Page 13 of My Three S**y Bikers

I didn’t care if we didn’t catch up and find out all about our lives apart as his hands gripped my butt tight as he helped me to sit on to the bar.

And then all of the difficulties of my past started to fade.

The pain and sorrow I felt when Mom kicked me out when I’d refused to get an abortion. My dad starting his new life with his new family and not caring about the old one.

I decided that I would be brave and go to community college and bring up the baby alone, with the odd handouts from my aunt and uncle. But with the rising cost of inflation, they said that they could no longer afford to help me with the rent. That was three months ago, when things became tough, near enough impossible to maintain until I was evicted from my apartment.

Everything ugly in my life was washed away as my panties became a thing of the past when he yanked them off.

“You on the pill?”

I nodded. A lie. I should have told the truth, but I didn’t want him to stop. I could go to the pharmacy tomorrow and get the morning after pill. I needed his touch. I craved it so much.

“Good. I want to feel every part of you.” He shifted my bra strap to the side and greedily took my breast into his mouth. “I hope it tastes as good as it used to.”

His words were music to my ears as his tongue gently traced my nipple then met it with light bites. I was no longer sitting up against the bar, but lying down with my back in midair.

He shifted me to the side then he expertly came beside me, sucking and biting my breasts, while his hand was between my legs.

“You’re dripping. You’re so damn wet for me. Fuck!”

I couldn’t speak. The only thing leaving my mouth was moans and groans. He grunted as he moved over my body. One minute his mouth was greeting my breasts; the next it was his hands as he lapped up every bit of my juices.

“Fuck me, Drake!”

He nodded but didn’t change his positions, shifting between his mouth and hands, it was as if he were punishing me. “No. Not like this.”

Did he say what I thought he said?

“What?”

I sat up abruptly as his hands or any part of him abandoned me. I was shocked he’d do this to me. What did he mean, not like this?

“You belong to another guy. I can’t just take you. Not after all this time…”

It felt as if he’d just violated me as he’d shifted from wanting to fuck me to wanting to leave me alone. I hated him even more than I had before. Then he came back toward me and lifted me into his arms.

“Where are you taking me?” I whispered, feeling completely humiliated.

“I’m taking you to bed. To be with your baby.”

“No! I can get there myself.”

I struggled to get away from him, but he was a lot stronger. I hated him and closed my eyes, pretending I would sleep when he left me. I hated this new Drake.

He was a fucking scar.

A fucking injury to my mind, body and soul.

7

SCAR

Mel didn’t even look at me as I laid her gently on the bed, nor did she acknowledge me leaving when I announced it to her while standing by the door. Then again, who could blame her?

I’d acted like a complete jerk, but she didn't exactly encourage me to take things any further. As soon as I mentioned the other guy, she frowned and reluctantly said, “Sure, take me up to my room.”

I had to face the facts: we had both moved on. Neither of us had been living the life of a saint since we last met. She had a baby with another guy, and the other side of my bed hadn’t exactly been cold with the amount of nameless bodies that I’d slept with just to get the demons out of my head and not make me feel like a fucking monster. Dad had told me countless times, to stop torturing myself, but it was difficult when I have so much darkness tormenting me every time I close my eyes.

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