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Razor

M y mind won’t settle.

It won’t shut down or turn off.

The image of her up on stage keeps flashing in my thoughts.

She was so fucking perfect.

Her body so fucking sexy.

And so fucking on display for all those bastards who were stopping at nothing to get to her.

They don’t deserve to see her.

And she doesn’t deserve to be mentally fucked like a paid whore.

She’s too damn good.

Too damn innocent.

Yet…

There was fire running through her.

A strength I’ve never seen before.

She was mild mannered and timid back in the day.

A people pleaser. Never met a girl as sweet in my life.

But tonight, there was a stubbornness drenched in the hatred she was throwing my way.

And despite the rage boiling within, it turned me the fuck on.

Made me want to pin her to the side of the building and fuck some sense into her.

Been a long-ass time since my dick had a hankering for a woman.

But one stiff-lipped spat with Kensy, and my balls are turning blue.

But getting my dick wet is not a priority.

I don’t want her going back to that fucking club.

Still don’t know why the fuck she gave up her life to work there in the first place, but money is obviously the motive.

Seems to always be the case in that line of work.

She may have taken the job to earn some extra cash to pay off her student loans or to get out of some debt, and now she’s realizing the kind of money she can make working at that place, which is why she doesn’t want to give it up.

I can relate. I got enamored by the hefty cash and the ease of life when I joined the MC.

Chased it down no matter what I had to do.

The Savage Knights aren’t as bloodthirsty as some, but we have our fair share of blood on our hands.

I joined the brotherhood instead of going to college or joining the military like my grandad wanted.

I’d walked the narrow all my life, minded my p s and q s, did what everyone expected, but I traded in my church on Sundays for a different kind of church.

And I never felt more alive in my entire life.

Kensington never understood it though.

She thought I was going through a phase, and that I’d grow out of it.

At first, I tried to keep my worlds separate, for her sake—and because I knew she hated it.

But over time, I grew to resent her for not accepting my choice.

She was looking down her nose at the people I called brothers, acting like they were all a bunch of criminals, and it pissed me off.

They’re the furthest thing from it.

They’re good men. And each of them would take a bullet for me.

One did.

The night of my birthday, I was rolling in that anger and trying to drink my pain away.

It felt like we were growing apart, and I didn’t know what the fuck to do.

I’d asked her to come to the clubhouse and celebrate with me, hoping she could see how fun it was, but she told me there was no way she’d go there.

So… I stormed out. But then…

she showed up.

I think it was her way of trying to make amends.

Show me she was changing her tune and wanted to accept my new life.

And what did I fucking do?

I stood there dumbfounded, letting her witness my depravity.

My tongue shoved down one girl’s mouth while my cock was coming down the back of some other girl’s throat.

And there she stood, the tears running down her cheeks.

I was so fucking angry for what I’d done, so fucking horrified that she’d seen, I panicked.

My drunken terrified brain went on the defensive, trying to rationalize my actions.

Acting like it was all her fault.

Telling myself that had she not been so closed off about the club, I never would’ve strayed.

Never would’ve let the sweetbutts touch me.

And like the stupid fucking ignorant teenage shit I was, it took me hours to go after her.

That and the fact that I was too drunk to drive.

When I finally showed up at her house, wanting to beg her for forgiveness, ready to get down on my hands and knees and plead with her not to leave me, I was struck down.

One look at her swollen red eyes, one look at the pain I caused, and I knew.

I was no good for her.

After what I’d done, I didn’t deserve her.

She spent years lifting me up, dedicating her world to making me happy.

Loving me at my lowest and showing me how to be happy again.

And what did I do? I ripped her heart out and crushed it in my bare hands.

So… I did what was best for her.

I hammered the nails into my coffin and let her go.

Then I drove off and did everything I fucking could to forget her.

But two years passed, and the pain didn’t fade.

It grew unbearable, to the point I couldn’t breathe.

It felt like my heart was gone.

Like I had died.

Finally, King told me to get off my ass and go get my girl.

But I showed up to find out she’d moved on, and I couldn’t disrupt her life.

I lost her all over again.

Come to find out, I should’ve stayed.

She never would’ve ended up as a stripper if she were my girl.

I would’ve done anything.

Given her anything. Still fucking would.