Outlaws’ Property (Property of Outlaw Sons MC #1)

12. Jessica

12

JESSICA

I don’t have a ton of experience with men, but the way Tex walks with me feels possessive. Like he’s a big scary dog, growling every time someone else sniffs in my direction.

I kind of like it.

Especially because as soon as we’re inside, if I didn’t have him next to me, I would’ve run right back out. I’ve never been anywhere like the Burnout. It’s smoky and dark, the air heavy with leather and beer on top of the musk of people crammed together.

I can hardly see a thing with all the tall, leather-clad bodies blocking the way. I have to rely on Tex pushing his way through like a plow. I stick close as he splits the crowd easily with his massive bulk.

Tex leans down so I can hear him. "Let's get you something to drink and grab a table."

I nod, feeling like a total fake. Looking around, I fit right in wearing Bonnie’s old clothes, but I have no idea what I’m doing. The closest I’ve ever come to a bar is watching TV, and even then I’ve been limited to what I can watch with Anne.

Is it obvious? Lots of people seem to be looking my way. Maybe everyone can see it on my face that I don’t belong here. Heart pounding, I play it cool and trust that Tex and the others will keep me safe.

Bonnie was right about this being a man’s world. Guys outnumber girls by a large margin, and the women that are here are mostly on the arm of a man. A girl about my age, in a ripped tank top and a little skirt that barely hides anything, watches Tex pass with open interest even though she’s in the lap of a big, bearded biker with her arms around his neck.

I narrow my eyes and glare at her. She grins and turns back to her man, nuzzling the side of his neck as he talks to another guy. Still deep in his conversation, the biker slides his hand up her shirt and she wiggles on his lap.

Watching feels wrong, but I seem to be the only one that feels that way. Is that… Is that the kind of thing they’re going to expect from me? Would they even want it?

Do I want them to?

And now that I have that stuck in my head, it’s hard to get rid of. I'm inexperienced, not naive. Growing up in Victor’s house definitely stripped me of my innocence in everything but the literal sense.

I don’t see Riot and Ghost until we are practically at the bar. Tex once again lifts me up onto the stool. It’s funny how easy it is to get used to being moved around. It’s kind of fun.

“What the hell?” Ghost asks. “You think it’s a good idea to have her here?”

“Bonnie had everything under control. They were playing dress-up in her old clothes. Seemed a waste not to let Jessica show ‘em off.”

“I’ll say,” Riot runs a hand through his dark hair, pushing it out of his eyes. “You clean up nice, Mary Poppins. Want to know what else a spoonful of sugar helps go down?” He flicks his tongue against his top lip and winks.

“Some of us aren’t so bitter we need the extra help,” Tex says with an easy laugh.

Ghost snorts and raises his hand to get the bartender’s attention. “What’s your poison, Jess?”

“Um… a cola? I don’t really drink.” I examine the wallful of bottles behind the bar, not even knowing where to start.

The bartender comes over. He’s totally bald and reminds me of Mr. Clean if Mr. Clean was a biker. A gold hoop hangs from one ear, and tattoos crawl out of the neck of his t-shirt and wind around his neck. “What’ll it be?”

Tex orders his usual, whatever that is. Ghost and Riot both have short glasses with something golden brown in them, and they ask for a second round of the same. When it comes to me, Ghost cocks his head and considers. “Cherry Rum and Coke for the lady, make it sweet.”

When the drinks show up, the guys grab them and we find a table off to the side. They each take their own, but Riot holds the last glass out of my reach.

"What? Isn’t that mine?" I’m not even sure if I’ll like it, but I definitely want to try. I don’t know how long this freedom will last, so I’m not going to waste a minute of it.

"It comes with a cost." He winks. “One kiss.”

I blink. I've never kissed anyone, but obviously he doesn't know that. They probably assume I’m a little shy and not the usual type to hang out in biker bars, but they probably also figure I’ve had all the usual relationships and experience for a normal girl in her twenties. Would that girl go along with his teasing?

If I'm going to have a first kiss with someone, I could do a lot worse. Hopefully in a few days I’ll be free to finally get on with my life so it won’t even matter if I’m a bad kisser. This is just practice.

Oh God, I'm going to do it.

"Okay." I lean forward, hoping I'm getting this right.

When Riot’s lips touch mine, I freeze, with no idea what to do. It’s so much warmer and softer than I imagined, and his beard tickles my chin. He cups the side of my face and strokes my cheek with his thumb. “Am I that scary? I'm not forcing you, honey. Just playing. It's meant to be fun."

"I'm just… nervous I guess."

He chuckles, angling my face so I’m looking right into his deep, brown eyes. They crinkle at the corners as he smiles. "Let’s try again. Just open your mouth a little and go with it, okay?"

I nod, just a little, not wanting to shake free of his tingling touch on my skin. I part my lips, and this time, when he leans in, we fit together better. More intimately. His tongue teases over my lips, nudging my mouth even a little more open. I close my eyes, not believing that I'm doing this, but trying to follow his lead. When our tongues meet, I get goosebumps. The taste of him is intoxicating, making me hungry for more.

He pulls away, leaving me confused and breathing heavy. "That kiss was definitely worth a drink." He laughs, and sets the glass in front of me.

I grab the drink and take a gulp without thinking. I cough a little from the fizz of the Coke, but it goes down smooth. Sweet from the soda and the cherry, with a slight bitter undertone that keeps it from being too syrupy. There’s a whole, artificially bright red cherry on top. It's good. I put the glass down half full, not noticing the spreading heat of the alcohol until after. Wow.

When I look up, I find all three of them watching me, Riot clearly pleased with himself, Tex looking amused, and Ghost impenetrable. They're so in character I let out a little giggle.

It’s the drink, I know it is, but I’m enjoying it anyway. It’s easy to forget that the only reason I’m here is because of violence. I take off Bonnie’s jacket, adjusting my top so I’m not flashing anyone. But even if I do, who cares?

Freedom is so precious, so fleeting. I refuse to waste any of it. The Burnout isn’t on any Michelin star guide, but it’s perfect all the same. I finish my first drink, listening to Tex tell a story about how he got a particular scar on his arm, his drawl really coming out when he’s storytelling.

"So I thought I'd counted the shots. I knew the type of gun he had, and how big the mags were, so I was too fucking cocky. But it was a raw chase, both of us running our bikes at the limit, dodging cars on the highway, and I guess math was never my strong suit. I thought he was out and opened the throttle all the way to catch up, and the fucker shot me. Nearly ended my biker days there and then." Tex shrugs off his jacket and pulls up the right sleeve on his T-shirt. There's a bright white line that slices through his shoulder and the top of his arm. "Burned like a motherfucker, but I managed to ram him right over the barrier and into the median. Beat the crap outta him for shooting me, then collected the bounty."

"I'll drink to that!" says Riot and raises his glass. The others follow and that's when I realize my glass is empty.

"I’ll get the next round," Tex offers. He pushes away from the table, and when he comes back, he holds out a glass with something pale and golden. I reach for it, and this time it’s Tex holding my drink away. "Pretty sure there's an established price for this."

I blink, confused for a moment, before looking to see Riot’s reaction. I kissed him first. Does that mean anything? He waves his hand at me and laughs. "I don't own you, honey. Pay for your drink."

Twice as much practice is a good thing, right? I have time to make up for.

Tex takes a sip from my glass, and when our lips meet, he tastes like honey and something more. His stubble is scratchy, not like Riot’s softer beard, but his lips are like velvet against mine.

This time I have a better idea of what I’m doing. Tex’s kiss is more demanding than Riot’s. He slides his fingers into my hair so he’s cupping the back of my head and holding me close as we kiss. His tongue moves against mine, sweet and hot. Maybe it’s the drink, but I’m on fire all over, sparks arcing over my skin and threatening to burn me to ash right where I sit.

It feels so freaking good. I close my eyes and breathe him in, soaking up everything that’s been denied me. By the time he pulls away, I’ve completely forgotten this is just a game. At least until he sets the glass on the table and pushes it in front of me.

“This is called a Bee’s Knees. Go easy on it, they’re stronger than they taste.”

I take a sip, remembering this same flavor on his lips, but this time getting more than just sweetness. There’s lemon and something bitter in there as well.

“What do you think?” Tex asks.

I’m not sure if he means the drinks or the kissing. "I like it."

As the drinks get low and the music goes up, I find myself fixated on if we’re going to get a third round or not. And if we do, is Ghost going to demand the same payment as Riot and Tex? He’s so different from the other two, not nearly as cold and scary as I thought at first, but he doesn’t seem like the type to joke around.

Alcohol, it turns out, is a dangerous thing, because when I finish my glass, I lick my lips and brush my fingers over my bare shoulder. I want to tease him just to see what he does. “So what drink are you going to get me?”

It's like one of those record scratch moments in a movie, where everything stops and the narrator says, "You might wonder how I ended up like this…"

Riot and Tex freeze mid conversation and look back and forth between us, half incredulous, half curious, waiting to see how it pans out.

Ghost's eyes narrow, examining me like he's got me under a microscope. Like he's mentally flipping through my possible motivations. Did I make a mistake here? Poking my head into a cage expecting a housecat and finding a tiger. Maybe alcohol is more trouble than I realized.

But then the corner of his mouth quirks, just a little. "You want me to pick?" The way he asks is full of implication. A threat and a promise, both of which send chills down my back.

I look at him, down at my empty glass, then back up at him. "Please."

He slides off his stool with a languid movement that's reminiscent of a great hunting cat and stalks to the bar. When he comes back, he’s carrying nothing but a tiny little glass. It looks like an itty bitty coffee with whipped cream on top.

"Come here and get it," he commands.

Hypnotized, I walk around to him. “Um, do you want me to…”

“After.”

I reach for the glass, but he takes my hands and pulls them behind my back. “How am I supposed to do it without my hands?”

Riot laughs like I said something funny. “Traditionally, you only get to use your mouth.”

“Are you guys teasing me?”

“Nah, he’s right,” Tex confirms.

Hm. I guess it’s a pretty small glass. I take a breath and lean over. Fortunately it’s a high table, so I don’t have to bend down or anything. It’s a stretch, but I get my mouth around the rim, tasting whipped cream. I feel silly as I stand up and tip my head back. I’m expecting a coffee flavor, but it’s just sweet and creamy. Ghost is there the whole time, right behind me. He takes the glass as soon as I’ve swallowed, a tiny bit spilling out onto my lips and chin.

He buries his fingers in my hair, but instead of cupping my head like Tex did, he makes a fist so he can control where I'm looking. His other hand slides along my thigh, over my hip and then settles on my butt. He makes me look up at him with a tug on my hair, and then yanks me close, right up against him, with my face tipped up.

Ghost doesn’t give me a kiss. He takes it.

I melt against him as he plunders my mouth. There's an intensity about him, like I'm the only other person in the universe. Our kiss is only a single moment in time, both infinite and over far too soon.

It ends as suddenly as it started, and he eases me back so it's easier for us to look at each other. Someone nearby actually whistles.

“What was that?” I whisper.

He slides his index finger over my chin and pops the tip into his mouth. “Blow job shot.”