“I don’t need to be told twice.” Pushing in and out, thrusting until her pelvic walls begin to squeeze me, Toni digs her nails into my shoulder as her orgasm falls upon her. Biting her lip to quiet her tiny scream, her hips ratchet back and forth as her core nearly pushes my fingers out of her. I don’t stop though. I know she’ll give me a second if I just keep thrusting.
Holding my hand still, letting her push and pull me through her motions, Toni cannot hold it in. Releasing that punished lip, she cries out as her body falls apart.
Watching her come down off of the high of enjoying her very public orgasm, I pull my fingers free and lick the sweet juice off every inch of my hand. If I have a chance to do this more, to see the look on her face and hear her soft moans and cries as she comes, I will do it.
I’ll fuck up anyone who gets in my way.
I vow—no one will take her from me again.
Chapter 24
Restarting the bikeand heading the rest of the way to the jail, the remainder of the trip is intoxicating. The taste of her sits on my tongue like a well-aged wine’s legs, slowly traveling down the sides of the glass. Every second it lingers is one additional second to enjoy her flavor.
Pulling into the parking lot of the jail, I’m reminded of my time inside. Where I was housed was more a vacation spot than where Mayhem is. He’s at Lompoc. It’s its own circle in Hell. Actually, Hell would be a naked cruise on the Riviera with a ship full of ready, willing, and gorgeous women. Mayhem would pay for a pinch of that enjoyment. He’s been inside jail so long that a glimpse of a woman’s tit would probably make him pop a nut. I know the first thing I did when I got out was to gorge myself on the female body. Every ounce of skin, every inch of flesh, I made sure I devoured it all on more than one woman.
Standing at the entrance to the jail, staring at the door and those going in for visiting hours, I grab a stick of gum and gather my courage. I cannot take her inside, and I’m not one for leaving her out here, but she’s safer by my ride than in the watchful eye of Mayhem. “Stay put. I’ll be out soon. There’re cameras everywhere. You’re safe here. Just don’t go anywhere. Got it?”
“Don’t take candy from a stranger and stay away from musical ice cream trucks.” With a nod she understands she’s not to move, I cross the parking lot to the front door.
Her sarcasm has me feeling a bit lighter as I step toward the jail and toward a moment I really don’t wish to create. It’s necessary though.
I had done everything I could to avoid Mayhem after he’d been jailed. I’d always thought his incarceration was for his betrayal to the club, to us, and to his family. Now? Now I’m wondering if it was all to keep a secret.
For all this time, I’d thought my mother was dead. That was part of why Mayhem was in jail. Now? Well, now I think it was all a cover-up. I didn’t tell Toni about the call, or that Hylo was alive. I didn’t want to add to the insanity we’re already dealing with. I told myself, one problem at a time.
When I was almost eighteen, just about a year before my own incarceration, it was a day when Mom had taken J and I to the mall to get me gear for football and J cheer runners. She and J had a falling out over the color of the shoes or some shit. Instead of going home with us, she stuck around with her cheer assholes, leaving myself and a toddler, Tlaloc, to go home with a pissed-off mother. I wasn’t ready to go home either, so before we reached the car, I let her know I was going off on my own too. Annoyed further, Hylo bundled my brother into his seat and tore out of the lot. By the time I got home later that day, I found out she had died. At least that was the story we were told. She died, Poc remembers none of it, and Mayhem told us it was our fault. The spoiled brats who had to have new shit were the cause of their mother’s death. Not the drunk driver who hit her.
Our father was arrested for killing the guy in the car who had hit her, in full view of the cops who attended, and we were left to the club’s membership to be cared for. Or at least that was the story. If Mayhem hadn’t gone to jail and she hadn’t died, possibly my life would’ve turned out different? I wouldn’t have been left to my own devices with the club, Morriso wouldn’t have set me up for jail, and I would’ve had time to know my son.
I had always thought Mayhem was the fuckup, and Hylo was closer to sainthood than sinner. I know now she was more heathen than angel. I’d placed my mother on a pedestal and Mayhem was never to be thought of again. Don’t get me wrong, he’s no saint, but I may have thought wrong of him.
Yanking open the door, leaving Toni outside to stay at the bike, I know she’ll be fine. No one is going to bother her in a place highly guarded and with more cameras than a high school girls’ locker room. She’s safe.
Wandering past parents corralling unruly children into the sign-in area, the heavy set, sixty-plus, grizzled old white guard behind the glass barrier asks absently, “Who are you visiting?” He barely looks up from his clipboard to acknowledge me. It’s obvious he’s been placed out here until retirement, out of the way of the gen-pop and lifers he once watched over. Now he’s a “Walmart greeter” for the degenerate family members who come for a visit.
Writing my name on the page, I hand him my ID and answer his question, “Clayton Crow.”