Crash by Jeanne St. James

Chapter Four

Liz yankedher shirt down and waited until Crash was out of sight and out of hearing range before she spun on Ozzy.

She had been keeping a tight hold on her anger since she didn’t want to throw gas on the already burning fire between the two men.

But she was now the one burning hot.

Her heart pounded and the heat from her anger flicked at her cheeks. She shoved him hard, making him take a step back to catch his balance. “You did that on purpose, Oz. You knew he was staying here!”

He knew, while she did not. She had been shocked to see the DAMC member from last night leaning against the back of the motel and watching them.

“Didn’t know he’d be wanderin’ around bein’ fuckin’ nosy as fuck.”

No, but Ozzy probably hoped Crash would. “He wasn’t being nosy. He had no idea we were here.” The poor man was out having a cigarette and got more on his walk than he bargained for.

“Why you all bent? You want that fucker?”

“Whether I do or don’t isn’t the point. You’re purposely goading him. If you push him to the point where you two get into a fight, Trip will have your damn head! He told you guys no fights. Did you forget that?”

“Didn’t forget shit. Maybe you did.”

Her head snapped back. “I didn’t forget anything, Ozzy. I know who I am. What I am to this club. But thank you for that unnecessary reminder. Trip said that if we were taking part this weekend, we were to make ourselves available. Just like their sweet butts are available to you. It was one of the deals the clubs all made.”

“Only if you’re willin’,” Ozzy reminded her, his face darkening and his fingers curling into fists. “And by how you’re actin’ I’m guessin’ you’re more than fuckin’ willin’.”

She didn’t need to remind him that if a sweet butt wasn’t willing she was told to stay clear of the farm this weekend. None of them had. All of them had shown up ready, willing and able to not only help out with the wedding, but help make the visiting clubs feel welcome and comfortable, whether that meant simply fetching them a beer, or… more. Sort of like hosts.

Liz had no problem filling that role. But clearly Ozzy had a problem with her doing it when he shouldn’t.

Her chest became painfully tight. “You don’t own me, Ozzy.”

His head jerked back and he stared at her for a long minute. “Were you pretendin’ it was him fuckin’ you, Liz?”

“No.”

“You sure? You got awfully goddamn quiet once you realized he was watchin’.”

“I wasn’t putting on a show for your entertainment. Because that’s what it would’ve been. You were out to make a damn point. Well, guess what? You made it. Just to the wrong person.” She shook her head, grabbed her discarded shorts and panties and yanked them up her legs. She stormed inside, slamming the slider shut behind her.

She didn’t bother to lock his ass out since it was his place, not hers. In truth, she was only a guest there even though he insisted she sleep in his bed almost every damn night.

Some of those nights, they weren’t by themselves, either.

Ozzy had no problem fucking anyone and everyone. He even shared Liz with his own brothers. But even then, he only tolerated it for the most part, as long as he was either watching or taking part in the action.

While he was getting possessive more and more with each passing month, not once had he invited her to go along on one of the club runs. Nor had he asked her if she’d be interested in becoming his ol’ lady.

Not once.

He also never asked her anything about her childhood or where she grew up, who her parents were. Nothing. She realized at that moment, he didn’t care enough to ask.

He wanted her to be at his beck and call but didn’t care enough about her to make her the only one. She thought she was okay with that. But after this morning’s display, she wasn’t so sure.

She loved sex. She had no hang-ups with it or her body. She didn’t mind having sex with women or multiple men. She loved it all. And being bisexual meant she could have it all.

Being a sweet butt also meant she could have all the sex she craved the way she craved it. She could have it without any judgment. And, most importantly, in a safe place.

So, anything Ozzy wanted from her, she’d been okay with.

What she wasn’t okay with was him using her as a pawn to piss off a man who had shown her some real interest.

A man who seemed interested in getting to know her and not just in finding out what she looked like naked and how well she could give head.

She hadn’t experienced that kind of interest in a while. Now she knew why. Because Ozzy had pissed all over her like a dog marking a fire hydrant.

Crash was right. She was good enough to fuck but, for some reason, not good enough for Ozzy to put his name on her back.

Maybe he thought things would change if he did. Maybe he thought she’d turn around and become possessive of him and not allow him the freedom he had now. To fuck whomever, whenever and however.

That never would have happened because clamping down on his sexual freedoms would mean limiting hers, too. At only thirty-two she wasn’t ready for that herself. Or at least, she hadn’t met anyone yet who she’d be willing to sacrifice that freedom for.

However, not once had she and Ozzy even talked about it.

Well, fuck him, too late now.

She went directly into his bedroom and slammed the door there, too. She paced inside his room, a hand clamped to her forehead, needing to figure out where to go from here.

She either left things the way they were and accepted them that way, or she needed to make a change.

In truth, she hadn’t expected to keep things going with Ozzy this long or even let herself continue to stay with the club.

She had shown up at The Barn one night out of curiosity and on a whim. She had heard about a Fury party and decided to check it out. All she had to do was know someone at the party to get an invite.

Living in Parsington, the next town over, made it easy to obtain that invite. Someone local always knew someone who knew someone within the Fury. The typical six degrees of separation.

She had decided to see why Trip resurrected the Fury and what it meant to her.

If anything.

She had also hoped to figure out some things. Details she wondered about but never discussed with anyone. Only with her mother in the past.

The bedroom door opened and Ozzy stopped right inside it, watching her pace like a restless caged lioness.

“What the fuck’s wrong with you?” he growled.

“Nothing… Everything… I don’t know.” She stopped abruptly. “No, I know. And it’s sad you don’t.”

“You had no problem with the way shit was ’til that motherfucker showed up yesterday. He shows you a little goddamn attention and suddenly you got a problem with how things are. If you don’t like being a fuckin’ sweet butt, then you know how to stop bein’ one.”

“You mean the option other than becoming an ol’ lady.”

“Didn’t know you wanted my name on your cut, Lizzy. You never said a goddamn thing.”

“And you never offered.” Though, it would have been nice if he cared enough about her to have asked. “But, I don’t.”

“Then what the fuck?” He jerked his arms up in frustration, then dropped them. “Are you usin’ him to piss me off on purpose? To push me into makin’ you my ol’ lady? ‘Cause you just admitted that you don’t want my name on your back. Unless that’s a fuckin’ lie.”

“No.”

“Then what is it?”

She flung open his closet door, grabbed her overnight bag from the bottom and began to yank her clothes off the hangers and stuff them into the duffle.

“What are you doin’?”

“Going home.”

“Goin’ home where?”

She paused and bugged her eyes out at him. “Where? To my place. You know, the duplex I pay for every month but hardly ever stay there because you insist that I stay with you.”

“Thought you wanted to be here.”

“I do… I did… When I first got involved with the club, it was fun.” And informative. “Now…”

He waited.

“Now it’s like a one-sided relationship.”

“Gonna say it again, you were fuckin’ happy ’til that motherfucker hit on you last night.”

Men hitting on her was nothing new. But what was new was her actually being interested in the person doing it. She was surprised that something about Crash had pulled at her. And they’d hardly had a chance to spend any time together.

Again, because of Ozzy.

She wanted to explore her interest. It was more than the typical “Hey, it would be fun to have sex with you” interest. But why him?

Yes, he was hot and in the age range she preferred, but almost all of the bikers she saw yesterday and last night from all three clubs seemed to be hot in one way or another.

But in truth, men like Ozzy and Crash—men who were in their early forties and had strong personalities—attracted her. Even when she was younger, she always preferred an older man than one her own age or younger.

Maybe it was because older men were a little more versed in bed. It was the same when it came to women, though she was the oldest sweet butt in the Fury. The rest were babies. While they were fun to have sex with, they were too immature to want to hang out with for any length of time.

She shoved another top into her bag and glanced up at him. “Am I happy, Oz? How do you know? Have you asked me? Or are you just assuming that because that’s what you want to see?”

He tugged at his bearded chin, a frown marring his handsome face.

“I’m generally a happy person, Oz, you know that. I’m easy. I go with the flow. But I do have my limits. Last night and this morning are showing me—and, honestly, should be showing you—what they are.”

“Okay, so you made your fuckin’ point. But why the fuck are you packin’?”

“Because I’m tired of being treated like your personal whore, Ozzy! That’s not what I signed up for. And somehow that’s what it turned into.”

“No, you just wanna be everyone’s whore,” he growled.

She froze at his words. You just wanna be everyone’s whore.

She dropped her bag and within two strides she was in front of him. She hauled her arm back and slapped him so hard that the impact spun his head to the side. She curled her fingers into her stinging palm and the sound of the slap still reverberated in her ears.

With excruciating slowness, he turned his face back to her.

“Shit,” she murmured as she saw her handprint on his cheek. “Sorry.” She closed her eyes, pissed that he’d pushed her to the point of striking out. That was not like her.

None of this was like her.

When she opened her eyes again, she noticed his gray ones were dark and stormy. His jaw was tight and his nostrils flared.

She wasn’t afraid he’d lash out, but she felt like hell. What she did was wrong. No matter what he said, it was wrong to slap him. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” She sat on the edge of his bed and dropped her head in her hands, driving her fingers into her hair. “I’m so sorry, Oz,” she whispered, feeling the hot sting of tears. “Please forgive me.”

“Deserved that,” he finally said.

It didn’t matter if he deserved it or not. She shouldn’t have done it. She normally had much better control of her temper than that. His hurtful words were no excuse, even if they had hit her the wrong way.

When he pulled her hands away from her face, she saw he was now on his knees in front of her.

She sucked in a bolstering breath to try to stem the tears. “No, you didn’t. You’re only saying the truth.”

He shook his head. “Ain’t a whore. Fuckin’ stupid shit for me to spout off about.”

“But deep down that’s what you think of me.” That’s what hurt the most. He was the man she’d spent the most time with in the last two years and that was how he saw her.

No better than a whore.

One thing about being a sweet butt in a club like the Fury, not only was it a safe place but it was an escape from being slut-shamed. Or so she thought.

Apparently, she was wrong. And the person doing it was the last person she expected.

Even the ol’ ladies treated her with respect. So, it hurt twice as much when Ozzy said those words.

“Fuck, Lizzy, that ain’t true.”

Her throat had narrowed and she struggled to say, “Yes, it is. The truth people hold back always comes out when they’re drunk or angry.”

When she got to her feet, so did he. They stood face to face, hers turned up to his. She lightly brushed her fingertips over the slap mark. She had never struck anyone before and the guilt ate at her. “This proves I need a break.”

Surprise flashed over his face, then was quickly hidden. “From the club?”

“From… everything. But I told Trip I’d help out this weekend. Not just with… Just…” She sighed. She wanted to attend Trip and Stella’s wedding. She didn’t want to let them down with not helping out. Everyone was pitching in and she wasn’t going to flake out on them just because she was having a problem with her own damn life choices.

“So, you need a break from me.”

She didn’t answer because she didn’t want to hurt him more than she already had.

“Just fuckin’ say it, Lizzy. Tell me you’re goddamn sick of my shit and that’s why you’re lookin’ elsewhere.”

“I’m not looking for anything other than to help out the club. This is an important weekend for Trip and Stella.”

“Yeah, got it. You’re sacrificin’ yourself for the good of the club so you can fuck anyone who catches your eye. Just say it, you want the freedom this weekend to fuck whoever you want, whenever you want.”

“You mean, like you do?”

That shut him up.

She closed her eyes and blew a breath out of her nose. When she opened them, she shook her head and went back to tossing things into her bag. Once she was done, she found her laptop and the items she used for her business and packed them into her work bag.

“You takin’ everything?” came from behind her.

She stared at the bags she had placed on the bed. “I think it’s smart for now. I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

“Might as well’ve kicked me in the fuckin’ nuts, baby.”

The way he said that made her feel worse. “I’m sorry you feel that way.”

“How else am I supposed to feel?” he yelled. “You’ve been in my fuckin’ bed for the last two years.”

“That’s a long time for a non-relationship to last. And just a reminder, I wasn’t the only one in your bed.”

“Christ, Liz. Thought you were into that.”

“I was… I am. I was never opposed to it or I would’ve said something. You know I don’t hide shit from you.”

“Yeah, you are, ‘cause you’re leavin’.”

“I’m taking a well-needed break. That’s all. Give me that, please. We’ve never been exclusive, for obvious reasons, but this possessiveness of yours is starting to get to be too much.”

“So, you want me to shit or get off the pot.”

“I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do. You like your freedom. I also like mine. Becoming a sweet butt gave me that for the most part. But once you try to limit me—which you have and I’ve tolerated up to now—I no longer feel I have the same freedom.”

“For fuck’s sake. I tell you what. You got this fuckin’ weekend. You wanna go wild and ride a different dick every fuckin’ hour on the hour, then you go and do that. Ain’t gonna say shit, ain’t gonna stop you. After this weekend’s over, things are either gonna go back to the way they were or… they ain’t. So, go ahead and take all your shit ‘cause…” He raked a hand through his long hair peppered with gray. “You ain’t the only one who’s gonna be makin’ a decision when all of this is done and over with. You get me?”

She stared at him, chewing on her bottom lip. She cared a lot about the man before her. More than she wanted to admit. But over the last two years he never showed her once that he could be faithful. Not that she wanted that right now, but it was something she might want in the future. When she settled down and maybe even decided to start a family.

Ozzy was not that man no matter how much she wished he was. He had the wind in his hair and his knees in the breeze ever since lying about his age and becoming an Original at seventeen. Once the Fury burned themselves to the ground, he became a nomad, then joined another club for a few years before becoming a nomad again. He was restless and she couldn’t imagine that the Fury would be his last stop.

Maybe she was wrong. It could be he was finally done being a rolling stone and would stick in Manning Grove. And if he did, it didn’t mean she would want to. She lived in the next town over her whole life, but she didn’t need to stay.

She had no ties to that town or even the Grove anymore. Her mom was now an ex-pat and had moved to New Zealand with her stepfather after he retired a couple of years ago.

She no longer had anyone here besides the MC, so nothing held her back. Not even her job. She could do it from anywhere.

The only reason she’d stuck around after her parents moved was because she’d heard the Fury was once again rising from the ashes that had been left behind a couple of decades ago after their total destruction.

She had wanted to find out if her biological father had been one who survived the club’s implosion, and if so, if he’d turn up once again in Manning Grove, like Ozzy had.

After two years, he hadn’t. She still didn’t have confirmation on who he was and not enough to go on when it came to figuring it out. She didn’t know much about him at all.

Ozzy had no idea who she was, either. No one did.

She had kept it a secret for a reason. Mostly because the only thing she was sure of was that her father had been an Original.

She just didn’t know how loved or hated he’d been. Or even if he had been a part of the Fury’s demise.

Because if he had, maybe she didn’t want to find out who he was.