Page 63 of Spike

“Oh, I almostforgot the best part. Check it out,” he said, excitedly, pointing to the insideof the helmet. “Both of our helmets are equipped with mics and speaker,connected via Blue Tooth. We can talk to each other or share a playlist whilewere riding.”

“It’s perfect,” Isaid, slipping the helmet on, before climbing onto the back of Spike’s bike.

He started theengine and my stomach fluttered in anticipation of what was to come. I lovedriding with Spike more than I could have possibly predicted. Before Spike, I’dnever given much thought to motorcycles one way or another. I certainly neverimagined what it might be like to be on one. Not that my imagination would havecompared to the real thing. My arms wrapped around Spike, while my legsstraddled the bike. According to Spike, the engine was a V-Twin and produced anaverage of one hundred horsepower. All I knew was the roar of the engine, andthe vibrations it sent through my body were exhilarating. It also made me veryhorny,which was a word I didn’t ever expect to use when referring to myself, butthere it was.

As we drovethrough the rapidly changing landscape of Portland, I felt as though I wasseeing the city for the first time. Being with Spike was like putting on a pairof magic glasses that allowed me to see things that were otherwise hidden tome. I saw both the beauty and sadness of the city and its people with far moreclarity and empathy.

My whole life, I’dbeen forced to view the world through my father’s interpretation of God’s lens.A lens that revealed every good thing was of God, and every bad thing was ofSatan, done with the hands of mankind. Maybe my father was right and the worldwas just that cut and dry, but I didn’t feel that way when I was with Spike.When I looked at him, I saw possibilities. Not of what he could become, but ofwhat I could become. Spike showed me what it meant to be brave and rebellious.How to display righteous anger, but also have mercy on those who’ve harmed youin the past. He showed me what patience and unconditional love looked like. Hewas, simply put, the person who most exhibited the traits of Jesus more thananyone I’d ever met.

But Jesus nevermade me horny, and the more I was around Spike, the more I wanted him to dothings to me. Things I’d never wanted a man to do to me before.

Driving through anarea of town I never even knew existed, we stopped at a large gate with a guardtower. The guard posted in the tower gave Spike a chin lift before opening theentrance and allowing us access.

“Why thesecurity?” I asked.

“Better safe thansorry,” Spike replied.

“That setup lookeda little more serious than basic safety precautions.”

“Since goinglegitimate, the club has faced some challenges.”

“Which is codefor…?”

Spike sighed.“Look, I can’t give you details, but I will say we’ve faced the kind ofchallenges that make everyone feel a whole lot better with a gate and guardsposted at all times.”

Spike stopped andparked his bike near what looked like a hunting lodge. We climbed off andremoved our helmets.

I bit my lip. “AmI safe here?”

Spike pulled meclose. “I would have never brought you here if it meant putting you in danger.In fact, this is probably the safest place in Portland. I’d rather you be herewith me than anywhere else. Besides, you should feel right at home at a placecalled the ‘Sanctuary.’”

“I suppose I am inthe company of saints, aren’t I?”

“Don’t let thehalos fool you, baby. My brothers play on the squeaky side, but they are farfrom clean. You understand?”

I nodded. What Ireally understood was how my body reacted when he called me ‘baby.’

Is this what beingin heat feels like?

“Let’s go inside,so I can show you off,” he said, opening and holding the door for me.

The Sanctuary,Spike had explained, was a compound made up of multiple buildings, includingbunk houses, workshops, garage bays, and whatever else the club needed,including its very own, newly built tavern, ‘Warthog’s Watering Hole,’ namedafter one of the club’s oldest members.

“The Bar is kindalike Warthog’s retirement fund,” Spike said as we made our way inside. “He’salways been the club’s unofficial bartender, so he may as well make a few buckswhile he’s at it.”

“This place isbeautiful,” I breathed, surprised by what I saw once inside. The Sanctuary’smain building, called the Chapel, was decorated like an Adirondack huntinglodge from the turn of the century.

Spike motioned tothe various trophies adorning the space. “All these antlers and animal hidesare from game bagged by Cutter, and a couple of the old timers.”

“What? They didn’twant to stuff ’em and prop them up in the corners?”

“These skins andantlers are all that are left,” Spike said. “Cutter believed hunters shouldshow the same amount of respect and reverence for their prey this country’snative people showed. They wasted nothing. Some even made kuttes from deer andelk hides.”

“I thought I heardthe sound of a beautiful woman coming from in here,” Clutch said as he enteredthe room.

“Hi,” I said,greeting him with a hug.” I’d met Clutch and his wife at the Dogs’ clubhouseand he had a very intense look about him but there was an inner sweetness thatcouldn’t help but shine through him, and his wife was a total rock star. Ihoped to get to know them both more, which of course meant I was hoping to bearound Spike for as long as possible, but I was trying hard not to get my hopesup. Half expecting him to dump me once he figured out how boring I was.

Clutch punchedSpike in the arm. “This guy treating you with respect?”

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