Page 71 of Indie
His hand slid down my stomach, fingers stroking over the hideous red lines that spoiled my skin.
“These are better medals than I ever won. You grew two healthy children. You’re a brilliant mam….”
“I can barely provide for them. Some days I struggle to find money to feed them. What life is that?”
“They’re strong, healthy. They don’t even realise that you struggle because they never feel like they have nothing.”
“Luke knows. He knows most of his birthday and Christmas gifts are second hand. I can see it in his eyes.”
“And he knows he still has Christmas and birthday presents.”
“And time. I never spend time with my own kids, because I work every extra shift to make sure I can afford just to feed them. And when I do have time, I can’t afford to take them anywhere or do anything.”
“They just need a mother’s love. You’re still there with them. When my mam left, Dad fought for custody. With thepower of the Club and his contacts behind him, she really had no chance. Do you know what I was doing growing up?”
I shook my head, watching him watch me in the mirrors, not letting my eyes stray from the reflection of my body at any point.
“I was being made into a soldier. Not to fight for Britain. To fight for the bike club. To beat a man with my bare hands. I was made to watch my Da and his brothers decide about what punishments to dish out onto our own members, never mind competing bike clubs. And all in the name of power.”
And that was the dark side of the bike club.
“Thought you said you weren’t a gang.”
“We’re not. But we’ve done tough things in the past, especially under my uncle’s rule. It’s better now, mostly. The life is easier. Not as vicious as it once was. My Da took the club in a better direction. He never wanted to be president. But when Ade died, he was voted in over his own brother. And now when he dies, they’ll vote me in. And I don’t want the title either.”
“Then why don’t you quit?”
“I can’t. It’s not something we do. Remember, I told you there is no death do us part?”
“But last night, you said some members had left.”
“Very few have. In extreme circumstances. One was kicked out. Everyone else died. Yet they’re still a part of the club. Their faces are still there on that wall. But this isn’t about me, Emmie.”
He gripped my jaw suddenly. His fingers were gentle, but there was a determination behind them as he turned my face back to the mirror.
“Look at yourself, Spuggy. This body is incredible. Every time I look at any part of you, I want to fuck you. You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met. Inside and out.”
His hand slid further down my stomach, his fingers tickling my skin with their gentle descent. Then they came to rest at the very top of my mound. Inside, my pussy clenched, desperate for his touch. He turned his head, his lips brushing my ear.
“I want you to stand every morning and look at yourself naked. I want you to see what I see. I want you to see why you drive me insane.”
He pushed against me, the bulge of a hardened cock against my back, his fingers sinking lower in front, cupping underneath. I tried to wriggle away, to turn my face away, his hand slipping lower.
“Watch yourself, Emmie. Watch yourself be fucked by my fingers.”
He pressed against me, his eyes fixed on mine in the mirror. “Look, Emmie.”
He moved again, a finger sliding inside. Moving in and out slowly three times, and then he filled me with another. I gasped. I watched my face scrunch. Another finger, stretching me, making my heart pound and my expression change again. His thumb pressed against my clit, and I frowned, biting down on my lip. And then he let loose, pumping his fingers in and out, his thumb moving over one of the most delicate parts of my body in a tortuous, rapid rhythm. My moans came loud, but I didn’t shut my eyes, instead I watched my mouth open and close, gasping, moaning, gaping. His hand pounded between my legs, and my legs shook. I could see it in the mirror, the littlevibration of my flesh. Moving my legs further apart, letting him get deeper, my cheeks flushed with red, my brow wrinkled. My eyes opened, then closed again, no one body part able to stay still as he thrusted and pushed, hooking the top of his fingers suddenly and pushing against the front wall of my pussy.
I cried, my hands moving over the top of his, pushing him back into me, helping him pump my pussy with his fingers. And I stood writhing against his hand, coming on his fingers, watching myself fucked by a man nineteen years older than me in a mirror. Fuck. Shit. Indie. My body shook hard, my insides clenching around him and in the reflection, he smiled at me.
“Good girl,” he purred.
Chapter Thirty Two
“Luke, Lily. What do you want for breakfast?” Emmie called to the back of her kids’ heads.
Luke had already lost three lives on the games console as it was, and now insurgents surrounded him. It really didn’t look good.