My mind jumbles as my dick remains hard. I’ve learned many years ago that I can’t do it. I can’t come unless a woman is utterly helpless.
As I stand here now with Hannah convulsing in the after-effects of what my dick has given many women before and her doughy eyes on my own, I am the one helpless.
I want to fuck her cunt, I need to take her ass as I rope her body into a statue of my making, only then will I come. Only then will I make her mine but I can’t.
Hannah is too innocent, she’s too needy. I thought I could do it. I convinced myself that I could fuck her without feeling a thing of remorse besides my dick needing a good work out.
But thinking and doing are two utterly opposite words. I should’ve known of better.
Hannah doesn’t need a man ruining her any more than she already is. I slowly put her down knowing our time has come to a stop.
She is forgettable. I will forget this and move on as I have many times before and will do many more times in the future.
“What? That’s it.”
I drop my eyes to the floor at the sound of her incredulous voice.
“Yeah, that’s it.”
I shrug my shoulders feigning my ‘I don’t give a fuck’ face and tuck my hard dick into my jeans.
The sound of my zipper going up is heard way too fucking loud.
Hannah says not a thing more as she stands there with her hands crossed under her breast. Her dress is askew and she makes no attempt to straighten it.
I don’t dare look into her eyes.
Not to say I’m a coward, it’s just to show her that I don’t give a shit.
Which, I don’t, she’s forgettable it would be easy to stay away.
I turn around, walk toward the door, not realizing what I’m leaving behind when I open that door.
I wish I can see my future.
I wish I could know now that soon I would wish I turned around.
I would wish that I spent those extra hours with her.
But at this point, I know nothing besides that I got to get to the clubhouse.
People always say time is free because it never stops, never ends.
An ongoing cycle of life until death.
How could we truly be free though? When our life is measured by years lived, money earned, knowledge gained, power of forgiveness, worship, and prayer. It is filled with challenges. Filled with moments we don’t always choose, memories we want to forget.
All of that happens and still, time passes. So are we really free? Because the only time I feel close to free is when I’m on my bike. And even then I am not truly free because death is there waiting patiently for me to make a wrong move.
I glide through Kanla streets and leave another past behind me. Me and my bike riding as one.
When I hit the long empty road, I rev up my engine speed and I let go of my worries as I just focus on the road.
I have no destination in mind as my body moves to the ballad of my bike.
Most of my club brothers refer to their bikes as a living person, some call it he or she, others name them.
I have never looked at my own motorbike as a living thing. My motorbike has always been a machine that gives me a piece of freedom.
A thing which allows me to hold my life in my own hands for that short time as I power it up with every bend, every curve, moving carelessly through the people trapped in their cages. My bike promises me that when I sit on it I will falsely believe that my time is free.
I move far, I go fast, and I don’t stop until I reach the Kanla clubhouse.
Knight and Texas sit on the steps nursing a beer bringing back an unwanted memory of Hannah and I doing the exact same thing just yesterday. I pull my helmet off and untie my bandana from around my mouth.
“Didn’t think I’d be seen you so soon, what happened to the hot momma you were banging?.” Knight yells.
I shake my head as I move closer to the two brothers who are both wearing their cuts.
Can’t say I’m in the least bit surprised Killer told the club. He never sees the need to lie or shut the fuck up.
“Are you gonna pass me one of those or are you gonna sit there wondering if my balls are still heavy?” I say to the brother.
Knight throws his head back in a roaring laugh while Texas passes me a court.
I snap it open and tip it back taking a deep swallow. I move between them heading for the door.
“Might wanna sit your ass right over here, ain’t wanna go in there now.” Texas’s warning stops me mid-step.
The man isn’t known for a lot of words. My back still to both of them.
My beer in my right-hand dangling from my fingers.
I ask, “What’s going on?”
“We called votes today, Rounder’s out, you in and Storm is gone trigger fuckin’ happy, as I said you ain’t wanna go in there. Sit your ass over here,” Texas informs me and I swear to fucking Christ that I am hearing this shit wrong. Me, in? Fuck.
I don’t turn to the partially drunk brothers instead I take the two steps to the door and open it just as the sound of a silencer and a glass-shattering ring through my ears.
I’ve always considered myself a calm man. Someone who could solve a problem without the bloodshed or hurt others would cause.
But I kill you fucking not that my blood pressure fucking rises at the sight of this place. A half-dressed Storm sits on the three-piece sofa that just yesterday looked like brand spanking new, now the couch is fucked. Ripped with deep knife holes and white pieces sticking out.
My eyes slowly take in the area. It’s a fucking mess. Shattered glass surfaces the entire floor. Every place my eyes follow is destroyed. There are bullet holes in the wall and it’s then I fucking lose it.
“What. The. Fuck?” My voice booms through the air and the Vice President doesn’t even move an inch.
“If it isn’t the new Prezi Prezi Prezi.” He slurs, naked back hunched into a deep arch.
From narrowed eyes, I glare at his slouched form looking so defeated on the couch.
“Well thank fuck they didn’t vote you in brother. Where’s the fuckin’ respect? This is the Clubhouse you swore to fuckin’ protect, look at this place, it looks like a dump.”
He chuckles as he lifts his head to face my standing form,
“Already making orders now are we.”
“If I was, it will be throwing your fuckin’ ass out.”
Storm jumps up from the couch but it’s sloppy, “No need to kick me out, I’m fucking gone.”
“You drunk, sleep it off, I’m not letting you leave in this state.”
He takes a drunken step toward me and I cross my arms over my chest and arch a brow.
I have no qualms about beating a drunk brother.
How many of them did it to me when I fucked up.
“Who died and made you my boss.” He spits on the floor after he’s done talking.
“Apparently Rounder is dying and now I am your fucking President whether I want to be or fuckin’ not. So, stop the bitching a grow a pair of balls, sleep it off. We got church in the morning and you of all people want to be there.” I say my piece then I march around the corner and up the stairs to the rooms.
My mind is too tired to think now. My body too fucking wired up to take anymore of anybody’s shit tonight.
I’m reaching for Knight’s room when I spot Venus leave her own. One look at the hot long-haired woman and my dick pulses. Venus knows how I like it. She understands how I need it so I push the tinge of guilt that hits me, the speck of reason that assaults my mind, telling me I’m doing something wrong and I walk up to her.
I grab her hair in a tight grip.
My mouth hovering over hers,
“You know what I want, are you gonna give it to me?”
Her tongue darts out touching my lips. All the answers that I need and want are in that action. And I know by morning I will be satiated.
My dick will be rung dry and balls a hell of a lot lighter. I wish I knew the regret I’d feel once it was all over.