Broken Read online

  “Sorry babe. Let’s just go to my place. At least then we can have a door between them and us.”

  “Please tell me you’re not talking about just the bedroom door and they are going to stay outside the house.”

  “Yes, I meant the front door. Two guys will post on the front door and two on the back. Normally one would be in the kitchen but in deference to your wishes I’ll make them all stay outside tonight.”

  “I can’t be the only girl that as objected to your escorts, can I?”

  “Actually you are. Before the other night I have only dated biker chicks and they all know the drill. But I usually only have one escort. It’s just that since we’re at war we have to beef up our security.”

  “Yeah I get it.”

  Once we get into Blade’s apartment and alone I can actually relax and enjoy myself. Blade is quick to set the mood with a few candles and a little light music.

  “Wow, this actually makes you look civilized.” I say, looking around the room. “This is not your typical biker treatment is it?”

  “When in Rome…”

  “Yeah you’re not in Rome yet Mister, and I don’t think that saying really applies here.”

  “I try…”

  “Yes you do.” I reply. “And I appreciate it. I’m not one for slam bam thank you ma’am sort of treatment so this is nice. I like the effort Sean.”

  That’s all the invitation he needs apparently, and in short order we’re in his bedroom getting hot and heavy.

  Blade’s long, sensuous fingers pause at the point where my blouse is tucked into my slacks. I take a deep breath and will myself to relax. I feel like I’m on the verge of being violated and not…and not made love to. I take another breath and say a silent prayer for courage and a plea that I don’t melt into a disgusting puddle of sweat before he even touches me.

  But the second his fingertips touch the sensitive skin on my lower back I begin to respond in a very adult female manner and not that of an abused teenager. But it’s a constant tug of war between my present and my past as it fights to pull me back under the black waves of an ocean of pain and anguish. Suddenly I can’t get any oxygen into my lungs. It’s like I’m drowning all over again and my past is winning the battle one more time. Blades fingers go from instruments of great pleasure to tools of torture. This is not right, I tell myself. It’s not happening today. This is Blade who is Sean and he would never cross the line with me. For him a casual, toe drawn boundary in the sand is the Great Wall of China and he wouldn’t dream of attempting a crossing.

  The moment he senses something is wrong his fingers freeze, and then begin backtracking. Feeling the withdrawal I take a deep breath and begin to relax at the same time cursing my body for its very human frailty.

  Blade begins to pull away from me respecting my limitations, but I can’t keep doing this to him. Instead I pull him closer so that we are lying on our sides, pelvis to pelvis. He throbs for more and I ache to give it to him. I grab his ass and pull him into me, holding him in place as I grind up against him. Each tiny move sends little darts of pleasure straight into my kitty.

  “You don’t have to.” He breathes into my ear.

  And even that causes me to shudder with pleasure.

  “Oh no,” I breathe into his hot lips. “I really have to baby. You give me no choice.”

  I punctuate my statement by renewing my grip on his raging erection. I stroke his cock up and down about as roughly as I can, bordering on abuse but he loves the violence of my movements.

  His mouth drops from my ear to the base of my neck as he kisses me roughly with renewed passion. I stroke him up and down as his mouth travels down to the swelling of my breasts. With my free hand I grab my blouse and tear it down exposing taut breasts, rigid nipples. His mouth drops down to my left nipple where he bites down unexpectedly. Each time he bites I can feel a little shot of electricity that goes from my nipple to my kitty and back to my fevered brain erasing any thoughts I might have of resisting his claim over my body and I wonder, does this mean I am his old lady now?

  Strong hands manipulate my breasts while his mouth continues to go from one inflamed nipple to the other until I just can’t stand the intense stimulation any longer. My hands go from his cock to the buttons of his jeans. I pull and yank the buttons but to no avail. The already tight jean material is being stretched to the limit by his raging hard on and I can’t get the damn buttons apart. I feel hands leave my breasts and I just barely bite back a protest before his hands cover mine and he rips at the two sides of his jeans with a soft pop pop of buttons coming off before rattling around on the wood floor of his apartment.

  He sits up, then rolls off the edge of the bed pulling down his jeans in the process. He tears them off, kicks them out of the way before grabbing the top of his briefs. He starts to peel them down but stops and gets this wicked expression on his handsome face. I can see the head of his cock pushing upwards, peeking out of the black material. I lick my lips as my desire stretches beyond my control. I roll towards the edge of the bed with the thought of grabbing his cock and yanking it free but he easily dances out of my reach.

  “Don’t make me beg!” I plead, painfully aware that I’m begging.

  He smiles and pulls down the hem up his briefs exposing more throbbing manhood. I lay back on the bed and try a new tact. I unzip my own pair of skinny jeans and slip them down just past my ass. He freezes as his eyes follow my every move and I know I have him now. Just like every other man in his inflamed condition he is mine! I peel back the flimsy, taut material of my red panties just enough for him to see my ultra- smooth wax job. He takes a step to the edge of the bed and reaches down but I use my legs to bat his arms out of the way.

  “Oh no you don’t.” I command.

  He reaches for my legs this time with both hands. I try to move them to the side and out of the way but he’s too fast for me and easily catches me by the ankles. He starts to spread my legs when he changes his mind and grasps the bottoms of my pant legs in each hand and starts to pull them down past my thighs.

  “No!” I shout and begin kicking my legs violently trying to shake his grasp.

  Stunned, he drops my pant legs and stands back. I can tell by the hurt, surprised expression on his face he has no idea what’s going on. My face turns beat red and heats up as the shame from my past shoots forward into my present.

  “I-I’m s-sorry.” He stammers, apologizing for something he has no idea he’s done.

  Full of shame and remorse I curl up into the fetal position on his bed pulling at the covers trying to cover my body from his view. The pained expression on his face is too much for me to bear so I just shut my eyes. A minute later I feel him sitting on the edge of the bed but he knows better than to touch me; not yet at least.

  “I don’t know what I’ve done,” He says softly. “But I’m sorry Jen, I am so sorry.”

  I open my mouth to speak but nothing comes out but gagging as words are caught in my throat.

  “If you like I can leave you alone.” He says. I can tell from his voice he does not want to leave but he’s willing to do whatever I need.

  “No.” I finally say to him. “Stay…please.”

  I feel him shifting around getting into a more comfortable position. I’m glad he’s decided to stay. I stay shut off from Blade and the rest of the world for as long as I can before pulling back the covers enough to expose my face.

  “It’s the scars isn’t it?” He asks.

  I nod miserably.

  “It’s okay really.” He begins. “Bikers look at scars a little differently than others Jen. Your scars are your battle wounds. They’re proof that you’re not some noob; that you’ve seen a few things. Scars are something to be proud of.”

  I look at the scars on his muscular chest and point to one on the right side rib area. That one there.” I say to him. “You got that when your dad kicked the shit out of you?”

  “What? No.”

  I point to another one. It’s
long, thin and maybe five inches or more. “Lemme guess, your old man gave you that one with his belt and that one,” I point to another one on his right shoulder,” must have been from your mom…or your ex- girlfriend; am I right?”

  He opens his mouth to say something then stops himself.

  “Are you beginning to see a pattern here?” I ask.

  He nods. “I think so. You’re trying to say that the kind of scars you have aren’t the ones you can point to and be proud of. You can’t point to the one on your shoulder and tell a story about how you took a bullet saving some dude’s life for example.”

  “You’re absolutely right. My scars are from my mother’s boyfriends and ex-husbands; in short they’re nothing to be proud of. You are obviously proud of yours and for a good reason. Your scars ad character. They actually are part of your appeal; mine aren’t.”

  “Other than to Mark, this is the first time I have ever talked to a man about my scars. When I talked to Mark I kinda got this feeling afterwards that I was like this charity case for him or something. Like I was this poor horribly disfigured woman with so little going for her and he was my white knight in shining armor.”

  “I’m not in the rescue business babe.” Blade replies. “I’m not one to donate to charitable causes either; even one as beautiful as you. You don’t need rescuing. I think you’re stronger than you give yourself credit for.”

  “Thanks, but the trouble was, if I showed any signs of being anything other than a helpless female it rankled him. One way or another he always managed to tell his friends about my scars. He would find some way to work it into the conversation so that people felt sorry for him too that he had to put up with me. Why I stuck with him so long I have no idea. Actually I do. I think I got so painted into the victim’s corner by him. Then, more than ever, I viewed myself as this wounded, half a human that no one else could ever want.”

  “Wow. What a piece of work that Mark is. You’d think the vetting process would weed out people like that but I guess you can’t be perfect can you?”

  “What about the Crusader’s vetting process. Anyone ever slip by you guys?”

  “I don’t think so. Our process is several years long. I believe the Sheriff’s training program is what, eighteen weeks long? How can you really get to know a person in that short of time?”

  “But didn’t you guys get infiltrated a long time ago? You did say there was a FBI guy and a state cop who joined undercover right?”

  “Yes, back then the club was trying to grow too fast and got careless. We have been painstakingly slow in our rebirth process and no cop could ever complete the jumping in process.”

  “What’s the final test?” I have to ask.

  I’m dying to find out if I’m right about having to kill to get in. Actually a part of me hopes that’s not the case. I don’t want to think I’m in bed with a murderer. It’s bad enough that he killed a man in the ring. But he’s no stone cold killer; I know if he was and then I’d have to leave.

  “I can’t tell ya. Suffice it to say that you have to be a criminal to pass the last test. Now no more talk about the club. Are you okay now?”

  “Yeah sorry about the whole mess tonight. I’m guessing this isn’t the way you’d imagined this would go down; no?”

  “Don’t worry about it babe. I’m a patient man. And now this patient man needs to go to attend to some club business. You stick around as long as you like. There’s no rush.”

  “Actually, if it’s okay with you I’d like to be taken back home now.”

  “At this hour? You sure about this?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure.”

  “Then I’ll take you myself.”

  “No it’s okay. I can take a cab.”

  “Not a chance. Church can wait. This won’t take long.”

  It’s nearing midnight when I finally crawl into bed. Wracked with guilt about how tonight ended, I seriously doubt I’ll be going to sleep any time soon. Surprisingly I’m wrong. The last time I opened my eyes to look at the clock it’s just after one in the morning. Soon after that I slip into a deep slumber.

  Chapter Six

  Home Invasion?

  My eyes pop open! For some reason I’m lying in bed wide awake at three in the morning. I’m normally a deep sleeper and don’t wake up for any reason except to take a pee and I definitely don’t have to do that. I glance around my room in the dark, watching the shadows in the faint moonlight. After about five minutes of watching I decide it was just a fluke and close my eyes again.

  That’s when I feel the bed depress. It’s just like when you’re lying in the middle of your bed and someone sits down or kneels down on the edge. Instantly I am wide awake and I feel like a lightning bolt just struck the top of my head and it’s shooting through my body giving me a huge shot of adrenaline. I scramble to roll over and away from the side of the bed that the intruder is entering but my legs are caught up in the blankets. When powerful hands grab my wrists pinning me to the mattress I know it’s hopeless to resist any further. It’s like I’m in a cocoon or something. My mind is screaming at me to do something, but I just can’t decide what that something should be.

  I was struggling hard so he’s had to use a lot of energy to keep me under his control and now he’s blasting my face with his sour whiskey smelling breath. It’s so repulsive it’s hard not to just vomit in his ugly face. It occurs to me that hurling may not be such a bad idea, but the fear that I may accidently aspirate it back into my own mouth and lungs keeps me from blowing chunks all over his face. With all my strength left I heave with my hips, upwards and off to one side hoping it will be enough to dislodge my attacker but my attempts are easily thwarted. In the middle of my efforts I hear one distinct, chilling sound; a zipper. He’s going to rape me.

  “Please don’t rape me.” I beg. “I’ll do anything, give you anything, just please don’t rape me.”

  He actually pauses for a second then let’s my left hand go like’s going to maybe leave now or something, but when I feel an explosion on the side of my head I know exactly what’s happening. I feel the room begin to fade. Oh my god, I’m going to pass out! If that happens I’m seriously in trouble. I shake my head side to side trying to jar myself awake but none of that matters when he punches me in the face. It feels like a locomotive just slammed into my chin a fraction of a second before I lose consciousness.

  The sun’s streaming in through the blinds making a pleasing pattern on the wall opposite my bed. I can hear the distinct knocking sound of a woodpecker that inhabits the only mature tree in my backyard. I can feel the cool morning breeze blowing across my face. It’s a nice morning to be alive…until I remember what happened.

  Last night I was raped! The thought strikes me like a sledgehammer assaulting my consciousness hammering my brain with the knowledge that I have been horribly violated! I try to push back the memory but it’s attacking me with such a ferocity I feel like it’s happening all over again; just this time it’s only between my ears and not my legs. The longer I lay in bed the worse it is. I peel off the covers and move to roll over but my muscles protest the movement immediately and I realize, with a sinking feeling that I should take myself to the hospital so they can do a rape kit. As I sit up I notice something though. I don’t feel like I was raped. I don’t feel physically violated. When I’ve had intercourse I can feel it. I feel…stretched. And my muscles feel used. With growing confusion I peel the final sheet and look down between my legs; nothing. I would have expected to see some spotting of blood from being forced. I can’t even see any sign of fluid on the fitted sheet. With growing hope I peel down my panties and peer into them; nothing. How could I have been raped and there be no remaining fluid? Even if he used a condom there would have been some vaginal fluid present. And it hits me like a beautiful bolt of lightning. I wasn’t raped! That explains so many things. If I go with the rape scenario it brings up too many questions that I don’t have the answer to. But if I go with the ‘it was just a dream conclusion’ i
t answers all the questions. A huge weight comes off my shoulders. I am so glad I didn’t go to the hospital claiming rape and asking for a rape test. That would have been so humiliating!

  With a great sense of relief flooding my mind I step into the hot steamy shower eager to start the day. The prospect of going on a ride with Sean is exciting to say the least. I still can’t believe I am dating an outlaw biker. I’m not sure where that puts me in terms of which side of the law I fall on because I haven’t been a party to any crimes. As the water sluices over my skin, down across my breasts and down my flat tummy I begin to feel a stirring in my kitty Sean’s face drifts across my mind. He cracks a crooked smile. I see his tongue flutter across his pearly whites and a quiver begins in my tummy. My mind’s eye travels down Sean’s face to the edge of his wife beater tank- no scratch that. My eyes travel down his wisp of a goatee, down his neck and over his bulging chest. I can almost feel his bare chest against my own slippery soapy skin. My own hand drifts across my flat tummy, past my navel and down to my velvety lips. I take a deep steamy breath and my hand becomes his as his long fingers pause momentarily before entering me. Then his fingers grow and fuse together into one long deliciously rigid, long throbbing cock! Oh what fun a simple hot shower can be.

  Twenty minutes later, spent and wet I emerge into the cloud of steam searching for my bath towel. I feel around and find it draped over the sink which is odd because the only person who ever did that was Officer Mark Brown. It’s my favorite towel too and not the one I had chosen before turning on the water. I can feel a shriek coming from deep inside me. It started as a quiet almost squeak of terror the moment I saw the towel. But as the realization of how much trouble I am most certainly am in, the tiny squeal just erupts from my throat in one long agonizing wail of terror, anguish, and, rage. How could he have done this to me? After the whole deal with the court, finally getting the restraining order and the speech the judge gave him the day it all happened. Yeah I have expected him to skirt the 500 feet rule and maybe some text messages and anonymous emails, but not this. Breaking into my house just to terrorize me? I can’t do this all over again; I just can’t.