The Rage(2)

This is a family party. These “dinners” as Lil calls them, happen every Wednesday and Sunday, so it’s not a huge thing. Don’t get me wrong, we’ll party any other day of the fucking week, too. We don’t need a reason to throw one back. Someone gets patched in, knocked up, dies, gets a speeding ticket, we will fucking celebrate it – and we will celebrate it in a big way.

Leaning against the bar, I’m bullshitting with Arms and Tags when Tank makes his way to me, looking like man on a mission with Lil thrown over his shoulder laughing.

“You gonna be down here?” He asks as he passes.

“Hey Rampage!” Lil giggles and waves at me.

He’s rubbing on her ass and thighs. Fuck, I really don’t need to see that shit.

“Sis.” I nod, avoiding looking at either of them. I swear, Tank spends more time fucking that girl than he does doing anything else, but at least he’s not drinking and treating her like shit, so I’ll take the gross over the unstable shit any day.

“Yep.” He stops long enough for me to answer him.

Nodding toward the door, he says, “Lil’s got some bitch from school comin’ over so let her in. Keep an eye on her ‘‘til I’m done with her, yeah?”

Lil smacks his back, “Don’t call her a bitch.”

He doesn’t even give me a chance to say anything else ‘cause he’s already down the hall. Yeah, sure, I’ll babysit some bitch. Why the fuck not?

Hitting up the bar, I throw a couple shots back while I wait. A club whore, Red, starts crawling all over me like she’s broke and trying to earn a buck. This bitch has her hands all over the place, rubbing on my dick, licking on my neck. Not sure why she picks me to crawl all over. There are at least twenty guys here who’d be happy to fuck her, but me? Not so much.

Being that I have a babysitting gig, I can’t do shit with Red, but I have twenty minutes of trying to fight the bitch off when Tiny come’s waddling up to me laughing.

“Got some little tart at the gate.” He says, throwing a thumb toward the monitors on the wall. Must be the friend.

“Open it,” I tell him, “And as for you, get the fuck off me.” I try to shake Red, but it’s a no go. She pouts and stomps her damn foot. That shit is not cute.

“Come on, baby. Let’s go to your room,” she pleads with desperation seeping out of her like a rank smell. I like ‘em eager and willing, not desperate and needy. I avoid that kinda shit.

I move to leave her when she grabs my arm, tugging me back toward her.

“Keep tuggin’ on my fuckin’ arm bitch, and imma start tuggin’ back. I promise you Red, you won’t like it.” What the fuck is wrong with her? I hate grabby, needy bitches. Keep your fucking hands to yourself. “I’m not interested in that pussy of yours right now. Been there, done that, not what I’m lookin’ for.” She rips her hands away like I burned her.

“Fuck you!” she spits.

“I’ll pass, sweet cheeks,” I say as I smack her ass on my way to the door. Her jaw hits the floor and she glares at me, but if I said the word, she’d be spread eagle on my bed in a goddamn heartbeat. She wouldn’t make me ask her twice.

I’m standing near the door when I hear a soft knock on the old worn wood, and right off the bat I can tell you this girl has never been to the club before. That knock comes from someone who’s scared. Who the fuck knocks in the first place anyway? Fuck, I bet she’s a goddamn librarian, or some church bitch. Christ.

I’m not looking forward to this babysitting gig, but I’ll do what I gotta do and then she’s Lil and Tanks problem.

Throwing open the door I announce like an asshole, “Welcome to Hell.”

I’m not fucking prepared for the bitch on the other side. Nothing could have prepared me for that shit. My words are suddenly crammed right back down my throat and I choke on those motherfuckers.

I’m faced with the hottest bitch I have ever seen. Holy fucking shit. I don’t think I have ever met a bitch that could ever compare to the woman standing at the door. For a second I just stare at her like a dumb shit, not even able to speak.

My eyes can’t seem to take her in quick enough. From her face to her fucking body, there is too much perfection to take in at once. She’s that type of bitch you need to take in small doses, ‘cause too much of her could kill a man. She cannot be good for your fucking health.

She has long, golden blonde hair that hangs all around her perfect face. That shit looks shiny, thick, and soft as fuck. She even has those enormous blue doll eyes, long dark lashes, a cute ass nose and glossy pink lips. This bitch has the face of a goddamn angel.

While her face may be of that of an angel, her body is made from sin. It begs to be fucked with all those round, soft curves. Big, beautiful round tits and a sweet ass for days is all I can focus on. Jesus Christ.

The sweet little thing is wearing a pair of ripped up jeans, showing off some serious skin, along with a tight ass black tee. It should be illegal for a bitch to be so goddamn hot.

The most amazing thing about her is that she’s plain in the best fucking way. No makeup, no hair styling, just simple and beautiful. All fucking natural.

“Lilly around?” The girl asks softly and I almost nut in my jeans. That voice is soft, but confident; A voice any man would want to hear say his name while he was fucking this angel. I’ve got to fight for my words. Fight motherfucker, fight!

“Yep. She’s gettin’ fucked right now, so you can wait down here with me,” Her eyes widen a fraction but she nods slowly, letting my words sink in. Yeah baby, I just said that.

“Oh shit, fresh pussy boys,” King hollers, making a beeline for the girl as soon as her beautiful ass is through the door. I’m still trying to pull my shit together enough to walk. That motherfucker has some damn pussy radar, that’s for sure.

“Well, hello there, darlin’. What’s a pretty little thing like you doin’ in a place like this?” He asks, giving her his sleazy ass smile.

Those pink lips crook up into a small, sweet smile of their own, “Not lookin’ for you, darlin’,” she counters with a wink.

“Ha!” I can’t help it. I was not expecting to hear that shit come from those sweet lips. Damn, this bitch just punk’d the fuck out of King. I really like this one.

King’s face is stone, not looking so happy to see her anymore. He hates mouthy bitches.

“Get the fuck outta here, King. This,” I start to say bitch, but that just doesn’t seem right. I don’t know her name so I go for the safe route, “Girl, ain’t here for none of us.”

I guess I should ask , “Name?”

Throwing that long ass hair over her shoulder, she says, “Lailah.”





Lailah

Stepping out of my car, I slowly take in the huge steel building in front of me. It sits out in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by miles of thick forest, with other buildings dotting the long, gravel driveway. Lilly gave me directions and this is where my GPS has lead me.

Halfway here I wondered if the thing had a glitch, but it’s the only place I’ve seen in the last thirty minutes, so I’m guessing I’ve made it to the right place. I thought of turning around and heading back home several times, but I really don’t want to be there. I would much rather take my chances with the building armored in chain link fences and barbed wire.

I pull up as a man in a leather jacket waves me in. Now my nerves are starting to get the better of me. The lot in front of the building is lined with motorcycles of all varieties; no one bike is the same. The building looks more like a shop, really. Steel and metal mixed with wood and concrete.

Pulling down my mirror, I check my face and I look terrified. Jesus, pull it together girl. Fuck it. Throwing open my door, I pull up my big girl panties and get out of my car. It’s now or never.

I walk up to the only door, assuming it’s the right one because I can hear music and voices coming from inside. Looking back over my shoulder, the man by the gate keeps his eyes on the long dirt driveway. I turn back around and face the door. Shaking my arms out, I roll my neck around my shoulders and give myself the mental pep talk of a lifetime, ‘You can do this. They’re bikers with smart-ass mouths, and so are you. You can totally do this.’

Taking one last deep breath, I knock on the door. I tried for a firm, confident knock, but it comes out anything but confident. I’m feeling a little ashamed of it. Once I lower my hand, the door is ripped open and a loud voice announces, “Welcome to Hell.”

Well, hello Hell.



This guy is smoking hot. His deep voice sends a chill down my spine and a sadistic thrill through my body. It’s that type of voice that would whisper awful things to you right before killing you – dark, intimidating, and extremely erotic.

He’s one big ass man – six-five at the very least. It’s not just his height, his body is built like a fighters. I’m not small at five-seven, but he completely dwarfs me.

His face has a deep scar that cuts through his top and bottom lip, stopping at his chin. Looking higher, I see a gash that runs through his eyebrow, seeming to run in the same direction of the lower scar, but in no way does it take away from his looks. It’s a striking contrast of harsh and beautiful. His dark hair is cut short and neat, close to his head, just as his beard is full, but cut close to his face. He is sporting a cut on his cheekbone, so I assume that he is a figher.