supposed to sing that or some shit?
My eyes still close I mouth the words, trying to push thoughts of Jillian bouncing on my dick out of my head.
It’s not working. I need something else to think about.
Like the fact that I need to get in touch with Felix. Or figure out exactly what I’m going to say to Lip?
As important as those two thoughts are, my dick rubbing against my zipper looking for any kind of friction at this point is demanding attention.
Thinking of anything else is pointless.
My eyes pop open, and I glance toward Jillian. Her breathing is slower, and she hasn’t moved. Sitting up some I try to see her face, see if her eyes are open; they’re shut.
Fuck it.
Unzipping my pants, I whip my dick out, spit in my hand, and palm it.
Fisting my cock hard, I stroke it softly.
Closing my eyes I think about Jillian sitting up on her knees, that white button up shirt falling to her forearms, and her perky tits out and ready for me to suck on. God, I miss the taste of her, and the way the sweetness of her skin lingers on my tongue. It’s salty and sweet. My dick swells even more within my palm, the veins in my shaft protruding as I stroke it. My chest rises with a ragged breath as my balls tighten with satisfaction that it’s being paid attention to. Just when the end of my palm reaches the tip of my dick, I slip it back down quickly.
The sensation of my release swims up my cock, that feeling of bliss stripping the tension from my body.
“What the fuck are you doing?!”
My eyes pop open, finding Jillian looking at me with wide eyes, before glancing at my cock.
I don’t stop, I can’t stop. I’m too close.
“What’s it look like, babe?”
She swallows, her eyes finding mine after looking at my cock just a moment longer than someone who seems horrified should. Long enough for me to know she wants to watch me.
Her lips open to object, taking my focus from her eyes to that perfect mouth. The way it would feel wrapped around my cock.
“You wanna help?” My voice husky.
Her brows furrow, and her mouth snaps shut. Her eyes focus on my dick once more, and her chest rises quickly, she’s battling her inner desire.
“I bet those thighs are squeezed tight as hell trying to stifle that wetness that wants to coat my cock, isn’t it?”
Slowly her eyes meet mine, they’re heavy and dazed with arousal. “Fuck you,” she whispers, but her voice doesn’t quite execute her insult like she wants it to. Her shirt slides down, almost showing me her nipple, and enough breast that it makes my cock jerk on its own in my palm.
I cum. I blow warm cum all over my hand, and my lower stomach.
Her eyes flick to my cock, and I can see her heart beating in her throat from here. My hand continues to milk my cock of every drop as her eyes remain locked on my hand’s every movement.
“I think I warned you about saying that to me.” Grabbing a nearby blanket, I wipe my hands and then the jizz off my cock and lower abs.
Shaking her head from inner turmoil, she turns.
“I cannot believe you just did that with me right here,” she huffs, lying back down. Her wall of relenting to my advances is back up. Shoving my cock back in my pants I hover over her, shoving her cuffed hands above her head.
“Don’t act like you didn’t like watching me fuck my hand. Your cunt is wet and aching for me to plow into it and we both know that’s the truth.”
“It’s not true.”
Letting go of her hands I fist the loose black slacks she got from Mildred, and her cuffed hands come down, immediately pushing against my hand to stop.
“Stop!”
“Tell me the truth, and I will. Tell me that you squeezed your thighs together so hard you’ll have bruises tomorrow. Otherwise I’m going to see for myself, see that you’re a dirty little liar. The way your eyes lit up as my cum spit over my knuckles, there’s no way you didn’t enjoy it, baby.”
“It got me hot.” Her words come stale, like I’m making her say them. I shift my knee, rubbing it along her pussy, and her eyes roll. The heat of her arousal radiating off her so thick, I can feel it through my jeans. I’d do anything to sink my throbbing dick into that pink pussy of hers. My pathetic jack off session doing nothing for blue balls.
I roll my knee against her once more, and a soft moan escapes her mouth, her hand tangling in her hair as she uses her feet to push her hot cunt onto my knee on her own accord.
Yeah, she wants me, and it’s only a matter of time before I come crashing through that wall of rejection.
I want nothing more than to rip her blouse apart and fuck her in the back of this van, but I can tell she is still battling with herself, and when I sink my dick into her, I’m not stopping because she’s having second thoughts.
My enlarged cock will have to be patient.
I rock against her, causing her face to scrunch in ecstasy.
Leaning my head down, her body still dry humping my knee I nibble her ear and she arches into me.
“I got all the confirmation I need,” I whisper into her ear, pulling my knee from her greedy pussy.
Her eyes pop open, her hands untangling from her hair.
“You’re such an asshole!” She kicks me off, and throws herself on her side, her back turned toward me.
“The only asshole who can give you an orgasm.” It’s the greatest feeling in the world to know I’m the only one who can give that to her. The only one who can tease her with it.
She growls in frustration, her hands raised in the air like she wants to strangle me. I’d give her something to strangle alright.
“As you just found out, I have a great remedy for that stress.” That’s a lie, masturbating makes it worse, I think.
“Shut up!” she yells, still facing away from me. Her tone not that cute angry that makes me smile, but the pissed version that tells me she’s fucking serious.
No matter how much I tease her, to try and show her she wants me and belongs to me… it may not be enough to win her trust, her respect. The two things that are most important to me.
Closing my eyes, I think about that, and how to rectify this situation.
***
A MOTORCYCLE ROARS BY, waking me. Stretching out, and glancing over, Jillian is still fast asleep. A sliver of sunlight peeks from underneath the curtain of the van window, splashing along her collarbone.
Fuck she’s beautiful.
I really screwed up with her.
It kills me not to see her goofy grin, where she shows that slight overbite, and the little wrinkles next to her eyes. I’m going out of my mind not being able to touch her, to own her or the moans spilling from her mouth. To be the cause of her body trembling and dying for her next breath.
I fear for her, ‘cause when she’s finally done being mad at me I may actually rip her in two with all the pent up possessive energy I’m harboring. I’m going to bury my cock so deep into that wetness, I won’t know where she begins and I end. My hip bones will bruise her thighs, and her arms won’t have the strength to hold her up. Most of all…she won’t stop smiling that goofy little grin when we’re done either.
Yeah, that is happening. And fucking soon.
Another motorcycle drives by, and she jumps upright. Her hair sticking up everywhere, her eyes half asleep with one eye open and the other closed. She’s the definition of bed head, and she wears it fucking beautifully.
“Morning, Rookie.”
She glares, pulling her shirt closed so I can’t see her tits.
“What time is it?” Her voice is thick with sleep. I want to hear her moan my name with that tone of voice. God, I gotta stop that shit.
“Don’t know.” I climb up front, and look out the windshield. “Maybe noon?”
The block is cleared of cars, and most of the motorcycles are gone.
“What now?” She follows me up front, rubbing her eyes like a little kid who’s tired.
I point at the stake out car that’s still parked in front of the club.
“We can’t go in there, it’s too risky. So we’re going to find a phone so I can call Paw.”
“Paw?”
“Yeah, it’s his gangster name or some shit, I don’t know. He moved from Vegas because California had a better supply and demand for the product he was wanting to move. Last time I knew he was hanging out around this area.” Paw was one of my best sellers, he took growing weed, and cutting coke seriously. When he informed me he was moving farther west I wasn’t happy about it. It’s hard to trust people in the business of drugs as it is, and a man I knew from childhood was bailing on me. The only reason I allowed it was because he put me in contact with another dealer he swore would be profitable. The new guy is good, but I’m not sure he’s as great as Paw was.
“You’d think for a gangster he’d come up with a moniker a little more intimidating than Paw.” She grabs her seatbelt, getting situated.
I can’t help but smile, wait till she sees the guy. Paw is a big guy, with tattoos all over him. His name could be Tiny, and he’d still scare the shit out of kids.
I drive to the closest gas station, and pull next to the side of the building. Flipping the dashboard inside out I look for a couple quarters to call Paw. After finding a few, I eye Jillian. I can’t leave her here, she might run or try and drive off.
“You’re coming with me.”
“What?” she retorts, sass heavy in her tone.
“I don’t trust—”
“You don’t trust me. Yeah, we established that.” She rolls her eyes and unbuckles her seatbelt. Gritting my teeth, I scowl. When she finally forgives me, I’m going to fuck that bratty attitude right out of her.
Getting out of the car, I grab her by the cuffs and pull her closely behind me so nobody can see the metal wrapped around her wrists.
Keeping my hand on her, I put the quarters in and dial the last number I remembered Paw having.
“Ello?”
“Paw?”
“Who da fuck is this?”
“It’s Zeek. I need a favor.”
“Zeek, my motherfucking brother from another mother. What’s up, man? What you need?”
“I need somewhere to stay, just for a while.”
“You in some shit?” His tone dips, as if someone might hear him.
“Yeah, yeah, I am.” I look at Jillian, the sun beaming off her blonde hair as she looks out at the passing cars.
“Aight, I got you. You know your way around LA?”
“I can manage.”
“No doubt, No doubt. Head to Rustic Creek, and head on Green Eldgewood, House number 1356.”
“Got it.”
“Aight, I’ll meet you there, homey.”
I hang the phone up, and pull on Jillian’s cuffs.
“Let’s go.”