Thrash (13 page)

15

“You want what?” I asked, eyeing Layla suspiciously.

“I told you, nachos and funnel cake.” She looked positively wicked. “Take a little of each and taste it at the same time.”

I did as she suggested. Her enthusiasm definitely added flavor to the experience. “Oh em gee, doesn’t that sound so good?”

Nothing like eating with a pregnant lady to make a girl appreciate the beauty of food, I thought wryly.

“It’s pretty good. Layla –” I started.

She was already taking off for it before I could protest.

The woman had been craving the weirdest combinations of food all day, and all of it was the sort of stuff that broke hearts and killed colons. We hadn’t even gotten to her popcorn and ice cream dream. She kept telling me she wanted that last, so she could “savor it.”

The way she said “savor” practically sexualized the experience. I was starting to wonder what might have happened if Rage had come with her instead of me. She was practically bouncing.

By the time I caught up with her, she was already paying for her cone of cotton candy. Who knew pregnant women could walk so fast when food was calling?

When she turned around, she held up the fluffy ball of pink and… a bag of jalapenos.

“Ugh, Layla…?”

I saw the peppers and my first thought was “Oh god, acid reflux
everywhere
!”

But her glee was palpable.

“Oh my god, this is exactly what I wanted.” Layla grinned as she assembled her culinary treat and took bite after bite.

She was so happy, I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or throw up. “You are seriously crazy,” I told her, grinning in spite of my tight throat.

The sad truth was that I hadn’t had fun like this in a long time.

“So, what brings you over to Braddock?” she asked, seemingly out of nowhere. “I’ve never seen you before. Not in middle school and not around town. So I have to assume you are new?”

I didn’t see any harm in honesty, so I told her the truth. “I am new.” She was easy to talk to. I knew she was the head of all the women in the club. I knew she could decide I didn’t belong among them. She could get me kicked out. I didn’t care. I wanted to get to know her, to be friends. And that meant being honest about who I was. There wasn’t a point otherwise. “I’m from Fox Chapel.”

Her eyes widened slightly, fixating on a sticky glob of cotton candy stuck to her finger. She sucked it off as she thought that over, but all she said after was, “Oh, wow. That’s a nice part of town.”

I shrugged and managed a smile.

She didn’t sneer at that. “So? Why come here?”

“Believe it or not, Braddock is nicer. At least where it matters. The people.” I never was sure how to explain it all, but I really was happier here.

“You had a hard time?” Layla asked.

“In school. At the country club. With my parents. You name it. I won’t complain about it, but I didn’t fit in. I mean I could keep my head down and my mouth shut, so it wasn’t like I stuck out, but it was never right. It got so lonely and so… wrong. I thought I was going to… explode. Just fall over and… and everything would end.”

“Were you depressed?” she asked.

“I – Not like that.” I thought about it. “I just couldn’t see… There comes a point where you have to do something or be nothing. If I hadn’t left… Then I might have gone off the deep end. Does that make sense?”

She nodded slowly, those large eyes seeing more than I knew how to share.

“I went to college and I studied art, and I got through. But I knew I would never go back home.”

“You studied art?”

She was so easy to talk to. And I needed to talk about it. God, I needed to talk. “Well, art and history. My dad wanted me to be a lawyer, so he’d allow art if I double majored in history, too. I liked it well enough, but I always leaned more towards the arts when I had the chance.”

She nodded. I was spilling my whole life story to her, and she seemed content with that. She was learning more about me than I was about the club. Maybe that was her goal.

“What happened when they found out you didn’t want to be a lawyer? At least that is what I am guessing. I mean, you are an artist now, not a lawyer, right?”

I nodded absently, not really wanting to remember. “They cut me off.” I shrugged. “I don’t care. I’ve made ends meet on my own, in spite of it all. I don’t want to judge where I come from, but for me, this life is better than the alternative. I won't live a life I don’t want to live. It has to be on my terms. Otherwise, what is the point?”

Layla seemed to understand. “I don’t think there is any other way to live,” she said. “Speaking of living my life on my own terms... Let’s go on that ride!”

She pointed towards a boathouse. A series of small boats were passing into it, each built to hold anywhere from two to four people. It was a tame ride, something she could do without worrying for the baby.

“Are you sure?” I asked. For some reason, my first thought was that she might get boat-sick. She got sick so easily these days…

“Yes, yes!” she said excitedly. “It is one of the few things that pregnant women can go on, so of course I am sure.” She grabbed my hand and pulled me forward. “Besides, it’s one of DeMarcus’s, excuse me,
Thrash’s
favorite rides here.”

“The guys do Kennywood?” I asked. I couldn’t imagine the pack of big burly men in cuts riding all of these silly rides. They just seemed too serious for that.

And the boat-ride? That was his favorite…?

I had to smother a giggle. It was a good giggle, but I doubted he would enjoy being teased about it.

Layla smirked, as if she knew exactly what I was thinking. “Oh, yeah. They come once a year for charity, but we’ve been going since we were like, eight, on our own. Our parents would drop us off to get us out of their hair, do whatever they did with the club back then.”

“Oh?”

“Thrash always liked this one,” she said. “It’s had a bunch of different names, of course. It was even a haunted house for a while, can you believe it?”

She knew exactly what she was doing, she was giving me just enough of what I wanted to do exactly what she wanted. She was a tricky woman. Luckily, she didn’t seem to mean any harm by it. As long as I didn’t hurt the people she cared about.

I was glad I didn’t mean any harm to her and hers.

“Cullen hates this ride,” she went on. “He always worries about getting wet, even though we never really do.”

She stepped into the boat and waited for me. It was a cute little green boat. I stepped in and sat down.

She tugged me into a seat, and I had to brace and edge over a little farther to balance out our weights. Layla didn’t look that big yet, but she was heavier than me now. Hell, she was so strong and curvy and beautiful, she probably weighed more than me before she got pregnant. I considered that a good thing. It meant her body was as capable as it was gorgeous, but I knew better than to say anything.

At the same time, I hoped I could find some way to tell her how lucky she was to be herself. I hoped I could find a way to say it without sounding like I was bashing myself. It really was sad that it was so hard to find a way to compliment another woman without putting myself down or sounding insincere. Why weren’t there easy ways to say something so simple?

Layla seemed to express herself without any trouble.

“You told me before that the club does a lot of things for charity?” I asked.

“We do. A lot of people just assume that because the guys are bikers, they are into drugs and shit, but I wouldn’t be associated with a club like that. No one in the club is allowed to do drugs, and they can’t sell them. Sometimes they get involved with people in the drug trade, but it isn’t like that, you know?”

“What happens if they do get into drugs?” I asked, unsure what the proper terminology was. There was a whole different kind of drug scene in Fox Chapel, and it had its own lingo. I’d never been involved in it, but I’d heard a lot.

Layla became a little quieter as she replied: “We try to get them help. But they can’t join the club after that. Not unless there are very special circumstances. It’s a really hard thing, recovering from some of that stuff. We find ways to keep them involved if we can. It’s tough.”

I nodded.

Layla was helping me see the heart of Fire and Steel, and I really appreciated it.

“So, what are the guys like? You know? In the club?” I asked.

“You mean what is Thrash like?” she teased me. “How we see him?”

I blushed. I had been about a subtle as a nine-pound hammer. “I’m curious.”

She grinned. “I don’t blame you. He’s smart and he sees everything. You know? He has a talent for figuring out people’s motivations. I trust him, a lot. So does Emma. And he’s cute.”

“So then –” I wasn’t sure how to ask, but Layla understood me.

“Why didn’t I date him? We were never like that. Not like I am with Cullen. He’s sweet and smart and strong, but I always knew he was meant for someone else, someone who completes him in the ways he needs. Maybe someone like you?”

My cheeks flushed even darker and I had to look down at my hands to hide it. Thrash and I only been out on a couple of dates. “We’ll see.”

She smiled. “Yes, we will.”

I had a feeling she was playing matchmaker.

“So, this is a pretty peaceful ride after all,” I said, looking around as we went. It was gentle, just going through a small round house. I liked the painted gentle hills and the lapping of the water.

Layla shifted back and forth several times, and I did my best to brace myself.

“What are you doing?” I explained when she didn’t stop. “Don’t rock the boat.”

“Come on, it’s fun!” She rocked a little harder and then giggled. I rocked back.

As a peal of laughter escaped her lips, the boat give way, dumping us both waist deep into the water.

“Ugh!” I cried. I was soaked, and the water had an unpleasant taste to it.

“Are you okay?” I asked her.

“What? Yeah! That was awesome. I’ve only ever done that once before.”

I waded over to the side of the ride to climb out, holding out a hand to help her. “You’ve done that before?!”

“Yes, DeMarcus and I did it to Cullen once. Maybe that’s why Cullen doesn’t like this ride.”

“Maybe that’s why Thrash likes it,” I guessed, amused by the thought.

She grinned and splashed me. I splashed her back. The two of us ended up giggling until one of the ride workers came and guided us out.

And yes, they ‘guided us out.’ All the way out. They flat out escorted us out of the park.

“Whoops,” I giggled softly, enjoying myself.

“Dammit!” Layla exclaimed suddenly. “I never got my ice cream and popcorn. Oh well, the craving is gone.”

I looked around outside the park and spotted a few stands. “I think they were selling ice cream down there?”

Layla practically squealed, and she darted off, calling me after her.

I watched her dart around, asking around for the ice cream until someone pointed her in the right direction. She turned back and waved enthusiastically at me, and I beamed. I was pretty sure that I had made a new best friend.

16

“What the hell happened to you?” I walked towards Layla and Nora as they exited the truck.

“The boat ride at Kennywood,” Nora replied, giggling. She fingered her stiff shirt and damp shorts in a lopsided curtsy.

I couldn’t help but laugh, especially when I saw Layla’s expression. The two of them had been up to an adventure alright. Nora just looked too damn cute in her soggy flats.

“Come on,” I put an arm around her, pleased when she let me steer her towards the clubhouse. “We need to get you out of those wet clothes.”

“What about me?” Layla said, making a face.

I laughed. “I’m not stopping you! Come on!” I looked back down at Nora. “I don’t have any women's clothing, but I’ve got some soft pjs you can put on until we can get you home and dressed.”

“I’d like that,” she murmured. The pink in her cheeks and the cool dampness of her skin stirred my cock. Her tits were visible through her shirt, stirred up by the breeze. I was glad we were heading to my room. And I was hoping to hell she wouldn’t mind taking off those wet clothes for me. I definitely didn’t want any other man to see her and get ideas.

“Are you cold?” I whispered into her ear.

She shivered and nodded. Was it me or was she keeping closer than usual. “It is a bit chilly,” she whispered. There was a slight catch to her voice then, as if she was playing with her own ideas.

“I’ll warm you up
,” popped out of my mouth before I could think it through. The arousal in my voice came through clearly as I opened my door and guided her inside.

She didn’t seem to mind, though. We made it as far as my room.

As soon as the door closed behind us, I kissed her, her lips hot under my own. I felt like I was caught up in a whirlwind, unable to breathe, every muscle in my torso taunt as my cock went erect.

She brushed my jaw with a few stray fingers and I shuddered, my hands tightening around her arms, my cock aching to feel those fingers stroke it the same way.

When I pulled away from her, it was to catch my breath.

“You’re wet,” I growled against her cheek, my desire hanging heavy on the word. “I don’t want you to get cold.”

She sighed against my lips, her fingers drifting over the edges of my vest. When she tugged lightly at the leather, I shrugged it off. When she came even closer, her damp shirt soaking into the cotton of my own, I slipped my hands inside it, stretching it up and over her head.

She was wearing a lacy bra. It was soaked through and nearly transparent, the dark rose of her breasts showing through the white fabric. I let my hands drift over it, savoring the texture, my skin aching to feel the soft skin of her areolas.

My hands were hot and when I touched her cool, damp skin, I just about lost it.

I was trying to slow down, just a little, leave her some room to be herself, but fuck if it wasn’t hard. Everything was hard. And stepping away didn’t help, because she was gorgeous.

Her shorts were those weird baggy things that tied at the waist in a big sash. Ordinarily I would have laughed at them, but without the shirt to hide the curve of her torso, they emphasized the widening of her hips. I felt my hands itched to reach up inside those wide shorts, grab ahold of that taut ass and – fuck, she needed to lose the shorts. I needed to be inside her, and I knew exactly how I wanted it.

But she just stood there, shy, her cheeks flushed, eyes bright and… languid. There was something hungry but so patient in those eyes. She pressed her tongue lightly against the roof of her mouth. It was an unconscious gesture, only visible through her half-parted lips.

Fuck, I was hard as hell. Silently, I drew her towards the bed.

She just nodded at me absent-mindedly, as if I had spoken. The pale blue tint in her lips had darkened to a dark scarlet, and her nipples stood out through the lace. I wasn’t the only one who was excited.

I slid my hands around her back, loosing the hooks of her bra and laying her back on the bed. She drew the bit of lace away as though it were silk, her breathing light and heady.

Her breasts were perfect, flush and taut as she lay there on her back, calmly looking up at me. I reached out, brushing my thumb over one deep red nipple, my body leaping as she arched slightly with a soft gasp. I could smell her arousal, feel it rising off her cool skin.

I wrapped my arms around her to warm her, kissing up and along the curve of her neck till she shivered. Until I had to pull away or go insane. I could hear her heartbeat racing, but she was so cool, so languid, just waiting for me to take her.

I went for her pants next, unbuttoning them and drawing them down her legs. She lifted her legs to help me, the soft cloth slipping over her crooked knees and down her smooth calves.

When they caught on her ankle, I grabbed them in one fist and leaned down to kiss her deeply, bracing my weight on one arm and tugging her pants free with the other hand.

“What do you want to do to me, Thrash?” she asked in that angel’s voice. She wrapped her arms around my neck, her legs sliding around my hips, pulling me closer.

I was nearly in pain, trapped inside my pants, and I had to lay my head on her cheek to keep from howling in agony. “I want to make you purr my name, Nora,” I managed to say. “I want to kiss you until your body is singing under me. Your throat. Your hands. Your wrists –”

My lips followed my words, emphasizes each light touch of my mouth and tongue. I kissed the underside of her breast, purposely teasing her areolas with my warm breath. I kissed down to her belly button, and followed the curve of her hip, before gently nibbling on the meat of her thigh. “I want to taste every part of you. I want to hear you say my name as I come inside you.”

I meant every word, but this was pure torture for me. I wanted to slam her body up against a wall and fuck her until we came together, but I knew she wasn’t ready for that. Hell, I wasn’t ready for that. Not with her. Not yet.

But that didn’t mean my body understood that.

“You want me to talk?” she said in that gentle, kitten’s voice.

My cock was screaming yes. I had to swallow hard to do the same.

“I want to please you. And, if you would…” Could I say it? “I love your voice.” I laid her hand against the swollen length of my cock and felt her hands stiffen. The fingers began to wander and she smiled ruefully. Then her eyes caught mine and softened, deepened, grew bright again.

“I like this,” she murmured.

“You do?”

She leaned up and purred, ever so softly in my ear. “Do what you want with me.”

“What about you?” I ground out.

She slid herself up onto her hands, those lithe legs crooked coyly, flashing the slit of her panties at me.

“Do you mind if I play, too?” she asked. As if she needed to!

I climbed up onto the bed and grabbed her by the ankle, dragging her close.

“Take off your panties.” It came out as an order, with no room for argument. She didn’t.

She obeyed me, sliding the panties off, slowly, and setting them beside her, as though they were as delicate as a teacup on the mattress.

I wound my fingers into them, scrunching them into a ball, and then used them as a cushion for her head as I swayed her back to kiss her.

I tugged her up by the back of her hair and she rose to meet me, those long legs splayed, her pussy bare to the air, shivering slightly.

When I touched her, my fingers just tracing her nether-lips, she became so damp I had to kiss her or cum inside my god-damn pants.

Fuck, I needed to get out of the damned things, but I couldn’t stop touching her. Couldn’t stop drowning in her mouth.

As if she sensed the problem, she braced herself on my shoulders with both hands, pressing her pussy longingly against the palm of my hand.

Then she began to work her way down.

I dropped the panties, forgetting them in my haste to help her unbutton my jeans, climbing out of them.

I meant to come back to her, but one soft hand grasped my cock and I had to focus all my energy into not howling like an animal.

She didn’t put me in her mouth. She lightly ran her tongue along the soft flesh of my cock, tracing its length with those gentle fingers. Then she looked up at me and took me by surprise.

She left me there, my fly open and my pants still on.

Instead of using that small tight mouth, she slid back onto the bed slowly, running her leg up mine. Then spread her legs, showing me exactly what I wanted most.

My eyes followed along the soft flesh of her inner thighs, savoring the sight of her bared pussy. A small patch of blonde hair remained, trimmed and tidy, apparently a personal preference.

“Take a seat,” she said, pointing at the chair behind me with one long foot.

I grabbed my chair from my desk and pulled it up to the bed, carefully taking a seat.

“What do you want?” she asked me, drawing that foot back onto the bed. As though she wasn’t the one who had set this stage.

She wasn’t playing coquette. She was just doing what she wanted, and what she wanted was for me to have what I wanted.

I licked my lips, “Show me what you have.” I was insistent. I wanted to see her. Not just the surface, all of her.

She spread her legs again and then trailed her fingers down to soft, damp lips of her pussy. She spread them without me asking her to. I could tell by the way those fingers shook that she wanted to do more than just spread her own lips. She wanted to touch herself. And that was what I wanted her to do, too.

“You are so very wet, Nora,” I growled softly. “Why don’t you feel how wet you are.” It was not a question, it was a command, and she took it as such, dipping a single fingertip along her pussy. She knew exactly where to touch,and her lips parted as she felt the slickness that was there her own desire. I watched as she rubbed herself softly.

This woman knew exactly what I was after.

“Good girl.”

She sighed, her eyes heavy-lidded, waiting for me to tell her what to do.

“Have you ever tasted yourself?” I asked, trying hard to ignore the way my cock throbbed when I asked it.

She shook her head.

“Oh, Nora. You have to know what you taste like. Put your fingers to your lips and give yourself a taste of that sweetness.” The husky quality of my voice let her know how much I wanted it, how much I wanted to see it. It was dirty and wrong, but I didn’t care. I wanted to watch her pleasure herself.

She needed this. I needed this. It was why she obeyed me. Fuck, the way she sucked on her fingers had me ready to go. I wanted her so bad, but I kept it together.

“Now what?” she asked as she looked into my eyes.

“Now you make yourself cum, baby. You fuck yourself with those pretty little fingers until you cum.” I stood up and crawled onto the bed next to her molding my body to hers as I caressed her softly. “Slide those fingers in and out until you make yourself cum, beautiful.”

I kissed her next and then up her jaw until I found her lips, kissing her softly. Nora did as I told her, and I could feel her shaking against me, my body there, keeping her grounded while she played with herself. I wrapped and arm around her to steady her and whispered in her ear. “I see you, Nora. I always see you. No matter where we are, who we are with, if you are in the room, you are all that I see.”

She moaned, her fingers slippery and quick, her breath shallow and fast. I could tell she was close now, and I wanted her to climb over the edge, so I grabbed her thigh, letting the warm of my hand blur with the skillful touch of her own.

I looked her right in the eyes. “I want you to cum.” I kissed her, the passion of my own excitement so built up that I couldn’t control myself. I didn’t just want her to cum, I needed it.

And she did. She let out a long soft cry, lips parting her body shaking as she brought herself to a crescendo. Her back arched and I gripped her thigh tightly as wave after wave rolled through her.

Now that was pure art.

She rolled over into me, slinging her leg over my hip, letting it all wash over her while she gasped for each breath. The smell of her was intoxicating.

“I’ve, I’ve never done that in front of someone before,” she admitted. She wasn’t ashamed. She wasn’t shy. She just told me the truth.

I liked that. The truth. She was the only person I felt like I could tell anything. In whole or in part.

And I was going to have a lot of truth to tell.

“Let me hold you for a while, Nora,” I told her.

Then we were going to have to talk.