Unbeautifully

CHAPTER SEVEN

“You’re acting weird,” Anabeth said, not bothering to look up from painting her toenails. “Weirder than usual, I mean.”

Ellie glanced up from her book. “She’s right. You’ve been acting weird since prom.”

Rolling my eyes, I turned back to my vanity mirror and applied a light coating of peach lip gloss, just enough to give some shine and a boost of natural color. Then I smoothed my long blonde curls, reapplied my eyeliner, double-checked the zipper on my jeans skirt, straightened and re-straightened my pink T-shirt. Maybe my hair would look better straight today?

“Seriously, Danny, what is wrong with you? And why are you putting so much makeup on? You look like a hooker.”

What was wrong with me? I was a mess. All I could think about was Ripper and what had happened at the lake.

Since Dorothy’s birthday party nearly two weeks ago, I’d avoided the club like the plague. I didn’t care that no one was home to hang out with me; I was terrified of running into Ripper again.

Why couldn’t I stop thinking about him?

“Danny, what is wrong—”

I whirled around. “I slept with Ripper,” I blurted out, then immediately slapped my hand over my mouth.

Ellie’s mouth fell open, a starkly different reaction from Anabeth’s grin.

“Ripper,” Ellie said slowly. “As in Ripper, Ripper? Your dad’s sergeant-whatever guy?”

I nodded.

Anabeth let out an excited shriek. “Finally!” she yelled. “I thought you were going to die a virgin!”

I glared at her. “I wasn’t a virgin.”

She made a face. “Shawn O’Brian does not count. That was like, what? Five minutes of horrible in the woods? So doesn’t count.”

“Oh god, Anabeth,” Ellie muttered. “Your whole life is based around sex.”

“So?” she shot back. “It’s better than having sex with fictional characters!”

Ellie shot up out of my desk chair. “I do not have sex with fictional characters!”

“Oh puh-lease, I’ve seen the books you read, all big muscley men and virginal women and steamy sex. Why else would you read that crap if not to get off?”

Ellie was about to blow. Her eyes were bugging out of her head, her nostrils flaring.

Ignoring her, Anabeth turned to me. “Was it good?” she asked.

I buried my face in my hands and peeked out at my friends through my fingers. “Yes.”

Anabeth’s smile turned sly.

Ellie turned her bug eyes on me. “Do you actually like him? He’s so…old.”

Like him? Um, I didn’t like him, like him…did I?

Anabeth laughed. “Oh, who cares. He’s only what, like, thirty?”

“Thirty-two, I think,” I said, wincing as Ellie’s face scrunched up in disgust.

“Ignore her,” Anabeth said dismissively. “Ripper is hot. All big and bad and scarred up. And speaking of big, how big is he?”

“Scarred up?” Ellie gaped at Anabeth. “The man has half a face!”

I dropped my hands and glared at both of them.

“What? It’s a legitimate question!”

“It’s none of your business! And he doesn’t have half a face!”

Anabeth’s grin turned positively evil. “Oh. My. God. You do like him!”

“Gross,” Ellie muttered. “Not only is he deformed, he’s old enough to be your dad.”

“That makes it even hotter,” Anabeth said, nodding gravely.

“He is not old enough to be my dad!” I yelled. “My dad is like fifty!”

“Whatever,” Ellie said. “That’s not the point. The point is you like an older, deformed man who works for your crazy dad. Do you actually see yourself dating him?”

Date him? The thought of going on a date with Ripper was absurd. He wasn’t the kind of guy you went to dinner and a movie with. He was the kind of guy who dragged you out of the lake, shoved you down on the ground, growling and groping you, telling you all the dirty things he wanted to do to you…and then did them. No-holds-barred, invasive, mind-numbing, disturbingly awesome things. I squeezed my eyes shut, remembering…

“Fuck,” he kept muttering, in between kisses that were growing more and more frantic. “Fuck, Danny, fuck…I’m gonna fuck you so hard…you’re gonna scream, baby.”

He pulled me out of the lake and we tumbled to the ground in a heap of tangled limbs, his body pressed against mine, grinding his erection into my stomach. Reflexively, I grabbed fistfuls of his hard biceps as a tidal wave of need rushed through me.

“I want that pussy, baby,” he growled hoarsely, sucking and biting his way down my body. “Gimme that beautiful fuckin’ pussy.”

My eyes flew open. What was wrong with me? He treated me like a one-time whore, and I was fantasizing about him? Ugh.

Anabeth burst out laughing. “Who said anything about dating? Just have lots of hot, sweaty, secret sex until you’re bored with him.”

I turned back to my mirror, my stomach in knots, and reached for my lip gloss. “He doesn’t want me,” I mumbled.

Anabeth snorted. “He’s just scared of your dad. All you have to do is flaunt your shit in front of him. Show him what he’s missing.”

And what exactly was he missing? I stared at my reflection, thinking about Nikki. He had to like her; he’d kept her around for so long. Aside from having blonde hair and blue eyes, she was everything I wasn’t. She was tall; I was average height. She had hourglass figure curves and I was lean, my curves slight. She had a lot of tattoos, favored leather, red lipstick, and long nails, whereas I had no tattoos, would never be caught dead in leather, favored pastel colors, and kept my nails short and manicured.

“I don’t think I’m his type.”

“Oh please, you’re gorgeous, you’re everyone’s type. Even I want you.”

I thought of him glaring at me, imagined him blaming me for what had happened, and I blew out a breath. “I’m pretty sure he doesn’t want me again,” I whispered.

Anabeth appeared beside me.

“Do you want him again?”

I stared at her reflection.

Did I? Is that why I couldn’t stop thinking about him? Or how incredible it felt to be touched by him.

“Yes,” I whispered, feeling utterly ridiculous.

She grinned at me in the mirror.

“Then we’ll make him want you.”

• • •

“I’m not sure, but I think Prez is tryin’ to punish us,” Bucket said, leaning back in his patio chair, staring out across the club’s backyard.

Ripper glanced across the lawn to where Danny and her two friends, the short-haired sexy blonde and curvy mulatto hottie, were sunbathing. In motherfucking bikinis. And Danny’s was pink. Hot pink and more string than material. What. The. Fuck. She was doing this shit on purpose.

And Bucket was eye-fucking her. The dude was old enough to be her father but supposedly good-looking enough that the younger bitches flocked to him. As far as Ripper knew, Bucket had never fucked a bitch over twenty-five.

Something he hadn’t given two fucks about until right now.

Until Danny had pranced outside basically naked and now was lying around with her tits and ass on display and Bucket was staring. Double what the fuck.

“Yes,” he muttered. “He definitely is and stop fuckin’ starin’ or Prez is gonna have you eatin’ fist.”

Or he was. Yeah, he was two seconds away from knocking Bucket out.

Gritting his teeth, he looked away from Danny and tried really hard to think about something else. Anything else.

“How old are those two?” Bucket asked. “Danny’s eighteen, ain’t she? Her friends might be.”

“Dude,” Tap said. “My daughter is just a few years older. Shut the fuck up.”

“It ain’t your daughter I’m talkin’ about,” Bucket shot back.

“Don’t even think about it,” Eva said, taking a seat beside him, Ivy in her lap.

“What’s that, Foxy?” Bucket said, grinning. “Suddenly you’re a fuckin’ ageist? I seem to remember your old man puttin’ two slugs in Prez for takin’ a dip down below.”

Eva’s big gray eyes narrowed. “Shut up,” she shot back. “I’m only thinking of Danny. You guys acting like the pervs you are is only going to upset her.”

“Pervs!” Bucket shouted, offended. “There are three hot bitches lying half naked behind my fuckin’ club and I’m supposed to act like I’m fuckin’ blind? Fuck that. Prez is evil. Straight up. Why the fuck isn’t Danny at home?”

Because, he thought, glaring at Eva, someone’s got Deuce’s balls wrapped around her finger.

“Because.” Eva sighed. “No one else is home, so why should she be home?”

“You could be home,” he muttered. “Should be home.”

Not hanging around an MC all the time; not giving teenage girls rooms at MCs, forcing him to watch them lying around in bikinis, leaving him vulnerable to accidently fucking them. Again.

Tap shot him a dirty look. “Way to be an asshole, brother,” he said.

“It’s fine,” Eva said quietly. “But let’s get one thing clear, okay, Ripper?”

“What’s that, babe?” he sneered.

“I didn’t know,” she said evenly. “If I would have known what he’d done to you, I would have—”

“You would have what?” he yelled, jumping up and knocking his chair backward. “You would have fuckin’ what, bitch? Sang him a motherfuckin’ lullaby? Told him everything was gonna be A-fucking-OK? You had no fuckin’ sense when it came to that man! You wouldn’t have done jack fuckin’ shit!”

Ivy burst into tears and Bucket was suddenly up in his face, pushing him backward. “Take a fuckin’ walk,” he hissed. “And cool the fuck off before Prez rips that fuckin’ patch off you for talkin’ to his old lady like that.”

“She wouldn’t have done shit!” he repeated, leaning around Bucket and pointing at Eva. “I saw you with him, Eva! Him givin’ you bullshit, tellin’ you he can’t fuckin’ sleep without you, him justifyin’ why he put A FUCKIN’ HIT ON YOU, and you cryin’ like a baby, tellin’ him everything’s gonna be fine!”

“Get the fuck outta here!” Bucket yelled, shoving him backward.

Eva appeared beside Bucket. “I’m sorry Frankie took your fucking eye,” she hissed. “He also took twenty-two years of my life from me! If anyone understands what it feels like to lose something at the hands of Frankie, it’s me!”

“Fuck you,” he bit out angrily. “You coulda walked away, coulda called Prez, coulda said somethin’ to your old man. You had a motherfuckin’ choice! I didn’t have that luxury, Eva, I couldn’t walk away! I couldn’t fuckin’ leave!”

“Neither could I,” she whispered.

He stared down at her, trying to figure out what the fuck she meant by that.

“Heads up,” Bucket muttered, moving aside as Deuce stepped out onto the back patio, eying them warily.

“What the fuck is goin’ on?” Deuce growled.

“Nothing,” Eva said evenly, her eyes still on him. “Ripper and I were just having a small argument over which one of Danny’s friends looked better in their bikini.”

Deuce’s eyes shot to the lawn and went saucer-wide, his nostrils flaring. “Danielle Elizabeth fuckin’ West!” he roared and pushed past them, headed for his daughter. “What the fuck are you not wearin’?”

Eva gave him a small, sad smile. “Two birds, one stone,” she said softly and turned away. After retrieving Ivy from Tap, she disappeared inside the clubhouse.

“Dude,” Tap said, getting to his feet. “You are a first class asshole.”

“Second that,” Bucket said, glaring at him. “Foxy doesn’t deserve your hate, brother. Frankie does.”

Ignoring them, feeling like an asshole, a justified asshole, Ripper stormed across the patio and into the club. He should have never opened his mouth. He’d gone this long keeping his true feelings about Eva to himself, but his nerves were shot from this shit with Danny. He felt strung out half the time and the other half…

He wanted her. She was too damn beautiful. And he’d owned that shit. There wasn’t a part of that body he hadn’t touched, hadn’t had his mouth on.

He wanted more.

Ah, fuck, what was he doing?

He was supposed to be flushing her out, not fantasizing about her. Fantasizing about her was only going to lead to fucking her again, and fucking her again would lead to fucking her again and again and again.

Fuck, he wished she would go away. Go home, go hang out somewhere else, go live with her mom, go to college in France.

Ripper had his key in his door when the sound of giggling brought him up short. Turning his head, he found Danny with her two friends, and Deuce herding the three of them down the hall. Her friends were staring at him, the blonde giggling, the mulatto scowling, and Danny was bright fucking red, looking anywhere but at him.

Fuck. She’d told them. She’d fucking opened her big fat mouth and told her dumbass friends.

He was so busy staring at her he didn’t even notice that Deuce had stopped beside him until he was being smacked across the back of his head.

“What the fuck you lookin’ at?” Deuce demanded and smacked him again.

“Nothin’,” he muttered. Turning his key, he pushed open his door and shut it quickly behind him. Sliding down the door, he hit the floor and buried his face in his hands. What the fuck was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he stop thinking about her?

He hadn’t given a fuck about anything in so long he’d forgotten what it felt like. Forgotten how horrible it was to feel anything at all.

The last time he’d given a fuck was…

Ripper came back to consciousness on fire. Everywhere. He coughed and gagged as hot, wet, fire poured down over his face and chest. Sputtering and screaming, he tried to jerk away but his bonds allowed him no movement.

“Wake up, sleepin’ beauty.” Frankie laughed and Ripper heard the sharp slide of a zipper, then felt the air shift as Frankie knelt down beside him. Spitting out a mouthful of hot piss, he gasped for air.

“Gonna try this shit one last time, Horseman. You don’t give me what I want, you’re goin’ in the ground.”

His body shaking from shock, his skin burning, unable to see what was going to be the final death blow, Ripper stayed silent, praying it would be over soon.

Cursing, Frankie tugged on the rope binding his ankles to his wrists and started sawing through it. No longer bound in the fetal position, Ripper fell sideways, sprawled on his back. Grabbing hold of his balls, Frankie squeezed and twisted.

“Talk, you fuckin’ shithead,” he growled.

Breathe. He just had to keep breathing through it. He just had to breathe, in and out, until Frankie finally ended it.

“TALK!” Frankie roared and twisted further.

Pain hurtled up his groin and exploded into his stomach. He couldn’t talk now, even if he’d wanted to.

Breathe.

Just fucking breathe.

BREATHE, DAMN IT. BREATHE.

“Yo, Frankie!” a loud voice bellowed.

Frankie released him and his trembling body went lax. Gagging, he turned his head and released a stomach full of spit, piss, and bile.

“What?” Frankie growled.

“Eva’s blowin’ up my fuckin’ phone, brother.”

Ripper heard Frankie jump to his feet, heard his heavy booted steps crossing the floor, heard a door creak open, then slam shut.

It took a moment to realize that he was alone.

Alone…

He had two choices. He could keep lying there, naked and bleeding out on the ground and wait to die, or he could try.

He couldn’t let it end like this.

He couldn’t die a high school dropout, a criminal who’d never done shit with his life, with no woman or kids to care if he’d gone.

He had to try.

Dry heaving, tears streaming down his cheeks, he struggled to roll to his side. Sucking air in through his teeth and breathing out hard, labored breaths, he folded his body in half.

Breathe.

Just fucking breathe.

Gritting his teeth through the blinding pain, he reached down his body with his bound wrists…

His fingertips brushed against the rope on his ankles.

With a heave and a shout of pain, with every ounce of energy he had, he stretched his body just a little more and grabbed hold of the knot.

Yeah. The last time he’d given a fuck about anything was when he’d thought he was going to die at the hands of a crazy motherfucker. After that, he’d become consumed with what hadn’t happened, so much so, he’d started wishing it had.

Until now.

Until he’d accidentally fucked a little blonde bitch with the face of an angel and a body built to drive a man crazy. Danny was every man’s wet dream; an honest-to-god good, sweet, girl who was drop-dead gorgeous and fucked like a whore.

If she were anybody else, anybody else’s daughter, he’d have spent a week straight up inside of her, fucking her half to death, splitting her down the middle, taking what he wanted. And fuck him, he wanted.

He wanted.

But she wasn’t anyone else’s daughter. She was Deuce’s daughter, and every bit as lethal to him as Frankie had been.

• • •

Pulling on a pair of sweatpants, I glared at Anabeth. “That was a terrible plan.”

She waved me off. “Oh, please, he was staring at you the entire time. If your dad hadn’t gone ballistic, Danny, I guarantee you’d be bent over his motorcycle right now.”

Right. Instead I’d gotten yelled at by my father in front of everyone and was now even more embarrassed then I had been. Actually, I was pretty sure this was the most embarrassed I’d ever been in my entire life.

“Oh. My. God.” Ellie shut my bedroom door behind her and leaned back against it.

“What’s wrong with you?” Anabeth asked.

“Some guy whose name is Dirty, and may I just say kudos to his parents for aptly naming him, just asked me to blow him. Ordered me, actually.”

“Did you?” Anabeth asked.

“You did not just ask me that!”

“Yes, Miss Prude, I did.”

“Um, ew. He really is dirty.”

Anabeth snorted. “Are you actually upset? So he hit on you, so what?”

Ellie crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not sure that ‘Bitch, get the fuck on your knees and suck me’ should be considered being hit on. I believe I was demeaned to the least common denominator possible.”

“You liked it,” Anabeth scoffed.

“You know what I liked?” Ellie yelled, her eyes bugging out. “I liked it when Cage told me I’m a better fuck than you!”

My mouth fell open, Anabeth let out a banshee-worthy screech, and Ellie ducked as a pillow went flying across the room.

“You slut!” Anabeth screamed.

“Me?” Ellie screamed. “You’ve slept with half the town!”

“You’re both sluts!” I yelled. “And traitors!”

“Oh please, Danny, you can’t get mad. Your brother is the hottest piece of ass in this Podunk town.”

“No! He’s a whore and a jackass and I’m convinced he might be somewhat brain-dead, but he is most definitely not hot!”

“Sorry, Danny,” Ellie said dryly. “He really is.”

I gaped at both of them. “Do you realize what you’ve done? You’ve ruined our friendship! You cannot be friends with someone while you’re sleeping with their brother!”

Anabeth waved me off and went back to painting her toenails. “Please, Danny. You know Cage never fucks anyone twice.”

“No, I did not know that, and do you know why I didn’t know that? Because he is my brother!”

“Well, now you know,” Ellie said, turning back to her book. “So, calm down.”

I dropped to the floor with a loud thump and buried my face in my hands. “Oh my god,” I muttered. “I hate my life.”

“This is why you don’t have a boyfriend,” Anabeth said pointedly. “You’re so dramatic.”

• • •

Clutching a fresh bottle of tequila, Ripper poked his head into the hallway, looked right, then left. The coast clear of Deuce or Danny, he wandered around the empty club before deciding on the kitchen, where he found Dorothy bent over the sink, washing dishes, and Hawk seated at the head of the long wooden table, nursing a beer.

Hawk lifted his chin. “Wat up.”

“Nothin’,” he muttered, sliding into the chair beside him.

Dorothy glanced over her shoulder and frowned. “You want some coffee?”

He glared at her. “Do I fuckin’ look like I want coffee?” he said, waving his bottle in the air.

With an exaggerated eye roll tossed his way, she went back to the dishes.

Whatever. She could think he was a drunk. He didn’t give a fuck.

“I’m fuckin’ bored,” Dirty announced as he walked into the kitchen. “Anyone else goin’ crazy?”

Holding up two fingers, Ripper nodded. “Yeah.”

Grabbing the chair across from him, Dirty turned it around and straddled it. “I’ve gone a month without pussy. I got cum backed up straight to my fuckin’ brain.”

Dorothy turned toward Dirty, looking repulsed. “Why?” she asked. “Why must you be so disgusting?”

Dirty ignored her. “I need this shit sucked or fucked before my head explodes.”

Hawk started laughing and Dirty shot him a look.

“Naw, dude, for real. This shit keeps up, my dick is gonna shrivel up and die.”

Not Ripper. He was having the opposite problem. His dick was going to explode. Between what had gone down at the lake still wreaking havoc on his thoughts, playing on fucking repeat, and now that bikini bullshit yesterday. Goddamn Danny.

“Maybe you should shower?” Dorothy suggested. “Women like that sort of thing.”

Dirty grinned at her. “What’s wrong, D? You don’t like me in my natural state?”

Dirty’s “natural state” was a nasty fucking mess. The dude’s long brown hair was as greasy as fuck, his hands and clothes were stained black from motor oil, his fingernails were long and yellowed, caked with dirt, and he always stunk like week-old garbage. The only club bitches that went to bed with him had either drunk themselves into unconsciousness or gotten roofied by Dirty himself.

“Let’s ride,” Dirty said. “Get the fuck outta Miles and hit up Billings, grab some pussy to go.”

Maybe that’s what he needed. Fresh meat to flush Danny out of his system.

“I’m down,” Hawk muttered and no sooner than the words had left the guy’s mouth, a ceramic bowl came hurtling through the air. They all ducked; the thing hit the wall and shattered on impact. As shards of ceramic went flying in all directions, Hawk jumped up, causing his chair to tip backward.

“Woman,” Hawk growled, glaring at Dorothy. “I’m well past sick of your bullshit.”

Confused, Ripper glanced between the two of them.

Dorothy’s dishcloth hit the counter with a wet slap and she matched Hawk’s glare with one of her own.

Which would have been funny if he wasn’t so confused, seeing as Dorothy was all of five foot nothing, a tiny slip of a woman, and he was positive he’d seen Hawk eat steaks bigger than her.

“You’ve got no right to be sick of my bullshit!”

Hawk’s mouth flattened and his fists clenched. “The fuck I don’t,” he growled low.

“You don’t!” she cried.

“Bitch, you throwin’ dishes at my fuckin’ head, actin’ straight up jealous, is tellin’ me I got a fuckin’ right.”

Dorothy’s now wide, horrified eyes shot to Dirty, then him, then back to Hawk.

“What is wrong with you?” she yelled. “You’ve already done enough damage and now you’re making it worse!”

Eyebrows raised, Ripper got the feeling he was missing something.

Hawk kicked at his fallen chair and took a menacing step toward her. “Damage!” he roared. “Is that what you call it? ’Cause I’m—”

The swinging kitchen doors burst open and Cage ran in, holding a purple backpack over his head.

“Asshole!” Tegen shrieked, running after him. “Give it back!”

“Language!” Dorothy chastised.

Still holding her backpack over his head, Cage grinned down at her. “Aw, Teacup, what’s the matter?”

“Don’t call me that!” she yelled, jumping up and down like a jackrabbit on crack, trying to reach her bag when it was obvious that unless she grew about six inches in the next five seconds, there was no way in hell she was going to even come close. “I’m not a little kid anymore!”

“No?” He laughed. “You finally grow outta that trainin’ bra?”

“Cage!” Dorothy snapped. “Inappropriate!”

Tegen’s pale, freckled face turned bright red with rage and just as Ripper thought she was about to blow, Cage faked left and then went right, darting around Tegen and back into the hallway.

Letting out a frustrated scream, Tegen went shrieking after him.

“Dammit,” Dorothy muttered, following them. Just before she left, she shot a glaring look in Hawk’s direction that promised all sorts of pain in the genital region.

“In case you forgot,” Dirty said. “That’s Jase’s woman.”

“No,” Hawk growled, “she’s Jase’s whore. He’s never gonna leave Chrissy.”

Dirty shook his head. “Brother, don’t go there. Not with Jase, not over D. He ain’t gonna give her up.”

Hawk’s hard brown eyes bored into Dirty. “Dude,” he muttered, smiling grimly, “you’re a couple years too late with that bullshit.”

Surprised, Dirty glanced at Ripper and he shrugged in return. He hadn’t seen that shit coming either, but the truth of the matter was that Dorothy wasn’t Jase’s old lady, she was club ass, always had been. So if Hawk wanted to go toe-to-toe with Jase over the little redheaded bitch, he didn’t give a fuck.

“So, I’m guessin’ that means no pussy to go,” Dirty said dryly.

“Yeah,” Hawk muttered. “Not really feelin’ it.”

Dirty turned to him. “Ripper?”

He looked down at his bottle. If he were being honest, he really didn’t want any pussy. Except the one he wasn’t supposed to want. The one in the pink bikini with the firm little ass and perfect tits and tight, sweet pussy.

Internally, he groaned. He had to stop this shit.

Then, as if the entire motherfucking universe was against him and setting out to make his life as miserable as possible, Danny chose that very moment to walk into the kitchen. She took one look at him, turned bright red, and walked right back out.

Sighing, he glanced up at Dirty.

“Naw, dude,” he muttered. “I got a hot date with a dead worm.”