I put my hands back by my sides, even though my mind is telling me that I shouldn't be letting him do whatever it is he's doing. I don't even know him! That shitty little voice in my head keeps shouting ‘skank', but my body is humming to a tune of its own.
I don't move. I don't protest. My curiosity has gotten the better of me.
"I need you to stay still." My mind races and my body begins to hum at his words. I want him to keep touching me.
I feel something lightly touch the skin of my stomach, then I feel the same touch two more times. It makes me jumpy. I have no clue what he's doing to me.
Leaning over me, Rampage puts one rough hand directly below by boobs, and the other down around the curve of my thigh, fingers so long they reach my ass cheek. Leaning down, his face disappears below me boobs, out of view. A chill hits me as soon as his face touches the skin of my stomach. A rush of heat, a need comes over my entire body, wanting more of what he can offer me.
I hear a deep inhale as he glides his face along my skin, and another, and another. With each motion, I feel his tongue glide along the same path as his face. I'm shaking from the intense reaction my body is having to him until I'm brought back to reality. He stands up, throws his head back and inhales deeply, with one finger pressed to the side of his nose. I watch those rude eyes roll and the corner of his lip twist into sick satisfaction. He just snorted three lines of coke off my stomach. He slowly brings his eyes to me and growls, "Fuck, Lala."
3
Drugs
Rampage
Vanilla. She smells like sweet vanilla and tastes like fucking sugar. While snorting my lines, I can't help but run my tongue along her smooth, perfect skin. I want to run my tongue all over her body, especially where I have her pants pulled down her hips. I swear, once my face is on her and I look up, I can see the underside of her tits and that shit is truly painful and so goddamn beautiful. How the fuck can that little bit of plump skin have me picturing blowing my load all over her perky round tits and rub that shit all over her from head to toe. Yeah I know I'm fucking gross, sue me. I want to claim every goddamn inch of her and mark her as mine that way.
I see those long lashes fanned on her cheeks and I start coming up with ways to get those eyes to pop open and roll back into her head, so I use my tongue on her. I can see the rise and fall of her tits with each unsteady breath and I find my hands itching to just grab two handfuls and suck on them instead.
Tipping my head the other way, I get to see those perfect hips and right down her jeans to her sexy fucking red underwear. Three buttons and those holey fucking jeans could be gone. My face could be between those thighs eating like I'm fucking starving to death. I could even take those long legs and throw them over my shoulders while I drive my dick into that hot, wet pussy of hers. Fuck. It would be so goddamn good it'd be wrong.
I lift my head to let the coke take hold of my senses and the edge off of wanting to kill Blue for putting his grimy ass hands on Lala. I get the blurry calm when that shit hits my blood stream. I wait for that shit to bring my anger down a notch or two. He fucks around and looks her way again, I'm gouging his eyes out with a rusty screwdriver.
Scrubbing my hands up and down my face to clear the anger and sexual need away, I sit my ass back down, but the coke makes me want to fuck, and fuck hard. Damn, the things I wanna do to her right now. My knee bounces and my hands shake.
///
"You done with me?" She asks softly.
Not even fucking close comes to mind, but instead I mumble, "Yeah." Sitting up on the bar she turns and throws her legs over the edge, and just like that, I picture spreading those legs wide open for me and ramming hard and fast right into her. Why? Why the fuck does she have to be so goddamn hot?
Her body, her smell, her face … she is her own kinda drug. She's pure street China White, ecstasy, Columbian cocaine and a heroin injection straight to the fucking jugular. A bitch like that becomes a habit. A habit you can't kick. Death is the only way out of that shit.
She gets off the bar, but I don't let her go. I put that ass right on the stool next to me. She doesn't say anything or even look at me, but she accepts the drinks I pass her. I take this time to just stare at her, imprinting that shit to memory. From head to toe, I store that body away. Even if I never get to touch her, fuck her, or ever get to see her again, at least the next bitch I put my dick into will be Lala in my twisted mind.
****
After she takes a few more shots, Lala stands up, and I know she's about to leave. I don't fucking like that shit at all.
"Well, thanks for having me. It was nice meeting y'all."
Lil comes over and wraps an arm around her shoulders, "You ain't driving home babe. You're gonna crash at our place, okay?"
"That sounds so much better than driving home tonight, so yeah, sounds great."
Turning toward the door, they start to walk away. People start to holler out goodbyes, the old ladies hug and talk about making plans to get together soon. Before she makes it to the door, she stops and looks back at me with a huge smile on her face that's only meant for me. It's a smile I'll remember ‘til the day I die, big and bright.
"Night, Rampage."
After Lala and that motherfucking body of hers leaves, I drink and smoke enough to convince myself that while I'm fucking Red later tonight, I'll really be fucking and seeing only Lala. It's just a means to an end.
****
Pulling into the club's lot with Stitch a few days later, we pull up to the bay doors of the shop.
"Where the fuck is everyone?" he asks looking over at me, killing his bike. Seriously? Why the fuck is he asking me?
"How the fuck would I know? I've been with you, dumbass."
The place is dead. Each bay of the shop is full of vehicles, minus their mechanics. What the fuck? Not a single brother, prospect, old lady or kid around. Ain't this shit fucking strange. It's never this goddamn dead around here. I park my bike and hop off to head inside.
The inside is almost as bad as the outside, except for Leo and a few whores wandering around. Of course Leo's old ass is at the bar.
"Where the hell is everybody?" Throwing a thumb over his shoulder, Leo points to the side door and gives me a raspy chuckle.
"Those crazy bitches are out there," Crazy bitches?
Stitch and I head for the door. I'm still trying to make sense of Leo's crazy bitches comment when … FUCK. This is some shit I never expected to fucking see.
Lil, Peaches, and fuck, Lala, are all outside. They're wet and wearing skimpy clothes while washing Lil's jeep.
Stitch throws his head back and belts out his laughter of joy, like this is best thing he has ever seen. "Today just keeps gettin' better." Every asshole is out here. Yeah, it's wonderful fucking day.
Gin is pretending to work on an old ass bike that's been out here a good four years. That fuckin' thing is never gettin' fixed. It's rusted to the point that pieces just fall to the ground, and it's got no goddamn engine. Tags is pretending to help him by handing him tools, but neither one of them are even looking at the bike.
I don't know what the fuck has gotten into these guys, but Arms is sittin' back at the picnic table watching the show, while Crush and Kash are tossing a flat football back and forth. King is managing the hose for them. This has got to be the most pathetic thing I have ever seen in my life, not that I blame them for watching the show, but these guys see this shit on a daily basis, just not from real women like these.
Walking over to Lala, she sees me and gives me that sweet as fuck smile that drives me crazy, the one that makes me want to smile, especially being all wet and sexy and shit. Is she trying to kill me?
"How ya doin', Rampage?"
"You're shittin' me, right?"
Throwing an arm over my shoulder, Stitch answers for her, "She sure the fuck ain't." Yeah I can fucking see that.
Shrugging his arm off, I give his ribs an elbow. "Fuck you, Stitch."
///
"Lookin' good, Lala, baby," Stitch adds and throws her a wink, not paying anyone else a bit of attention.
"What's wrong?" she asks me.
"Stop starin' at her tits, Rampage," Lil yells at me from the other side of her Jeep. When the hottest bitch on earth is in front of me, wearing a tight, wet tank top with the nicest boobs I have ever seen, fuck yeah I'm gonna look. They all look hot as hell.
She's fucking killing me and she just doesn't know it.
"You're an asshole, babe," I tell her seriously. She's doing this shit on purpose, I know it. There can be no other reason she'd be here at my club wearing shit like that if she wasn't here to fuck with me. This is a fucking test. A test to see if I can keep my motherfucking hands to myself. A test to see if I can keep from beating the shit out of every asshole here for staring at her. She did this shit just to drive me crazy.