Page 10

Chapter Nine

Now You See It… Now You Still Do… Differently

M ara’s mouth watered for a fucking shot of whiskey or a bottle of wine. Maggie lingered on the other side of the bar, too fucking close. She even went as far as getting Mara a glass of ice water and a glass of soda. Her body also wanted pills.

Yes. Please.

Fuck. Yes. Please.

She knew more about SOFRAW than most. She had picked up on rules and unwritten rules and guidelines and their sense of justice for a long time now. When everyone thought she was just some old lady or some inked up bitch or some married cunt. They all knew her as the one who would smack some slutty deecee like Maggie across the face if need be. In reality, Mara didn’t give a single fuck if Maggie guzzled Fitz’s cum on a nightly basis.

The clubhouse was sort of back to normal now. The enforcers lingered around Mara as though she was going to take off running. It was far too late to run. At the far end of the clubhouse, that’s where the outlaws handle their business.

Prayer.

Mara remembered hearing that term for the first time and the way it conjured up different images than a bunch of leather cut wearing men who gave no fucks about normal society. That was their version of a church. A place to pray. Decisions made. Fates sealed. All that cliché bullshit.

Mara touched her stomach. Her womb very much empty. A lie told that gave her an extra little bit of time to survive. Same for Darrow too. Horrible thoughts echoed around in her mind. Reality and truth would have to collide in this situation. She could only fake a pregnancy for so long.

The doors to prayer opened. Cyrus stepped out first, followed by Linc. Then Darrow.

As soon as Mara saw Darrow, relief hit her. Followed by a quick burst of that butterfly feeling in her stomach. She felt her mind tossing itself right back to being on the couch with Darrow. Finally touching that steel-hard cock of his. Finally feeling his touch between her legs. Letting him inside her. Feeling him pulsing, throbbing… feeling his warm cum inside her…

“Virus, Amos, Dolph,” Cyrus spoke loudly, shattering Mara’s thoughts. “Take a walk. Watch the lot and gate with the prospects.” He turned his head. “Custer, Warren, black out .”

Mara had never heard that term before. The aged bikers nodded. They understood what it meant.

Black out… as in… death…?

“Darrow, get your old lady and do what’s right,” Cyrus said.

Mara stood up as Darrow walked toward her. She had this strange desire to launch herself at him. Wanting to jump into his arms. Wanting him to embrace her, hold her. Wanting him to run like hell and take her away from the SOFRAW clubhouse. Yet she knew in some twisted way, this clubhouse and this life and this group of outlaws were her fate.

Darrow slipped a hand against her right hip and then to the small of her back.

“Walk,” Darrow growled at her. “Don’t say a fucking word either, babe.”

Mara kept her mouth shut as she was led to the clubhouse door and outside. The sunlight hit her and it felt like a tease. Like she was going from darkness to light back to darkness again. Behind her she felt the presence of Cyrus and the others. Cyrus most of all. He carried an aura about himself that was violent and dark. Powerful too. They went into a garage.

For Mara it had a familiar feel to it. It reminded her of the night Fitz demanded to ink her. He had been blasted drunk and declared he wanted Mara to wear his ink. On her ass. In fact, Fitz slurring his words that night, said he wanted to tattoo Mara’s hole. He wanted to draw around her… ass… hole…

“Darrow,” Mara whispered.

Darrow moved his hand up to the middle of her back and gave her a soft push toward a table. The door shut behind them. A heavy thud. A slight echo. Mara spun around, trapped in a grease smelling garage with a bunch of outlaws who hated her because of what Fitz had done to them.

“You’re an inked woman,” Cyrus said. “An old lady. Married. But your old man is a rat. Dead to us. A man who will be dead. But you’re part of this club even more now.”

Cyrus pointed to Mara’s stomach.

She placed her hands on her stomach. “And…?”

“And we fix the problems at hand,” Slade said as he walked by her.

Darrow grabbed her right arm and turned her back to face him. She looked up at him. Her chin began to quiver. Darrow touched her chin and leaned down to whisper into her ear.

“Too bad you can’t drink, babe…”

“Why?” Mara whispered back.

“Because this is going to hurt.”

“Drop your pants,” Cyrus said to Mara.

“Something you’ve heard before, right?” Linc asked.

Darrow lunged for Linc and connected with a right fist to Linc’s hard jaw.

“You deserved that one,” Custer said in his aged voice.

Slade grabbed Darrow and pulled him away from getting any closer to Linc.

“What the fuck,” Slade growled. “We don’t need this shit right now!”

Linc rubbed his jaw and wiped blood from the corner of his mouth. He grinned.

“Get this over with before I change my fucking mind,” Cyrus said.

Mara stood with her hands on a chair. Slightly bent forward. Watching the chaos ensue.

“You’re all set up, brother,” Slade said to Darrow. “Just get this going.”

Darrow moved in on Mara. He touched her hips.

“Pants and panties down, babe,” Darrow said.

Mara curled her lip. “Are you fucking serious?”

“You already did this once.”

“What are you going to do to me, Darrow?”

“Black out the ink. It’s the only way to undo what’s been done.”

Mara caught herself glancing back at Cyrus, who stood with his tree trunk sized arms folded.

It made perfect sense, even if she hated it.

She had to get rid of Fitz’s initials off her body. Undo his claim. The only other option was her death. Mara tightened her grip on the sides of the chair.

“Go for it,” she said to Darrow, wanting to feel some sense of power.

Wanting to be a bitch in some way. The second Darrow touched the front of her jeans, heat swelled in her body. She instantly regretted allowing him to touch her. Her inner thighs warmed up. She felt herself… wet . Her face began to burn red-hot, wondering if the scent of her desire would be known by the rest of the outlaws.

Of course it will, Mara thought to herself. These guys can smell a woman’s pussy from ten miles away. In fact, if you want to wake Priest up from his coma, just have some of the deecees wiggle their wet pussies over his nose. His eyes will pop right open!

Mara felt her pants being pulled down to her knees. Her panties were next. She looked forward at a set of crooked, rusty wrenches that hung from old nails on a board attached to the garage wall. She took deep breaths. This was going to hurt.

Darrow reached for the tattoo gun with his left hand as he touched the curve of Mara’s ass with his right. His fingertips eased into her panties and pulled them, giving her something that resembled half of a wedgie. For Mara, she actually sighed with relief that her panties weren’t going to be ripped off her body in front of the outlaws. She really didn’t want them staring at her. Or seeing her wet pussy. Or smelling her wet pussy, thanks to Darrow’s rough touch.

As Darrow kept touching Mara’s ass, his cock kept getting thicker, pulsing against the inside of his jeans. Definitely visible. And he didn’t give a single fuck. Mara was sexy. It was that simple. She was beautiful, sexy, and she understood the outlaw life. Darrow still couldn’t get over the fact that her ability to lie turned him on. For all he knew, maybe Mara and Fitz were working together…

“You can eat her ass after you cover the ink, brother,” Slade said.

Darrow realized he just stood there, staring. Lost in thought. He came back to reality and pushed his hand against Mara’s back, making her bend over some more.

“Don’t flinch,” he ordered. “Bite your lip or something. I’m not stopping until his initials are covered the fuck up. For good. Forever. Never to be fucking seen again.”

Mara turned her head and nodded. “I fucking hate his guts. I swear on it. I never wanted him. I never loved him.” She looked at Cyrus. “If I had the chance I would have killed him myself. I swear on it, Cyrus. I fucking swear.”

Cyrus didn’t move an inch. Nobody said a word.

The tattoo gun sounded its familiar buzz and Mara readied herself for the burning pain about to happen on sensitive skin way too close to her forbidden hole.

Darrow clenched his teeth so tight and so hard he told himself he was going to shatter them. He couldn’t help himself. Watching the black ink overtake Fitz’s initials.

FU

Watching droplets of Mara’s blood appear and pool with the black ink, disappearing. Not to mention the sight of… The way her panties hugged perfectly tight between her ass cheeks. Darrow pressed at Mara’s ass cheek harder than he really needed, only because he wanted to see her hole. He saw a portion of its forbidden hue.

The way her panties went down and under her body, touching her sweet cunt. Darrow could smell her. Honey… outlaw honey …

Mara’s skin had broken out in goosebumps ten times already. Her hips shivered and her body jerked a little here and there. That only forced Darrow to grip her body tighter to hold her in place.

The worst part of it all right now was that Mara could not self soothe. No booze. No pills. She had to keep up the lie of her fake pregnancy that she blurted out.

Darrow pressed the tattoo gun with force. He had to. Mara whimpered. She clawed at the sides of the chair. Her ass stuck out at Darrow. In a matter of minutes, Fitz’s initials were gone. That was step one of things for Mara. The next step?

How the fuck to figure out the fake pregnancy situation she started.