I didn’t smoke often anymore because I was a nurse and I knew intimately what that shit did to your lungs. But it was a habit I’d picked up from my father then solidified over my years of teenage rebellion, so once in a while when I needed to clear my head, I indulged.
“Got a light?”
I slanted my eyes to the side where a lanky biker stood smiling at me. He wore a sleeveless leather vest without a patch. A nomad biker just popping into a biker friendly bar to have a good time.
Without speaking, I tossed him my Bic lighter.
He caught it, his grin widening before he lit his cig and joined me in a lean against the wall.
We smoked silently, watching the grey puffs of air curl through the air.
“Anyone ever tell ya, you’re hot as fuckin’ shit?” he asked me finally.
I could feel his eyes like hot hands grappling over my clothes.
“Yeah. My Old Man.”
“Good thing them Berserkers aren’t a jealous crowd,” he laughed.
Then he moved closer, his hand going for my ass to either pinch or slap.
And I was done.
So done with men thinking they could touch a woman because she was pretty, she liked to dress well to suit her style and wasn’t afraid of showing a little skin.
So done with them treating my sisterhood like disposable cum rags, like punching bags, like anything short of fuckin’ gold.
So done with all they’d done to me.
One second his hand was reaching, the next it was caught in both of mine, his arm twisted behind his back so painfully, this close to breaking, he crumbled to his knees on the ground with a shocked cry of pain.
“You touch a woman without her permission, be prepared for the fuckin’ consequences,” I shouted at him as I planted my boot in his back and tugged harder on his arm.
The bones creaked, his shoulder popped, and he sobbed out a, “fuckin’ bitch, let me go.”
“I’m the bitch?” I asked him, my outrage enflamed by my history, his face transformed into high school Rick who tried to force me to do drugs, by Cricket who tried to rape me, and the Berserker brothers who tried to claim me against my will.
I shoved him to the ground with my hands and my foot, then quickly stepped over him, boot to his tender groin, pressing hard, and the gun from my purse brandished in my hand, pointed straight at his face.
“You’re the bitch,” I told him. “Only cowards don’t ask a woman for permission ’fore they touch her.”
“Rosie?” I heard from the door and looked up in time to see Danner close it behind him.
“Hey,” I called around my cigarette still caught between my lips but droopy now. “What’s up?”
“I thought I told you to be good?” he asked, eyeing me warily as I pressed the heel of my boot harder to the groin of the man lying moaning at my feet.
I shrugged. “I was bored. Maybe a little touchy.”
“I didn’t do a fuckin’ thing,” the piece of shit biker groaned out between his clenched teeth as he writhed on the pavement under my foot.
“Rosie?” Danner asked me, crossing his arms over his straight up kickass black leather jacket. He shook his head as he pushed his hand into his thick hair and pinned me with his hard gaze. “You wanna tell me why you got that man pinned to the ground by his balls?”
“‘Cause she’s a crazy fuckin’ bitch!” the nomadic biker shouted.
I crushed my heel down on his sensitive balls as I leaned forward to bat my eyelashes at my Officer. “‘Cause he grabbed my ass and no one grabs my ass but you.”
Danner cut off his grin with his teeth. “Sweet sentiment, rebel. Appreciate it. But why don’t you let that man up now. I’m thinkin’ it’s time to go home. Go back in, tell Wrath goodbye and meet me at mine in twenty minutes.”
I looked down at the biker in contemplation then plucked the cigarette from my lips and leaned down to press the still burning tip into his thrashing neck. His skin sizzled faintly and he cried out.
I flicked the dead cig off the curb and took my foot off his balls so I could move to Danner with a big grin. “Cool, is it time for my present?”
He was hurting me.
Deliberately, calculatingly, excruciatingly.
My body was on fire with exquisite sensation, burning so hot I thrashed and moaned and begged for freedom.
But I wasn’t free.
I was bound to the four corners of the coffee table by unforgiving leather cuffs and tethered to Danner’s will by my own submission.
I would stay shackled because Danner wanted it and I allowed it.
No, I didn’t allow it, I needed it.
Just as I needed the sharp bite of strong teethed clamps at my nipples, attached by a delicate chain to the wicked looking clamp Danner held open in his strong fingers just over my swollen sex. I had his thick cock in my cunt, stretching me and rubbing me ceaselessly in short thrusts right over my g-spot, and a deliciously heavy steel plug sunk deep in my greedy ass.