Undeniable

CHAPTER FOUR:

I loved dancing. I loved Club Red. And I loved my best friend Kami.

She was loaded, I was loaded. She was spoiled, I was spoiled. She was bored out of her mind and I was being suffocated to death.

Being the spoiled, bored, suffocated girls we were, with the help of another bored and spoiled rich kid, we procured fake I.D.s and were able to escape to our happy place every Saturday night. Club Red.

Best part, Frankie had no idea where I was.

We were able to accomplish this with the help of Kami’s sexy chauffeur, Jacob, who Kami had been giving it up to since she'd been thirteen and Jacob eighteen. I'm fairly certain Jacob was head over heels in love with her but he'd gave up trying for anything more than sex years ago.

Kami, being as starved for attention as she was, had convinced herself sleeping with a lot of different men was a good way to go about getting what she was lacking at home. It never worked but she never stopped trying

Anyway, this is how my Saturday's went. Frankie would drop me off at Kami’s penthouse. If Kami’s parents were home, we’d get prettied up, wait until they went to bed and then sneak down the back stairwell. Jacob would meet us in Kami’s underground parking garage, drive us out the back exit that was only used by the penthouse occupants, deftly evading the tails Frankie put on me, and off we went.

Freedom.

☼☼☼

Deuce hated New York City something fierce. Always had and always would.

Even more then he hated New York City was the New Yorkers that resided in it. Even more then he hated New Yorkers was New York City nightclubs filled with New Yorkers.

Two of his boys had rode up with him on business. They wanted a party and some pussy and since he sorta wanted to pick up some pussy for himself, he tagged along. He wished he hadn't.

He was standing against a wall in a packed nightclub with red satin hanging all over the place and red fucking disco balls twirling on the ceiling while surrounded by wall to wall drunk fuckwads grinding against each other to what he supposed was music but sounded a lot like television static with a crappy beat.

He was a simple man. He liked kegs, country music and down home pussy. He didn't see the need to dress up the fact that he was getting drunk and laid. It was all the same in the end. Sloppy kissing, skin slapping and a nasty hangover. Why the fuck put a decorative umbrella on it?

His boys had ditched him about an hour ago in favor of some slutty club bitches. He'd seen Cox disappear with two scantily clad Latinos and Mick had gone off dancing with a woman he was pretty sure was packing a cock under her seriously short skirt. He was so fucking miserable he had momentarily considered taking pictures of them with their whores and sending them to their wives as payback for making him endure this shit.

"Hey," A female voice slurred. He rolled his head left. Christ. Fucking skinny bitches everywhere in this city. No tits. No ass. All of them wearing skin tight clothes that emphasized the fact that they had no tits and no ass. This particular bitch, tall, skinny, and bleached blonde, was so fucking skinny her breastbone was on display through her skin. The napkin she was fronting as a dress was practically see-through and he could see she wasn't wearing any underwear.

"Fuck off," He said.

Her eyes went wide. “What?”

"You deaf?" He asked. "I said, fuck off."

Her mouth fell open. "What?" She whispered.

Christ.

"Bitch, I don't wanna fuck you so I ain't gonna buy you drinks and tell you how fuckin' hot you are hopin' you're gonna spread those bony ass legs for me, cuz one, you're not hot, you might be someday if you start eatin' but as it is right now, you're not. And two, I don't wanna fuck you so I’m givin' it to you straight. Fuck off."

She blinked. Then she leaned forward and placed a bony hand on his chest. And smiled. He stared down at her hand debating on whether or not he should break her fingers.

"Wherever you want it, however you want it," She breathed. "Right here, in the bathroom, behind the club. Where. Ever. You. Want. It."

His eyebrows shot up. She had either major self-esteem problems or some serious daddy issues or maybe she was just plain fucking crazy.

"Kami!" A female voice squealed. "Kami!"

The bitch beside him straightened up and looked around. "Evie?" She yelled.

A giggling mass of dark brown hair surged forward through the crowd of people and barreled straight into the blonde. They were both shitfaced; instead of hugging they just kind of fell into each other and then into him. Annoyed he shoved them both backwards and the blonde's drink went flying. People scattered as the glass shattered.

Laughing hysterically and clinging to each other, they both stood up straight. He watched, frozen, as a Horseman's tag slipped out from the brunette's shirt. Her imposter of a shirt.

Then she flipped her hair out of her face and his blood ran cold. Then hot. Really fucking hot.

Last time he had seen Eva Fox he'd been two seconds away from sinking balls deep into all that sweetness and he'd taken two bullets because of it.

"Kami!" Eva cried, oblivious to his presence. "Where have you been? I've been looking everywhere for you!"

Oblivious was the last thing he was. Bitch had on some kind of shirt that wasn't actually a shirt but a triangle of sequins that appeared to be staying on her only by a complicated looking series of strings. The fucking thing barely covered her tits. Her fat, heavy, perfect tits. Her entire back and her midriff were exposed, her belly button pierced with some shiny fucking bullshit and the rest of her was incased in tight black leather pants. Tight as in he was damn positive she'd had to lube up her legs and juicy as hell ass to get those bad boys on.

On her feet, black chucks.

His chest tightened.

Now standing, she tucked his old man's tag back inside her non-shirt and did a little wiggle as she straightened her top that wasn't actually a top causing her tits to bounce. He got hard. Just like that. Like he was seven-fucking-teen.

Still giggling, she surveyed her surroundings, finally catching sight of him. Her -made to suck cock- lips parted, her stormy eyes went wide and she swayed a little to her right.

"Deuce," She whispered.

He didn't know what the fuck to say so he said the first thing that popped into his head.

"Babe."

Kami looked between them. "You know him?"

"Yeah," she said, her eyes on him. Jesus Christ, those eyes. She was damn beautiful.

"Introduce us!"

"Deuce, this is my friend Kami, Kami this is my…friend Deuce. But-

She turned to her friend. "He's married. Got kids too. So hands off."

He stared at her, confused. He was married? He had kids? Oh right. He was sorta married. And yeah, he had kids. He loved his kids. Their mother…not so much.

"Shame," Kami purred. “The whole scary faced, bad ass biker thing is really working for you.”

His lip curled in disgust. He’d just told this bitch he found her unattractive, that he in no uncertain terms wanted anything to do with her and yet she still wanted it. Fucking whore. Fucking fucked in the head stupid fucking whore.

"He's not scary," Eva scolded. "He's beautiful."

Fuck…him.

No one had ever called him beautiful and he was pretty sure he'd never wanted to be called beautiful until Eva Fox had called him beautiful and now he wanted her to say it again. But this time he wanted balls deep inside of her while she said it.

"Do you want to dance?" Eva asked.

His eyes refocused. "What?"

"Dance. Do you want to?"

"No."

"No?"

"This isn't music and I can't dance."

She bit her lip and he knew she was trying not to laugh at him. Usually when people laughed at him, or tried not to laugh at him, neither of which was often because he wasn't a funny guy, he punched them in their fucking face. Eva laughing at him made his cock twitch. This bitch did strange shit to him. His fucking brain didn't work around her and his balls fucking swelled, ready to repopulate the world as long as he was doing it inside her pussy.

"Everyone can dance," She giggled.

He shook his head. "I can't. I lumber. My wife says I lumber."

She wrinkled up her nose. "Your wife is a fucking cunt."

He choked. Coughed. Pounded on his chest. Took a long swallow of his beer. Cleared his throat.

"Darlin', you have no idea."

Grinning, she sidled up next to him and leaned her shoulder against the wall so the front of her body faced his and took a sip of her drink. Her bright pink drink with a pink umbrella and lots of floating cherries that reeked of tequila.

He narrowed his eyes. How long had it been since he'd last seen her, since he'd taken two bullets because he’d been a fucking moron.

It hadn't been five years, so he knew she wasn't twenty one.

"How old are you darlin’?"

Her lips quirked. "My I.D. says I'm twenty four."

He raised an eyebrow and smiled. "And what does your birth certificate say?"

She looked him dead in the eyes and he felt himself leaning towards her.

"I'm eighteen," She said quietly and her eyes went soft. He knew that look. Fucked a lot of women in his life, knew the signs and knew them well. Eighteen year old Eva Fox was handing him her pussy on a silver platter.

And he was fucking starving.

Fuck.

"Deuce?" She leaned into him, pressing her fat tits against his arm.

He stared down at her. "Yeah?"

Keeping her eyes locked with his, she wrapped her hand around as much of his bicep as her fingers could reach and started slowly sliding her hand down his inner arm. When she reached his palm, her fingers spread out and slid between his. Her hand folded closed. He closed his over hers.

"Let's dance," She whispered.

"Okay," He whispered back because, fuck, he didn't know which way was up at the moment.

Those unfathomably plump lips split into a smile and his cock freaked the fuck out. If she hadn't started leading him out into the club he would have thrown her up against the wall and slammed his way home.

She took him dead center of the dance floor. It was packed with bodies. Sweaty, writhing bodies. He felt completely out of his element.

Then Eva began to move and he forgot all about elements and skinny bitches and stupid red disco balls. All he could see was Eva. Nothing else existed but Eva and what she did to him.

With her back to his front, she lifted her arms over her head and hooked her hands around his neck. He grabbed her, harder than he meant to, and dug his fingers deep into her hipbones. As her juicy ass hit his cock, he groaned.

"All you have to do is move with me!" She shouted over the music.

He didn’t, he couldn’t, he was far too busy trying to convince himself it would be a bad idea to take her right then and there, on the dance floor.

Her ass was grinding into his rock hard cock; her head had fallen back on his chest and her hands…

She grabbed his hands, interlocked their fingers and had him stroking across her bare stomach, her hips, the vee between her legs, and, fuck him, her tits. When he couldn’t take much more, he slipped his hand down her pants and gave her what she was silently begging him for.

Her head fell back on his chest and she looked up at him with unfocused gray eyes, her nostrils flaring with heavy breaths, her wet lips parted.

He'd taken two bullets because of this bitch. If he ended tonight the way he wanted to end it Preacher was going to bury him. He should care about that. His kids needed their father, his MC needed their president. He had business that needed getting done and he sure as fuck wasn't ready to kick it quite yet.

He should care about all that shit. But he didn't. And because he didn't, because he wanted her so fucking bad he could taste the need, feel it in his fucking gut like a livewire, he brought his mouth down on hers and kissed her hard and fast, still thrusting his fingers in and out of her, swallowing her cries as bodies pressed up against them, shoving them back and forth to the rhythm of the bass pounding in his ears.

☼☼☼

It was pouring out, we were soaking wet, the alleyway smelled like a month’s worth of old garbage, Deuce was fumbling with his jeans and I had completely lost my mind. I was frantic, crawling up his big, hard body like a sex starved spider monkey in heat and kissing him, fucking kissing him, giving as good as I was getting. Every kiss was full of hot, wet tongue, sometimes hit sometimes miss. Teeth were clacking together, lips were bitten, and noses were getting in the way. I mauled him not caring where his or my mouth was landing or what part of his face I was kissing, licking, biting. His cheeks, his forehead, his chin, his neck, they were all fair game. His hands were full of my ass, my hands were full of his hair, our mouths were full of each other and I had no idea where my clothing had gone. And I didn't care.

I wanted this man inside of me. So far inside of me that he wouldn't ever be able to leave.

"Gimme what I need baby, gimme that sweet pussy I been dreamin' 'bout."

Oh god.

I didn't think it was possible to want him anymore than I already did. But he'd just proven me wrong.

"Please, please, just fucking take it," I mumbled, desperate for more of him.

Staring into one another's eyes, breathy heavy, rain sluicing down in sheets between us, over us, everywhere, he started pushing inside of me.

"Oh fuck yeah," He breathed. "You're so fuckin' wet. You fuckin' want this bad, don't you?"

"Yes," I whimpered.

"Yeah you do," He grunted and pushed harder. "Fuckin' tight baby, you're so fuckin' tight."

There was a reason for that. A reason he was going to find out in about two point five seconds.

"Give it up, Eva, fuckin' open for me." Growing impatient, he gripped my backside and pulled me down as he slammed up into me. I cried out and he froze. Just went statue still.

"Fuckin' shit!" He yelled. "God dammit Eva! God mother fuckin' dammit!"

Oh, my god, he was pulling out.

"No! Please! I want this!" I dug my nails into his back and tightened my legs around his waist. "I wanted it to be you! I've been dreaming about this! About you and me! Ever since you kissed me! Even before then!"

He sagged against me. "Fuck," He whispered.

He was still inside of me and I was so full of him and it felt so good and when I tried to move, because I had to move, wanted, needed to move, he groaned. I liked hearing him groan almost as much as I liked the feel of him inside of me and I wanted more, wanted him to move. So I told him this, told him everything I was feeling and everything more that I wanted to feel and it just kept pouring rapidly out of me, feelings and needs, because I needed him to know how much this meant to me, that it was him I'd wanted to take this from me, him I’d wanted to give it too. That it was only him I’d ever wanted inside of me and only him I'd ever want inside of me.

His eyes met mine, arctic blue and beautiful.

"Please," I begged. "Deuce, please."

"I’m fuckin' married Eva. Got two kids. This is fucked. It shouldn't have been me."

What? Here he was inside of me, because I wanted him inside of me, because he was the only man I have ever wanted inside of me and he had the nerve to tell me it shouldn’t have been him? After making me beg him?

"Fuck you!" I snapped. "I don’t give a shit about your wife and either do you or you wouldn’t have been finger fucking me in the club and you definitely wouldn't have carried me out here with every intention of fucking me! You can't tell me it shouldn't have been you! You don't get to make that decision, I do! And I did and it's done! And I’m not giving it back!"

His eyes flashed with anger. "I can't give you shit!" He hissed. "All I've got to give you is my fuckin' cock and that's not good enough! Not for you! Not even fuckin' close! You deserved better than this! Better than a fuckin' shit filled alleyway and definitely better than me!"

There is was. The pain I glimpsed every time we crossed paths. The sadness that never seemed to leave him.

"You're better than you think," I whispered. "I didn't realize it when I was little, didn't understand that look in your eyes, why you always looked so sad, but I get it now. Someone got inside of you and messed you all up, made up down and left right so now you think you're shit when you're not even close. So you need to listen to me when I tell you that you are better than you think. You're even better than that. To me, you're the best."

His nostrils flared. "Eva," He groaned.

"What?"

"Shut up." His mouth met mine and we kissed slowly, deeply, deliciously lazy.

"Gonna fuck you now baby," He muttered into my mouth.

Oh. Good. So good.

"Okay," I breathed.

And he did. Up against a dirty brick wall, in a garbage filled alleyway home to rats and feral cats, while warm summer rain poured down over us. And it was perfect. Better than I'd imagined. Better than anything. The best.

I spent the next four years in college, spent my days studying, shopping with Kami, trying to ditch Frankie, and enjoying my life. And I spent my nights reliving my moments with Deuce. All four of them.

The day after my graduation ceremony, I packed a backpack, grabbed Kami, wrote my father a note and got on an airplane headed for Miles, Montana.

Headed for Deuce.