He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. We’ve been over this. You’re receiving benefits from being in the club’s circle, correct?”
“What? No! I’m working a job and I’m paying rent. What the hell are you talking about?”
He spoke slowly, as if I’d been hit on the head. “Your proximity to us keeps you safe. I own this place - your job could go to someone else. Someone more grateful. You know your options, Lily. You’re nineteen, now, which means I’ve given you a year longer than I give most of the girls.” I knew my options, all right. Get married or get on my back. My self-righteous side just wouldn’t let me. The fact that I did want to let him or one of his rough and dirty friends fuck me only made me more furious.
I thought again of that night he’d come to our apartment, when I’d listened to him screw my mother in the next room. I had a finger in my mouth and a hand down my pants the whole time. Every time he said “Yeah, baby,” or grunted in pleasure, I sucked my finger harder. Every time my mother wailed or yelped, I imagined his big meaty hands on my pussy, and I’d rubbed my clit until I was slick and hot and throbbing. I’d come hard, panting like a train.
Then, angry at myself, I’d hurled my glass at their door.
They didn’t slow for a second.
I didn’t want to be turned on by him, or by any biker at all. Not when they told me what I had to do. I certainly hadn’t inherited that stubborn streak my mother.
“If I keep saying no? What are you gonna do? This isn’t the wild west, you can’t run me out of town.”
“Oh?” Bill raised an eyebrow. “Well, I suppose I could fire you, firstly. When anyone else calls here asking for a reference? I’ll tell them you’re a liar and you never worked here at all. Your landlord? He wears the colors.” He snorted. “Hell, half the cops in town are on our payroll. So tell me how difficult it would be to ‘run you out of town.’”
I wanted to take the coffee mug and smash it across the smug look on his face.
“So, I say again.” He stood and towered over me, crowding me despite the counter between us. “Get married, or get on your back. Gunner is willing to take you on if you choose the former.”
I snorted. “He’s willing to take me on. How romantic.”
Bill smirked. “Much as I’d like to see him slap that sass out of you, I’m hoping you pick option number two.” His eyes settled on my chest. “It’s why I’ve been patient for as long as I have.”
I felt like my eyes would pop from my skull. “But you’re with my mother!”
He grimaced. “I’m not “with” her, we’re just fucking” His eyes traveled up and down my body, and I shivered. Whatever he thought of me, he kept the comments to himself. “You gonna give me that coffee?”
“You’re lucky I don’t throw it at you,” I said, slamming it down. The hot liquid splashed over my hand, and I cursed.
Quick as a flash, he grabbed my wrist and yanked me into the counter, knocking the wind out of me. Deliberately glaring into my eyes, he sucked the coffee from my fingers, one at a time. The quick, little flicks of his tongue sent tingles between my legs. I held my breath. He wasn’t hurting me, but I may as well have been shackled. “You’d have a good time, honey,” he said, “Don’t make me give you the boot out of here.”
He was back in his seat, happily sipping his coffee and tapping on his phone and totally ignoring me when I remembered to breathe again.
---
The harrowing evening didn’t end there. “Gunner” showed up just as I was closing up shop. His real name was Sam Green. He was tall, lean, and handsome, but goddamn if he wasn’t bossy. I could never marry him. If I told him that Mars was inhabited, he’d believe it. I’d kill him for his stupidity if he didn’t kill me for my “sass” first.
“Lily,” he called through the locked doors.
I flipped him the bird. “Lily!” my mother exclaimed, rushing to let him in, “Don’t do that! What’s wrong with you?”
I rolled my eyes. Sam repeated her question as he walked in without so much as a “thanks” to my mom. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” He stepped up to me, invading my space as he glared down with his icy blue eyes.
My heart stuttered, then raced. He smelled like leather and motor oil. I stood with my mop between us, trying to create a little more room between our bodies. “I was just joking, Sam,” I said.
“Real fucking funny. Did you talk to Bill?”
“Yes.”