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The Rage: Hell's Disciples MC 3(18)

By:Jaci J

       
           


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Lala

It's been a very long time since I have slept with a man, sexually, or  just to sleep. All night, Rampage has kept himself close to me, always  touching some part of my body. No matter how far I roll away from him,  he ends up next to me  –  damn near on top of me.

With his head laying on my stomach, I take the time to let my eyes roam  his thick, wide back and long, heavy arms. So far, I've only seen two  tattoos. One is the insignia that sits in the middle of their vests on  his chest. The second is a mean ass dragon, sitting between his shoulder  blades. Dark and foreboding, it looks like it's slithering around his  muscles when he moves.

His skin is soft, smooth and tanned. I wouldn't call him beautiful, but  he does have some beautiful features. Overall, I would say that he is  all man, and all kinds of sexy.

He's so much bigger than me, yet I don't feel powerless like I do with  Ryan. Ryan isn't a whole lot bigger than me, but what little height and  weight he has on me, he uses to his advantage. Rampage may be large and  intimidating, but he doesn't use it against me. He doesn't use all that  power in his body to scare or intimidate me.

Thinking about Ryan, I remember I have no clothes for the weekend and I  need to call in to work. My boss won't like it, but I'm the best he's  got so he'll deal, but I still need clothes, along with other personal  stuff. All of my stuff is at my place and I can't go back with him  there. My only option is going by the mall.

Looking down at Rampage, I try to find a way to move him without waking  him. I slowly and gently lift his head as I shimmy out from under him.  Placing his head back on the bed, I scoot off slowly and head for the  bathroom, being as quiet as possible. I'm not looking forward to going  to the mall. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy shopping, I just don't enjoy  the crowds. They make me anxious and uncomfortable.

Making my way through the stores, I pick out clothes for hot and cold  weather, along with new bras and panties. I buy three pairs of comfy  boyfriend sweats and matching sweatshirts because Victoria's Secret was  having a huge sale. A pair of black chucks, boots, and some thong  sandals complete my clothes shopping for the day.

I stop by the drug store for some girlie products; shampoo, conditioner,  hairbrush …  the whole lot. I barely wear makeup, so I have what I need  in my purse. All in all, I spend a little over four hundred dollars. I  never spend that kind of money on myself, putting every measly extra  cent I make into my savings, but I may not be able to go back to my  place for any of my stuff for a while. I'm not sure where I'm taking my  new stuff, but at least I've got it.

I'm pretty resourceful when it comes to getting by. When I was fifteen,  something happened that put my mother on the road to recovery, wanting  to piece her life back together. She had kicked the drugs and stopped  sleeping around. Quitting the drugs was really hard on her, but she  stuck with it, investing all her time in me and for once in my life,  making me a priority. I can honestly say that even though she was  suffering, she tried her best to hide it from me, and gave me some of  the happiest times of my life, no matter how little time it was.

Four months into her sobriety, she was killed in a car accident by a  drunk driver. It's poetic justice, really. She died by the thing that  had already taken so many years of her life away from her. At first I  was numb. Then I was mad. Over time, I became thankful that she no  longer had to fight her battle. She had finally found some peace.

So at the age of 15, I was left alone, hanging out at libraries through  the day, teaching myself what I could since I couldn't attend school. I  found shelters on occasion, acting like I belonged to people staying  there, but I couldn't stay for long, afraid of getting caught and sent  into foster care, so I moved from one place to the next, no one the  wiser. I slept when and where I could. I knew how to make myself  invisible and stay out of any trouble that could come my way. My mom had  some money put away when she died, so I used that sparingly, figuring  out fairly quickly how to make it last. I was lucky enough to land a job  after I turned 16, saving every dime I made, and I've been taking care  of myself ever since.

Because of the way that I've had to live, I always save money, stowing  it away for times just like this. I would have used it for my car, but I  figured it wasn't worth sinking money into only to have it die on me  again. I would have worked more so I could get a new-ish car, at least.

I needed new clothes, anyway. I have no idea when I'll be able to go  home to get my stuff, or if anything there will still be in one piece.  It's possible that he's already sold half of what I own.                       
       
           


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In the parking lot of the mall, I remove all the tags and stuff  everything I bought into two small bags. Throwing them into the back  seat, I head back to the club.

The chain link fence opens for me and a man in a black leather vest  waves me through. Pulling in, I see a lot of people standing by bikes,  and others sitting around picnic tables. I watch as Rampage stalks his  way through the crowd toward me. Pulling open the car door, he gives me a  hard stare and looks me up and down, "Where the fuck did you go?"

"I woke up and needed to get some stuff for this weekend."

Looking over my shoulder to the back seat, he nods and relaxes, "Next time, wake me up. I'll take you."

Picturing Rampage traipsing around a mall makes me laugh. His giant,  leather clad body standing in line at Victoria's Secret, holding an arm  full of panties would be quite a sight. I might pay to see it. I can't  picture him lingering behind me at the Mac makeup counter, either.

"What the fuck you laughin' ‘bout, babe?" Rampage grumbles. Leaning  against the doorframe, he's boxing me into the front seat, putting his  hand on my thigh.

"Nothing."

Holding out a hand to me, he helps me out of the Chevy, "Thank you."

"Yeah, baby."

Opening the back door, he grabs my bags. Holding them up, he says, "Both  won't fit on the bike." I point to the smaller black one. Inside I  packed enough for three days.

"I just need that one."

Throwing an arm over my shoulder, he walks me toward his bike, "Imma go  lock this shit in my room. Wait here," After pressing his rough lips to  my forehead, he wanders off. It catches me off guard when he does that.  The gesture from him seems so wrong, but I think I actually swoon a  little bit.

Lil comes running up, smiling from ear to ear, "Hey bitch! You excited?"

It's so crazy to see her in this setting. Wearing some short shorts, a  cropped t-shirt, and wild hair, she doesn't look like the refined Lilly  who works at the college. When we first met, I would have pictured her  in an affluent setting. She was very sweet and very well spoken. At  times she was even soft spoken.

Hanging out with her here, she's a completely different person. She's  wilder, louder, and funnier. At first I felt so different from her. I've  always been a bit of a hippie. I don't do fancy shit. I'm all easy  clothes, easy hair, and nonexistent makeup. I see now there's not much  of a difference between her and I, and I love her even more for that  fact.

"Yes! I've never been to a rally."

"Oh, girl. It's gonna be so much fun. Bikes, crazy hot guys …  you excited  to go with Rampage?" she asks, leaning against the picnic table next to  me.

"Yeah, I think so. I hope he's not second guessing bringing me along. I'm afraid I'll cramp his style."

"I'm sure he is. Seriously, it's because you're hot as fuck and you're not claimed. Rampage is not gonna want to share you."

"Not sure I ever want to be claimed," I tell her truthfully. The idea of  being claimed sounds oppressive and suffocating, just like something  I've been trying to run from for so many years now.

"It's not a bad thing, babe. It means you're taken, spoken for. He's  your man and you are his woman. It's basically like being married  without the ring, church, and certificate. Don't get me wrong, some of  the guys officially marry their old ladies, but it's all the same in the  clubs eyes." Okay. Sounds like a girlfriend/boyfriend sort of thing to  me.

"So I guess it's safe to assume that Tank claimed you?" My question  makes her laugh. "Yeah, something like that; Although, I claimed his  ass, too."

"I can see that. You two are all over each other, all the time. He's  always around you, always staring at you. You guys are starting to gross  me out a little bit."

"Really?" She gets this far away, dreamy smile, "Oh, well, you'll get  used to it the longer you're around. It's only because he's crazy  obsessive, but you know what? We're finally getting to a really good  place."