Hard Corps (Selected Sinners MC #7) Page 28

  I revved the throttle hoping to get his attention. I looked ahead for a break in traffic.

  Shit.

  I glanced into my mirror.

  Double shit.

  Through the windshield of the car fast approaching behind me, I could clearly see a man texting on his phone. He appeared to have no idea I was in his lane or even in front of him. After alternating glances between oncoming traffic and the mirror, I decided I had only one option short of allowing him to plow into the back of my bike. I revved the throttle and shot forward between two oncoming cars, launched up the entrance ramp of the strip mall, and came to a stop a few feet before hitting the landscaped area which separated the entrance from the parking lot. As I pulled off my helmet, I heard his tires screech to a stop. Angry and shaking from the adrenaline, I kicked the kickstand of the bike downward and climbed from the seat. I hung my helmet on the left side of the bars, pulled my earbuds from my ears, and turned to wait for him to enter the parking lot.

  As he slowly drove up the ramp, I stood in the entrance and waved my arms. He rolled his driver’s side window down partially as he approached, still holding his phone in his hand. I rolled my eyes and began screaming as soon as he was beside me.

  “You fucktard. You almost hit me,” I screamed.

  “Well, you’re standing here flapping your fucking arms, what do you expect,” he responded.

  “No, out in the street. I was turning in here. You were fucking texting and I damn near got hit just trying to get out of your way. Pay attention to driving, you piece of shit,” I yelled.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he shrugged.

  You motherfucker. I ought to cut you.

  I reached for my knife and pressed my palm against the outline of the frame in my pocket, “You don’t know what I’m talking about because you weren’t paying fucking attention. You locked up your brakes to stop, douchebag.”

  Still holding his phone, he shook it at me through the window, “You mouthy little bitch.”

  I slapped the phone from his hand, forcing it onto the pavement at my feet. As his jaw dropped, he looked out the window at his phone – now positioned a few inches in front of my right foot. I smiled, kicked his phone across the entrance, and turned toward my bike.

  Fucking punk.

  “You little cunt,” he said as he opened his car door and started to get out.

  Cunt?

  I pulled my knife from my pocket and flipped the blade out. As it snapped into the locked position, he quickly glanced down at the knife and then up into my eyes. He was considerably bigger outside of the car than he was inside. Standing in front of me it was easy to see he was all of six foot two and probably two hundred plus pounds.

  “Get in your car before I stab you so full of God damned holes…”

  “What’s going on?” a voice said from behind me in a stern tone.

  I turned my head slightly to the left.

  Shit, it’s Jak.

  “Jak, this douchebag almost hit me. I was explaining to him the benefit of not texting and driving and he called me a cunt,” I said as I turned my head to face the walking turd.

  “I called you a cunt because you kicked my phone,” he rocked his head back and forth as he spoke.

  “Whatever, dude. Come pick it up if you’re that worried about it,” I grinned as I motioned toward his phone.

  Jak stepped in front of me and picked up the phone. As he studied the douchebag standing in front of me, he slowly stepped toward him with his arm extended. As the man reached for the phone, he said his parting remarks.

  He tossed his head my direction, “Maybe you should keep her on a leash.”

  In an instantaneous move, Jak dropped the phone, pulled the man’s arm toward his chest, and spun him half around. Now with his back at Jak’s chest, Jak immediately slammed the man’s body against the door of the car and pinned his right arm behind his back. As he lifted the man’s arm upward, the douchebag screamed.

  Holy shit!

  Fuck yes. Jak’s a bad-ass.

  I fucking knew it.

  “Owww. What the fuck?”

  Jak moved his face to beside the man’s left ear. As he spoke he had a tone of authority to his voice that couldn’t be easily dismissed.

  “Listen to me and listen carefully,” Jak insisted.

  Break his arm, Jak. Snap it off and toss it in the street.

  “Leashes are for dogs. She’s not a dog. She’s my fucking wife. Now, when you see her again, and you very well may, her name is Karter. I’m Jak. My best advice to you is this,” he paused and looked over his shoulder.

  Wife?

  He turned and pressed his chin into the man’s shoulder as he pulled upward on his arm, “I’m going to release you. Get in your car and go do whatever it was you were planning to before this happened. Look at it as a lesson. I saw what happened from my truck, and you damned near hit her. Don’t text and drive, and don’t be disrespectful to people. You never know just who it is you might encounter.”

  “Understood?” Jak asked.

  “Yeah,” the man grunted.

  Jak pulled upward on his arm.

  “Fuck dude. Yeah,” the man screeched.

  Jak pulled up on his arm again and with more force.

  Oh fuck, that looks painful.

  “Yes,” the man screamed.

  I closed my knife and slid it into my pocket.

  Jak released the man’s arm, immediately stepped to the side and stood with his knees slightly bent and his hands raised to his chest. The man slowly lowered his arm, rubbed his shoulder, and bent down to pick up his phone. As he stood and opened his car door, he turned and nodded his head once toward Jak. As the man slowly drove away, Jak walked backward slowly between the car and where I stood. Jak continued to watch as the car disappeared into the parking lot, and then turned to face me.

  “Move your bike before someone hits it. I’m parked over there,” he half demanded as he pointed toward his truck.

  I stood and stared, still in awe at what had happened. As he straightened his shirt, I saw a portion of a tattoo under his sleeve – on his bicep. As he tugged his sleeve downward and slowly walked toward his truck, I stared at his ass. He was gorgeous, any idiot could see it. But there was so much more to Jak than his looks. He was a complex person, and I wanted to know more about him. I needed to know everything. As he took the last few steps to his truck, I smiled at his methodical walk.

  I want to see you naked, Jak.

  I hopped onto my bike, put on my helmet and slowly maneuvered through the parking lot to where Jak was parked. As I parked beside his truck, he opened his door and got out. As I draped the chin strap of my helmet over the handlebars, he stood beside me and shook his head.

  “Who taught you how to handle a knife?” he asked.

  Oh fuck. Here we go.

  Bring the criticism.

  “He was a douchbag,” I sighed.

  “Douchebag or not, he could have slapped that knife from your hand in one stroke. After we eat, we’re going to have a lengthy discussion about that fiasco,” he snapped.

  The thought of upsetting Jak made me feel uneasy. I didn’t know if he was actually disappointed, but I knew one thing for certain; I didn’t want him to be, at least not with me. Even considering how he was feeling was new to me.

  I never really cared what anyone thought about me or the choices I made. I had been responsible for my actions since my emancipation from my mother at the age of sixteen. Although I now realize I wasn’t always right, I took responsibility for the decisions I made, and suffered the respective consequences when I made mistakes. How an outsider perceived me was never an issue I felt I needed to consider. People who didn’t know me may have perceived me as immature, foolish or selfish, but I saw myself as strong and capable. I never felt I needed anyone’s approval or opinion to make a decision.

  If someone didn’t like what I was doing, as far as I was concerned, they could simply fuck off. This a
ttitude and strong willed personality gave me the courage to begin questioning my mother at a very early age. My challenges of her means and methods were not without merit.

  As early as I could remember, all I ever wanted my mother to provide me with was an explanation of who my father was. As I got older, what would have sufficed grew smaller and smaller. When I was a young pre-teen girl, I had countless questions and expected many lengthy answers. As I approached my teenage years, a simple explanation of who he was would have satisfied me greatly. Immediately prior to my emancipation, I would have been content if she simply provided me with his name. Knowing my father was dead but not knowing who he was never settled well with me.

  In the end, my mother and I separated and I changed my name. Despite the fact she lived a mere half hour drive from me, I didn’t speak to her. As far as I was concerned, she was no longer my mother.

  I followed Jak quietly into the restaurant and tried to come to terms with how I felt. As the waitress seated us, I began to consider the depth of my feelings for Jak could be some form of puppy love. In the more realistic world of Karter Wilson, I wouldn’t give half a fuck what Jak thought. But for some reason, at least lately, I wasn’t living in my world.

  We stepped through the front door into an almost empty restaurant. I glanced around. Eight booths on the left and ten on the right. Nine tables. Seventy-two plus thirty-six. One hundred and eight. The restaurant was spacious. Larger spaces allowed me to relax and feel comfortable where smaller more cramped spaces made me extremely uneasy. It was one reason I lived in an apartment with a large open floor plan.

  “You can seat yourself. Wherever you like,” the waitress smiled.

  Jak motioned to a table in the center of the floor and shrugged. I grinned and sat down. As Jak pulled his seat from the table, he surveyed the restaurant. After his quick study, he lowered himself into the seat. I considered the fact he may count things like I do.

  Hell, maybe everyone counts things.

  “Can I get your drinks coming? Would you like a wine list?” the waitress asked as she placed the menus on the table.

  Jak raised his eyebrows and waited for me to respond.

  “Unsweetened tea?” I asked.

  “Same,” Jak smiled.

  The waitress nodded and turned away.

  “I’m going to wash my hands,” I sighed.

  Jak nodded and smiled as I stood from my chair.

  As I walked back from the bathroom, I noticed Jak watching me admiringly. I smiled at the thought of him being pleased with me. The last thing I wanted to do was start this relationship off on the wrong foot. It seemed all I did was piss people off and drive them out of my life. This was one person I hoped to keep happy. I felt I was willing to make adjustments to me and my attitude if need be. As I pulled my seat from the table, Jak grinned his dimple grin and stared through me.

  Keep that shit up and you’re going to have to take your clothes off.

  “I like it when you smile that smile,” I said softly.

  “I didn’t know I had variations,” he said as he raised his hand to his face.

  “Well, you have at least two - one with dimples showing and one without. I like the dimples,” I nodded.

  He covered his mouth with his hand and continued to stare, “You know Karter. I have this thing I do. I study people as they walk. I don’t really know why, but I do. I’ve convinced myself I can tell a lot about a person by how they walk. So, it’s become a habit. Your walk?”

  He shook his head lightly, “You walk lightly. You almost float. But you do it with authority. Your shoulders tell it all. I love watching you walk.”

  Dude, just stop. You melted my panties when you picked me up the other day. There’s no need to continue.

  He lowered his hand from his mouth and reached across the table. I glanced down at his hand. He curled his fingers slowly a few times as if he wanted me to touch his hand. As I reached across the table he cupped my hand in his and smiled. As he placed his other hand around the back side and formed a little hand house, my heart raced.

  “When you walk into a room, you fill it. Nothing else exists. There’s no room for anything additional. The entire room becomes you, Karter. It becomes impossible to pay attention to anything else, because you’re not only all that matters, you’re all there is,” he grinned until his dimples formed.

  If you ever leave me, I’m going to stab you in the back. You can’t do this to me.

  I pulled my hands from his and rubbed them on the thighs of my jeans, “If you fuck me over, I’ll kill you. That’s not a stupid girl threat. It’s a promise, Jak.”

  “Wow. I’m trying to secure a place in your heart and you threaten me,” he chuckled as he leaned into his seat.

  “What? Secure a place? You remember what I told you the other day about my brain? My brain deciding it liked you? You remember that Jak?” I asked.

  The waitress placed the drinks on the table and smiled, “You ready to order?”

  I glanced over my shoulder and gave her my best go away, bitch look.

  “I’ll give you some time,” she smiled.

  Yeah, do that.

  I turned to Jak.

  “Yes. I remember. Why?” he asked.

  “I’m not trying to be gross. And this isn’t an offer. It is what it is, I suppose. But I have never, and I do mean never,” I paused and shook my head at the thought of discussing the matter.

  “I’ve never been able to have sex without lube. My lady parts don’t get wet. They’re like fucked up. Medically. Mentally. Who knows. So, the other day when you picked me up? When my feet were dangling in the air?” I raised my eyebrows and waited for him to chew on what I offered so far.

  He raised his chin, nodded slightly, and waited for me to continue.

  “I got wet. And wet isn’t even close to an accurate description. Because I’ve never been wet Jak, I really couldn’t compare it to anything. But if all girls get as wet as you made me, there’s no way they can walk around smiling like they do. You want to know what I did after you left?”

  He smiled and nodded.

  I leaned forward, rested my elbows on the table and my chin against my clenched fists, “I got off my bike, walked back in, and went to the bathroom. I took off my tee shirt and tried to mop up the mess, Jak. My sacred Ramones shirt was covered in pussy juice and I fucking loved it. And, the other day when you pulled me across the couch? That day, Jak? Remember that day?”

  He smiled until his dimples formed. He blinked once as he nodded his head.

  I raised my chin from my hands and pointed my index finger toward my lap, “Soaked. Fucking soaked. And a minute ago? When you pulled that Kung Fu shit in the parking lot? Guess fucking what?”

  He smiled and shrugged.

  “Well, I didn’t go to the bathroom to wash my fucking hands, Jak. I went and dabbed my pussy until it was comfortably wet. I can’t make it dry. Not around you. Nope. Just less wet. So Jak, now I’m twenty-one years old and I’ve had my first wet pussy. You want to secure a place in my heart? Alrighty then. You can check that box. You did that a long time ago. What I’m forced to deal with is this; my fucking heart needs you and my brain wants you. So, Jak the mysterious Kung Fu master, leave me. Fuck me over, and I’ll stab you. You make my pussy wet, Jak. And I fucking like it,” I exhaled loudly and leaned into my seat.

  “Fair enough,” he smiled.

  Are you fucking kidding me?

  I leaned forward and slapped my hands against the edge of the table, “Are you fucking kidding me? Fair enough? You need to forget that phrase. You’ve used it up. Fair enough? That’s your response?”

  He leaned forward and smiled a shitty little smirky smile as he pressed his massive forearms into the table, “I’m not trying to be gross. And this isn’t an offer. It is what it is, I suppose. But I have never, and I do mean never.”

  Did he just repeat what I said earlier word for word?

  “I’ve never had a girl cause my cock to go stiff f
rom simply holding her in my arms. Would you like to know why I chose to sit back down for fifteen minutes after I hugged you the other night?” he cocked one eyebrow slightly and pursed his lips.

  I attempted to swallow. My face felt hot. I stared at Jak and imagined him with a hard cock. A hard cock which was rightfully mine because I made it hard. I continued to stare as the temperature elevated twenty degrees. I raised my hand to my cheek and began fanning myself frantically.

  Is the air conditioner broke in this place?

  Feeling somewhat light headed, I looked down at the table and noticed the two glasses of tea. I picked up the one closest to me and took a gulp, “Yes sir. I want to know. Why?”

  His lips still pursed, he smirked and lowered his clenched hand to the center of the table. I looked down at his hand. He extended his index finger and curled it toward his palm repeatedly as he slowly leaned into the center of the table.

  Here we go again. He’s hypnotizing me.

  I leaned toward him and attempted to swallow. I rested my elbows on the table and my chin onto my cupped hands. As his face pressed against my cheek, he brushed my hair away from my ear. As I felt his breath against my face, my entire body turned to goosebumps.

  Soaked.

  As he began to speak, he forced his warm breath into my ear, “Because holding you made me hard as a rock, Karter.”

  Clean up in aisle seven. Can someone bring me a fucking towel?

  “You have no God damned idea what you do to me, do you?” he breathed.

  I squeaked.

  “When you walked your little walk from the bathroom a minute ago? I watched you. I admired you. And I tried to think of any and everything I could to keep it from happening. But guess what? Guess what you did to me?”

  I swallowed heavily and opened my mouth. A puff of hot air passed my lips.

  “You made my cock hard again,” he paused and quickly scanned the restaurant.

  He leaned into me, pressing his cheek to mine and his lips to my ear, “So, Karter Wilson. I have no intent of fucking you over. In fact, I have every intention of making you mine. Mine. Do you understand me, Karter? I don’t want to know what it’s like to spend another day without you. And that isn’t like me at all, but I’m going to proceed with it because you make my otherwise mundane life mean something. Get used to me being around. And if you fuck me over,” he paused and leaned away from the table.