of these guys were hard gangsters by day and puddles of useless misery at night. It seemed that lights-out was the only time acceptable to wallow in the shitty hand you’ve been dealt.
Not me.
In my game I was both player and dealer, and I knew what cards I held before anyone else did.
Especially Ti.
It pained me to remember the look on her face when they slapped the cuffs on me she thought were meant for her. Her face scrunching up in confusion, followed by her eyes widening in surprise. When she called out for me I almost didn’t look back, thinking that she might never forgive me for what I’d done. But I had to. One last time for only who knows how long. And when I did, I didn’t expect her to leap into my cuffed arms and press those perfect pouty pink lips against mine.
Those fucking lips.
I thought time away from Ti would make me forget. Not about her, just about the little details. The things that might drive a man crazy when he couldn’t be with the one he wants most. I thought that maybe as time passed her beautiful face would start to grow blurry and it would be harder for me to picture her. That maybe I wouldn’t remember the incredible way she smelled.
Her soft moans.
The way her cheeks flushed when she was about to come.
No, that didn’t happen.
What did happen was that I remembered everything, and in bright vivid detail. The more I thought about her the more I remembered.
With so much time on my hands, it was possible I remembered her in even more detail than I had when she was standing right in front of me. Like the way she shifted on her feet when she was uncomfortable. The way she bit the side of her thumb when she was nervous.
I’d never had the need to claim a bitch my entire life. But then I tasted her by the fire and I knew there was no turning back. Not for me. Not ever. That first time with her in the truck, I swear I was chanting MINE in my head as I pushed in and pulled out of her incredible pussy.
If I thought long and hard enough I could still smell her on me.
I often had to remind my cock of where we were and of the immediate threat at hand, because it was easy to get lost in the memories. Naked. Writhing. Panting.
Fuck.
* * *
As easy as it was to get lost in the thoughts of her, it wasn’t easy to forget about the immediate threat that could be looming beyond every turn. No cell was safe. No hallway. No bathroom. Not even the yard.
When Bethany told me they had enough evidence to arrest Ti, there was no way I was going to let them take her and spared no fucking second thought about taking her place. Which is all the more reason to make sure my guard is up and that each and every Bastard who thought they could come at me in County would end up mangled or dead. Didn’t really matter because either way, it wouldn’t be Ti.
Unable to sleep, I stood at the cell door and leaned against the bars. Across cell block, through the high window, the ONLY window, was the full moon obscured by thin passing clouds, offering the only glimpse of freedom I was sure to have for a long while.
If ever.
The D.A. announced shortly after I’d been arrested that they were pushing for the death penalty.
The clouds parted and the light of the moon lit up my cell like a spotlight. Oddly enough illuminating the graffiti on the cell block wall above the toilet.
BEACH BASTARDS, LOGAN’S BEACH was tagged in thick marker.
I sighed. Even in my fucking cell I couldn’t escape their reach, even if it was only in ink form.
For now.
The Beach Bastards used to be more than just a motorcycle club, more than my home even. They were a brotherhood, bound by loyalty. At the time nothing compared to the feeling of belonging to something bigger and more important than myself.
Something I believed in with everything I had and was.
When I left the MC, I never thought I’d have that again, but I was wrong. Although the packaging was a little different. Instead of leather and tattoos, it was a smart mouth and a body I wanted riding my face every fucking second of the day.