Madeline Sheehan - Unattainable

“Stop standin’ around like a bunch of assholes,” Deuce growled. “Dirty, get my drunk fuck of a kid home and Cox, get your fuckin’ ass into sniper position.”

Dirty looked to Mick, who gave him a hard look that said to Dirty, “If you don’t get your ass into gear, I will beat you the fuck into the ground and then piss on your grave.”

“Let’s go,” he said, shoving Cage toward his bike. “But you fuckin’ touch me, asshole, and I will boot you off the back and run you the fuck over.”

“Who the fuck would wanna touch you?” Cage muttered drunkenly. “You think a shower and shave makes a fuckin’ difference?” Cage burst out laughing. “Bitches don’t give a fuck about any of that shit…and they’re all bitches. Fuckin’ whores, actually. Don’t give a fuck ’bout anybody but themselves. And you ain’t gonna know it ’til it’s too fuckin’ late, ’til you’re tellin’ ’em stupid shit and thinkin’ it’s the same for them but it ain’t and then they’re gone and then—”

“Brother,” Dirty growled as he straddled his bike. “Shut the motherfuck up and just get the fuck on.”

“Fine,” Cage slurred. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“I won’t,” Dirty muttered. “Believe me.”

• • •

Ellie uncrossed her legs then immediately re-crossed them and began tapping her foot on the floor. Again.

Dirty had been gone for over an hour, gone to meet with Daniel and whoever else they were meeting. For what, she didn’t know, and Dirty wouldn’t tell her. All he would say was that they had some club business to take care of and that he would make sure Daniel never came near her again.

She swallowed hard. What if something had gone wrong? How long did club business usually take in such a small town? Better yet, what exactly was club business?

Never mind. She didn’t want to know what club business was. If she were ever arrested as an accessory to…whatever, she wanted to pass her lie detector test.

Glancing around the room, she couldn’t help but wonder how everyone else was so calm. Weren’t they afraid for the men who’d left? Ellie focused on Kami, who was talking animatedly with Eva, complaining loudly about a pair of shoes as if she didn’t care one bit that Cox had left to go do…club business.

The same went for Eva. And for Mick’s wife, Adriana.

They all seemed like being locked up inside a heavily protected building for a week, only to have their men suddenly up and leave to “fix” whatever business needing fixing, was a perfectly normal, everyday occurrence to them.

“You okay, girl?”

Ellie glanced up as a black-haired woman with extraordinarily fair skin took the seat beside her on the couch. She looked to be in her midtwenties, was beautiful, curvy, had an arm full of skull tattoos, wore far too much eye makeup, and had disturbingly long fingernails, painted bright blue and filed to a menacing point.

“Christina?” she asked. There were so many people here, she couldn’t keep track.

Snapping the wad of gum in her mouth, the woman nodded. “Yup. I’m Bucket’s girl,” she said, pointing across the room to where Bucket stood. “When he feels like havin’ a girl.”

Ellie wrinkled up her nose. When he felt like having a girl? What did that mean?

Christina smiled knowingly. “You ain’t feelin’ the life, huh?”

She nodded.

“Yeah, girl, this shit ain’t for everyone. I mean, Bucket ain’t no saint and his dick ain’t eighty inches long, but he does this curlin’ thing with his tongue…”

Seeing the look on Ellie’s face Christina trailed off and shrugged.

“But no matter what, if he’s wantin’ an old lady or wantin’ to play, my man takes good fuckin’ care of me so I’ve learned to look the other way, ya know?”

Ellie didn’t know but she nodded, watching as Christina reached down the front of her skull T-shirt and emerged with a pack of cigarettes. Ellie’s eyes widened. Her T-shirt was skintight; how had she fit the pack in there without it being noticeable?

After lighting one, she offered Ellie the pack. “You want? You look like you could use a little herbal relaxation.”

Ellie’s forehead wrinkled. “Herbal relaxation?” she repeated dumbly.

Christina’s answering grin made her feel like the lone one in the group who hadn’t gotten the joke.

“Weed, girl. Pot? Mari-fuckin’-juana?”

Ellie’s face grew hot. Now she really felt stupid. “I’ve never tried it,” she said softly.

“Figured that, girl. Here.” She held out her joint and offered it to Ellie. “Try it, it’ll help you relax.”

Ellie stared for only a moment before taking it. She really did need to relax, and so she shrugged and brought it to her lips.

When in Rome…or rather, when in lockdown with a bunch of criminals.

• • •

Dirty left Cage stumbling around in the parking lot and stormed inside the clubhouse. He took a quick look around the front room, found no sign of Ellie, and immediately headed for the back hall.

“Dirty!” Eva called out. “What happened?”

He didn’t bother turning around. “I wouldn’t fuckin’ know,” he shouted. “I got sent the fuck home.”

Reaching his door, he found it unlocked and pushed it open. Ellie glanced up from her seat on his bed, tossed aside the bag of potato chips she was eating, and scrambled to her feet.

“You’re back!”

Dirty stared at her. She was wearing his Clutch T-shirt. His Clutch T-shirt that barely reached the bottom of her ass. And white underwear. And that was it. Staring at the outline of her pussy, his dick started to throb.

“I gotta go,” he said quickly, turning around.

“Wait! What happened? What happened to your jaw?”

Dirty turned back to her. “Don’t know what happened yet. Deuce sent me back.”

With a silly smile on her face, Ellie took several steps in his direction. He kept his feet planted firmly on the floor despite the nervous itching in his veins, begging him to run from her.

“I’m glad,” she said, her soft voice unusually breathy. She was nearly on top of him now, looking up at him through those big blue eyes of hers. Big blue eyes that were bloodshot as all hell. “I was worried about you.”

Studying her, he frowned. “You fucked-up?”

Ellie erupted in giggles and Dirty got his answer. His thoughts took a nose dive into the gutter and he started wondering just how fucked-up she was and what he could get her to do in the state she was in.

“You really are beautiful,” Ellie continued in a whisper. Dirty watched her arm lift, watched her hand coming toward his face, and went rigid. For a moment he was unable to move, to blink, to so much as breathe and then…

Her soft, slightly damp palm connected with his cheek and his body involuntarily shuddered through unfamiliar sensations of the joining.

“You could have been a model,” she said.

His eyes squeezed closed. He’d thought he’d never wanted to hear those words again, but coming from Ellie, it didn’t make him crazy with rage, instead it…

It hurt. It fucking ached.

It made him wish he could erase his past, be a different man, one who was worthy of the face he’d been given, one who hadn’t been chewed up and spit out repeatedly because of it. One who hadn’t become everything he’d hated.

He felt Ellie’s hand shift on his cheek and his eyes flew open just in time to watch Ellie’s lips meet his. Nausea rose in his stomach, causing Dirty to tremble. What the fuck? What the fuck was he supposed to do? He didn’t know, he didn’t fucking know, goddamn, he didn’t motherfucking know!

A tear born from frustration and self-hatred slid from the corner of his eye and down his nose, landing on their joined lips. Ellie’s eyes opened and then she was gone, her hand, her lips, everything, was just gone.

“My God,” she whispered, wiping her thumb across her bottom lip, seeing the moisture there from his tear. “I’m so sorry, Michael,” she breathed as she turned away from him. “I didn’t mean to…”

No. No, she couldn’t kiss him and then nothing. His mind spun. He wanted her. He was aching for her. But he didn’t know what the fuck he was supposed to do. He couldn’t kiss her, he couldn’t keep letting her touch him.

He slammed into her from behind, reaching immediately around her body, encircling her stomach and slapping his hand across her mouth before her startled shriek turned into screams.

Ellie whimpered under his hand and Dirty felt the sharp pang of guilt spear through his gut.

“I’m not gonna hurt you, baby,” he whispered hoarsely. “You trust me, right?”

Baby.

The term of endearment had passed so easily from his mouth and yet he was frozen in shock. He’d never once called a woman anything other than her name or some derogatory term in place of it.

Until now. Until right fucking now.

Several tense heartbeats passed before she nodded quickly. Relief filled him. She trusted him. She fucking trusted him. He wasn’t going to lose that. He would not betray that.

He released her mouth and wrapped another arm around her waist. Bending his head down to her ear, he whispered, “I ain’t a good man. I’ve done shit…I’ve done some pretty bad shit and now, it’s too fuckin’ late for me. I ain’t ever gonna be a good man.”

Underneath his hold on her, Dirty felt Ellie’s body tense. His heart rate increased tenfold. More than likely she was going to want nothing to do with him after this. And he would deal with that. He would release her, let her walk out of this room, the club, and his life. It would be better for her if she did. And he wouldn’t have to walk around terrified he was going to hurt her.

“What have you done,” she whispered, “that you think you can’t be forgiven for?”

Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath before opening them again. “That’s the last time you’re gonna ask me that. I’m gonna be straight with you, I ain’t never gonna tell you what I’ve done, because I ain’t never wanna see you lookin’ at me any different than the way you were when I first walked into this room.

“That said,” he continued hoarsely. “I want inside you somethin’ fierce, baby.”

Ellie’s breath released in a hot rush of air and he felt her stomach expand against his grip.

“I think,” she said softly, “that I want you too.”

Need, hot and heady, raced through his already shaking body. He wanted to fuck her so damn bad; he wanted to push her down face first into his bed and take her hard and fast from behind.

But at the same time he wanted to feel those lips again, against his mouth, down his body, wrapping around his cock, taking him into her mouth.

And yet, he couldn’t do either. He couldn’t fuck her the same way he’d fucked so many whores, on his bed, half-conscious, refusing to look at them. And he couldn’t allow her to touch him, not sexually, not without becoming violent or sick, or motherfucking both.

“I’m so fucked-up,” he continued, his voice breaking. “I can’t be…with a woman.”

“Michael,” she said and he could hear the choked-back tears in her voice. “We don’t have to be…together. We can be friends. I want to be friends.”

“Why?” he asked brokenly. “Why would a woman like you want anything to do with a man like me?”

“You may have done bad things,” she whispered tearfully. “But you’re not a bad man, Michael. You saved my life, and you saved my life because you have a good heart. Now I want to do the same for you.”

Dirty’s heart exploded.

He was done.

Motherfucking done for.

“So, is it just your arms or do you have other tattoos?”

I jerked my eyes away from the window and back to the man across the table. “Hmm?”

He gestured at my arms with his hummus-covered fork. “Your tattoos,” he said. “Do you have more?”

“Oh,” I said blandly. “Yeah, I’m covered.”

“That’s so hot,” he replied, grinning. “I love women who don’t conform to society’s ideals.”

Slumping back in my chair, I raised an eyebrow. Why the fuck had I agreed to this? Oh, right, because Hayley is a persistent bitch determined to marry me off to some douchebag.

Last week it had been a personal trainer named Todd who obviously frequented a tanning salon more than most women did. He’d loved talking, but only about himself and how crazy awesome he was. Halfway through dinner, unable to stomach another second of Todd’s love affair with himself, I’d shoved my chair back, got to my feet, and said, “Really, this was great, I absolutely loved hearing all about your body mass index and how sexy your abdominal muscles are, but I’m really late for an important date with a screwdriver.”