Crash by Jeanne St. James

Chapter Eight

“You livein that apartment with him?”

That apartment?

Shit, he meant with Ozzy at the motel. “No.” Though, she stayed there often enough that she might as well have moved in. But doing so would’ve meant an actual commitment between the two of them.

“Got your own place?”

She nodded, wondering where he was going with this, besides simply being nosy about her relationship with Ozzy.

“It local?”

Ah. She guessed he wanted a repeat of what they’d just done on the picnic table but in a place that would be a lot more comfortable. Like her bed.

And more private. Like her place.

Also without the possibility of Ozzy causing more problems. Again, being at her place away from the farm would avoid that. Even though Crash didn’t have a clue that Ozzy had never been there and had never once asked where she lived.

“About ten minutes from here. But…”

“But?”

“I have a roommate.” Who enjoyed the fact that Liz was hardly ever home. He got the whole place to himself and only had to pay half the rent. He might be disappointed to find that would change after this weekend.

“Yeah? She gonna care if we make a shitload of noise?”

Her lips twitched. “He. And he might if he has to work tomorrow.”

“He?”

“Yes, he.” She rolled her lips under at his typical male reaction when she told anyone her roommate was a man.

“Roommate with bennies?”

“The only benefit he gets is me paying half the expenses for the last two years when I’ve hardly spent any time there.”

“That’s a benefit for sure. You care if we wake his ass up?”

She tilted her head and stared at the man before her. “Who’s going to be making all the noise? You or me?”

Crash shrugged. “Hopin’ it’s you. But if you’re up for the challenge, you can try to make me get loud, too.”

She finally let the smile she’d contained cross her face as she patted his stomach in a patronizing way. “I don’t think it’ll be much of a challenge, Crash. I’ve made a man weep before.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Damn.”

“He actually thanked me afterward.”

“Fuck,” he whispered, looking impressed. “You make me cry ‘cause the sex is so fuckin’ good, then I just might kidnap your ass and keep you.”

That offer was tempting.

“All right then, your place?”

“I usually don’t invite strangers back to my place.” Not that she’d invited him, he was inviting himself.

Crash took a step back and jutted out his hand. She shook it while trying not to laugh. “Crash. Forty-four. Six feet tall. A buck eighty when I don’t eat a fuckin’ dozen cupcakes at one time. Size twelve boot. That’s above average, if you don’t know. Ace mechanic. Besides cupcakes and Bangin’ Burgers, love to eat pussy. And gonna tell you somethin’ most others don’t know…”

Her smile was so big, her face was starting to hurt. “What’s that?”

“My real name. I tell you that, you’ll get a piece of me no other woman ever has.”

She arched an eyebrow. “No one?”

“Just my momma who named me.”

“So, I’ll be special.”

“Already are.”

“Oh, yes. You may have broken the biker mold when it comes to flirting.”

“Again, it’s truth, not flirtin’. I already scored so no reason to work you. Just want you to be comfortable about takin’ me home.”

She laughed. “That’s some truth, too.”

He definitely told it like it was. Though, she’d quickly learned most bikers did. If they had something to say, they just let it fly. Most didn’t worry about being politically correct or offending someone with their words or actions. Like Ozzy did this morning.

“So?” she prodded, now curious about his real name.

He shrugged. “Jacob McKay.”

“That’s a great name. Your mother picked a good one.”

“Well, she didn’t pick the last name, that came attached to the sperm that made me. She did pick Jacob, though. Named after her brother who was killed in action during Operation Urgent Fury in Granada.”

Since she had never heard of that military conflict, it had to have happened long before she was born. “Sorry about your uncle.”

“So, anyway… Want my sosh, too?”

She laughed again. “No.”

“See a paystub? My credit score?”

He probably didn’t even get a paystub since he owned a garage. “No.”

“So, we continuin’ this get to know you sesh here or we doin’ it in your bed back at your place? Or there somethin’ specific you need to know first?”

She was definitely inviting him back to her place. She was just enjoying the banter too much to have it end so quickly. He said the DAMC sisterhood called him a clown. She hadn’t seen it before now, but that was quickly changing as she got to know him.

She liked it. Some of the Fury guys could be complete goofballs and some a little too serious or intense. Like Trip and Sig.

She liked a man who didn’t always act like trouble could be coming around the next corner at any moment.

Ozzy was normally more of the easy-going type. He really didn’t give a shit about most things. Besides sex. That was his biggest priority at this point in his life since he now had all the essentials covered by the club. A roof over his head, a source of income, and an endless supply of tobacco, pot, booze, and food.

The only thing he had to concentrate on was who was landing in his bed that night. With or without Liz.

“How did you get the road name Crash?”

“That’s a story you don’t get ’til after a few more orgasms.”

“Yours or mine?”

“I’ll work on yours, you work on mine. Deal?”

She nodded. “Deal.” This time she was the one to extend her hand. He took it and used it to pull her into him.

“Guessin’ that means we’re takin’ a ten-minute ride.”

“Ten minutes is a good start. But I hope any ride we take together will last more than ten.” She winked at him.

“Sounds like another challenge.”

“Take it as you will.” She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “I’m parked behind that long shed over there. Do you want to follow me?”

“Fuck no. You’re ridin’ with me ‘cause I ain’t comin’ back here ’til tomorrow.”

“I…” She sucked in a breath. “I’m not sure if I am.” She told Trip she’d be around this weekend, but after what happened with Ozzy this morning and now with Crash, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to make herself “available” to anyone else. And if she showed up tomorrow, she would be expected to.

The easiest solution would be to quietly bow out and then apologize to Trip and Stella after the other two clubs went home. The most important thing was she had been here earlier to witness them get married and also help with the food and drinks when they needed it.

But it didn’t look as though Crash was pleased with that answer since he now wore a deep frown when he said, “Fuck that. You’re my backpack on the run tomorrow.”

“Sweet butts aren’t allowed on the runs,” she reminded him needlessly.

“We’re gonna get this straight right now. You might be a sweet butt for the Fury but you ain’t one of ours. And tomorrow you’ll be ridin’ with me and the DAMC. I don’t give a fuck what anyone else gotta say about it. Someone got a problem with it, they can tell me directly to my face. Got me?”

“Crash…” She didn’t want to be the cause of any conflicts this weekend. It was bad enough Ozzy tried to start a fight earlier.

“It ain’t gonna be a problem,” he assured her.

She wasn’t as sure as he was. But she still had plenty of time to convince him that her riding on his sled tomorrow wasn’t smart. She could always ride back to the farm with him in the morning and, if she decided not to stay for the whole day, she could leave then.

“It’s decided, then. Takin’ my sled and headin’ to your place.”

She glanced down at what she was wearing. “I’m wearing a dress.” And sandals. And no panties. Not the most appropriate attire for riding on the back of a Harley. She wouldn’t be cold since the night was mild, but it wasn’t very safe.

He slipped his hands from her waist down to her hips. “Don’t got other clothes around here somewhere?”

“No. We’re not allowed to stay overnight in the bunkhouse.”

“Damn. That sucks. We don’t got that stupid as fuck rule at our church.”

“Trip doesn’t want the bunkhouse turning into a…” Whorehouse.

She squeezed her eyes shut as a sharp pain shot through her chest when Ozzy’s words came back to stab her once again.

The back of a finger brushed down her cheek. “Got it,” he said softly. “Gonna take your cage and leave my sled here. You good with that?”

She opened her eyes and nodded.

He grinned. The shadows under the pavilion making his chin cleft appear even deeper.

She rose on her tiptoes and kissed him there. “Thank you for understanding.”

One downside to not only being a sweet butt, but dealing with headstrong bikers, was her and the rest of the club girls’ opinions normally didn’t count. It was nice when they did.

He jerked his head toward the long shed nearby. “Let’s go. What d’you drive?”

Her lips twitched. “A Mercedes C43 Cabriolet.”

He blinked. “A fuckin’ AMG convertible? Why the fuck didn’t you say so in the first place? I’m drivin’ that fuckin’ bitch.”

“I don’t know… Would it be stupid of me to let a man named Crash drive my ride?”

“Fuck no. Got skills in the streets as well as the sheets.”

Liz groaned as she grabbed his hand and tugged. “All right, stud. Time to show me some of those skills.”

“Prepare to be super fuckin’ impressed. Instead of me kidnappin’ you, you might end up kidnappin’ me.”

He might be making a joke, but she might actually have to give that some serious thought.

* * *

They rodewith the top down on the Benz for the normally ten-minute ride home. With Crash driving her car, he whittled it down by about three minutes or so. Luckily, they weren’t pulled over, even as late as it was. She might know all the cops in town, but that didn’t mean she’d convince them to spare him a ticket.

He drove the whole way from Manning Grove to her place on the edge of Parsington with one hand possessively planted on her bare thigh, bitching about how the “cage” wasn’t stick and how Mercedes fucked over their customers when they stopped making them with manual transmissions. Then she heard a whole diatribe about how the paddle shifters in the newer cars were for pussies.

Basically, he pretty much kept her entertained on the short drive.

He’d side-eyed her a couple of times and Liz could read it in his face. He wanted to know how a sweet butt could afford a Benz, even though it wasn’t a super expensive model—or even brand new—and why, if she could afford a “luxury” vehicle, she was sharing her place with a renter.

She had him pull her convertible into the large detached garage behind the rented duplex and noticed her roommate’s vehicle was gone. Maybe Dan had landed somewhere else for the night or even snagged a new girlfriend. Him being gone was one less thing she needed to worry about.

“Go ahead and ask it,” she said as they exited the garage and she hit her fob to shut the garage door.

“Tryin’ not to be a dick.”

“You wanted to get to know me, right? So ask. I won’t be offended.” Unless he asked her if she got paid to have sex, then she’d have a problem. And if he was going to assume something like that, maybe it would be better to know now before he walked into her place and stayed the night.

She’d just mark down the sex they already had under the pavilion simply to two people having some fun and that would be that.

“Only wanna know if you wanna tell me.”

“Fair enough,” she said as she unlocked the back door that went directly into the kitchen.

She stepped into the dark house and flipped on the overhead light. “Beer?”

“Yeah.”

She normally didn’t keep beer in the house because she was hardly home. But luckily, when she had come home earlier today she’d noticed Dan had about a dozen and doubted he’d mind if they drank a couple. She’d replace them just like he replaced anything he used of hers. He was a great roommate and one reason why they still shared a place.

She pulled two bottles of Yuengling from the fridge door and before she could close it, he had them plucked from her fingers and had unscrewed the tops. He took a long guzzle on one after handing the other open bottle to her.

She stared as his Adam’s apple bobbed with each swallow. When he was done, he glanced at the forgotten beer in her hand. “Ain’t thirsty?”

“I wouldn’t say that.” She was thirsty but not for Yuengling. She took a sip, then leaned back against the counter as she took him in.

He looked really freaking good in his jeans. He also filled out the T-shirt he wore under his cut. In a good way. Truthfully, she couldn’t wait to see him naked. The guys in the BFMC tended to stay in somewhat good shape, mostly because their exercise routines started when they did their bids in prison and continued those routines after getting out the last time.

However, the short sleeves of Crash’s T-shirt were snuggly hugging the bulge of his biceps. The man did a lot more than casual weight lifting. From what she could see under his cut and the soft cotton of his shirt, he appeared very muscular.

Both arms were completely inked and she couldn’t wait to see the rest of the tattoo that ink was connected to. If the rest of his body was as inked as his arms, he’d spent quite a bit of time in a tattoo artist’s chair.

Nothing new for a biker. Ink seemed to be therapy for them.

She pulled herself out of her head. “Well, I guess it’s only fair since I know what you do for a living that I answer the question that’s been bouncing around in your head.”

“You don’t wanna tell me, then don’t. Ain’t gonna get bent about it. But truth is… Wanna know everythin’ about you. If I only wanted to fuck you, then I wouldn’t give a shit. If I only wanted to fuck you, I wouldn’t have wanted to come here. If I only wanted to fuck you, wouldn’t be plannin’ on stayin’ ’til mornin’. If I only wanted to fuck you, then I wouldn’t have told you you’ll be hangin’ onto me tomorrow on the run.”

By the time he was done with his little speech, her eyebrows had crawled up her forehead and stuck there.

“So, like I said, ain’t gonna get bent if there are things you don’t wanna share with me. You got a sweet ride, but an even sweeter pussy. Wanna know you better, but will take whatever you’re willin’ to give.” He threw his arms out. “You can ask me anythin’. I’m a fuckin’ open book.”

“That could be dangerous,” she warned with a smile.

He shrugged. “Ain’t scared.”

“Okay, then… How come you don’t have an ol’ lady? You’re forty-four. It’s hard to get that far in life without being snagged at least once.”

It was quite possible he did have an ol’ lady and he’d left her at home. If so, things between them would end right here and now. She hoped he wasn’t a dick like that because she couldn’t take back what they had already done.

And unless they had some sort of open relationship, she wasn’t willing to help a man cheat on his wife or ol’ lady.

“Ain’t hard at all. Watched all my brothers fall one by one—well, almost all. Some of the younger ones haven’t yet. There are some other hold-outs, too, but their time’s most likely comin’. The ones that fell didn’t ’til they found the right one.”

“None of them had made a mistake.”

He snorted. “Oh yeah. They’ve made mistakes. Me included. But not with their ol’ ladies. As for me, just haven’t found what they have.”

“You have to look first,” she suggested.

“Yeah, true. Haven’t been lookin’. Figured if it happens, it happens. And so far, it ain’t happened.”

“Is it because you don’t let anyone in? Do you keep women at a distance?”

He paused the bottle halfway to his lips.

She clarified with, “I mean emotionally, not physically.”

“Know what you mean. No one’s clicked yet. Maybe no one ever will.”

“You aren’t afraid of dying alone?”

He snorted again. “Fuck no. One thing you should know with bein’ around the Fury, it’s hard to be alone.”

She smiled and took another sip of beer. “Yes, I’ve noticed that.”

“What about you? Never been married?”

She shook her head and put her beer on the counter behind her. “No.”

“Close?”

“No. But I haven’t been looking, either. Will I ever start?” She shrugged. “Maybe. But also like you, so far no one has clicked enough to make me want to give up my freedom. Like you said, most bikers won’t give up their freedom unless it’s for the right person. I’m the same way.”

“And like you said earlier, there’s a difference between lovin’ someone and bein’ in love.”

“Yes. And for a serious relationship to work it helps if both parties are in lovewith each other.”

“Makes sense,” he murmured, finishing off his beer and placing his empty bottle next to hers. This brought him toe to toe with her. He tucked a thumb under her chin and tipped her face up. “What else you wanna know?”

“Why we’re still standing in my kitchen,” she murmured after he brushed his lips lightly over hers.

His thumb stroked back and forth across her cheek. “Dunno. Why are we? Can think of a lot better places we could be right now.”

“Let’s find one.”

He interlocked his finger with hers. “Lead the way, baby.”

Holding hands, she guided him through the lower level of the duplex and toward the front of the house to the second floor.

With every step they took as they climbed the stairs, her anticipation began to grow. Since the sex had been good on the picnic table, she figured it might be even better in her bed. She was willing to find out.

She liked him. More than she expected.

Yes, she still didn’t know him well and probably never would before he left on Monday, but from what she’d seen so far, she couldn’t imagine that women weren’t throwing themselves at his feet.

Or maybe they were.

Even though Ozzy was always seen with Liz at the farm and elsewhere, women still approached the Fury member and made it known they were interested in him. Ozzy, in turn, always made it known they were a package deal. There’d only been a few times where Liz had said no to Ozzy’s choice of a third. When she did, he usually did whatever he wanted to do with that woman and Liz either went back to the motel to wait for him, like he always wanted her to, or she spent some time with one of his other brothers. It just depended on her mood. He never pressured her to take part in any threesome. Most of them, Liz was okay with, anyway.

Most, but not all.

Though, in contrast, the one time she spent the whole night with Deacon in his apartment above the bunkhouse before he met Reese, Ozzy had blown up her phone wondering where she was when he got back to the motel and she wasn’t there waiting.

After that night, Liz thought Ozzy might insist on claiming her and was glad when he didn’t. But he did fuck her the next night in The Barn right in front of Deacon. His point wasn’t made since Deke didn’t give a shit. Ozzy had acted like a dog marking his territory, even though he had no right to. That was probably why Deke hadn’t even noticed.

However, by the time she forgave Ozzy for what happened earlier this morning, Crash would be long gone and their limited time together over. Whether she went back to being a sweet butt, she wasn’t sure yet.

She had time to decide. Even if it was only to step away for a short period of time.

Right now, though, she was dealing with the decision to bring Crash back to her place. It wasn’t a bad one because, again, she really liked him.

He saw through her label of “sweet butt” to who she really was. She understood that it was probably easier for him to “see” her as more than that than most of the Fury members. Unlike them, he hadn’t seen her having sex with other men, especially men he’d consider his brothers. Except for this morning, of course.

But, more importantly, he wanted to get to know her and he wanted her to get to know him.

That meant more to her than he would ever know.

She was never disillusioned on who and what a sweet butt was. She had gone into it with eyes wide open and without even a smidgeon of shame or embarrassment.

Even after what Ozzy pulled this morning with having sex on the deck while Crash watched, she still had none.

If men weren’t ashamed of their sex life, why should women be? She hated that double standard.

Even so, Crash had seen her and Ozzy together and was still interested in more than sex.

In truth, sex was the easy part. Actually taking time to get to know someone was more difficult. It took a lot more effort than simply getting naked.

Something they were about to do.

As she hit the top of the steps, she released his hand, grabbed the hem of her dress and pulled it up her body and over her head.

She smiled as she heard him make a noise behind her, but ignored it and kept walking completely naked down the hallway to her bedroom at the other end. His boot steps came a little faster until he was almost on her heels as she opened her bedroom door and walked inside.

As she flipped the light switch and the room lit up, he closed and locked the door and leaned back against it.

“For fuck’s sake,” he murmured as she turned around to face him, his eyes raking down her body from the top of her head all the way to her toes.

“Is that a good ‘for fuck’s sake’ or a bad one?” she teased, already knowing the answer just from his expression.

“You gotta ask?” He grinned, taking his time working his gaze back from her now bare feet—she’d kicked off her sandals as soon as she’d walked into the house—pausing at her shaved pussy, noting her belly ring, then he took a little break on her breasts before finishing once again on her face.

His brown eyes were dark and his jaw clenched. “Takin’ everythin’ I got not to just throw you on the bed and ravish the fuck outta you.”

“I’m actually okay with that, but,” she threw up a hand to stop him from moving, “you need to let me see all of you first.”

He grinned, already shrugging out of his cut. “That was part of the plan.” He hung it on the closet door knob and went over to her bed to sit on the edge. “Want you to stand right there while I get naked. Where I can see you.”

Even as he leaned over to unlace his boots, he kept his golden-brown eyes glued to her. She was tempted to give him a little show, but she was too distracted watching him get undressed.

He kicked off his boots and tucked his socks inside, then got to his feet. He ended up giving her a show, instead, when he slowly pulled his snug T-shirt up his torso, taking his time to reveal all of the tattooed skin and the muscles under that art. Once he tugged it over his head, he tossed it on her nearby dresser and his fingers began to unbuckle his belt.

She could tell he worked out but she still wasn’t expecting what she found hidden under that cotton.

“That takes some dedication,” she murmured.

“Club owns a gym. Gotta work off all the shit I eat and drink somehow. Was turnin’ into a slug and I ain’t gettin’ any younger, that’s for fuckin’ sure.”

“You mean like a real gym, not just some shed with a few pieces of equipment?”

“Yeah. A real gym,” he answered.

“You must spend a lot of time there.”

“Yeah, well, got a coupla brothers and some of Diesel’s guys into boxin’ and kickboxin’. Even some MMA shit. They got me into it and I stuck with it. Since I don’t got a family, I can spend more time there.”

She knew Diesel was the name of the DAMC enforcer, but she didn’t know what Crash meant when he said Diesel’s “guys.” She figured it wasn’t important since he didn’t explain.

“Do you compete in the ring?” she asked.

He snorted. “Fuck no.”

With as built as he was, he really could’ve put a hurt on Ozzy when his drunk ass tried to start a fight.

She let her gaze wander over his extensive tattoo. She now realized it was a huge phoenix covering his torso and arms. “Nice ink.”

He grinned. “Club’s got an ink shop, too.”

“You bikers certainly know how to build an empire.”

He tilted his head and shucked his now unfastened jeans down to his ankles along with his boxer briefs. When he straightened, she zeroed in on his erection which was long and thick, and jutting straight out from his body.

He grabbed it and shook it. “Told you it was above average.”

“You didn’t have to tell me. I got first-hand knowledge of your size. Remember?” she teased.

“Can’t forget it, that’s for fuckin’ sure. Lookin’ forward to a repeat.” He waved a hand toward the bed behind her. “Should get to it.”

“We will. I’m not done appreciating what’s before me yet.”

“Could be doin’ that appreciatin’ without a huge space between us.”

“We could but then I couldn’t see you so easily. Turn around,” she ordered.

One of his eyebrows raised, but after a few seconds, he slowly turned in a circle.

“Stop!” she yelled out when his back was to her. His feet stopped moving.

She sank her teeth into her bottom lip as she stared at his club colors inked into his back. For the most part, from what she could see, he only had the two large tattoos. The phoenix taking up the front and the DAMC colors filling his back. If some smaller tattoos were hidden among them, she’d have to work to find them.

Something she looked forward to doing. A little treasure hunt of his body wouldn’t be a bad thing.

“You done?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder.

She shook her head. “Not even close.”

He turned, anyway. “Me, neither. And like I said, you’re too fuckin’ far away.”

“Easily remedied.”

He held out his hand and she walked slowly toward him. “Stop!”

She halted in place.

“Your turn to turn around. Sloooowly.”

She gave a little shrug, put out her arms and spun in a very slow circle. She worked hard on her body—probably not as hard as he did—and was proud to show it off. She was comfortable in her own skin and when it was possible, she preferred to be naked.

Something Ozzy loved.

“Fuck yeah,” Crash breathed.

“Funny how I had the same thought when I saw you,” she said when she finally turned all the way around to face him.

“‘Kay, keep comin’.”

“I like the sound of that.”

When they finally stood face to face, she went to run a hand over his chest and he snagged her wrist to stop her. “You make me come before I get to fuck you again, you will make me fuckin’ weep.”

She didn’t remember the last time someone made her smile—or laugh—this much.

Or feel so appreciated.

“That’s not why he wept,” she warned him.

“Gonna take your word for it. Now… unless you like sleepin’ in a wet spot, better grab a towel or somethin’. ‘Cause I plan to cause a tsunami.”

She liked the sound of that even better.