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The entire clubhouse knew the rule: giant biker Tank never touched the club girls. What they didn’t know was there was no rule—only the brutal wall he’d built after destroying a woman with his massive length years ago. She’d pushed him to take her, but he was too big, too rough. She ended up in the hospital needing stitches. Since that night, Tank hadn’t touched a woman. Until Maxine walked into the clubhouse. The club’s only real mechanic. 20. Betrayed by her sister and ex, kicked out by her parents, surviving on her own sweat and skill while every other woman spread her legs for protection. She didn’t flirt. Didn’t simper. Didn’t need to. She was different. And Tank wanted her with a hunger that terrified him. Other club h0res had tried—rubbing against him, whispering f!lthy promises. Nothing. His body stayed dead. But Maxine? Just one glance he grew rock hard, aching with raw need. He fled like a coward to the bathroom, slamming the door, chest heaving as he yanked himself free. He imagined her bent over his custom Harley—bare, breathless, trembling. That fierce innocence in her eyes slowly twisting into desperate pleasure as he bent her to his will. How she’d gasp when he stretched her open, shocked at the side of herself she never knew existed. No loud moaning. No screaming. Just one soft, broken gasp: “Tank…” Wide-eyed. Breathless. His hand wrapped around her throat. Her legs shaking under his brutal thrvsts. Mine. You’re fking mine, Maxine. Only mine. ***** Maxine POV “Go home, you have worked too much overtime this week. Have an early night and give that boyfriend of yours an early treat.” My boss practically urged me out the door, a wicked grin on his face. “Okay, okay, I’m going. I’m going. I straddled my bike and started her up. This was going to be a great night. Today was my boyfriend's birthday, and I was going to give him a special gift. I had brought new, cute clothes, and I cleaned up. I was ready to give him my all, my first, my heart, take the big plunge. I felt I was ready. I pulled into the driveway to see my sister's and my boyfriend’s cars. I had no idea my sister was coming home today. She was still at college in her final year, though I heard she wasn't doing so well. The poor golden girl has not met up with expectations, not that I was worried. My ex-boyfriend showed up three hours early; our date was not for a few more hours. What was he doing here already? Walking in the back door, I heard voices and headed towards them; they were in Dad’s office, with the door slightly ajar. I moved silently to the door and waited outside to hear what secrets they were having now. They occasionally do this when they are planning something and don’t want to include me, but I'm puzzled as to why my boyfriend and sister were included. “We never planned for it to happen.” My sister replied softly, as if she were some kind of victim; she was an expert at that. She should have been an actress; she would have won multiple Oscars by now. “When?” Dad asked, and I waited in the hallway to hear what this was all about. “Christmas day, we had too many of your special eggnogs, and things got heated. The party was more or less over; the presents had been given out, and the food had been eaten. We were all mulling around, talking, when Zoey said something, I don’t remember what—but we went upstairs to continue talking, and ended up in Maxine’s room. We did start by just talking, and before I knew it, we were together, like I said, and I was so lost in that moment that I forgot to use protection. When we came out, no one seemed to notice we had been gone, so we pretended it never happened.” My boyfriend replied, and my heart just hit the floor, as I took in that my sister and boyfriend did something in my bed at Christmas. MY BED. I slept in that bed. I feel suddenly sick at that thought. How could they do that to me? She stole another boyfriend from me again. But he was just as much to blame; I guess our relationship was not that strong yet. Not on his side at least. He continued to pretend and take me out on dates, as if that never happened. Now I feel cheated, dirty, ashamed, and angry all at once. What if she hadn’t gotten pregnant, and I ended up married to that cheating man? Would her wedding present be to tell me she had had a relationship with him first? I wouldn’t put it past her to do such a thing. She had done that before with my boyfriends, and I guess this one was just as vulnerable to her advances as the last one. “He gave me the best Christmas present ever.” My sister crowed with delight. I could imagine her pregnancy. “This is good news. I have wanted grandchildren, and the last grandchild I would have expected would be from you; you have never kept a relationship for long.” Mum said, sounding excited at the news. “What now?” My sister asked, still playing the perfect victim. “We get married?’ My now ex-boyfriend suggested —sounds more like a question. “What about Maxine?” My sister asked, as if I were an inconvenience that needed to be sorted out, and now they think about me, but it didn’t sound like concern. “What about her? This is about my first grandchild, and his or her safety comes first. She will have to live with it.” My mother spat, revealing that famous favoritism, because she had always taken my sister's side in everything, even when proven wrong. They never backed me up. “I am technically her boyfriend.” He started to say something, but was interrupted. “Not anymore, you're not. I will arrange with the local publican to hire the outdoor garden area, and we shall have an engagement party this Saturday. Get that sorted before you start to show, and Maxine will show her support.” Dad’s voice floated out, sounding resolute. I had no say in this, not that I wanted to be his girlfriend any longer; he had proven not to be what I wanted in a guy. “She will have to leave. I need her room for the nursery. I would prefer it if she didn't attend the engagement party. What will those who know she was the real girlfriend show up, and see that it was not Maxine getting engaged?” Mum added. Yep, that was my mother, trying to regain her dignity and save face. I couldn’t take it any longer. I was devastated enough, and listening further to their support for the love for the cheater was eating me up inside. I didn’t want to cry in front of them; the tears were a mix of anger and hurt. I pushed the door open, revealing myself standing there. All faces turned to look at me. “Let me get this straight. You took my boyfriend to MY bed, did that with him, leaving your mess in my bed, as a sort of Christmas present for me. Guess that made your day, thinking I was sleeping in your mess. Now you want my bedroom for the child baby you have created, and I am what, just pushed out the door? Like yesterday’s trash?” I asked to ensure I understood correctly that the whole family was fine with me being tossed aside. “Exactly, I am taking your boyfriend, your bedroom, and you, my dear sister, have to move out.” My sister sounded like she had won the lottery. Her face beamed at her triumph. “Fine with me.” The look of shock would have made me laugh if I were not so numb inside. I moved away to my room and packed what I could into my duffel bag. I will come back for the rest later, when they are not around. My heart was breaking, not because I lost my boyfriend, although that hurt a lot, considering that what I was going to give him for his present today was saved for doing something foolish at least. But also because both parents were supporting this deception, as if it were the best news they had received in a while, that they had been trying to get rid of me for a while, and now succeeded in a spectacular way. I walked downstairs and looked at them. “When I find a place to stay, I will be back for the rest.” I spat at them, a mixture of hurt, anger, and defeat. I never fit into the family, a black sheep, so maybe I should become one. I had always had top grades, won awards, done my best, but even being first, I was still last. My best friend was the only place I could think of going to; it had to be temporary. Jenny will be cool and let me sleep on her couch till I find a new home. I climbed onto my bike and took off to the only sanctuary I had over the years. Jenny welcomed me into her home, like I knew she would, and together we had a pity party consisting of drinks and vanilla fudge ice cream. We called the family and my ex some interesting names, some of which I had never heard before, but they sounded good. The drunker I got, the more inventive the names became. The next morning, after waking up on Jenny’s couch and remembering yesterday, it did not go as planned. I pulled myself together, had a quick shower, and left for work. It was eight in the morning, and Jenny was still asleep when I left. That might be okay for some, but my workday today would be ten hours long, and I was running late. “You're late, night must have gone better than planned,” Mike said jovially. They sort of knew what I was planning last night. The others chuckled along with Mike. I grumbled some shiet and got to work. By the end of the day, Mike pulled me to his office. “Okay, out with it. The guys have been tiptoeing around you all day. What happened? He rejected your advances?” He asked, his hand on my shoulder, keeping me in place, looking at me with concerned eyes, a father figure, better than my dad had ever been. So, I told him what happened when I got home and where I spent the night, and now I'm looking for a place to stay. I was proud of myself; I didn’t cry, or whine, or show any emotion at all —just explained my predicament in cold, emotionless words. Clear and succinct. He said he wouldn’t say anything in the shop, but would talk to the prez. I had no idea why, but I was not in the right frame of mind to question it. Maxine POV Today was my sister's engagement party; engaged to my ex-boyfriend. Yeah, you heard me right, my ex. What a joke that was. I had been with Dan for six months when my sister, who was a year older than I, came home for Christmas and ended up with my boyfriend. She’s a shameless woman, always has been, but I never expected him to sleep with her. I thought we were secure in our relationship. The only good thing I took away from this was that I never went to bed with him; my innocence was still intact, not that I was trying to keep it - I just never got the chance to lose it. She always managed to have any guy I was interested in dump me for her, and when she got bored with them, she’d move on. So, in a way, I didn’t have a boyfriend till she moved out of her home and headed to college. But when my sister came home and met him, she seduced him and got pregnant. He did the whole ‘get down on one knee and proposed’ scene. Apparently, it was romantic, but I wasn't there when he did it because they didn’t want me around. It hurt a lot at the time, and I was glad to have my girlfriends around me, helping me get over it. They say, I dodged a bullet. I agree with them, stupidly. He might have been a sports jock with good looks, but doing this tells me he was weak and shallow, and I was too good for him, or so my BFF says. I prefer to believe them over the excuses my ex made. I had to move out of my home after I had a massive fight with my parents a few days ago, when the truth was exposed; they supported her, not me, and the next thing I knew, I was out the door and the evil sister. The engagement party was intended to introduce him to her friends and make the relationship official, but I was not invited. My parents want nothing to do with me. I made them all uncomfortable, considering he was my boyfriend first. Anyone working out the timeline for the baby can piece it together, and see they were cheating on me, and it would have been awkward, and too many questions would have been raised. Not that I needed to say all of that, I kind of said it all before, but grrrrr, I am so angry at how my so-called ‘family’ kicked me out of my so-called home, with no care for me or my feelings. It was easier to push me away and disown me than have to explain to them that my sister cheated with my boyfriend, and hey presto, a baby was on the way. Because I was kicked out of the house, and only had a short time to pack anything, I took the opportunity of the party to sneak into the house and take more of my possessions, like opening my father's safe, and grabbing every piece of paper relating to me, and a little money too, no a lot of money, and grandma’s jewelry that she left me. So, with the help of my BFF, we packed my belongings and took them to her place until I found a new one. I ride a motorcycle, so I need help. I have the money to buy a new place, but I'm unsure if I want to stay in this town now. Once my apprenticeship is over, I might move away. I stayed that night at Jenny’s place, as I figured out what to do. Today, I am moving into my new place —a bungalow above the bike shop where I work. I am in my final year of apprenticeship, and I am a motorcycle mechanic, proud of it, I might add. I can also work on cars and trucks. If it had a motor, I could fix it; I always could, thanks to my knack for it, which I developed since I was eight, when I fell in love with engines. My Grandpa taught me, kept me out of everyone's way. I guess you could say I was a tomboy, with no frills and lace. My Grandpa kept me sane and busy, so the BS in our house didn’t hurt me as much. The place has two bedrooms and is fully contained, meaning it has everything I need. I had purchased some new sheets and towels, that sort of thing, but it had a fully stocked kitchen; I only needed to buy the food. It might be small, and above a noisy bike shop, but at night it was a quiet area. No one would break into this shop; the local bikie gang owned it. They were good guys, scary, but so far, no trouble for me. My BFF, Jenny, was helping me take my belongings upstairs when a group of bikers arrived and assisted us. I had five boxes and two suitcases filled with all sorts of items. “Thanks, guys, for the help,” I said sweetly, my BFF batting her eyes at them and swaying herself suggestively as she walked and thanked them. She makes me laugh with her antics, which are totally opposite to mine. I like jeans and am rarely seen in a dress, whereas she was seldom seen in jeans. “We got a party at the clubhouse, tomorrow Saturday, you should come and relax a bit, bring your girls with ya,” Bruiser suggested as he walked me to the settee, pushed me down, and handed me a drink they had brought with them. This was how they acted around me, ordered me about. Sometimes, I'm okay with it; other times, I get all worked up and growl back at them. Today was acceptance. I know they mean well, and I feel lucky to have them as family; they try to make me feel better. “That sounds like a blast, count me in, and I can bring two other girl friends with us. Max, do you want me to pick you up?” Jenny offered, taking a drink from one of the guys. She was not a drinker; however, in this situation, I could see her not refusing anything they offered. I guess I'm going, whether I want to or not. “No, I’ll ride over,” I replied as one of the guys ordered pizza. “That’s the spirit. Nothing like the wind in your hair to blow the cobwebs away.” They stayed because they didn’t want me to be alone, not on my first night here. Pizza arrived not long after, and my little bungalow was soon feeling too small and crowded, with six huge bikers in the room. Some sat on the floor; others pulled up one of the three kitchen chairs. I know, I know, three chairs sound odd, but that's what was here, and beggars can’t be choosers; the rent was dirt cheap, and I think the boys are the ones to make sure I had everything I needed. They found out about my situation the next day, because, I was still quiet at work, which was not like me, often I am singing to the radio, or swearing at something, so one of the guys walked to me, to find out what gives, and I softly told them, what went down, and when word got around the bikers heard I needed a place to stay, because I was kicked out of my home and why, they came to me, like protective brothers. Now I have a whole gang of bikers who have my back. I feel privileged to call them friends. They even offered to rough the ex up for me, but I refused the offer, because strangely, I was happy to get rid of the loser if he was a cheating build. Better now than when I am fully invested in our relationship. Plus, I was in deep enough shite with my parents and sister without making it worse. The pizza was gone, my BFF left for home, and the guys did too. It was late, well, for me, midnight. I usually fall asleep quickly because I have to be up for work at five. Tomorrow, being Saturday, I have the morning shift before the party later. They let me leave work early so I can move in here. “Hey, don’t forget to come, we need our prettiest mechanic at the party, some of the boys might need a tune-up,” Bruiser said with a laugh as they climbed on their bikes and left. I know what sort of tune-up he was talking about, and it had nothing to do with a motor. I looked around my new home. It wasn’t much, but it was all mine. The guys were great; they took the empty pizza boxes and beer cans with them, and the place was relatively clean. Not at all what you would expect from a group of rowdy men. The clubhouse. I had never been to it, despite having worked there for nearly four years, and they had never extended an invitation to me. I know they had lots of parties; maybe I was too young. I turned twenty recently, but they might think of me as the fifteen-year-old who showed up one day and told the boss I was going to be his apprentice. He laughed at first and said he would give me a go to prove myself. He thought I was joking and that I would be gone by the weekend, but over the holidays, I worked hard and have been here ever since. Maxine POV The beeping sound of my phone alarm made me sit up and look around. It took a moment to remember where I was. The room had a small curtain that barely kept the light out. There was a streetlight just outside my window. I can envisage myself getting better blackout curtains soon. Although it was annoying, it wasn't among my top priorities for making this a home. The shower was decent, with nice pressure. I followed my morning routine, only to realize how foolish I was to wake up so early, living above my place of work; I didn’t need to ride here. After finishing breakfast and cleaning up the kitchen, I still had half an hour before I needed to be at work. I had two ways to get into my place: one was through the back stairs, and the other was through the shop. With the code to turn off the alarm, I decided to head down and start work early. It was better than moving stuff around; I can do that later. I had a bike to finish by this afternoon. The customer would be here at two. Turned off the alarm, turned on the coffee pot, the radio, and headed to my workstation, where the fat boy was waiting for me to finish. I sat on the chair with casters and began my job, singing loudly to the heavy rock song that came on the radio as I installed the new spark plugs and double-checked the oil. It was a simple, easy-peasy service. Once finished, I started the bike up, let it idle while I made coffee, then returned to rev it a few times. It sounds lumpy, like it was just turning over perfectly; it was music to my ears. I love that throaty, deep, lumpy sound. You can feel it vibrate through my chest. “That’s a sound I loved to hear as I enter work.” My boss, Mike, said as I turned the bike off. “It’s ready to go, unless you want to take it out for a test ride. Want a coffee, pots hot.” I offered as I threw the dirty rag in the bin. “Sure, I will take the bike out for a spin, and you can make me a coffee.” He smirked as he grabbed the bike. I opened the garage door, and Mike took off. I smiled as he disappeared down the street, and I turned to make both of us coffee. If you hadn’t guessed already, I would drink a lot of coffee. I am not a fan of soft drinks or tea; for me, it's coffee or water. With a broom in hand, I began cleaning the shop. I am not out here very often, but I try to sweep the floor at least once a week; they have another apprentice who’s a second year, who gets to do most of the cleaning up, but he’s never here on a Saturday. The sound of the bike returning prompted me to pick up the two cups of coffee and head back out to the workshop. Mike had a massive grin on his face as he parked the bike. “Great job, you are our top mechanic. But don’t tell anyone, or I will have to deny it.” He joked, taking his coffee from my hand as he walked by, no doubt letting the customer know the bike was ready ahead of time. I moved to the next bike, which was a total rebuild; it had been in a minor accident, and while the frame was being checked, I would work on the engine and gearbox. It was the only job on my list at the moment. The bike owner was in no hurry; he had a broken leg, giving me a few weeks to work on his bike and any urgent jobs that might come into the shop. The client arrived and happily took possession of his bike, very happy with the job done. “I hear you’ve been invited to the club party tonight,” Mike said as he rang up the sale on the cash register. “Yep.” I said popping the ‘p’. “You can leave now, we have no more customers expected. Good job today.” It was about one o’clock, near the time I would knock off. “Thanks, boss.” I saluted him and rushed upstairs, before he could change his mind. Giggling all the way up. I heard him chuckling as he locked the door below, behind me. I decided on a quick shower; I didn’t want to smell of oil when going to a party. Put on my skinny black jeans, a black blouse that had red flames on the back and on the pockets, black boots that had some chains around the ankle, and hair in a ponytail. I will get what we call helmet hair, so it's a waste to do much with it now. I use mascara and strawberry lippie, which is more to moisturize, which tend to dry out when I ride my bike, and that's it. The last thing I grabbed before leaving was my jacket. My mum used to grumble that I wasn’t like my sister and put more effort into my appearance, but I like who I am, and I didn’t like wearing lots of makeup; it was my choice, and I feel that I am not a frilly, lacey chick. It was a deal breaker with my mum. She had my sister dress up and left me in the care of Grandpa until he died when I was seventeen. It broke me when he left the world. He was the only person who got me. My grandma had been gone since I was young, and I filled the hole in his heart with my love for bikes and fishing. He left me his money and bikes. Dad got his house and business. My mum hated that I gained all that money. When Grandma died, she left me her jewelry, and Grandpa made sure to keep it safe till I was old enough to have it. I ate something and put some more of my stuff in the cupboards before my phone chimed to let me know my girlfriends were on their way to the party. I pulled my bike out of the small garage and started it up. I threw my leg over and took off, heading to the property. The clubhouse was half an hour out of town, set on a large property a little bit back from the road. Ten minutes later, I came up behind the girls and hung out behind them. My friend waved me on to take the lead. I shrugged and overtook her. The turn off arrived, and I rode happily up the long drive, and trees lined the road. An open, large steel gate appeared, and I was glad it was still enough light to see clearly. Men stood by the entrance, watching us arrive. “Hey.” I greeted the biggest man I had ever seen. “Who invited you here?” The man asked gruffly, in a deep husky voice. “Bruiser,” I answered, with a firm, clear voice, hoping that the fact that he frightened me would be noticed in my voice. He pulled out his phone and called, I assumed, Bruiser. “Max?” He asked, as he looked at me questioningly, and I nodded. He said something more and hung up the phone. “Come in, the car behind your girls?” He looked at the car behind, which clearly had a woman in it. “Yep,” I replied, not at all liking how he intimidated me with his manner. Perhaps it was the way they greeted strangers. One look makes the weak run. Well, I am not weak, and I won't be running. Maxine POV This rather large biker leaned in to look inside the car, his bulky figure partially blocking the open window, causing the girl nearest it to back away. Satisfied, he looked at me with a knowing smirk, then motioned for us to enter. The clubhouse was nothing like I had imagined. Firstly, it was four levels high. Verandah all the way around, that I could see. It was more like a mansion than a clubhouse. Women were gathered near the door, looking in, as if they were waiting for something; some were sitting on the wooden fence that surrounded the verandah. They were dressed in barely anything, showing all that was available, some love that sort of thing. People like me dress to stay warm or cool and don’t care about showing off the goods. Bikes sat in neat rows in front, and cars were parked to the left of the building; the ratio of bikes to cars was approximately four bikes to one car. I parked the bike with the others, climbed off, and took off my helmet. I placed the lid on the bike and shook out my hair while waiting for the girls to park and come to me. I heard some muffled scoffs, but I couldn’t care less —I wasn't here to please them. Bruiser came out of the clubhouse behind me. “Max, you came by bike. Sweet.” He gave me a greeting nod and moved to take a look at my bike. The paint job was a wolf, fading in smoke. It took me months to finish, as I kept changing my mind, and the smoke obscured the mistakes. “Who did the paint job?” He asked as he moved around to look at it from all sides. “Me.” I was proud of the results. “Does Mike know you can paint?” He sounded surprised. “He has seen my bike when I used the garage to do a service. He never asked who did the paint work, just that he liked it.” “Sweet, looks like we have someone to do a paint job, and possibly a full one. We have a family reunion in a few weeks, and the ladies are invited to come along. You can join us.” Bruiser offered as my ladies arrived; they were not included in that invitation, I assumed, because I have a bike. “Bruiser, you already met Jenny, Melony, Karen, and Heather, my other BFF, and Alice, Karen's sister, and BFF to my sister.” Adding that comment, hoping that Bruiser knew precisely what that woman was like. Alice battered her eyes and leaned forward to show off what was under that almost shirt. My ladies greeted him with the respect he deserved. “Ladies. Hands out.” Bruiser stamped the girl's backs of their hands; they all had a bear, except Alice, who had a rabbit on her hand. I frowned, trying to figure out what the rabbit was all about. He pushed my hand away. “You are family, no need for a stamp.” I couldn’t stop the smile that crossed my face. I felt so special. Then the shoe dropped. Rabbit had another meaning. Bruiser got my meaning loud and clear. It took a while to understand the purpose of the stamps. “Come inside and meet the ole ladies.” I understood what he meant; these were ladies who had been claimed and had a different level of respect that those not claimed would never understand. I have met a few of them over the years and gained more insight into club life. They respect me as much as I respect them. We entered the place, and the girls who had been waiting outside gave us a dirty look, as they were still stopped from entering. “What's so special about them?” One pouted, but Bruiser ignored her. Inside was cleaner than I had expected —my fault for judging a group of men, since they often look messy when I see them at the shop. The place had a large, open space, with tables where you stand, as well as booths dotted along the walls, and stools at the bar, which ran the full length of the room. I loved the spacious room, the pictures on the walls, and some bike parts scattered about as decoration. A few barstools are bike seats; it was different, and it appealed to me. Being a lover of bikes. “Sticks.” I greeted her as we walked to the ladies Bruiser was taking us to. “Hey, Maxie Max. How's it blowing?” She stood up and pulled me into a warm embrace. This chick had no filter or personal space. Sticks was the President's; her real name was Sandra, but she was my height at five-nine, and she had no shape to her body, just a lovely bean pole, almost no chest to speak of, yet she had had two boys. Hence the name Sticks. “Doing better,” I replied. She would know what was going on. She introduced us to the other ladies with her, and it didn’t surprise me that Alice had already moved away from us before we had finished the introductions. “What’s her story?” Sticks asked as she watched Alice start to try her luck with the club men. “Same as my sister. Bruiser put a rabbit stamp on her hand.” Sticks and the other girl roared out laughing. “She will be used, snugged to the side by the time the night is over, and I doubt they would let her back in. We don’t need her sort in the club.” Maggie spouted as we watched a patch member knock her offer back. “The regulars are not going to like her working their turf. So, to speak.” Tootsie said, with a smirk, that the regulars know the rules and stick with them. Don’t reach a patch member; if interested, they will come to you. Nom’s are fair game. But most girls would prefer a patch member. Don’t have a relationship with a taken member; the women will gang up and make your life miserable if you feel one of theirs. Wait to be let into the clubhouse and then stay in the public area. No going upstairs uninvited. The first two floors are designated for guest rooms, while the top floor is reserved for permanent residences. Those who don’t have a home of their own to go to. They are private and not open to wandering girls. Don’t sit on someone’s bike, unless you are given permission. The patched old ladies are the bosses of the girls; they tell you to leave or do something, and you do it. There were more rules for the girls visiting, but I couldn’t remember them all at that moment. None had applied to me until now. Alice had already broken at least three, to my knowledge. I am staying out of it. That rabbit on her hand told the members that she would open her legs for any of them, and no one would support her if she broke the rules. That she was not welcome to return, in other words, have your fun, and then abandoned her to the curb. The doors were opened to let the other girls in. They looked at us in the no-go zone and pouted. We were sitting in an off-limits area unless we were invited. From what I understood, they were here to spread their legs and give the guys some relief, but not become part of the family. They might be hopeful that something would change; it was rare for a patch member to take one of these ladies, who had most likely been with every unattached member of the gang, at some point. My girls left me with Sticks and wandered about with the other ladies, getting the tour of the place. “Want to look around?” Sticks were offered, and before I knew it, we were walking around the vast ground floor. “Ready to see the workshop, the guys might talk you into helping out, once they know who you are.” Sticks led me down a small pathway, lined with flowering shrubs, and to a set of large, farm-size sheds. Inside were bikes, some in bits, others crumpled from an accident, and others like they had just been detailed and were someone's pride and joy. There was a workshop here, where men were working on their bikes. They looked up at us when we entered and frowned. If Sticks were not with me, they would have most likely growled at me to get out. “Who’s this Sticks?” A monster of a man asked, in the deepest voice I have ever heard, he looked a lot like the man at the gate, but with more toned muscles. Just a tad taller, and although he looked big and scary, he made my lady parts sing in a way they had never sung before. Tank POV A few guys aren't into parties, so I stopped going until later in the night, when the girls who showed up were already taken. I dislike the women who come here hoping to adopt our lifestyle. I prefer to use my hand rather than one of those women. Don’t get me wrong, I have had my share of women; however, I had a girl who wanted me to take her, and when I did, she ended up in the hospital, because I am not exactly a little man. And I have not been with a woman since. Like my brother, we are both large men; he is six feet six inches tall, and I am six feet eight inches tall. He’s carrying extra weight, where I am all muscle. I pride myself on keeping in shape, but being this large has its downfall, and having a large build has had me worried about hurting another woman. No matter how much I might want to, I can’t; I never want to go through that again. The Prez was the only person who knew why I wouldn’t join the parties; he was with me when we took the girl to the hospital, she forgave me, and tried to pursue me to keep her, but I couldn’t. Each time I started, I had flashes of her screams, and my confidence went down like a popped balloon. We were in the workshop, doing some minor tune-ups. As I prepare for our ride, I'm excited. When they bring the ladies, the men are usually in a better mood and on their best behavior. I was looking at rebuild. I started it last week. We have a few wrecks that need to be started; some have been sitting here far too long. We can only go so far before we need Mike's help. None of us was a mechanic. I was scratching my head, as I was almost at the end of my knowledge, when I heard someone enter, and a soft perfume that shouldn’t be in this shed hit my nose. Stick’s voice reached my ears, and I lifted my head up to look i

My fiancé's cØk felt bigger than ever last night. He fvked me so good after our engagement party in the dark, but when I woke up from the hangover, my blood ran cold—not only because I was in the wrong room, but because the man beside me wasn't my fiancé... it was his best friend, and he'd cvm ins!de me last night... I managed to get away from the party and climb the staircase to the room I shared with my fiancé, Lucas. It was our engagement party, and after the official gathering with Lucas's parents at their company, we decided to head back to his townhouse and party with just our friends. His friends, actually. His friends were snobs who didn't like associating with people from the lower class. Lucas was super rich, and that meant all his friends were rich too. I, on the other hand, was from a poor family and worked in Lucas's family's company as a junior staff member. That was how we met and fell in love. Many people were against our relationship, especially his parents, but he defied them and engaged me. So now they just had to ignore me because there was nothing else they could do. I stumbled my way to the hallway where the rooms were. I opened the knob on my right and let myself into the room. The room was already filled with light. I took off my shoes and clothes and climbed into the bed, my eyelids heavy and my body swaying slightly from the haze. I had drunk just two glasses, but I was very drunk. I just wanted to sleep till the next day. I was just about to doze off when I felt a manly hand wrap around my waist, followed by a deep sigh. I smiled to myself, my lips curving lazily in the dim glow. Lucas. The man moved closer to me, and I could feel him press his body against mine, his warmth enveloping me like a blanket. I could feel his h@rd-on press against my back. I arched my hips instinctively, a soft hum escaping my throat, so that it could nestle between my butt crack. His hands crept up slowly, fingers tracing my skin, and cupped my bre@sts, his grip firm yet teasing. "Hmmmm," I mo@ned sleepily, my voice muffled against the pillow, my eyes fluttering shut in contentment. He took that as encouragement, his breath quickening against my ear, as he squeezed my bre@sts and pinched my n!pples, sending sparks through my body. I was now mo@ning loudly from his touch, my back arching slightly, and I adjusted my position so that his cØk, which was already rock hard, was against the entr@nce of my pussi. He leaned down, his stubble grazing my skin, and latched onto the side of my neck, biting and kissing with a hungry intensity that made me gasp. I knew that I would have a h!ckey on my neck, the mark blooming red under his lips, but I didn't care. I felt so hØrny that it didn't matter to me that people were having a party downstairs, their laughter faintly echoing up the stairs. I took one of his big veiny hands, feeling the rough texture of his palm, and guided it to my pussi, which was already w3t from what we were doing. His f!ngers slipped down from my cl!t to my fØlds, coating them with my ju1ces, and he brought them to my n!pple. He pinched the n!pple so hard that I j3rked against him, a sharp cry leaving my lips, and then mo@ned when the pain subsided into a throbbing ple@sure. He repeated the action again, except this time he brought his f!ngers to my mouth. Without even thinking about it, I closed my lips around his fingers and svked on them like my life depended on it, my tongue swirling greedily. My actions surprised me—I had never considered myself a s3x freak to do something like that. I had always stuck with the traditional v@nilla s3x. Maybe it was the alcohol, but whatever it was, I loved it, my cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and excitement. He returned his f!nger to my cl!t and rubbed gently against it, his touch light but insistent, building the pressure inside me. He kept on rubbing my cl!t until my org@sm tore into me, and I screamed, my body convulsing, fists clenching the sheets as waves of ecst@sy rolled through me. I was still cØming down from my high, my chest heaving with ragged breaths, my skin tingling, when I felt him lift my legs, his strong hands gripping my thighs firmly. The next thing I felt was his er3ction against my pussi. When I felt the he@d against my op3ning, I froze, my brows furrowing in confusion. He was definitely bigger than he usually was. Was it the alcohol? Did alcohol make men bigger? Before I could find an answer, he started pushing into my pussi, and I forgot everything that was on my mind, my thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind. Fk, he felt divine. I could feel his cØk stretching my pussi walls, my inner muscles cl3nching around him involuntarily. He was definitely bigger. And th!cker. I could feel the veins on his cØk pulsing against me. I could feel his t/p rubbing along my c3rvix in an oddly ple@surable, yet somewhat uncomfortable caress. My cvnt continued to expand and swallow his cØk, my h!ps shifting restlessly to accommodate him. He kept on pushing until he was buried to the hilt. I had never felt so full. It was like I could feel him everywhere, my toes curling and my fingers digging into the mattress. I felt like he'd already hit the end of me. He came to a halt. He was completely still ins/de of me now, waiting for me to adjust, and to let the tight grip of my cvnt relax. His breath was harsh in my ear, hot and uneven, and I could tell he was holding himself in check, his body tense against mine. I pushed myself closer to him as a sign of encouragement, my ašs grinding back against his hips with a needy wiggle. Luckily, he understood it and started moving his hips, his hands tightening on my waist. At first, he started with a slow and deep movement, each thrvst deliberate, making me wh!mper softly. Then it got harder—he would withdraw almost entirely, leaving me empty and aching, and then slam back into my pussi with force, his hips snapping forward. Then, he started thrvsting faster into me. I could feel an org@sm building swiftly, my face contorting in ple@sure, mouth open in silent gasps. "It feels so good. Don't stop," I said, reaching down between my legs and tØuching myself, my f!ngers circling my cl!t frantically. He increased the tempo and started pØunding !nto me roughly, his grunts mixing with the slap of skin on skin. "You like that, don't you?" he groaned into my ear, his voice low and gravelly. My body froze for a second, a shiver running down my spine. Even with the blurry state of my mind, I knew that wasn't Lucas's voice. Was my mind playing tricks with me? My eyes widened slightly in the darkness, but the fog of arØusal clouded my thoughts. Before I could ponder on it, I felt him bite on the sens/tive spØt on my neck, his teeth grazing just right, and that made me explode. My head tossed back as I mo@ned out my rele@se, my neck exposed, body shuddering violently. I could feel tremors in my pussi, and my legs were shaking uncontrollably, quivering in his grasp, that he had to hold my l3gs still to continue pØunding hard !nto me. I felt my back arch on its own, as my body pushed itself down on him, trying to take him completely ins/de, my muscles straining with effort. "Don't stop. Make me cvm again for your cØk," I pleaded, the ple@sure I felt making me delirious to my actions, my voice breathy and desperate. I had never been this wild in the bed before. He heeded my pleas and went faster, his pace relentless, so that I kept cvmming without stop, one org@sm blending into the next, my cries echoing in the room. He nipped my ear with his sharp teeth before growling, "I'm going to cvm so hard and so far ins!de of your sweet tight little pussi." All of a sudden, he let out a howl and began to unload spurt after spurt of hot sticky cvm deep in my pussi, his body jerking with each release, his f!ngers digging into my hips. My pussi milked every last drop from him until his b@lls were empty, my w@lls contracting rhythmically around him. I felt him kiss my neck softly, his lips lingering tenderly—something he had never done in the past. He had always left to clean up himself the moment he was done. Something about the kiss was so soothing, warm and gentle against my flushed skin, that I dozed off immediately, my body relaxing completely. Chapter 2 The first thing I noticed when I woke up was the headache. It felt like someone had taken a hammer to my skull. I groaned, pressing my palms against my temples, and swore to myself I'd never touch alcohol again in my life. The next thing I noticed was the soreness between my legs, my pussi felt like it had been scraped raw, a dull ache pulsing with every slight movement. Confusion hit me like a wave. I peeled my eyes open, wincing at the light filtering through the curtains, and my heart lurched. This wasn't my room. Where the hell was I? I sat up slowly, clutching the sheets to my chest, and thankfully, the pounding in my head started to ease. I blinked, taking in my surroundings, and a flicker of recognition sparked. I knew this room. It was the guest room opposite the one I shared with Lucas. It was the room I used to stay in when I first started visiting him, back when we were just dating, before we got engaged. But what was I doing here? I was still lost in my thoughts, my brow furrowed as I tried to piece together the night, when I noticed movement on the bed beside me. My head snapped to the side, and I saw a man lying there, his chest rising and falling in a deep, steady rhythm. At first, my foggy brain thought it was Lucas but as my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I looked closer. Horror clawed at my chest, my breath catching in my throat. This wasn't Lucas. I scrambled out of the bed, dragging the sheets with me to cover my naked body. My legs trembled as I stumbled backward, my eyes locked on the stranger. Thankfully, he didn't stir, his face relaxed in deep sleep, one arm flung carelessly over the pillow. Who was this man? What was he doing in this bed? Why was I in this bed? Why was I sore... My eyes widened as realization crashed over me like a bucket of ice water. No… no… no. Oh my God, what have I done? This couldn't be happening to me. Panic surged, my hands shaking as I clutched the sheets tighter. Lucas would be furious if he walked in and saw me like this, tangled in bed with a stranger. I had to leave. Now. I rushed to the floor, my movements frantic as I gathered my clothes. My dress was crumpled in a heap and my shoes were scattered. I dressed as quickly as my trembling fingers allowed, my breath hitching with every sound from the house, terrified someone might catch me. When I was done, I crept to the door, my bare feet silent against the hardwood. I peeked into the hallway, my pulse racing, and when I saw it was empty, I bolted, running toward the front door like my life depended on it. Once outside, the cool morning air hit my face, snapping me further awake. I hailed a cab, my voice shaky as I gave the driver my apartment address. I realized too late I didn't have my purse. Desperate, I begged the security guard at Lucas's townhouse to lend me some cash to pay the fare. He gave me a curious look but handed over a few bills, and I thanked him profusely before the cab sped off. When I finally reached the safety of my apartment, I collapsed against the door, sliding to the floor as sobs tore through me. My chest heaved, tears streaming down my face, smudging last night's makeup. I didn't even remember what happened, but I knew with sickening certainty that I had slept with that stranger. The soreness, the unfamiliar fullness I could still feel...it was undeniable. How would I tell Lucas I had slept with someone else? He would be livid. He wouldn't care that I was drunk, that I could barely piece together the night. God, I might lose him. The thought made my sobs come harder, my hands clutching my knees as I rocked back and forth on the cold floor. I don't know how long I stayed there, curled up and crying, but the shrill ring of my house phone cut through the haze. My heart jumped, fear spiking that somehow everyone already knew what I'd done. I shook my head at the ridiculous thought and pushed myself up, my legs wobbly as I shuffled to the phone. "Hello?" I said, picking it up. It was a miracle my voice came out steady despite the storm raging inside me. "Camille? Oh, thank God. I was worried about you. Where are you?" Lucas's voice was laced with concern, and my stomach twisted with guilt. "I'm at my apartment," I said, my fingers tightening around the receiver. "Is everything alright?" "Of course it is. Why wouldn't it be?" I forced a lightness into my tone. "I don't know. It's just weird that you rushed off to your house so early. Your bag's still here." "Yeah, I forgot it," I mumbled, my mind racing for an excuse."I was so desperate to get off the party dress that I forgot my purse." "Your clothes are in the house." He pointed out. "Are you okay?" "Yes, I am. I… I forgot I had practically moved in," I lied, biting my lip. "Is it that time of the month?" "Yes," I seized the excuse, relief flooding me. "It came so early, and I had to leave. I'm sorry, babe." "No need. I understand." His voice softened, and I could picture him running a hand through his dark hair, his brow creasing slightly. "You do remember we're having dinner with my parents this evening, right?" Shit. I had completely forgotten. My stomach sank. I wasn't looking forward to it then, and I definitely wasn't now. The last thing I needed was to face his parents, who had never hidden their disapproval of me. "Yeah, I remember," I said, my voice flat. "I'll be at the house by six." "Okay. Take care. And please wear something…" "Classy. I know," I finished for him, my lips pressing into a thin line. "Why don't you wear something from our last shopping trip? Mom would really warm up to you if she sees you putting in an effort to fit into our world." "Of course, babe. Erm, I need to go. I have a lot of things to do today." I needed to end this call before I broke down again. "Cool. I'll talk to you later." "Yeah. Love yo..." The line went dead before I could finish. I stared at the phone, my heart sinking further, before gently placing it back on the receiver. At least Lucas didn't know what happened last night. I still had time to figure out what to do. By 5:30, I was back at Lucas's house, dressed in a sleek navy dress from our last shopping trip, my hair pulled into an elegant updo to mask how frazzled I felt. We headed to his parents' estate together,. Throughout the short journey, my fingers twisted nervously in my lap. Lucas's parents lived in a private estate, their sprawling mansion a testament to their status as one of Chicago's richest families. Their company, Vaughmont Breweries, founded by Lucas's great-grandfather and his friend, had flourished over generations, its name synonymous with wealth and power. As we pulled up to the iron gates, my nerves tightened like a coiled spring. It felt like everyone already knew what I'd done, like this dinner was a trap to humiliate me. "Hey," Lucas said, his hand closing over mine as I lingered at the foot of the front steps. His touch was warm but it only deepened my guilt. "What's wrong? You've been acting strange since we started driving. Are you okay?" His green eyes searched mine, concern etched into his handsome face. "Yes, I am," I lied, forcing a small smile, my lips trembling slightly. "Are you sure? You know how my parents are. I want you to be at your best at this dinner. I was hoping they'd warm up to you." "I understand. Don't worry about me. I'm fine," I said, squeezing his hand back, though my stomach churned. "Okay. Let's go." Together, we walked into the house. The housekeeper, a stern woman with gray streaks in her hair, informed us that his parents were already in the dining room, and we made our way there, my heart pounding with every step. "You're late," Mrs. Cecil Vaughan said the moment we stepped into the dining room, her voice sharp as she adjusted her pearl necklace, her eyes narrowing at me. "I'm sorry. We got caught up in traffic," Lucas said smoothly, walking over to his mother. He leaned down and kissed her cheek, his charm effortless. Then he turned to his father. "Hello, Father." Mr. Everett Vaughan merely nodded, his face impassive as he continued cutting into his steak. Lucas took his seat beside his mother, and I followed, settling opposite him, my hands clasped tightly in my lap. "Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Vaughan," I said, my voice steady despite the cold reception. As expected, they didn't respond, didn't even glance my way words. The dinner went on, the conversation flowing solely between Lucas and his parents. They discussed work, the latest Vaughmont deals, and random society gossip. Lucas didn't try to include me, and I didn't bother inserting myself, my fork pushing food around my plate as I kept my eyes down. When the second course was about to be served, I heard the faint chime of the doorbell. My head tilted slightly, curious. "Oh, finally. He's here," Mrs. Cecil said, her face lighting up with a rare, genuine smile, her eyes sparkling with excitement. It was the happiest I'd ever seen her about someone's presence. Was someone joining us for dinner? I turned to Lucas, my brow furrowing. "Is someone else joining us for dinner?" I asked, keeping my voice low. "Oh, didn't I tell you?" he said, his tone casual as he wiped his mouth with a napkin. "My best friend is here in Chicago." "Your best friend?" I blinked, caught off guard. Lucas had never mentioned a best friend before. "Yes. He flew in yesterday to attend the engagement party, but his plane arrived late. He was at the house last night for the party, but he didn't really mingle much. You must have seen him." Seen him? I didn't even know he had a best friend, let alone that he was in Chicago. A pang of hurt twisted in my chest that Lucas hadn't shared something so important, but I pushed it down. I was about to respond when I heard footsteps behind me from the entrance. Lucas stood from his chair, a wide grin spreading across his face as he walked toward the newcomer. "Hey, man!" he called, his voice warm. Mrs. Cecil's smile widened, her hands clasping together. "Damien, it's so nice to finally see you. I almost thought you wouldn't be able to tear yourself away from work." "And miss seeing Lucas one last time before he's off the market? Not a chance," a deep voice replied. "Speaking of," Lucas said, turning back to me, "Camille, I want you to meet my best friend." Still stinging from the fact that Lucas hadn't told me about his best friend, I mustered the best fake smile I could, smoothing my dress as I stood from the chair. I turned and moved toward Lucas, but before I could reach him, my eyes met the eyes of his best friend. I froze mid-step, my breath catching in my throat, my heart stopping as if someone had yanked the plug from my chest. My eyes refused to believe what they were seeing. It was the man from last night. The man I had slept with. Chapter 3 I stared at Camille, my jaw tight, masking the storm of emotions churning inside me. She looked scared-terrified, even- her wide eyes darting nervously, her face pale as if she'd seen a ghost. I could only imagine what was racing through her mind. I was shocked too, seeing her standing there, but I buried it deep, my expression cool and controlled, betraying nothing. Beneath the shock, anger simmered. Did she know who I was when she threw herself at me last night? I couldn't believe the woman I'd slept with was my best friend's fiancée. "Camille," Lucas said, his voice snapping her back to reality, his brow furrowing slightly as he noticed her frozen stance. She blinked, realization dawning that she'd been staring at me strangely in front of Lucas and his parents. Her lips parted, and she forced a shaky smile, her fingers twitching at her sides. "Are you okay? Your face is as white as a sheet," Lucas asked, concern lacing his tone, his hand reaching for hers. If only he knew why she looked like she was about to bolt. "I'm fine," she said quickly, her voice a touch too high, her eyes flicking to me before darting away. Lucas's gaze shifted between us, his eyes narrowing slightly, suspicion creeping into his expression. "Do you two know each other?" he asked, his tone careful, searching. Camille opened her mouth, but I cut in before she could speak. "No, we don't." She looked shocked at my response, her eyes widening briefly, her lips parting as if she couldn't believe I'd lied. Did she think I'd announce to Lucas, over his parents' dining table, that his fiancée was the woman I'd fucked last night? That she'd mo@ned and writhed under me while a party raged downstairs? "It's nice to finally meet you," she said after a beat, her voice steadying, though her hands trembled slightly as she smoothed her dress. "Lucas has said a lot about you." I nodded, playing along, my lips curving into a polite smile that didn't reach my eyes. "I hope it's the good stuff." Lucas seemed to relax, his shoulders loosening as he pulled Camille closer, wrapping an arm around her waist. My eyes flicked to his hand, possessive and deliberate, a clear message: she's mine. I forced my gaze away. "Camille, this is my best friend, Damien Montgomery," Lucas said, his voice warm with pride. "Damien, this is my fiancée, Camille Hunt." I extended my hand. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance," I said, my tone neutral, though my eyes locked onto hers, daring her to keep up the charade. She eyed my hand warily, her fingers hesitating before brushing against mine in the briefest handshake, her skin cold and clammy. She jerked her hand back quickly, as if burned, her cheeks flushing. If she didn't want Lucas to suspect anything, she needed to get her act together. Her nervousness was practically screaming guilt. "Why don't we all sit and finish dinner?" Cecil said, her voice cutting through the tension, as she gestured to the table. We took our seats and resumed the dinner. Camille kept stealing glances at me, her eyes darting nervously every time I moved, as if she expected me to drop the bombshell at any moment. I could practically hear her heart pounding, her fear palpable. She sat rigid, her fork trembling slightly as she pushed food around her plate. Strangely, I was attuned to her every movement, too. Without looking directly at her, I noticed the way her fingers gripped her glass too tightly, the way her breath hitched when our eyes accidentally met. It disturbed me, this hyper-awareness of her. I didn't want anything to do with her....not after last night. Besides the fact that she was my best friend's fiancée, she was clearly a gold digger, clawing her way into Lucas's world. I didn't mess with women like that. Thankfully, Cecil spoke up, pulling my attention away from Camille's anxious fidgeting. "So, Damien, how has work been? You've barely made time to visit us since you moved to London," she said, her tone warm, her perfectly manicured fingers resting on her wine glass. I leaned back in my chair, forcing a casual smile. "Just been busy. The business requires my presence a lot." Cecil nodded, her lips pursed in understanding. "I get it. Business before pleasure." "Exactly," I said, my gaze sliding to Camille for a moment before returning to Cecil. "Though it's nice to see Lucas finally settling down. Never thought I'd see the day." I turned to Camille, my voice taking on a teasing edge. "I'm curious about the woman who managed to get Lucas to agree to walk down the aisle. How did you two meet?" Camille was poking at her food, her fork scraping softly against the plate, but she didn't respond immediately. She didn't even seem to hear me, her eyes distant, lost in thought. Lucas tapped her gently on the arm, his brow creasing. "Camille?" he prompted. She jolted, her head snapping up, her eyes meeting everyone's at the table. Mrs. Cecil's face twisted with irritation, her lips thinning- she clearly didn't approve of Camille. That made two of us. "Yes?" Camille said, her voice small, her cheeks flushing under the scrutiny. "Damien asked you a question," Lucas said, his tone patient but firm. "Oh. Sorry, I got lost for a moment," she mumbled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear nervously. I gave her a chilling smile, my eyes narrowing slightly. "It's alright. I asked how you two met. It's just surprising that Lucas would want to settle down after knowing you for, what, like two months?" "Three months," she corrected quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. "We've known each other for three months. We met in the lobby of the company. I was working as a receptionist…" That caught my attention. I raised an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly. "You're a receptionist? Really?" I glanced at Lucas, my tone laced with disbelief. "A receptionist? Really?" Lucas had never been one to dally with the help, let alone fall for one. Camille's eyes flashed with offense, her chin lifting slightly. "Yes. Is there a problem?" she asked, her voice sharper now, though her hands still trembled in her lap. "No, I'm just intrigued," I said, my smile tight. "Lucas never seemed like the type to go after junior staff." "Our status didn't matter to us," she said, her voice gaining strength as she glanced at Lucas, her eyes softening. "It was love at first sight." Lucas smiled at her, his hand squeezing her shoulder, but I couldn't shake the unease curling in my gut. Love at first sight? Or a calculated move to climb the social ladder? I leaned back, watching her closely, the memory of last night burning in my mind. Whatever game she was playing, I wasn't about to let her drag Lucas or me down with her. Chapter 4 "Hmm," I responded absentmindedly, swirling the brandy in my glass, my mind still reeling from the dinner. "I'm so elated for you." The words tasted bitter, forced. "I really wish I could make it to the wedding, but I can't. I'll be extremely busy then." After what happened last night, there was no way in hell I was showing up to their wedding. I didn't trust Camille one bit. Who knew what she'd try to pull in a room full of people? Lucas tilted his head, his brow creasing slightly. "You don't even know when the wedding will take place." I winced inwardly, cursing my slip-up. Now it sounded like I was dodging the event for no reason. "I know it'll be soon, considering how fast you're moving," I said smoothly, recovering. "And right now, I've got an important deal I'm closing in Seoul. I won't be around much, which is why I canceled everything to be here. Once the deal's done, I'll definitely visit you two lovebirds. Who knows, maybe by then I'll have a little godson or goddaughter on the way." I flashed a teasing grin, hoping to steer the conversation away from my blunder. Cecil interjected. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. We still have plenty of time for that." I nodded, raising my wine glass. "Of course. Let's cheer to the new couple." My voice was steady, but my eyes flicked to Camille, who hesitated, her fingers tightening around her glass before she reluctantly lifted it. "Cheers," Lucas said, clinking his glass against mine, his smile wide. The rest followed, though Camille's movements were stiff, her lips barely touching the rim of her glass. When dinner finally ended, Cecil wasn't done with her questions. "How long will you be staying in Chicago, Damien?" "I'm leaving tonight," I said, keeping my tone casual. "I've got a meeting tomorrow. My things are already on the private jet." Lucas looked surprised, his eyebrows shooting up. "So soon?" From the corner of my eye, I caught the relief flooding Camille's face, her shoulders sagging slightly, her lips parting in a quiet exhale. She thought she was off the hook. Not quite. "Yeah," I said, glancing at Lucas. "I would've loved to stay longer, but work won't let me." Lucas clapped a hand on my shoulder, his grin returning. "Well, since you're leaving so early, you're spending the rest of the night with me. You owe me a drinking session. We've got a lot of catching up to do." Cecil stood, smoothing her dress. "You two go ahead. Everett and I are tired and need to sleep." With that, she and Lucas's father swept out of the room, leaving just me, Lucas, and Camille. I glanced at Camille, who sat there looking like a startled dove, her eyes wide and her hands clasped tightly in her lap. I knew better now than to buy her innocent act. "What about her?" I asked, nodding toward her, my tone neutral but pointed. Camille's head snapped up, her voice rushed. "Oh, I'm fine. I can stay here and wait." I didn't want to spend another second around her, but leaving her alone felt like giving her a chance to spin some story. "You can come with us," I said, my voice flat, daring her to refuse. "No need," she said quickly, her fingers twisting the edge of her napkin. "I wouldn't want to intrude." "Okay," I said, shrugging, letting it go. Let her stew in her guilt. Lucas turned to her, his tone gentle. "You can ask the housekeeper if you need anything." We left the dining room and headed to the liquor room, the air between us lighter without Camille's nervous energy. I sank into one of the plush leather sofas, the scent of aged wood and whiskey filling the space. Lucas went to the bar, pouring us each a glass of brandy, the amber liquid catching the light. "Here you go," he said, handing me a glass before settling into the sofa across from me. "Thanks, man." I took a sip, savoring the burn, then set the glass on the table. After last night with Camille, I wasn't touching alcohol around her again. Not a chance. Lucas raised an eyebrow, leaning back with a smirk. "Really? You used to be a party animal. What happened?" I chuckled, though it felt hollow. "I grew up. Plus, I'm still nursing a bit of a hangover from the jetlag and the alcohol I had yesterday." The lie came easily, but my mind flashed to last night—Camille's mo@ns, her body arching under me. I shoved the thought away. "You totally missed out on all the fun last night," Lucas said, shaking his head. "What were you even doing after you left the party?" Screwing your fiancée senseless? The thought popped into my head and I crushed it immediately, my jaw tightening. "Sleeping, actually," I said, keeping my voice even. "I went to one of your guest rooms and dozed off. Left this morning." "You could've stayed so we could spend more time together," Lucas said, his tone almost wistful. "We barely see each other anymore." "We've been busy running companies," I said, steering the conversation toward safer ground. "And one of us now has all his time dedicated to a woman." I raised an eyebrow, keeping my tone light but probing. Lucas just smiled, taking a sip from his glass, his eyes softening. I pushed further, careful to sound uninterested. "I never thought I'd see the day a woman would tame you." He scoffed, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees. "As if any woman could ever tame me." Relief flickered through me. He wasn't head over heels for her. That was good. It meant I wouldn't completely shatter him when I eventually told him about last night. "What do you think about her?" he asked suddenly, catching me off guard as he poured himself another drink, his eyes on the glass. I froze for a split second, my eyes narrowing before I caught myself. Why was he asking me that? I shrugged, playing it cool. "She's okay." Lucas gave me a long look, his head tilting as if waiting for more. "I mean, she's beautiful," I said, careful not to let my thoughts slip to how she'd felt under me, how she'd mo@ned. "Seems smart. A bit clumsy." He rolled his eyes, a fond smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah, I know all that. But I meant your personal opinion about her." This was my chance to plant a seed, to hint at the truth without blowing everything up. "I don't know," I said slowly, swirling my glass. "I think you should slow down on things." He didn't look surprised, just curious. "Why?" I wanted to tell him- God, I wanted to lay it all out. But the guilt gnawed at me. Telling him would strain our friendship, maybe break it. Lucas would think I'd slept with Camille on purpose, maybe to get back at him for something in the past. I hadn't even known who she was when it happened- it hadn't even crossed my mind until I saw her tonight. But I knew how Lucas's mind worked. He'd have doubts, and I wasn't about to lose my best friend over some gold-digging receptionist. So I went for a safer answer. "Because it's obvious she's a gold digger who's just around you for your money," I said, my tone blunt but measured. His brows shot up. "Are you saying a woman can't love me unless I'm rich?" "I'm not saying that," I countered, leaning forward. "I just mean she's using you as a social ladder. Maybe take things a bit slower, get to know more about her." "Your concern's nice, but my mind's made up," he said, his voice firm, though his smile was easy. "She's exactly what I want in a woman." I raised an eyebrow, unable to resist. "I thought you preferred socialites, models, actresses. Didn't know you were into petty staff from your own company." Camille was pretty, sure, but she wasn't his type. That innocent-girl vibe had always annoyed him before. What had changed? "I'm done with those types of women," he said, leaning back, his expression resolute. "I want someone I can settle down with, have a family with. Camille wants that too. Plus, I can trust her to be more faithful than all the high-end ladies in Chicago." The irony hit me like a punch, and I nearly laughed, but I caught myself, my lips twitching into a tight smile. If only he knew. "Yeah, you're right," I said, forcing the words out. "I'm happy for your choice." I let it go. This wasn't my mess to clean up. If Camille kept her mouth shut, so would I. For now, I'd watch her, wait for her to slip up. Because women like her always did. Chapter 5 "I can't believe Josh literally did that." I practically choked the words out, my voice muffled with laughter as I leaned forward in my chair. I was with my coworker and friend, Doris, and she was spilling all the details about her disastrous date with another worker in the company. I had been on edge since Damien left Chicago three weeks ago, my heart constantly racing, my stomach twisting into knots every time my phone buzzed or Lucas walked into a room. He had jetted off the day after that awful dinner, and surprisingly, he hadn't breathed a word to Lucas about that night. I'd been terrified, waiting for the shoe to drop,for Damien to suddenly call or show up and shatter everything. But he hadn't. It seemed like he was willing to keep his mouth shut, burying the secret as deep as I was trying to. I hadn't mustered the courage to tell Lucas myself. I loved him too much; the thought of losing him made my chest ache with a hollow pain. But the guilt was a relentless monster, gnawing at me from the inside, leaving me sad and withdrawn for weeks. Doris's company was a lifeline today, her gossip pulling me out of my head, making me laugh for the first time in what felt like forever. Maybe everything would be fine after all. Maybe I could move past it, pretend it never happened. "Yeah," Doris said, rolling her eyes dramatically, her lips pursing in annoyance. "I'm definitely not going out with him again. I literally felt so irked the whole time." "Well, I don't really like him much anyway," I replied, shaking my head with a small grimace,. "He has this very weird vibe about him." "Well, lucky you," she teased, her eyes sparkling with envy as she leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. "You're out of the dating pool, and very soon you'll be married. How long again?" I sighed dreamily, a genuine smile tugging at my lips despite the weight in my heart, my hand instinctively touching the engagement ring on my finger. "Two weeks' time. I literally can't wait—this has been my dream for so long." Doris opened her mouth to respond, her eyebrows shooting up playfully, but her gaze shifted to something behind me, her expression turning mischievous. "Speaking of the devil, here comes your prince charming." I turned with a warm smile blooming on my face, expecting to see Lucas's usual charming grin as he approached. But my heart plummeted when I saw him stomping toward me, his face a mask of fury, jaw clenched so tight the muscles bulged, brows furrowed deeply. His fists were balled at his sides. Something was horribly wrong. My smile faded instantly, replaced by a knot of dread twisting in my gut. Oh God, did I mess up the files he asked me to compile? Lucas had been pushing for my promotion, giving me more responsibilities to prove I was worthy of a higher position in his family's company. If it was that bad—if I'd screwed up enough to make him this mad—then the promotion was gone. When he reached me, his chest was heaving with barely contained rage. I started to speak, my voice trembling slightly, my hands rising in a placating gesture. "Lucas, what's wro.." But I couldn't finish. His hand shot out, grabbing my arm in a vise-like grip, his fingers digging into my flesh with bruising force. He yanked me up from my seat, the chair scraping loudly against the floor, and started dragging me out of the office area. Pain shot through my arm, but it was nothing compared to the humiliation burning in my cheeks as heads turned, whispers erupting around us. Coworkers stared with wide eyes and open mouths, their curiosity palpable, making my skin crawl. I tried to wrench my arm free, my free hand prying at his fingers, my voice a desperate whisper. "Lucas, what's wrong?" But he only tightened his hold, his nails biting into my skin, sending fresh waves of pain radiating up my arm. I winced, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes, but I bit my lip to hold them back. "Shut up, you fking b!tch," he snarled, his voice low and venomous, his face inches from mine as he glanced back, his eyes blazing with betrayal. The words hit me like a slap, stealing my breath. He had never spoken to me like that. Never with such raw hatred, his lips curling in disgust. He dragged me to the closest supply closet, shoving the door open with his shoulder and flinging me inside. I stumbled, catching myself against a shelf, my heart pounding wildly in my chest. He slammed the door shut behind him, the sound echoing like a gunshot, and whirled to face me. His face was terrifying—red with fury, veins bulging in his neck, his fists clenched so hard his knuckles turned white. I pressed back against the wall, my body trembling, fear coiling in my stomach like ice. "Lucas," I whispered, my voice breaking, my hands raised defensively, tears now blurring my vision. "What's wrong? Is it the file? I'm sorry if I made a mistake. I went through it like a million times…" "I don't care about the stupid file," he spat, his voice rising, his hand slashing through the air dismissively. "Your test results came out today." I froze, my blood turning to ice, my eyes widening in confusion and dread. Over the past few days, I'd been feeling ill, nauseous and exhausted. Two people in the office had come down with the flu, so we'd chalked it up to that. Lucas had insisted on calling his family doctor to check me out and run some tests. But now, seeing the rage in his eyes, my mind raced. Was it serious? God, was I dying? "You're pregnant," he said, the words exploding from him through clenched teeth, his face contorting with fury, his body rigid as if he might snap. The news hit me like a slap. I blinked rapidly, my mouth falling open, denial surging through me. No, that couldn't be right. There had to be a mistake. My mind flashed to that night with Damien, the alcohol, the haze, the lack of protection. But I was on the pill. I couldn't be that unlucky. "No. No, I'm not," I stammered, shaking my head frantically, my voice rising in pitch, tears spilling down my cheeks. "I can't be." He yanked a crumpled letter from his pocket, his movements jerky and aggressive, and threw it at my face. The paper smacked against my cheek, stinging, before fluttering to the floor. "See for yourself," he growled, his eyes boring into mine like daggers. "The doctor confirmed it." I snatched it up with trembling hands, my fingers fumbling as I unfolded it, my vision swimming with tears. I skimmed the contents desperately, my breath hitching, but my eyes locked on the damning words: positive pregnancy test. This couldn't be happening. Panic clawed at my throat. I was supposed to be safe. The pill should have protected me. But deep down, a sickening truth settled: it was Damien's. Oh God, what had I done? "I know it's not mine," Lucas said, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. Even I knew it probably wasn't his, we hadn't been intimate around that time. But I didn't want to believe it. I couldn't face the horror of it all. "I asked for the dates," he continued, his lip curling in disgust. "It couldn't possibly be mine. So now, is there anything you'd like to tell me?" I opened my mouth, words failing me but he cut me off, his voice thundering. "Don't even dare lie. I'll know if you do." "I'm so sorry," I choked out, my voice cracking, sobs wracking my body as I sank against the wall. "I was going to tell you." He let out a dry, bitter laugh, throwing his head back. "Was going to tell me?" "I meant it," I pleaded, stepping toward him, my hands outstretched, tears streaming down my face, my lower lip quivering. "I was scared at first, but I swear it was a mistake. I didn't mean for it to happen. I was drunk, and I didn't know what I was doing." "Who is the father?" he demanded, his voice rising. "Lucas, please listen to me," I begged, my voice hoarse, my body shaking uncontrollably. "I didn't mean—" "Who is the father, Camille?" he roared, leaning in close, his breath hot on my face, his eyes wild with rage. "Lucas, please, I'm sorry," I whimpered, covering my mouth with my hand, sobs muffling my words. "Who is the father?" he shouted, slamming his palm against the wall beside my head, making me flinch. "I don't know," I whispered, my eyes squeezing shut, shame flooding me. I could have told him who it was but I knew it would be a whole lot worse. Lucas would never forgive me if he found out that his best friend was the father. "You don't know?" he echoed, his voice dripping with disbelief, his face twisting in revulsion. "I was drunk, Lucas," I cried, my knees buckling as I slid down the wall, hugging myself. "I didn't know what I was doing." "You fking s/ut," he snarled, pacing the small space like a caged animal, his hands raking through his hair in frustration. "How many times did it happen? Jesus, how many people have you fvked during our relationship?" "Lucas, it was just that one time," I sobbed, looking up at him through tear-streaked lashes, my face crumpled in despair. "It was a mistake. I didn't mean for it to happen. I was going to tell you, but I was scared of your reaction." "When were you going to tell me?" he mocked, his voice laced with sarcasm, his arms gesturing wildly. "When you'd passed the child off as mine? Huh?" "I was never going to do that," I insisted, shaking my head vehemently, my voice breaking with sincerity. "I gave you everything you could ever wish for," he hissed, pointing a finger accusingly at me. "Made you relevant. Made you someone. And this is how you pay me back?" "I didn't mean for it to happen," I whispered, my body heaving with sobs, my hands reaching out to him in vain. "I swear it." "Go to your desk and clear your things," he said coldly, his voice devoid of emotion now, his face hardening into stone as he turned away. "You're fired." "Fired? You can't fire me," I gasped, my voice trembling with disbelief as I pushed myself up from the floor, my hands shaking as I braced against the wall. "I haven't done anything wrong." Lucas's face hardened, his dark eyes narrowing as he loomed over me, his jaw clenched tight with fury. "I don't want you working in this company again. I'm giving you an hour to leave the premises, or I'll call security." I stood fully now, my legs wobbly, my heart pounding in my chest as I faced him. "I haven't done anything, Lucas. Just give me a chance to explain," I pleaded, my voice cracking, my hands outstretched toward him in desperation. "I don't care what you have to say. You cheated on me," he spat. "Nothing will justify what you did. I don't want you in my life or in my office." "You can't fire me," I insisted, my tone rising with defiance, my hands clenching into fists as I wiped tears from my cheeks. "What happens in our private life doesn't concern our work life. I haven't done anything to warrant being fired." "It's my company," he snarled, stepping closer, his voice dripping with authority. "What I say goes here. I want you to leave this company, or I'll have security throw you out." Lucas turned sharply, his movements stiff with anger, and moved toward the door. But he stopped, his hand on the knob, and turned back to me. His lips curled into a condescending sneer, his eyes cold and dismissive as he delivered the final blow. "Oh, and make sure you clear your things from my house. I don't want to see a trace of you there." With that, he slammed the door behind him, the sound reverberating through the small closet like a gunshot, leaving me alone with my spiraling thoughts. The weight of it all crashed down, and I broke into tears, my sobs tearing from my throat as I slid back to the floor. Tears streamed down my face uncontrollably, my hands covering my mouth as I rocked back and forth. I had lost everything; my life, my job, my fiancé, all because of one stupid, drunken mistake. I don't know how long I sat there, lost in my grief, until the door creaked open. A security guard stepped in, his expression stern as he cleared his throat. "Miss, Mr. Vaughan asked us to escort you out of the building," he said. He helped me to my feet, his strong hand steadying me as I wiped my face with my sleeve, my legs trembling beneath me. He led me to my office, where another guard was already packing my things into a box; my photos, my mug, my personal files. The office buzzed with curiosity, every head turning as I passed. Whispers followed me, and I felt the weight of their stares burning into my back. Most of the women watched with glee, their lips curling into smug smiles, their eyes gleaming with satisfaction. It wasn't a secret they'd wanted Lucas for themselves, and now, with my downfall, they reveled in it. When my things were packed, the guards escorted me out of the building. They left me standing outside. My eyes were still red and puffy from crying. I had stopped sobbing, but the ache remained. Passersby glanced at me curiously but I had nowhere to go. I'd moved out of my apartment weeks ago to live with Lucas, and returning to his townhouse was out of the question. I stood there, lost and hollow, my arms wrapped around myself, when Doris emerged from the building. Her face softened with concern as she hurried toward me. "Camille, what happened?" she asked, her voice gentle, her brows knitting together as she took in my disheveled state. "Oh dear," she murmured, stepping closer and placing a hand on my arm. "Let's get you home." "I can't," I whispered, my voice breaking, my eyes dropping to the ground. "Lucas… he said I shouldn't come back." "Let's go to my place," she insisted, her hand squeezing my arm reassuringly. "But… you still have work," I protested weakly, my gaze flickering back to the office building. "I took permission to leave," she said, waving a hand dismissively. "Besides, everyone's worried about you. Let's get out of here." She hailed a cab with, guiding me into the backseat with a protective arm around my shoulders. ------- There are limited chapters to put here, click “learn more” to open App to continue reading (It will automatically jump to the book)

After my sister stole my boyfriend and my parents kicked me out, I walked into an MC clubhouse. The six-foot-eight enforcer who swore off women years ago yanked me onto his lap and growled, “You’re mine.” ***** Maxine POV “Go home, you have worked too much overtime this week. Have an early night and give that boyfriend of yours an early treat.” My boss practically urged me out the door, a wicked grin on his face. “Okay, okay, I’m going. I’m going. I straddled my bike and started her up. This was going to be a great night. Today was my boyfriend's birthday, and I was going to give him a special gift. I had brought new, cute clothes, and I cleaned up. I was ready to give him my all, my first, my heart, take the big plunge. I felt I was ready. I pulled into the driveway to see my sister's and my boyfriend’s cars. I had no idea my sister was coming home today. She was still at college in her final year, though I heard she wasn't doing so well. The poor golden girl has not met up with expectations, not that I was worried. My ex-boyfriend showed up three hours early; our date was not for a few more hours. What was he doing here already? Walking in the back door, I heard voices and headed towards them; they were in Dad’s office, with the door slightly ajar. I moved silently to the door and waited outside to hear what secrets they were having now. They occasionally do this when they are planning something and don’t want to include me, but I'm puzzled as to why my boyfriend and sister were included. “We never planned for it to happen.” My sister replied softly, as if she were some kind of victim; she was an expert at that. She should have been an actress; she would have won multiple Oscars by now. “When?” Dad asked, and I waited in the hallway to hear what this was all about. “Christmas day, we had too many of your special eggnogs, and things got heated. The party was more or less over; the presents had been given out, and the food had been eaten. We were all mulling around, talking, when Zoey said something, I don’t remember what—but we went upstairs to continue talking, and ended up in Maxine’s room. We did start by just talking, and before I knew it, we were together, like I said, and I was so lost in that moment that I forgot to use protection. When we came out, no one seemed to notice we had been gone, so we pretended it never happened.” My boyfriend replied, and my heart just hit the floor, as I took in that my sister and boyfriend did something in my bed at Christmas. MY BED. I slept in that bed. I feel suddenly sick at that thought. How could they do that to me? She stole another boyfriend from me again. But he was just as much to blame; I guess our relationship was not that strong yet. Not on his side at least. He continued to pretend and take me out on dates, as if that never happened. Now I feel cheated, dirty, ashamed, and angry all at once. What if she hadn’t gotten pregnant, and I ended up married to that cheating man? Would her wedding present be to tell me she had had a relationship with him first? I wouldn’t put it past her to do such a thing. She had done that before with my boyfriends, and I guess this one was just as vulnerable to her advances as the last one. “He gave me the best Christmas present ever.” My sister crowed with delight. I could imagine her pregnancy. “This is good news. I have wanted grandchildren, and the last grandchild I would have expected would be from you; you have never kept a relationship for long.” Mum said, sounding excited at the news. “What now?” My sister asked, still playing the perfect victim. “We get married?’ My now ex-boyfriend suggested —sounds more like a question. “What about Maxine?” My sister asked, as if I were an inconvenience that needed to be sorted out, and now they think about me, but it didn’t sound like concern. “What about her? This is about my first grandchild, and his or her safety comes first. She will have to live with it.” My mother spat, revealing that famous favoritism, because she had always taken my sister's side in everything, even when proven wrong. They never backed me up. “I am technically her boyfriend.” He started to say something, but was interrupted. “Not anymore, you're not. I will arrange with the local publican to hire the outdoor garden area, and we shall have an engagement party this Saturday. Get that sorted before you start to show, and Maxine will show her support.” Dad’s voice floated out, sounding resolute. I had no say in this, not that I wanted to be his girlfriend any longer; he had proven not to be what I wanted in a guy. “She will have to leave. I need her room for the nursery. I would prefer it if she didn't attend the engagement party. What will those who know she was the real girlfriend show up, and see that it was not Maxine getting engaged?” Mum added. Yep, that was my mother, trying to regain her dignity and save face. I couldn’t take it any longer. I was devastated enough, and listening further to their support for the love for the cheater was eating me up inside. I didn’t want to cry in front of them; the tears were a mix of anger and hurt. I pushed the door open, revealing myself standing there. All faces turned to look at me. “Let me get this straight. You took my boyfriend to MY bed, did that with him, leaving your mess in my bed, as a sort of Christmas present for me. Guess that made your day, thinking I was sleeping in your mess. Now you want my bedroom for the child baby you have created, and I am what, just pushed out the door? Like yesterday’s trash?” I asked to ensure I understood correctly that the whole family was fine with me being tossed aside. “Exactly, I am taking your boyfriend, your bedroom, and you, my dear sister, have to move out.” My sister sounded like she had won the lottery. Her face beamed at her triumph. “Fine with me.” The look of shock would have made me laugh if I were not so numb inside. I moved away to my room and packed what I could into my duffel bag. I will come back for the rest later, when they are not around. My heart was breaking, not because I lost my boyfriend, although that hurt a lot, considering that what I was going to give him for his present today was saved for doing something foolish at least. But also because both parents were supporting this deception, as if it were the best news they had received in a while, that they had been trying to get rid of me for a while, and now succeeded in a spectacular way. I walked downstairs and looked at them. “When I find a place to stay, I will be back for the rest.” I spat at them, a mixture of hurt, anger, and defeat. I never fit into the family, a black sheep, so maybe I should become one. I had always had top grades, won awards, done my best, but even being first, I was still last. My best friend was the only place I could think of going to; it had to be temporary. Jenny will be cool and let me sleep on her couch till I find a new home. I climbed onto my bike and took off to the only sanctuary I had over the years. Jenny welcomed me into her home, like I knew she would, and together we had a pity party consisting of drinks and vanilla fudge ice cream. We called the family and my ex some interesting names, some of which I had never heard before, but they sounded good. The drunker I got, the more inventive the names became. The next morning, after waking up on Jenny’s couch and remembering yesterday, it did not go as planned. I pulled myself together, had a quick shower, and left for work. It was eight in the morning, and Jenny was still asleep when I left. That might be okay for some, but my workday today would be ten hours long, and I was running late. “You're late, night must have gone better than planned,” Mike said jovially. They sort of knew what I was planning last night. The others chuckled along with Mike. I grumbled some shiet and got to work. By the end of the day, Mike pulled me to his office. “Okay, out with it. The guys have been tiptoeing around you all day. What happened? He rejected your advances?” He asked, his hand on my shoulder, keeping me in place, looking at me with concerned eyes, a father figure, better than my dad had ever been. So, I told him what happened when I got home and where I spent the night, and now I'm looking for a place to stay. I was proud of myself; I didn’t cry, or whine, or show any emotion at all —just explained my predicament in cold, emotionless words. Clear and succinct. He said he wouldn’t say anything in the shop, but would talk to the prez. I had no idea why, but I was not in the right frame of mind to question it. Maxine POV Today was my sister's engagement party; engaged to my ex-boyfriend. Yeah, you heard me right, my ex. What a joke that was. I had been with Dan for six months when my sister, who was a year older than I, came home for Christmas and ended up with my boyfriend. She’s a shameless woman, always has been, but I never expected him to sleep with her. I thought we were secure in our relationship. The only good thing I took away from this was that I never went to bed with him; my innocence was still intact, not that I was trying to keep it - I just never got the chance to lose it. She always managed to have any guy I was interested in dump me for her, and when she got bored with them, she’d move on. So, in a way, I didn’t have a boyfriend till she moved out of her home and headed to college. But when my sister came home and met him, she seduced him and got pregnant. He did the whole ‘get down on one knee and proposed’ scene. Apparently, it was romantic, but I wasn't there when he did it because they didn’t want me around. It hurt a lot at the time, and I was glad to have my girlfriends around me, helping me get over it. They say, I dodged a bullet. I agree with them, stupidly. He might have been a sports jock with good looks, but doing this tells me he was weak and shallow, and I was too good for him, or so my BFF says. I prefer to believe them over the excuses my ex made. I had to move out of my home after I had a massive fight with my parents a few days ago, when the truth was exposed; they supported her, not me, and the next thing I knew, I was out the door and the evil sister. The engagement party was intended to introduce him to her friends and make the relationship official, but I was not invited. My parents want nothing to do with me. I made them all uncomfortable, considering he was my boyfriend first. Anyone working out the timeline for the baby can piece it together, and see they were cheating on me, and it would have been awkward, and too many questions would have been raised. Not that I needed to say all of that, I kind of said it all before, but grrrrr, I am so angry at how my so-called ‘family’ kicked me out of my so-called home, with no care for me or my feelings. It was easier to push me away and disown me than have to explain to them that my sister cheated with my boyfriend, and hey presto, a baby was on the way. Because I was kicked out of the house, and only had a short time to pack anything, I took the opportunity of the party to sneak into the house and take more of my possessions, like opening my father's safe, and grabbing every piece of paper relating to me, and a little money too, no a lot of money, and grandma’s jewelry that she left me. So, with the help of my BFF, we packed my belongings and took them to her place until I found a new one. I ride a motorcycle, so I need help. I have the money to buy a new place, but I'm unsure if I want to stay in this town now. Once my apprenticeship is over, I might move away. I stayed that night at Jenny’s place, as I figured out what to do. Today, I am moving into my new place —a bungalow above the bike shop where I work. I am in my final year of apprenticeship, and I am a motorcycle mechanic, proud of it, I might add. I can also work on cars and trucks. If it had a motor, I could fix it; I always could, thanks to my knack for it, which I developed since I was eight, when I fell in love with engines. My Grandpa taught me, kept me out of everyone's way. I guess you could say I was a tomboy, with no frills and lace. My Grandpa kept me sane and busy, so the BS in our house didn’t hurt me as much. The place has two bedrooms and is fully contained, meaning it has everything I need. I had purchased some new sheets and towels, that sort of thing, but it had a fully stocked kitchen; I only needed to buy the food. It might be small, and above a noisy bike shop, but at night it was a quiet area. No one would break into this shop; the local bikie gang owned it. They were good guys, scary, but so far, no trouble for me. My BFF, Jenny, was helping me take my belongings upstairs when a group of bikers arrived and assisted us. I had five boxes and two suitcases filled with all sorts of items. “Thanks, guys, for the help,” I said sweetly, my BFF batting her eyes at them and swaying herself suggestively as she walked and thanked them. She makes me laugh with her antics, which are totally opposite to mine. I like jeans and am rarely seen in a dress, whereas she was seldom seen in jeans. “We got a party at the clubhouse, tomorrow Saturday, you should come and relax a bit, bring your girls with ya,” Bruiser suggested as he walked me to the settee, pushed me down, and handed me a drink they had brought with them. This was how they acted around me, ordered me about. Sometimes, I'm okay with it; other times, I get all worked up and growl back at them. Today was acceptance. I know they mean well, and I feel lucky to have them as family; they try to make me feel better. “That sounds like a blast, count me in, and I can bring two other girl friends with us. Max, do you want me to pick you up?” Jenny offered, taking a drink from one of the guys. She was not a drinker; however, in this situation, I could see her not refusing anything they offered. I guess I'm going, whether I want to or not. “No, I’ll ride over,” I replied as one of the guys ordered pizza. “That’s the spirit. Nothing like the wind in your hair to blow the cobwebs away.” They stayed because they didn’t want me to be alone, not on my first night here. Pizza arrived not long after, and my little bungalow was soon feeling too small and crowded, with six huge bikers in the room. Some sat on the floor; others pulled up one of the three kitchen chairs. I know, I know, three chairs sound odd, but that's what was here, and beggars can’t be choosers; the rent was dirt cheap, and I think the boys are the ones to make sure I had everything I needed. They found out about my situation the next day, because, I was still quiet at work, which was not like me, often I am singing to the radio, or swearing at something, so one of the guys walked to me, to find out what gives, and I softly told them, what went down, and when word got around the bikers heard I needed a place to stay, because I was kicked out of my home and why, they came to me, like protective brothers. Now I have a whole gang of bikers who have my back. I feel privileged to call them friends. They even offered to rough the ex up for me, but I refused the offer, because strangely, I was happy to get rid of the loser if he was a cheating build. Better now than when I am fully invested in our relationship. Plus, I was in deep enough shite with my parents and sister without making it worse. The pizza was gone, my BFF left for home, and the guys did too. It was late, well, for me, midnight. I usually fall asleep quickly because I have to be up for work at five. Tomorrow, being Saturday, I have the morning shift before the party later. They let me leave work early so I can move in here. “Hey, don’t forget to come, we need our prettiest mechanic at the party, some of the boys might need a tune-up,” Bruiser said with a laugh as they climbed on their bikes and left. I know what sort of tune-up he was talking about, and it had nothing to do with a motor. I looked around my new home. It wasn’t much, but it was all mine. The guys were great; they took the empty pizza boxes and beer cans with them, and the place was relatively clean. Not at all what you would expect from a group of rowdy men. The clubhouse. I had never been to it, despite having worked there for nearly four years, and they had never extended an invitation to me. I know they had lots of parties; maybe I was too young. I turned twenty recently, but they might think of me as the fifteen-year-old who showed up one day and told the boss I was going to be his apprentice. He laughed at first and said he would give me a go to prove myself. He thought I was joking and that I would be gone by the weekend, but over the holidays, I worked hard and have been here ever since. Maxine POV The beeping sound of my phone alarm made me sit up and look around. It took a moment to remember where I was. The room had a small curtain that barely kept the light out. There was a streetlight just outside my window. I can envisage myself getting better blackout curtains soon. Although it was annoying, it wasn't among my top priorities for making this a home. The shower was decent, with nice pressure. I followed my morning routine, only to realize how foolish I was to wake up so early, living above my place of work; I didn’t need to ride here. After finishing breakfast and cleaning up the kitchen, I still had half an hour before I needed to be at work. I had two ways to get into my place: one was through the back stairs, and the other was through the shop. With the code to turn off the alarm, I decided to head down and start work early. It was better than moving stuff around; I can do that later. I had a bike to finish by this afternoon. The customer would be here at two. Turned off the alarm, turned on the coffee pot, the radio, and headed to my workstation, where the fat boy was waiting for me to finish. I sat on the chair with casters and began my job, singing loudly to the heavy rock song that came on the radio as I installed the new spark plugs and double-checked the oil. It was a simple, easy-peasy service. Once finished, I started the bike up, let it idle while I made coffee, then returned to rev it a few times. It sounds lumpy, like it was just turning over perfectly; it was music to my ears. I love that throaty, deep, lumpy sound. You can feel it vibrate through my chest. “That’s a sound I loved to hear as I enter work.” My boss, Mike, said as I turned the bike off. “It’s ready to go, unless you want to take it out for a test ride. Want a coffee, pots hot.” I offered as I threw the dirty rag in the bin. “Sure, I will take the bike out for a spin, and you can make me a coffee.” He smirked as he grabbed the bike. I opened the garage door, and Mike took off. I smiled as he disappeared down the street, and I turned to make both of us coffee. If you hadn’t guessed already, I would drink a lot of coffee. I am not a fan of soft drinks or tea; for me, it's coffee or water. With a broom in hand, I began cleaning the shop. I am not out here very often, but I try to sweep the floor at least once a week; they have another apprentice who’s a second year, who gets to do most of the cleaning up, but he’s never here on a Saturday. The sound of the bike returning prompted me to pick up the two cups of coffee and head back out to the workshop. Mike had a massive grin on his face as he parked the bike. “Great job, you are our top mechanic. But don’t tell anyone, or I will have to deny it.” He joked, taking his coffee from my hand as he walked by, no doubt letting the customer know the bike was ready ahead of time. I moved to the next bike, which was a total rebuild; it had been in a minor accident, and while the frame was being checked, I would work on the engine and gearbox. It was the only job on my list at the moment. The bike owner was in no hurry; he had a broken leg, giving me a few weeks to work on his bike and any urgent jobs that might come into the shop. The client arrived and happily took possession of his bike, very happy with the job done. “I hear you’ve been invited to the club party tonight,” Mike said as he rang up the sale on the cash register. “Yep.” I said popping the ‘p’. “You can leave now, we have no more customers expected. Good job today.” It was about one o’clock, near the time I would knock off. “Thanks, boss.” I saluted him and rushed upstairs, before he could change his mind. Giggling all the way up. I heard him chuckling as he locked the door below, behind me. I decided on a quick shower; I didn’t want to smell of oil when going to a party. Put on my skinny black jeans, a black blouse that had red flames on the back and on the pockets, black boots that had some chains around the ankle, and hair in a ponytail. I will get what we call helmet hair, so it's a waste to do much with it now. I use mascara and strawberry lippie, which is more to moisturize, which tend to dry out when I ride my bike, and that's it. The last thing I grabbed before leaving was my jacket. My mum used to grumble that I wasn’t like my sister and put more effort into my appearance, but I like who I am, and I didn’t like wearing lots of makeup; it was my choice, and I feel that I am not a frilly, lacey chick. It was a deal breaker with my mum. She had my sister dress up and left me in the care of Grandpa until he died when I was seventeen. It broke me when he left the world. He was the only person who got me. My grandma had been gone since I was young, and I filled the hole in his heart with my love for bikes and fishing. He left me his money and bikes. Dad got his house and business. My mum hated that I gained all that money. When Grandma died, she left me her jewelry, and Grandpa made sure to keep it safe till I was old enough to have it. I ate something and put some more of my stuff in the cupboards before my phone chimed to let me know my girlfriends were on their way to the party. I pulled my bike out of the small garage and started it up. I threw my leg over and took off, heading to the property. The clubhouse was half an hour out of town, set on a large property a little bit back from the road. Ten minutes later, I came up behind the girls and hung out behind them. My friend waved me on to take the lead. I shrugged and overtook her. The turn off arrived, and I rode happily up the long drive, and trees lined the road. An open, large steel gate appeared, and I was glad it was still enough light to see clearly. Men stood by the entrance, watching us arrive. “Hey.” I greeted the biggest man I had ever seen. “Who invited you here?” The man asked gruffly, in a deep husky voice. “Bruiser,” I answered, with a firm, clear voice, hoping that the fact that he frightened me would be noticed in my voice. He pulled out his phone and called, I assumed, Bruiser. “Max?” He asked, as he looked at me questioningly, and I nodded. He said something more and hung up the phone. “Come in, the car behind your girls?” He looked at the car behind, which clearly had a woman in it. “Yep,” I replied, not at all liking how he intimidated me with his manner. Perhaps it was the way they greeted strangers. One look makes the weak run. Well, I am not weak, and I won't be running. Maxine POV This rather large biker leaned in to look inside the car, his bulky figure partially blocking the open window, causing the girl nearest it to back away. Satisfied, he looked at me with a knowing smirk, then motioned for us to enter. The clubhouse was nothing like I had imagined. Firstly, it was four levels high. Verandah all the way around, that I could see. It was more like a mansion than a clubhouse. Women were gathered near the door, looking in, as if they were waiting for something; some were sitting on the wooden fence that surrounded the verandah. They were dressed in barely anything, showing all that was available, some love that sort of thing. People like me dress to stay warm or cool and don’t care about showing off the goods. Bikes sat in neat rows in front, and cars were parked to the left of the building; the ratio of bikes to cars was approximately four bikes to one car. I parked the bike with the others, climbed off, and took off my helmet. I placed the lid on the bike and shook out my hair while waiting for the girls to park and come to me. I heard some muffled scoffs, but I couldn’t care less —I wasn't here to please them. Bruiser came out of the clubhouse behind me. “Max, you came by bike. Sweet.” He gave me a greeting nod and moved to take a look at my bike. The paint job was a wolf, fading in smoke. It took me months to finish, as I kept changing my mind, and the smoke obscured the mistakes. “Who did the paint job?” He asked as he moved around to look at it from all sides. “Me.” I was proud of the results. “Does Mike know you can paint?” He sounded surprised. “He has seen my bike when I used the garage to do a service. He never asked who did the paint work, just that he liked it.” “Sweet, looks like we have someone to do a paint job, and possibly a full one. We have a family reunion in a few weeks, and the ladies are invited to come along. You can join us.” Bruiser offered as my ladies arrived; they were not included in that invitation, I assumed, because I have a bike. “Bruiser, you already met Jenny, Melony, Karen, and Heather, my other BFF, and Alice, Karen's sister, and BFF to my sister.” Adding that comment, hoping that Bruiser knew precisely what that woman was like. Alice battered her eyes and leaned forward to show off what was under that almost shirt. My ladies greeted him with the respect he deserved. “Ladies. Hands out.” Bruiser stamped the girl's backs of their hands; they all had a bear, except Alice, who had a rabbit on her hand. I frowned, trying to figure out what the rabbit was all about. He pushed my hand away. “You are family, no need for a stamp.” I couldn’t stop the smile that crossed my face. I felt so special. Then the shoe dropped. Rabbit had another meaning. Bruiser got my meaning loud and clear. It took a while to understand the purpose of the stamps. “Come inside and meet the ole ladies.” I understood what he meant; these were ladies who had been claimed and had a different level of respect that those not claimed would never understand. I have met a few of them over the years and gained more insight into club life. They respect me as much as I respect them. We entered the place, and the girls who had been waiting outside gave us a dirty look, as they were still stopped from entering. “What's so special about them?” One pouted, but Bruiser ignored her. Inside was cleaner than I had expected —my fault for judging a group of men, since they often look messy when I see them at the shop. The place had a large, open space, with tables where you stand, as well as booths dotted along the walls, and stools at the bar, which ran the full length of the room. I loved the spacious room, the pictures on the walls, and some bike parts scattered about as decoration. A few barstools are bike seats; it was different, and it appealed to me. Being a lover of bikes. “Sticks.” I greeted her as we walked to the ladies Bruiser was taking us to. “Hey, Maxie Max. How's it blowing?” She stood up and pulled me into a warm embrace. This chick had no filter or personal space. Sticks was the President's; her real name was Sandra, but she was my height at five-nine, and she had no shape to her body, just a lovely bean pole, almost no chest to speak of, yet she had had two boys. Hence the name Sticks. “Doing better,” I replied. She would know what was going on. She introduced us to the other ladies with her, and it didn’t surprise me that Alice had already moved away from us before we had finished the introductions. “What’s her story?” Sticks asked as she watched Alice start to try her luck with the club men. “Same as my sister. Bruiser put a rabbit stamp on her hand.” Sticks and the other girl roared out laughing. “She will be used, snugged to the side by the time the night is over, and I doubt they would let her back in. We don’t need her sort in the club.” Maggie spouted as we watched a patch member knock her offer back. “The regulars are not going to like her working their turf. So, to speak.” Tootsie said, with a smirk, that the regulars know the rules and stick with them. Don’t reach a patch member; if interested, they will come to you. Nom’s are fair game. But most girls would prefer a patch member. Don’t have a relationship with a taken member; the women will gang up and make your life miserable if you feel one of theirs. Wait to be let into the clubhouse and then stay in the public area. No going upstairs uninvited. The first two floors are designated for guest rooms, while the top floor is reserved for permanent residences. Those who don’t have a home of their own to go to. They are private and not open to wandering girls. Don’t sit on someone’s bike, unless you are given permission. The patched old ladies are the bosses of the girls; they tell you to leave or do something, and you do it. There were more rules for the girls visiting, but I couldn’t remember them all at that moment. None had applied to me until now. Alice had already broken at least three, to my knowledge. I am staying out of it. That rabbit on her hand told the members that she would open her legs for any of them, and no one would support her if she broke the rules. That she was not welcome to return, in other words, have your fun, and then abandoned her to the curb. The doors were opened to let the other girls in. They looked at us in the no-go zone and pouted. We were sitting in an off-limits area unless we were invited. From what I understood, they were here to spread their legs and give the guys some relief, but not become part of the family. They might be hopeful that something would change; it was rare for a patch member to take one of these ladies, who had most likely been with every unattached member of the gang, at some point. My girls left me with Sticks and wandered about with the other ladies, getting the tour of the place. “Want to look around?” Sticks were offered, and before I knew it, we were walking around the vast ground floor. “Ready to see the workshop, the guys might talk you into helping out, once they know who you are.” Sticks led me down a small pathway, lined with flowering shrubs, and to a set of large, farm-size sheds. Inside were bikes, some in bits, others crumpled from an accident, and others like they had just been detailed and were someone's pride and joy. There was a workshop here, where men were working on their bikes. They looked up at us when we entered and frowned. If Sticks were not with me, they would have most likely growled at me to get out. “Who’s this Sticks?” A monster of a man asked, in the deepest voice I have ever heard, he looked a lot like the man at the gate, but with more toned muscles. Just a tad taller, and although he looked big and scary, he made my lady parts sing in a way they had never sung before. Tank POV A few guys aren't into parties, so I stopped going until later in the night, when the girls who showed up were already taken. I dislike the women who come here hoping to adopt our lifestyle. I prefer to use my hand rather than one of those women. Don’t get me wrong, I have had my share of women; however, I had a girl who wanted me to take her, and when I did, she ended up in the hospital, because I am not exactly a little man. And I have not been with a woman since. Like my brother, we are both large men; he is six feet six inches tall, and I am six feet eight inches tall. He’s carrying extra weight, where I am all muscle. I pride myself on keeping in shape, but being this large has its downfall, and having a large build has had me worried about hurting another woman. No matter how much I might want to, I can’t; I never want to go through that again. The Prez was the only person who knew why I wouldn’t join the parties; he was with me when we took the girl to the hospital, she forgave me, and tried to pursue me to keep her, but I couldn’t. Each time I started, I had flashes of her screams, and my confidence went down like a popped balloon. We were in the workshop, doing some minor tune-ups. As I prepare for our ride, I'm excited. When they bring the ladies, the men are usually in a better mood and on their best behavior. I was looking at rebuild. I started it last week. We have a few wrecks that need to be started; some have been sitting here far too long. We can only go so far before we need Mike's help. None of us was a mechanic. I was scratching my head, as I was almost at the end of my knowledge, when I heard someone enter, and a soft perfume that shouldn’t be in this shed hit my nose. Stick’s voice reached my ears, and I lifted my head up to look i

The entire clubhouse knew the rule: giant biker Tank never touched the club girls. What they didn’t know was there was no rule—only the brutal wall he’d built after destroying a woman with his massive length years ago. She’d pushed him to take her, but he was too big, too rough. She ended up in the hospital needing stitches. Since that night, Tank hadn’t touched a woman. Until Maxine walked into the clubhouse. The club’s only real mechanic. 20. Betrayed by her sister and ex, kicked out by her parents, surviving on her own sweat and skill while every other woman spread her legs for protection. She didn’t flirt. Didn’t simper. Didn’t need to. She was different. And Tank wanted her with a hunger that terrified him. Other club h0res had tried—rubbing against him, whispering f!lthy promises. Nothing. His body stayed dead. But Maxine? Just one glance he grew rock hard, aching with raw need. He fled like a coward to the bathroom, slamming the door, chest heaving as he yanked himself free. He imagined her bent over his custom Harley—bare, breathless, trembling. That fierce innocence in her eyes slowly twisting into desperate pleasure as he bent her to his will. How she’d gasp when he stretched her open, shocked at the side of herself she never knew existed. No loud moaning. No screaming. Just one soft, broken gasp: “Tank…” Wide-eyed. Breathless. His hand wrapped around her throat. Her legs shaking under his brutal thrvsts. Mine. You’re fking mine, Maxine. Only mine. ***** Maxine POV “Go home, you have worked too much overtime this week. Have an early night and give that boyfriend of yours an early treat.” My boss practically urged me out the door, a wicked grin on his face. “Okay, okay, I’m going. I’m going. I straddled my bike and started her up. This was going to be a great night. Today was my boyfriend's birthday, and I was going to give him a special gift. I had brought new, cute clothes, and I cleaned up. I was ready to give him my all, my first, my heart, take the big plunge. I felt I was ready. I pulled into the driveway to see my sister's and my boyfriend’s cars. I had no idea my sister was coming home today. She was still at college in her final year, though I heard she wasn't doing so well. The poor golden girl has not met up with expectations, not that I was worried. My ex-boyfriend showed up three hours early; our date was not for a few more hours. What was he doing here already? Walking in the back door, I heard voices and headed towards them; they were in Dad’s office, with the door slightly ajar. I moved silently to the door and waited outside to hear what secrets they were having now. They occasionally do this when they are planning something and don’t want to include me, but I'm puzzled as to why my boyfriend and sister were included. “We never planned for it to happen.” My sister replied softly, as if she were some kind of victim; she was an expert at that. She should have been an actress; she would have won multiple Oscars by now. “When?” Dad asked, and I waited in the hallway to hear what this was all about. “Christmas day, we had too many of your special eggnogs, and things got heated. The party was more or less over; the presents had been given out, and the food had been eaten. We were all mulling around, talking, when Zoey said something, I don’t remember what—but we went upstairs to continue talking, and ended up in Maxine’s room. We did start by just talking, and before I knew it, we were together, like I said, and I was so lost in that moment that I forgot to use protection. When we came out, no one seemed to notice we had been gone, so we pretended it never happened.” My boyfriend replied, and my heart just hit the floor, as I took in that my sister and boyfriend did something in my bed at Christmas. MY BED. I slept in that bed. I feel suddenly sick at that thought. How could they do that to me? She stole another boyfriend from me again. But he was just as much to blame; I guess our relationship was not that strong yet. Not on his side at least. He continued to pretend and take me out on dates, as if that never happened. Now I feel cheated, dirty, ashamed, and angry all at once. What if she hadn’t gotten pregnant, and I ended up married to that cheating man? Would her wedding present be to tell me she had had a relationship with him first? I wouldn’t put it past her to do such a thing. She had done that before with my boyfriends, and I guess this one was just as vulnerable to her advances as the last one. “He gave me the best Christmas present ever.” My sister crowed with delight. I could imagine her pregnancy. “This is good news. I have wanted grandchildren, and the last grandchild I would have expected would be from you; you have never kept a relationship for long.” Mum said, sounding excited at the news. “What now?” My sister asked, still playing the perfect victim. “We get married?’ My now ex-boyfriend suggested —sounds more like a question. “What about Maxine?” My sister asked, as if I were an inconvenience that needed to be sorted out, and now they think about me, but it didn’t sound like concern. “What about her? This is about my first grandchild, and his or her safety comes first. She will have to live with it.” My mother spat, revealing that famous favoritism, because she had always taken my sister's side in everything, even when proven wrong. They never backed me up. “I am technically her boyfriend.” He started to say something, but was interrupted. “Not anymore, you're not. I will arrange with the local publican to hire the outdoor garden area, and we shall have an engagement party this Saturday. Get that sorted before you start to show, and Maxine will show her support.” Dad’s voice floated out, sounding resolute. I had no say in this, not that I wanted to be his girlfriend any longer; he had proven not to be what I wanted in a guy. “She will have to leave. I need her room for the nursery. I would prefer it if she didn't attend the engagement party. What will those who know she was the real girlfriend show up, and see that it was not Maxine getting engaged?” Mum added. Yep, that was my mother, trying to regain her dignity and save face. I couldn’t take it any longer. I was devastated enough, and listening further to their support for the love for the cheater was eating me up inside. I didn’t want to cry in front of them; the tears were a mix of anger and hurt. I pushed the door open, revealing myself standing there. All faces turned to look at me. “Let me get this straight. You took my boyfriend to MY bed, did that with him, leaving your mess in my bed, as a sort of Christmas present for me. Guess that made your day, thinking I was sleeping in your mess. Now you want my bedroom for the child baby you have created, and I am what, just pushed out the door? Like yesterday’s trash?” I asked to ensure I understood correctly that the whole family was fine with me being tossed aside. “Exactly, I am taking your boyfriend, your bedroom, and you, my dear sister, have to move out.” My sister sounded like she had won the lottery. Her face beamed at her triumph. “Fine with me.” The look of shock would have made me laugh if I were not so numb inside. I moved away to my room and packed what I could into my duffel bag. I will come back for the rest later, when they are not around. My heart was breaking, not because I lost my boyfriend, although that hurt a lot, considering that what I was going to give him for his present today was saved for doing something foolish at least. But also because both parents were supporting this deception, as if it were the best news they had received in a while, that they had been trying to get rid of me for a while, and now succeeded in a spectacular way. I walked downstairs and looked at them. “When I find a place to stay, I will be back for the rest.” I spat at them, a mixture of hurt, anger, and defeat. I never fit into the family, a black sheep, so maybe I should become one. I had always had top grades, won awards, done my best, but even being first, I was still last. My best friend was the only place I could think of going to; it had to be temporary. Jenny will be cool and let me sleep on her couch till I find a new home. I climbed onto my bike and took off to the only sanctuary I had over the years. Jenny welcomed me into her home, like I knew she would, and together we had a pity party consisting of drinks and vanilla fudge ice cream. We called the family and my ex some interesting names, some of which I had never heard before, but they sounded good. The drunker I got, the more inventive the names became. The next morning, after waking up on Jenny’s couch and remembering yesterday, it did not go as planned. I pulled myself together, had a quick shower, and left for work. It was eight in the morning, and Jenny was still asleep when I left. That might be okay for some, but my workday today would be ten hours long, and I was running late. “You're late, night must have gone better than planned,” Mike said jovially. They sort of knew what I was planning last night. The others chuckled along with Mike. I grumbled some shiet and got to work. By the end of the day, Mike pulled me to his office. “Okay, out with it. The guys have been tiptoeing around you all day. What happened? He rejected your advances?” He asked, his hand on my shoulder, keeping me in place, looking at me with concerned eyes, a father figure, better than my dad had ever been. So, I told him what happened when I got home and where I spent the night, and now I'm looking for a place to stay. I was proud of myself; I didn’t cry, or whine, or show any emotion at all —just explained my predicament in cold, emotionless words. Clear and succinct. He said he wouldn’t say anything in the shop, but would talk to the prez. I had no idea why, but I was not in the right frame of mind to question it. Maxine POV Today was my sister's engagement party; engaged to my ex-boyfriend. Yeah, you heard me right, my ex. What a joke that was. I had been with Dan for six months when my sister, who was a year older than I, came home for Christmas and ended up with my boyfriend. She’s a shameless woman, always has been, but I never expected him to sleep with her. I thought we were secure in our relationship. The only good thing I took away from this was that I never went to bed with him; my innocence was still intact, not that I was trying to keep it - I just never got the chance to lose it. She always managed to have any guy I was interested in dump me for her, and when she got bored with them, she’d move on. So, in a way, I didn’t have a boyfriend till she moved out of her home and headed to college. But when my sister came home and met him, she seduced him and got pregnant. He did the whole ‘get down on one knee and proposed’ scene. Apparently, it was romantic, but I wasn't there when he did it because they didn’t want me around. It hurt a lot at the time, and I was glad to have my girlfriends around me, helping me get over it. They say, I dodged a bullet. I agree with them, stupidly. He might have been a sports jock with good looks, but doing this tells me he was weak and shallow, and I was too good for him, or so my BFF says. I prefer to believe them over the excuses my ex made. I had to move out of my home after I had a massive fight with my parents a few days ago, when the truth was exposed; they supported her, not me, and the next thing I knew, I was out the door and the evil sister. The engagement party was intended to introduce him to her friends and make the relationship official, but I was not invited. My parents want nothing to do with me. I made them all uncomfortable, considering he was my boyfriend first. Anyone working out the timeline for the baby can piece it together, and see they were cheating on me, and it would have been awkward, and too many questions would have been raised. Not that I needed to say all of that, I kind of said it all before, but grrrrr, I am so angry at how my so-called ‘family’ kicked me out of my so-called home, with no care for me or my feelings. It was easier to push me away and disown me than have to explain to them that my sister cheated with my boyfriend, and hey presto, a baby was on the way. Because I was kicked out of the house, and only had a short time to pack anything, I took the opportunity of the party to sneak into the house and take more of my possessions, like opening my father's safe, and grabbing every piece of paper relating to me, and a little money too, no a lot of money, and grandma’s jewelry that she left me. So, with the help of my BFF, we packed my belongings and took them to her place until I found a new one. I ride a motorcycle, so I need help. I have the money to buy a new place, but I'm unsure if I want to stay in this town now. Once my apprenticeship is over, I might move away. I stayed that night at Jenny’s place, as I figured out what to do. Today, I am moving into my new place —a bungalow above the bike shop where I work. I am in my final year of apprenticeship, and I am a motorcycle mechanic, proud of it, I might add. I can also work on cars and trucks. If it had a motor, I could fix it; I always could, thanks to my knack for it, which I developed since I was eight, when I fell in love with engines. My Grandpa taught me, kept me out of everyone's way. I guess you could say I was a tomboy, with no frills and lace. My Grandpa kept me sane and busy, so the BS in our house didn’t hurt me as much. The place has two bedrooms and is fully contained, meaning it has everything I need. I had purchased some new sheets and towels, that sort of thing, but it had a fully stocked kitchen; I only needed to buy the food. It might be small, and above a noisy bike shop, but at night it was a quiet area. No one would break into this shop; the local bikie gang owned it. They were good guys, scary, but so far, no trouble for me. My BFF, Jenny, was helping me take my belongings upstairs when a group of bikers arrived and assisted us. I had five boxes and two suitcases filled with all sorts of items. “Thanks, guys, for the help,” I said sweetly, my BFF batting her eyes at them and swaying herself suggestively as she walked and thanked them. She makes me laugh with her antics, which are totally opposite to mine. I like jeans and am rarely seen in a dress, whereas she was seldom seen in jeans. “We got a party at the clubhouse, tomorrow Saturday, you should come and relax a bit, bring your girls with ya,” Bruiser suggested as he walked me to the settee, pushed me down, and handed me a drink they had brought with them. This was how they acted around me, ordered me about. Sometimes, I'm okay with it; other times, I get all worked up and growl back at them. Today was acceptance. I know they mean well, and I feel lucky to have them as family; they try to make me feel better. “That sounds like a blast, count me in, and I can bring two other girl friends with us. Max, do you want me to pick you up?” Jenny offered, taking a drink from one of the guys. She was not a drinker; however, in this situation, I could see her not refusing anything they offered. I guess I'm going, whether I want to or not. “No, I’ll ride over,” I replied as one of the guys ordered pizza. “That’s the spirit. Nothing like the wind in your hair to blow the cobwebs away.” They stayed because they didn’t want me to be alone, not on my first night here. Pizza arrived not long after, and my little bungalow was soon feeling too small and crowded, with six huge bikers in the room. Some sat on the floor; others pulled up one of the three kitchen chairs. I know, I know, three chairs sound odd, but that's what was here, and beggars can’t be choosers; the rent was dirt cheap, and I think the boys are the ones to make sure I had everything I needed. They found out about my situation the next day, because, I was still quiet at work, which was not like me, often I am singing to the radio, or swearing at something, so one of the guys walked to me, to find out what gives, and I softly told them, what went down, and when word got around the bikers heard I needed a place to stay, because I was kicked out of my home and why, they came to me, like protective brothers. Now I have a whole gang of bikers who have my back. I feel privileged to call them friends. They even offered to rough the ex up for me, but I refused the offer, because strangely, I was happy to get rid of the loser if he was a cheating build. Better now than when I am fully invested in our relationship. Plus, I was in deep enough shite with my parents and sister without making it worse. The pizza was gone, my BFF left for home, and the guys did too. It was late, well, for me, midnight. I usually fall asleep quickly because I have to be up for work at five. Tomorrow, being Saturday, I have the morning shift before the party later. They let me leave work early so I can move in here. “Hey, don’t forget to come, we need our prettiest mechanic at the party, some of the boys might need a tune-up,” Bruiser said with a laugh as they climbed on their bikes and left. I know what sort of tune-up he was talking about, and it had nothing to do with a motor. I looked around my new home. It wasn’t much, but it was all mine. The guys were great; they took the empty pizza boxes and beer cans with them, and the place was relatively clean. Not at all what you would expect from a group of rowdy men. The clubhouse. I had never been to it, despite having worked there for nearly four years, and they had never extended an invitation to me. I know they had lots of parties; maybe I was too young. I turned twenty recently, but they might think of me as the fifteen-year-old who showed up one day and told the boss I was going to be his apprentice. He laughed at first and said he would give me a go to prove myself. He thought I was joking and that I would be gone by the weekend, but over the holidays, I worked hard and have been here ever since. Maxine POV The beeping sound of my phone alarm made me sit up and look around. It took a moment to remember where I was. The room had a small curtain that barely kept the light out. There was a streetlight just outside my window. I can envisage myself getting better blackout curtains soon. Although it was annoying, it wasn't among my top priorities for making this a home. The shower was decent, with nice pressure. I followed my morning routine, only to realize how foolish I was to wake up so early, living above my place of work; I didn’t need to ride here. After finishing breakfast and cleaning up the kitchen, I still had half an hour before I needed to be at work. I had two ways to get into my place: one was through the back stairs, and the other was through the shop. With the code to turn off the alarm, I decided to head down and start work early. It was better than moving stuff around; I can do that later. I had a bike to finish by this afternoon. The customer would be here at two. Turned off the alarm, turned on the coffee pot, the radio, and headed to my workstation, where the fat boy was waiting for me to finish. I sat on the chair with casters and began my job, singing loudly to the heavy rock song that came on the radio as I installed the new spark plugs and double-checked the oil. It was a simple, easy-peasy service. Once finished, I started the bike up, let it idle while I made coffee, then returned to rev it a few times. It sounds lumpy, like it was just turning over perfectly; it was music to my ears. I love that throaty, deep, lumpy sound. You can feel it vibrate through my chest. “That’s a sound I loved to hear as I enter work.” My boss, Mike, said as I turned the bike off. “It’s ready to go, unless you want to take it out for a test ride. Want a coffee, pots hot.” I offered as I threw the dirty rag in the bin. “Sure, I will take the bike out for a spin, and you can make me a coffee.” He smirked as he grabbed the bike. I opened the garage door, and Mike took off. I smiled as he disappeared down the street, and I turned to make both of us coffee. If you hadn’t guessed already, I would drink a lot of coffee. I am not a fan of soft drinks or tea; for me, it's coffee or water. With a broom in hand, I began cleaning the shop. I am not out here very often, but I try to sweep the floor at least once a week; they have another apprentice who’s a second year, who gets to do most of the cleaning up, but he’s never here on a Saturday. The sound of the bike returning prompted me to pick up the two cups of coffee and head back out to the workshop. Mike had a massive grin on his face as he parked the bike. “Great job, you are our top mechanic. But don’t tell anyone, or I will have to deny it.” He joked, taking his coffee from my hand as he walked by, no doubt letting the customer know the bike was ready ahead of time. I moved to the next bike, which was a total rebuild; it had been in a minor accident, and while the frame was being checked, I would work on the engine and gearbox. It was the only job on my list at the moment. The bike owner was in no hurry; he had a broken leg, giving me a few weeks to work on his bike and any urgent jobs that might come into the shop. The client arrived and happily took possession of his bike, very happy with the job done. “I hear you’ve been invited to the club party tonight,” Mike said as he rang up the sale on the cash register. “Yep.” I said popping the ‘p’. “You can leave now, we have no more customers expected. Good job today.” It was about one o’clock, near the time I would knock off. “Thanks, boss.” I saluted him and rushed upstairs, before he could change his mind. Giggling all the way up. I heard him chuckling as he locked the door below, behind me. I decided on a quick shower; I didn’t want to smell of oil when going to a party. Put on my skinny black jeans, a black blouse that had red flames on the back and on the pockets, black boots that had some chains around the ankle, and hair in a ponytail. I will get what we call helmet hair, so it's a waste to do much with it now. I use mascara and strawberry lippie, which is more to moisturize, which tend to dry out when I ride my bike, and that's it. The last thing I grabbed before leaving was my jacket. My mum used to grumble that I wasn’t like my sister and put more effort into my appearance, but I like who I am, and I didn’t like wearing lots of makeup; it was my choice, and I feel that I am not a frilly, lacey chick. It was a deal breaker with my mum. She had my sister dress up and left me in the care of Grandpa until he died when I was seventeen. It broke me when he left the world. He was the only person who got me. My grandma had been gone since I was young, and I filled the hole in his heart with my love for bikes and fishing. He left me his money and bikes. Dad got his house and business. My mum hated that I gained all that money. When Grandma died, she left me her jewelry, and Grandpa made sure to keep it safe till I was old enough to have it. I ate something and put some more of my stuff in the cupboards before my phone chimed to let me know my girlfriends were on their way to the party. I pulled my bike out of the small garage and started it up. I threw my leg over and took off, heading to the property. The clubhouse was half an hour out of town, set on a large property a little bit back from the road. Ten minutes later, I came up behind the girls and hung out behind them. My friend waved me on to take the lead. I shrugged and overtook her. The turn off arrived, and I rode happily up the long drive, and trees lined the road. An open, large steel gate appeared, and I was glad it was still enough light to see clearly. Men stood by the entrance, watching us arrive. “Hey.” I greeted the biggest man I had ever seen. “Who invited you here?” The man asked gruffly, in a deep husky voice. “Bruiser,” I answered, with a firm, clear voice, hoping that the fact that he frightened me would be noticed in my voice. He pulled out his phone and called, I assumed, Bruiser. “Max?” He asked, as he looked at me questioningly, and I nodded. He said something more and hung up the phone. “Come in, the car behind your girls?” He looked at the car behind, which clearly had a woman in it. “Yep,” I replied, not at all liking how he intimidated me with his manner. Perhaps it was the way they greeted strangers. One look makes the weak run. Well, I am not weak, and I won't be running. Maxine POV This rather large biker leaned in to look inside the car, his bulky figure partially blocking the open window, causing the girl nearest it to back away. Satisfied, he looked at me with a knowing smirk, then motioned for us to enter. The clubhouse was nothing like I had imagined. Firstly, it was four levels high. Verandah all the way around, that I could see. It was more like a mansion than a clubhouse. Women were gathered near the door, looking in, as if they were waiting for something; some were sitting on the wooden fence that surrounded the verandah. They were dressed in barely anything, showing all that was available, some love that sort of thing. People like me dress to stay warm or cool and don’t care about showing off the goods. Bikes sat in neat rows in front, and cars were parked to the left of the building; the ratio of bikes to cars was approximately four bikes to one car. I parked the bike with the others, climbed off, and took off my helmet. I placed the lid on the bike and shook out my hair while waiting for the girls to park and come to me. I heard some muffled scoffs, but I couldn’t care less —I wasn't here to please them. Bruiser came out of the clubhouse behind me. “Max, you came by bike. Sweet.” He gave me a greeting nod and moved to take a look at my bike. The paint job was a wolf, fading in smoke. It took me months to finish, as I kept changing my mind, and the smoke obscured the mistakes. “Who did the paint job?” He asked as he moved around to look at it from all sides. “Me.” I was proud of the results. “Does Mike know you can paint?” He sounded surprised. “He has seen my bike when I used the garage to do a service. He never asked who did the paint work, just that he liked it.” “Sweet, looks like we have someone to do a paint job, and possibly a full one. We have a family reunion in a few weeks, and the ladies are invited to come along. You can join us.” Bruiser offered as my ladies arrived; they were not included in that invitation, I assumed, because I have a bike. “Bruiser, you already met Jenny, Melony, Karen, and Heather, my other BFF, and Alice, Karen's sister, and BFF to my sister.” Adding that comment, hoping that Bruiser knew precisely what that woman was like. Alice battered her eyes and leaned forward to show off what was under that almost shirt. My ladies greeted him with the respect he deserved. “Ladies. Hands out.” Bruiser stamped the girl's backs of their hands; they all had a bear, except Alice, who had a rabbit on her hand. I frowned, trying to figure out what the rabbit was all about. He pushed my hand away. “You are family, no need for a stamp.” I couldn’t stop the smile that crossed my face. I felt so special. Then the shoe dropped. Rabbit had another meaning. Bruiser got my meaning loud and clear. It took a while to understand the purpose of the stamps. “Come inside and meet the ole ladies.” I understood what he meant; these were ladies who had been claimed and had a different level of respect that those not claimed would never understand. I have met a few of them over the years and gained more insight into club life. They respect me as much as I respect them. We entered the place, and the girls who had been waiting outside gave us a dirty look, as they were still stopped from entering. “What's so special about them?” One pouted, but Bruiser ignored her. Inside was cleaner than I had expected —my fault for judging a group of men, since they often look messy when I see them at the shop. The place had a large, open space, with tables where you stand, as well as booths dotted along the walls, and stools at the bar, which ran the full length of the room. I loved the spacious room, the pictures on the walls, and some bike parts scattered about as decoration. A few barstools are bike seats; it was different, and it appealed to me. Being a lover of bikes. “Sticks.” I greeted her as we walked to the ladies Bruiser was taking us to. “Hey, Maxie Max. How's it blowing?” She stood up and pulled me into a warm embrace. This chick had no filter or personal space. Sticks was the President's; her real name was Sandra, but she was my height at five-nine, and she had no shape to her body, just a lovely bean pole, almost no chest to speak of, yet she had had two boys. Hence the name Sticks. “Doing better,” I replied. She would know what was going on. She introduced us to the other ladies with her, and it didn’t surprise me that Alice had already moved away from us before we had finished the introductions. “What’s her story?” Sticks asked as she watched Alice start to try her luck with the club men. “Same as my sister. Bruiser put a rabbit stamp on her hand.” Sticks and the other girl roared out laughing. “She will be used, snugged to the side by the time the night is over, and I doubt they would let her back in. We don’t need her sort in the club.” Maggie spouted as we watched a patch member knock her offer back. “The regulars are not going to like her working their turf. So, to speak.” Tootsie said, with a smirk, that the regulars know the rules and stick with them. Don’t reach a patch member; if interested, they will come to you. Nom’s are fair game. But most girls would prefer a patch member. Don’t have a relationship with a taken member; the women will gang up and make your life miserable if you feel one of theirs. Wait to be let into the clubhouse and then stay in the public area. No going upstairs uninvited. The first two floors are designated for guest rooms, while the top floor is reserved for permanent residences. Those who don’t have a home of their own to go to. They are private and not open to wandering girls. Don’t sit on someone’s bike, unless you are given permission. The patched old ladies are the bosses of the girls; they tell you to leave or do something, and you do it. There were more rules for the girls visiting, but I couldn’t remember them all at that moment. None had applied to me until now. Alice had already broken at least three, to my knowledge. I am staying out of it. That rabbit on her hand told the members that she would open her legs for any of them, and no one would support her if she broke the rules. That she was not welcome to return, in other words, have your fun, and then abandoned her to the curb. The doors were opened to let the other girls in. They looked at us in the no-go zone and pouted. We were sitting in an off-limits area unless we were invited. From what I understood, they were here to spread their legs and give the guys some relief, but not become part of the family. They might be hopeful that something would change; it was rare for a patch member to take one of these ladies, who had most likely been with every unattached member of the gang, at some point. My girls left me with Sticks and wandered about with the other ladies, getting the tour of the place. “Want to look around?” Sticks were offered, and before I knew it, we were walking around the vast ground floor. “Ready to see the workshop, the guys might talk you into helping out, once they know who you are.” Sticks led me down a small pathway, lined with flowering shrubs, and to a set of large, farm-size sheds. Inside were bikes, some in bits, others crumpled from an accident, and others like they had just been detailed and were someone's pride and joy. There was a workshop here, where men were working on their bikes. They looked up at us when we entered and frowned. If Sticks were not with me, they would have most likely growled at me to get out. “Who’s this Sticks?” A monster of a man asked, in the deepest voice I have ever heard, he looked a lot like the man at the gate, but with more toned muscles. Just a tad taller, and although he looked big and scary, he made my lady parts sing in a way they had never sung before. Tank POV A few guys aren't into parties, so I stopped going until later in the night, when the girls who showed up were already taken. I dislike the women who come here hoping to adopt our lifestyle. I prefer to use my hand rather than one of those women. Don’t get me wrong, I have had my share of women; however, I had a girl who wanted me to take her, and when I did, she ended up in the hospital, because I am not exactly a little man. And I have not been with a woman since. Like my brother, we are both large men; he is six feet six inches tall, and I am six feet eight inches tall. He’s carrying extra weight, where I am all muscle. I pride myself on keeping in shape, but being this large has its downfall, and having a large build has had me worried about hurting another woman. No matter how much I might want to, I can’t; I never want to go through that again. The Prez was the only person who knew why I wouldn’t join the parties; he was with me when we took the girl to the hospital, she forgave me, and tried to pursue me to keep her, but I couldn’t. Each time I started, I had flashes of her screams, and my confidence went down like a popped balloon. We were in the workshop, doing some minor tune-ups. As I prepare for our ride, I'm excited. When they bring the ladies, the men are usually in a better mood and on their best behavior. I was looking at rebuild. I started it last week. We have a few wrecks that need to be started; some have been sitting here far too long. We can only go so far before we need Mike's help. None of us was a mechanic. I was scratching my head, as I was almost at the end of my knowledge, when I heard someone enter, and a soft perfume that shouldn’t be in this shed hit my nose. Stick’s voice reached my ears, and I lifted my head up to look i