I want to cut his tongue out with a dull knife.
I elect to remain silent and turn the card over, but no one is interested in the game anymore. They’re all interested in where I’ve been dipping my stick lately.
“C’mon, Slash. You don’t just up and disappear if you aren’t eating the caviar and drinking the champagne,” Vet throws his two fucking cents in.
“It’s none of your goddamn business who I’m fucking.”
I’m hit square in the face with a flashback of my father. He was just as secretive and shady about Kristen. Disappearing for days on end with no care or explanation. It pissed me off. It pissed me off so bad that he felt he couldn’t trust me. Trust any of us. For half his life, this club had been his family. But he chose to keep her existence to himself. Because of the scrutiny, maybe? I’ll never know. Kristen and Kira are so different than anything men like us come into contact with. They live on another level. A level many of us look down upon. Prissy, spoiled, selfish. That’s how women like them are seen. Slumming with guys like us just for a good time. A one-night stand to tell their snotty friends about. “I fucked the bad boy,”I imagine them saying. And yes, all of us at this table are bad boys. As bad as bad can get, but along with the bad also comes some good. They all have something to offer, and maybe if women like Kira looked past the leather, tattoos, and loud bikes — past the scars on their faces — they would see what makes up the man inside.
Something suddenly dawns on me. Maybe Kristen did. Maybe that’s what drew my father to her. And maybe Kira could do the same.
“He’s totally not fucking her. Look at his face. He’s got the worst case of blue balls,” Breaker obnoxiously proclaims.
I realize then I’m scowling. Am I that fucking obvious? I might need to start working on my poker face.
“Fuck you all.” I send the cards in my hand flying across the table like the Queen’s deck inAlice in Wonderland.“Poker night is over.” I stand up and drain the last of my beer. “Give my winnings to Harley and Davidson. They’re gonna need it with this crew.”
I walk out with my blood simmering and my boys in my rearview. So much for blowing off steam and a stress-free night.
I strap on my helmet and turn on my bike. There are a pile of different sensations gyrating through my body. I want to hit something. I want to ride fast and tell my father to fuck off. I want Kira’s arms around me and her hands clutching my chest. I want to be alone and I want to be with her all at the same time. I want to stop feeling like a million broken pieces. I want worlds to merge but am terrified of the outcome.
I want to be the man I was three years ago. I want Kira to know that man, but I don’t know how to go back, and I don’t know how to move forward.
I’m stuck.
I ride into the night, letting the wind steal my fanatical thoughts,
racing straight for my greatest weakness and my most frustrating obstacle.
9
Kira
I runthe bathwater until the tub is full.
I need to escape.
I need silence.
I need the whole world to disappear.
I discard my clothes and climb into the marble whirlpool tub large enough to fit six. It’s situated right in front of a huge picture window, so I have a million-dollar view of the Pacific Ocean and a never-ending supply of its magnificent sunsets. The reflection off the water turns the stark-white bathroom pink and gold as the sun descends over the horizon. I breathe it in. I admire it, I appreciate it, then I sink down into the water and say goodbye to the world around me.
I find peace below the surface, holding my breath as the seconds tick by. My lungs slowly constrict, deprived of oxygen, but I don’t come up for air. Not yet. I’m not ready. I close my eyes and concentrate, wanting to see nothing. Wanting to hear nothing, but even under the water, he’s there. Invading my subconscious. Niggling his way into my tranquility. Into my escape.
He hates you, I remind myself. He leads you on, talks to you like you’re a piece of shit, and disrespects the house your father and mother made your home. Yes, I call Gerard my father, because he is the first man besides my grandfather who treats my mother and me like true family. He loves us. Loves us like a husband and a father should, and Ky hates him for it.
He hates me because of my very existence, yet I can’t stop myself from being drawn to him. From wanting him.
The night of the blackout haunts me. What would have happened if he kissed me? What would our relationship be like, then? I hiccup from the lack of air, but I still don’t surface. Not yet, just a little longer. My lungs are burning now, but it’s a sensation I crave.
I drift deeper into my thoughts, reliving being in Ky’s arms. Reliving every touch we’ve shared. Reliving how enlivened my body became with each teasing caress.
I try not to let my thoughts wander there. Wander to him. To fantasize about him, but my attraction is uncontrollable. It’s a speeding bullet, and my arousal is the bullseye. That annoying ache creeps up on me. I want to ignore it. Fight it. Beat it away with a bat. But I don’t. I give in to it. I let it wrap itself around me, and I know then I’m a goner.
I come up for air sooner than I wanted. I’m pissed at myself, but I’m also so fucking needy. Needy for him. I slide my hand down my torso and find the apex of my thighs. The first touch makes me tremble even though I am submerged in warm water. I rub at the jarring throb hoping to subside the discomfort, but it only strengthens the sensations. My muscles tighten as I massage away the misery, my body responds in a mollifying way. Small, anguished moans escape from me as I climb each tormenting peak, coming closer and closer to the reprieve I’m dying for. I picture Ky; I feel him stroking me. His strong hands and commanding touch. It’s him I want. Want on top of me, want inside me. I rub faster, breathe harder. My core constricting from the fantasy.It’s him I want, it’s him I want, I chant silently to myself.
“Fuck, fuck,” I mewl out loud as I reach the pivotal edge. With the first caress of my orgasm — blissful and glorious — I allow myself to fall, but my pleasure is robbed as I’m startled to death by an ear-piercing sound.“Shit.”I scurry out of the tub, dripping wet, frustrated as hell, and on a warpath. Wrapping myself in a towel, I rush downstairs to silence the alarm. Motherfucking thing.
