Page 81 of Shattered Skull

We were back to that again.

Anger roared inside of me, making me thankful we hadn’t gone all the way. It was apparent if we had, he was just going to use me and lose me. And even though he had made me feel better than I had in my entire life—drawing out a powerful orgasm I would dream about from that night on—I knew one thing was for sure. I would never let Aiken Cross touch me again.

26 Aiken

HER FLAVOR—her cries when she came all over my tongue—it was enough to make me nut in my jeans. I didn’t, though. I was holding that in so I could blow it inside of her little pink virginal cunt.

I wasn’t thinking straight at all. Initially, I had gone in the room for the view and maybe a small taste of Everly’s lips. But it grew from there until I couldn’t wait to have her pussy on my tongue. By the time she unloaded in my mouth, I didn’t care about the reasons I shouldn’t fuck her.

Hearing her beg me to fuck her—the wild look in her wide eyes—I couldn’t have said no, even if I wanted to.

Zada saved me from ruining her. I couldn’t give Everly anything more than a hard fuck against a dresser and a heart full of regrets. The way she looked at me—the way she touched me—trusted me, I knew she would want more. I wasn’t capable of that.

She would hate me for walking away, but I knew she would have hated me more if I had fucked her raw and then left.

I went to my room when I got home and stripped. Once I was in bed, I jerked off with the smell and flavor of her pussy on my hand and lips, and when I busted, I filled my palm to the brink and called out her name.

I woke the next morning, determined to keep my distance. I would make sure she got to work and home safely. I would give Zada the money to turn her phone back on and stock her cabinets with something other than Ramen, but that was it. Catching myself alone with Everly wasn’t going to happen. I didn’t think I would have the strength to walk away from her again.

The guys helped me keep an eye on her during her walks to and from work without question. I appreciated that since I had no desire to fill them in on how fucked up my brain had been lately.

I spent the week in the garage and doing deals with the guys, and by the time Friday came, I was more than ready to take my frustrations out on The Strip. I set my front tire at the start line for the very first race. Jermaine pulled up next to me with a smile, his gold tooth catching the light from my neons and blinking back at me.

I nodded in his direction and faced forward, ready to take his money and stuff it away with the rest of my savings. And when I crossed the finished line, I did so at least a bike’s length ahead of Jermaine. I popped a wheelie and frogged onto the gas tank for a beat or two.

I was driving my bike back toward the boys after my win when I spotted Everly standing next to Zada. She turned in my direction, and I looked away as if I hadn’t seen her. I had hoped she would stay away from The Strip, but I guessed I wasn’t that lucky.

I filled the night with as many races as I could. Thankfully, people were always down to race a Son. And by the time the bikers were stunting and the night was winding down, I had successfully managed to keep my distance from Everly.

It wasn’t until we were about to pull away that she and Zada joined our group. She stood to the side, talking with a few girls, but the tenseness of her shoulders and lips gave her away. She was trying to ignore me just as much as I was trying to ignore her.

“Damn, I need to get laid,” Joker slurred, scratching at his bare chest while he surveyed the women standing around.

Saint laughed. “What you need to do is get your ass home and crash. You’re drunk as fuck.”

Saint was right. Joker would need a ride home. Thankfully, Crow had driven his car and skipped racing for the night. I hadn’t seen him get this fucked-up in a long while. He had spent most of the night chilling against Crow’s car and chugging a bottle of tequila.

“He’s right, Joke. I think pussy is off the menu for you tonight,” I said.

He grinned his signature grin, which scared most people. “Just because you’re scared of the cunt lately doesn’t mean I am.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, confused.

“It means you’re in one of hell of dry spell. You haven’t gone this long without sticking your dick in something wet since we were living on the streets. I’m starting to think you’re scared of pussy.”

Yeah.

He was drunk.

Joker rarely started shit with one of us, which was what he was doing. But sometimes he mixed the wrong drugs with the wrong drinks, and we had to bring him down a few levels.

“I didn’t realize you were so concerned with other people’s cocks,” I said dryly. “Are you finally ready to admit you crave dick?”

He burst out laughing, lightening the mood around us. “Yeah, man. What can I say? I’m all about playing the skin flute these days. Just call me The Bone Ranger.”

I laughed. “You’re stupid.”

“I’m serious, man!” he continued to joke. “I love the womb brooms. The nut cannon. The heat-seeking moisture missile.”

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