My body is tense, I need a release, of some form, but I still recall the guilt that comes with pleasure. I’ve forced my feelings down, so far into a black hole that I’m not sure I’ll ever get them back.
Rylee is my life. She’s my heart and soul. I’ve made sure to do right by her, and if she continues to stay with me, I know I’ll break her trust. I’ll shatter the promise I made her mother and myself—that I’ll always keep Ry safe from everything and everyone.
Her mo
ther couldn’t handle living with a biker. She hated the life, the club, she detested being near the guys who I considered family. My ex-wife found it easier to live her high-flying life in the streets of Hollywood being a single woman rather than a mother.
At first, I thought Ry would hate me, or even blame me for making her mother leave. That’s what it seemed like, because her hate-fueled words came across loud and clear—I was the bad one in the marriage.
She didn’t want to try. Even though I begged her to stay. Perhaps that’s my problem, I craved the intimacy too much whereas she was cold, aloof. And what I hungered for from my ex, I got in spades from the pretty little blonde that’s now running through my mind twenty-four seven.
Each day that passed, and I watched Rylee growing up, anger would rise up, burning in my veins because she didn’t have a mother to turn to in times of need. As a young girl, she needed advice on womanly things. I didn’t know how to explain her period, and I really had no clue how to tell her why her breasts were growing. Like her mother’s tits, they’re beautiful, with rosy pink nipples, taut little buds that my mouth waters to taste.
When I told her I was ready to move on, to find a woman not to replace her mother, but to find someone as a companion for me, I lied. I told her lie after lie. Each night I fucked club whores because I didn’t have another choice. I found them perfect for finding the release I needed—blonde, willing, and not the one woman I do want.
Since we moved to Arizona, away from her mother in Los Angeles, I’ve managed to keep her away from the club, away from the leering bikers, but I’m no better than the men who would want her.
I’m no longer sure how to care for her, and that’s why I’ve made the decision to send her to her mother. The school she’s been begging to attend after graduation is not far from Hollywood, and she’ll be able to live a life, find a nice boy who’ll care for her, and hopefully, she’ll move on.
I want her to have a beautiful life. And her being here with me is not it. I have the club, the weapons, and drugs, to deal with. I can’t keep her safe anymore, not from the men at the club, and not from me.
She’s intelligent, strong-willed, just like her mother. But there’s a fiery nature to her as well. She’s very much a tomboy hiding behind her baggy sweatpants, and those tank tops, but I can see what a stunning woman she’ll be one day. That she already is right now.
Pulling out my cell phone, I tap out the message to inform Olive that her daughter will be taking a bus tomorrow night. If she does an overnight trip it would be easier, she can sleep, and by the time she arrives, it will be early morning.
Once the message is sent, I slump on the bed, the mattress comfortable under my tired body. I lay my arm across my eyes, hoping to stop the images of Rylee in her bikini from appearing in my mind’s eye, but it’s useless because she’s always there.
Sighing, I flick off the lamp on my nightstand and roll over, hoping sleep will steal me and I don’t have to jerk off thinking about the pretty blonde in the bedroom next door.
Chapter 3
Rylee
“Good morning, dad,” I smile when I walk into the kitchen. He’s dressed in his dark slacks and white T-shirt which seems to hug every curve of his body. His cut is hanging on the back of the chair, and I know the moment he pulls it on, I’m going to be drooling over him.
I’ve never been allowed at the club, he told me I’m too young to hang out with bikers, but I know he doesn’t want me being included in the dangerous things they do there. I’ve seen his guns, his ammo, the knives that he thinks he hides from me.
One thing my father doesn’t realize is, he can’t hide anything from me anymore. It’s been years since I’ve learned how violent he can be and I’ve heard the whispers at school about the motorcycle club he’s a part of. Even though we live in a nice neighborhood in a beautiful home, I know who pays for it.
He smiles at me, his mouth tilting in a way that sets my stomach into fluttering butterflies. They come alive every time he’s near me.
“Good morning, princess,” he grins setting down my breakfast which smells amazing. Dad is an amazing cook, and when he puts his mind to it, he tends to go overboard. “I have a few things to do in town today. Was there anything you needed from the store?” he asks.
“No, I don’t think so. Oh, can you get that new vanilla ice cream I like?” I smile up at him, knowing he can’t deny me something when I offer him my pouty lips. The small grin is his response, and my heart thuds wildly in my chest.
“Sure, I can.”
Since he seems to be in a good mood, I push a little further. “So… Uhm, can I come to the club with you?” I ask, knowing he’ll refuse me.
“No,” he growls, pulling on the leather cut. “You’re too young to be spending time around those assholes, and the club whores that frequent the bar.” I know this because he doesn’t share much of his home life with them. Whenever one of the men visit, I hide in my bedroom. Sadly, I’m just a secret he keeps behind closed doors.
One thing about my father, he doesn’t beat around the bush. I knew the words fuck and whore before I was in first grade. It didn’t bother me, but it did annoy my mother. She couldn’t handle having a husband in a motorcycle club, so she split.
I can’t recall a time when she was around anymore. I don’t remember her voice, or even how she would tell me she loved me. Perhaps she did, maybe she didn’t.
Dad leans in, planting a soft kiss on my forehead, and I’m tempted to move my face so it lands on my lips instead. But I don’t. It’s getting worse every day, and I don’t know what to do with myself. How do I hide it? All I want is for him to kiss me, like I know he wants to because I’ve seen how he looks at me.
I’m distracted today, and I wonder if he’ll notice. I can’t stop thinking about what happened last night, when I saw him stroking himself. It looked so beautiful. How his body would bulge and tighten, how the white fluid would streak from his shaft and onto his belly.