Judge, Grant’s daddy, didn’t turn me out. Instead he sat me down and said I had a choice. He could send me back to my uptight religious grandparents who made the adults in V. C. Andrews’ Secrets in the Attic look like saints or I could stay with Judge and Grant and they’d be my family.
It wasn’t a contest.
I stayed and made myself useful. I am the best daughter in town, in my not so humble opinion. I clean every day, wash their clothes, shop for groceries, cook the meals, pack Judge’s lunch for the day and generally made it so that Judge could not live without me.
That’s what he says to me, “Chelsea, girl, I don’t know how I got along before you.”
I glow with pride which is why I try to tamp down my secret longing for Grant. My feelings for Grant are all wrong. He’s my brother now, but I don’t think of him like that and haven’t since the moment I laid eyes on him. I crushed on him when we moved in. He was already so handsome with his sandy blond hair, muscled arms and lean torso. I got to see him plenty around the house, wearing nothing but loose fitting athletic shorts.
I learned enough from old ladies, backseat warmers and club girls to know that the tingling sensation downstairs was arousal—or “want” with a capital W.
I got an eyeful hanging around the clubhouse during the day. Members thought nothing of getting down in the common room at all hours. Judge would hustle me in and out and when I turned sixteen, banned me from the clubhouse, telling me that I was too young for that shit. Which was total bullshit. Some of my high school classmates went to parties there. Granted they were eighteen but still, I believe I should get some kind of friends and family consideration.
In my bed, late at night, I’d hear Grant going at it with some girl from school or some older townie and I’d rub myself furiously to the sounds of his grunts and her cries. I pretended it was me.
Sometimes I thought he wanted it to be me. When I’d turned sixteen, his blue gaze tracked me all around the house. I started wearing skimpier and skimpier stuff, particularly when Judge wasn’t around, until all I was doing was waltzing around in tiny white tank tops and even tinier underwear.
Grant didn’t do a thing. Well, that wasn’t necessarily true. If anything, he ramped up his servicing of every girl between the age of sixteen—our state’s age of consent—and twenty-six in a three county radius. And when he went on rides with Judge and the rest of the club? Shit, he probably was involved in a dozen orgies a night. At least that’s how I tormented myself at night.
I got to be a pro at rubbing myself but it wasn’t ever enough. I never was satisfied. The cries that came out of my mouth when I came weren’t anything like I’d heard from the room next door. Those were screams of pleasure and I wanted, just once, to feel like that. More importantly, I wanted Grant to be the one to wring those cries from me, no matter how wrong that feeling was.
But no guy dared lay a finger on me. Judge picked me up from school or one of his men did and everyone knew that Chelsea Weaver belonged to the Death Lords MC. Touch her and expect the hammer of the club to fall on your dick.
I’m safer at this party than any other girl in the field. Grant strides over to me and hands me a beer. I’ll nurse this one until the party is over. It’s easier than not having a drink in the hand, plus, Grant only allows me to come with him so long as everything I eat or drink comes from his hand.
He drops down beside the log I’m sitting on so that his head is near my thigh. If I move my hand over, I could be drawing it through his tousled hair, almost straw colored given its exposure to the summer sun.
Across from us, Tommy has Jaycee Overstreet in his lap. She’s a senior and has not a modest bone in her body. I envy her ability to take what she wants and what she wants is clearly Thomas Eddy. She’s devouring him and he’s barely holding his own. His hands are clinging to her ass like it’s a life preserver and he’s stranded in the middle of the ocean. The firelight flickers them in and out of view like a nighttime peep show.
As she grinds on him, I feel myself dampen and shift uncomfortably on the log. I wish I had the courage to reach under my skirt and alleviate some of the discomfort. Grant’s breath is hot on my leg and I can tell he’s getting turned on too. Bitterly I wonder who he’ll take home tonight.
He propels himself onto the log beside me and drops a hand around my neck. Surprised by the contact, I try to turn to him but his fingers make it so my head can only face the erotic display that Tommy and Jaycee are putting on. Her shirt is up and its obvious Tommy is sucking on one of her generous tits. There are moans and rustles all around us as the mood turns from jovial drunkenness to sultry sensuality.
“You like what you’re seeing?” Grant’s whisper sends shivers down my spine. His breath is warm against my ear and I almost moan from that little contact. “Answer me,” he demands.
“Ye-yeah,” I stutter out.
“I know you do because you can’t sit still. You’re rubbing your legs together like a cricket on the hottest night of July. Are you wet in your little pussy?”
He pulls my words from me. “Yes, dammit,” I hiss.
“Do you get wet listening to me fuck those other girls at night?”
I’m panting now, half in anger and half in fucked up desire.
“Let me go, Grant.”
“Not a chance,” he whispers. He rolls us off the log and into a patch of pitch black. I can barely see my own hand. I notice, then, that we are under the tailgate of his truck. The metal overhang is providing us a shroud of dark privacy. We can still see Tommy and Jaycee. Her shirt is off and so is his. She’s still wearing her skirt but it’s around her waist like a belt. Her thong is pulled aside and Tommy’s jeans are around his ankles.
From the rhythmic way she rises and falls on his lap, they’re connected in a very intimate way. I’m nearly breathless with need. Between my legs, my blood is pulsing strongly and I ache for something more than my own fingers can deliver.
Grant’s hand is on my knee.
“What are you doing?” I gasp. He covers my mouth with his free hand and pushes me into the grass.
“I’m making you mine, Chelsea girl. I’ve waited a long time for you and I can tell by the way you were squirming and sighing that if I waited any longer someone else would be taking this sweet cherry of yours.”
He kisses me, first my lips and then when I open, his tongue comes in sweeping through my mouth, stoking my fire like a bellows at a forge. I grip his shoulders and shove my hips into the air.
His hand creeps higher and higher until his fingers are but a hairsbreadth away from my aching center. When he wrenches his mouth away from mine, I’m completely gratified to see his breathing is harsh and short. “Your thighs are soaked, sweetness. How long have you had this problem?”
Since I laid eyes on you, I thought but I didn’t say anything.
“How long?” Grant does not accept my silence.
“Too long,” I admit with a gasp because he’s pressed his full fingers against me and it’s all I need to go off. His fingers are longer, stronger, provide more pressure and coverage than mine ever will. I roll my hips in an effort to get something—anything—inside me.
It works because the tips of his blunt fingers dip into my core and I cry out. He clamps a hand over my mouth and then shoves one finger straight up inside me with my panties. There’s pain there as he rips through my hymen and takes my virginity with his finger. I’m struggling against his hand, not because I’m in pain but because I want more.
He controls the pace and shallowly finger fucks me with one digit. My hand flails out seeking him. He grabs it and places it on his dick. It’s enormous. Like four or five of his fingers. How will it ever fit inside me?
I moan and this time it’s one of distress. He lifts his hand from my mouth. “What’s wrong?”
“You’re too big,” I tell him.
He chuckles. “That’s right, sweetness. I’m a big boy, but you’re going to take it. Want to know how?”
&nbs
p; I nod fervently.
“Because you were made for me. Now I’m going to fuck you with my finger one more time while we watch Tommy and Jaycee. Then we’re going home and I’m going to teach you everything I know and then some. You with me, sweetness?”
I squirm. “But what about Judge? Don’t you think this is wrong?”
“You let me worry about Judge. You worry about how many times you are going to come tonight.”
He drives home with me seated on his lap, grinding against him. I come twice more rubbing up against that steel hard length inside his jeans. He half carries me, half pushes me inside the house to my room. He slams the door shut. Judge is at the clubhouse tonight where he’ll be until the early hours probably doing what Tommy and Jaycee are doing. What Grant and I will be doing.
Panting, he presses me to my knees. “I’ve gotta come too, sweetness. You want it in your mouth or you want me to jerk off.”
“My mouth,” I say immediately.
He reddens in excitement. This time he’s the one who is trembling as he unbuckles his pants. “Take me out,” he says.
I reach inside his underwear. There’s a wet spot on the cotton and as I pull his dick out I see the cause. The tip is weeping. Curious, I stick my tongue out and swipe it across the tip. He groans and his dick bobs its head in approval.