1
A year ago, my life changed. A year ago, I was taken from a place I was caged within. Taken to another in which every player demands something. Demands respect, money, freedom, booze or even drugs. A year felt like an eternity in my old cage and yet a year here has felt like a week, a breeze blowing away the fallen leaves gently. A year ago, three brothers stormed within the club's walls and shot until barrels were empty.
Loyalties were divided but that hadn’t made a difference. I had made a decision a long time before the O’Sullivan brothers stormed the vipers. Before the Hell Riders came to avenge the women that had been taken. Taken by the same man who had taken me at seventeen. Entrapped me within his club with no escape, life or reason to live. Death wasn’t something someone as stubborn as me would consider though. The depths of my stubbornness are deep. I guess that's why me and the youngest of the brother’s butt heads. That and the inevitable attraction I feel towards him and his willingness to ignore the fact.
A year is nothing but time to adapt. To change the ways in which you take on a challenge and I’m not shying away from this one. I know what I want and I want him.
“Juniper.” Damn that woman. She has this ability to make my voice sound on edge even when all I can see of her is slim legs. Hiding beneath the jeep. As usual of course she would be working on something. Fiddling with something. Like myself control.
“Austin.” She has this way of saying my name. A twang of an accent that makes it sound almost sensual.
Juniper slides out from beneath the jeep. Looking up at me with a smudge of oil across her pale cheek. Her heart shaped face with a narrow nose and a button end. Those wide round hazel eyes that draw the breath from my lungs. Brown lashes fluttering around them as she gives me the usual look of innocence. A satisfied grin pulling her round, full and I’ve dreamt firm lips taut. Her dimples. Those damn dimples that are permanently on show clawing deeper when she smiles or grins which is all the damn time. The woman doesn’t know of resting bitch face. Her pastel pink hair cut into a pixie cut around her face currently sprawled out across the board she so easily fits on.
How easily it would be to climb over her. To push open her slim legs and crush her body beneath mine. I’d manoeuvre her about with ease. Her delicate frame. A mask for the strength she holds. I’ve watched her workout, arm wrestle for money, carry objects with ease that another might complain about. Not Juniper.
She’d arrived here with dark blonde hair. I remember as the women filtered through the club's door. Most looking to the floor or nervously around at our club members who ushered them along asking questions of what help we could provide. Not Juniper. She had walked in with a long stream of dark blonde hair falling down her back. Sitting well below the small curve of her toned ass. It had been nearly as long as she. I’d initially thought her smaller. Her body is so slim she looked fragile, pre-pubescent almost. Yet those hazel eyes had looked around the room without a glimpse of fear. Her chin had been titled stubbornly as though she wouldn’t allow anyone to push her around.
Then I’d heard she asked to stay. To be recruited within the hell riders. No official qualifications within mechanics but that she had experience. She hadn’t been lying. The nimble creature began work the very next day. The very next week she had walked into the garage with her hair completely changed. Gone was the long waterfall of straight dark blonde hair that shimmered beneath the light. In its place a bob, layered with a side fringe and in a shade of pink I’d never known I even liked. She hadn’t changed anything else. Not the white crop top she wears beneath dark blue overalls. Nor the sports bras she has in an array of colours. Yet I’d noticed her again. This time to the degree I wanted to chuck all sobriety to the wind and drink away my sorrows.
She had been claimed. No matter the circumstances behind them. No matter the whispers I’ve heard of the claim never being accepted but forced. She was another’s. Our most respected rule. Even with Doyle dead. She is now a widow. Respected and protected. The rules do not only stand within our club but every club. Yes, Doyle was a coward, evil, sick and undeserving of a beauty like Juniper. Even dead. He took any opportunity from me. Now more than ever.
Lou still filtering through his share of nannies and never being satisfied with the care. Either intimidating away women that are not a part of the club, or those that are, well they’re more focused on getting to know Lou then Beau. Lou loathes women now. He hasn’t moved on from Mila and as much as I miss her. Her laugh and smile. I miss my brother being more than just a father to his adopted child. The man that could find something sarcastic to say even at a funeral. The one that was the easiest going of us all.
Allie and Jax having a young son of their own means that he is off. Taking care of his family. Satisfied that the club is safe within my hands. Of course, they both still play a part in the day-to-day running’s, but night time is family time. They don’t make any excuses as they don’t need to. Instead, I deal with temptation. That of drugs, alcohol and in the form of a little pink haired minx. I might just implode one of these days. Who knew that being a grown up would be so damn hard?
“Overalls are made to be worn on your arms.” I hadn’t meant to say it but looking at the small, gone off white crop top. Just below it I can see a sheen of sweat settling over her toned stomach. Above her milky pale skin is flushed. It’s hot and I have no excuse to demand she cover up because I cannot stop imagining touching her breasts. Tasting her.
“It’s hot. Maybe you should take your shirt off.” Minx. I feel like a predator. Towering over her like this. Trying to keep my eyes above the steady rise of her chest. She was unaffected. Not giving an absolute shit about the effect she has on me. Or totally oblivious to it. She just lays there relaxed. Hands against the ground either side. A wrench comfortably sitting within small slender fingers. God if only that was … “Not taking me up on that offer? What’s up? Are you shy? Nothing to worry about. I’ve seen your body before. It’s alright.”
“When have you seen my body before?”
“Loads of times. I’ve set up a camera in your bathroom. God the amount of money you pull me in on webcam deals is outrageous. Nice dick too.” Her dimples are as deep as they’ll go now. I know it because I’ve pictured how far a large pin could poke within them numerous times. I’ve spent far too much of my time focusing on this woman. With and without her being in my proximity.
“Juniper.” I warn almost coming out as a snarl. I don’t need to hear her talking about my dick. I came here for a reason. It just seems to have slipped my mind. Floated away or been forced out because I’d seen her. Seen the sweat on her body. Seen her cheeky grin, seen the way her eyes twinkle with excitement and menace. Which I don’t know if that’s what gets her excited or if it’s me. No. It cannot be me. That would be even more dangerous than just my fascination with her. But if she is also just as affected by me. It’s a recipe for disaster.
“Chill. I was joking.” She climbs up. Easily propelling to full height with only the use of her legs. Though her full height may be taller than I’d imagined previously at five foot five she is still small compared to my six one. Not that she behaves like it.
The little siren has enough personality to fill a seven-foot man. She could walk into a room with an air of dominance and confidence that would knock the American president off his throne. She won’t relent on her almost vulgar attitude and yet I find that I admire it.
If it hadn’t been enough, I was instantly attracted. I admire her. Her work effic and ability to learn new skills, willing to try at everything, she situates herself in the middle of every project. We have formed a common ground of her pushing and me retreating. It’s for the best. It’s what I must do. Not what I want to do. I want to crush her, not her will but just her body. I want her to cease fire just momentarily while I explore that vicious tongue of hers. Whilst I taste the venom of her. The poison I know would seep into my veins and burn me alive.
“Well, I was partially joking. I’ve seen your body when I’ve stalked you home each night. Watched you like a peeping tom. God how easy it is to get off watching you undress.” Her dimples give away how funny she finds herself. I don’t though. Not when all I’m now imagining is her hands moving below the waistband of her underwear. Would she move slowly, drawing out the tension or would she put pressure down to bring herself to bliss quickly?
“Juniper.”
“Austin.”
“I need the jeep. I informed everyone of that this morning. Why are you beneath it working?”
“I’m not beneath it.” Fucking smart mouth is now being pedantic with me. She chases away my sanity.
“Juniper.” I growl. The pent-up sexual tension is simmering too high. I need to get my ass out of this place. Out of the close proximity of her. Anywhere. A cold shower preferably. One in which I can take myself in hand and grind out the frustration. Like I have done so many times over this past year.
“God you’re such a grump. I was just tweaking. Anyway, it will be ready any second.” She saunters off. As she passes me, I can smell the mixture of oil, grease and flowers. Why does she always have a faint smell of flowers on her scent? How does she even manage it? I’m watching her little ass sway in those dark blue overalls and I’m nearly blinded by the punch to my gut. I don’t know how much more myself control can take of this woman.
I’m still standing rooted to the spot when she comes back out of the office. My head is a mess. My thoughts are solely focusing on her. My body is also in turmoil by those exact thoughts. She is like a tornado. Coming in and throwing all my progress up into the air. Like a puzzle I’d finally completed until a younger sibling comes in and chucks it to the floor. Losing a piece along the way. It doesn’t fit back together the way it once did.
Effective immediately I need to try and avoid her. You’ve tried that. My mind whispers back at me. God I’d tried but even sat behind my desk the monitors are too easy to switch between cameras and work. Always finding her here. Working. Alone.
“Come on then.” With a sultry voice and a change of clothes, obviously having washed her face and hands of grease. Now instead some tight shorts that look like she is ready for a bike ride and a loose knit jumper. Juniper is climbing into the passenger seat. When I don’t make a move to the drives, she climbs onto the seat looking over the roof at me. “You didn’t really think I wasn’t coming for the entertainment, did you?”
If I could run a hand down my face I would. If I could turn around and walk back into the club house, storm up the stairs and lock myself within my apartment, god I would. I could try and force her from the car but that would take touching her. Something I’ve never allowed myself to do. Knowing if I touched her, if I hauled her up, easily lifting her slim frame onto my shoulder. I wouldn’t put her down again until it was on the nearest surface and I was between those toned thighs.
My treacherous body isn’t the only issue as I know the craving, I feel to spend time with her. Juniper is trouble. Not in general. Not to anyone else. No, she is loved. One of the lads with her upbeat bubbly personality. Everyone loves her.
She is my trouble. Maybe even the end of my sanity.
Loyalties were divided but that hadn’t made a difference. I had made a decision a long time before the O’Sullivan brothers stormed the vipers. Before the Hell Riders came to avenge the women that had been taken. Taken by the same man who had taken me at seventeen. Entrapped me within his club with no escape, life or reason to live. Death wasn’t something someone as stubborn as me would consider though. The depths of my stubbornness are deep. I guess that's why me and the youngest of the brother’s butt heads. That and the inevitable attraction I feel towards him and his willingness to ignore the fact.
A year is nothing but time to adapt. To change the ways in which you take on a challenge and I’m not shying away from this one. I know what I want and I want him.
“Juniper.” Damn that woman. She has this ability to make my voice sound on edge even when all I can see of her is slim legs. Hiding beneath the jeep. As usual of course she would be working on something. Fiddling with something. Like myself control.
“Austin.” She has this way of saying my name. A twang of an accent that makes it sound almost sensual.
Juniper slides out from beneath the jeep. Looking up at me with a smudge of oil across her pale cheek. Her heart shaped face with a narrow nose and a button end. Those wide round hazel eyes that draw the breath from my lungs. Brown lashes fluttering around them as she gives me the usual look of innocence. A satisfied grin pulling her round, full and I’ve dreamt firm lips taut. Her dimples. Those damn dimples that are permanently on show clawing deeper when she smiles or grins which is all the damn time. The woman doesn’t know of resting bitch face. Her pastel pink hair cut into a pixie cut around her face currently sprawled out across the board she so easily fits on.
How easily it would be to climb over her. To push open her slim legs and crush her body beneath mine. I’d manoeuvre her about with ease. Her delicate frame. A mask for the strength she holds. I’ve watched her workout, arm wrestle for money, carry objects with ease that another might complain about. Not Juniper.
She’d arrived here with dark blonde hair. I remember as the women filtered through the club's door. Most looking to the floor or nervously around at our club members who ushered them along asking questions of what help we could provide. Not Juniper. She had walked in with a long stream of dark blonde hair falling down her back. Sitting well below the small curve of her toned ass. It had been nearly as long as she. I’d initially thought her smaller. Her body is so slim she looked fragile, pre-pubescent almost. Yet those hazel eyes had looked around the room without a glimpse of fear. Her chin had been titled stubbornly as though she wouldn’t allow anyone to push her around.
Then I’d heard she asked to stay. To be recruited within the hell riders. No official qualifications within mechanics but that she had experience. She hadn’t been lying. The nimble creature began work the very next day. The very next week she had walked into the garage with her hair completely changed. Gone was the long waterfall of straight dark blonde hair that shimmered beneath the light. In its place a bob, layered with a side fringe and in a shade of pink I’d never known I even liked. She hadn’t changed anything else. Not the white crop top she wears beneath dark blue overalls. Nor the sports bras she has in an array of colours. Yet I’d noticed her again. This time to the degree I wanted to chuck all sobriety to the wind and drink away my sorrows.
She had been claimed. No matter the circumstances behind them. No matter the whispers I’ve heard of the claim never being accepted but forced. She was another’s. Our most respected rule. Even with Doyle dead. She is now a widow. Respected and protected. The rules do not only stand within our club but every club. Yes, Doyle was a coward, evil, sick and undeserving of a beauty like Juniper. Even dead. He took any opportunity from me. Now more than ever.
Lou still filtering through his share of nannies and never being satisfied with the care. Either intimidating away women that are not a part of the club, or those that are, well they’re more focused on getting to know Lou then Beau. Lou loathes women now. He hasn’t moved on from Mila and as much as I miss her. Her laugh and smile. I miss my brother being more than just a father to his adopted child. The man that could find something sarcastic to say even at a funeral. The one that was the easiest going of us all.
Allie and Jax having a young son of their own means that he is off. Taking care of his family. Satisfied that the club is safe within my hands. Of course, they both still play a part in the day-to-day running’s, but night time is family time. They don’t make any excuses as they don’t need to. Instead, I deal with temptation. That of drugs, alcohol and in the form of a little pink haired minx. I might just implode one of these days. Who knew that being a grown up would be so damn hard?
“Overalls are made to be worn on your arms.” I hadn’t meant to say it but looking at the small, gone off white crop top. Just below it I can see a sheen of sweat settling over her toned stomach. Above her milky pale skin is flushed. It’s hot and I have no excuse to demand she cover up because I cannot stop imagining touching her breasts. Tasting her.
“It’s hot. Maybe you should take your shirt off.” Minx. I feel like a predator. Towering over her like this. Trying to keep my eyes above the steady rise of her chest. She was unaffected. Not giving an absolute shit about the effect she has on me. Or totally oblivious to it. She just lays there relaxed. Hands against the ground either side. A wrench comfortably sitting within small slender fingers. God if only that was … “Not taking me up on that offer? What’s up? Are you shy? Nothing to worry about. I’ve seen your body before. It’s alright.”
“When have you seen my body before?”
“Loads of times. I’ve set up a camera in your bathroom. God the amount of money you pull me in on webcam deals is outrageous. Nice dick too.” Her dimples are as deep as they’ll go now. I know it because I’ve pictured how far a large pin could poke within them numerous times. I’ve spent far too much of my time focusing on this woman. With and without her being in my proximity.
“Juniper.” I warn almost coming out as a snarl. I don’t need to hear her talking about my dick. I came here for a reason. It just seems to have slipped my mind. Floated away or been forced out because I’d seen her. Seen the sweat on her body. Seen her cheeky grin, seen the way her eyes twinkle with excitement and menace. Which I don’t know if that’s what gets her excited or if it’s me. No. It cannot be me. That would be even more dangerous than just my fascination with her. But if she is also just as affected by me. It’s a recipe for disaster.
“Chill. I was joking.” She climbs up. Easily propelling to full height with only the use of her legs. Though her full height may be taller than I’d imagined previously at five foot five she is still small compared to my six one. Not that she behaves like it.
The little siren has enough personality to fill a seven-foot man. She could walk into a room with an air of dominance and confidence that would knock the American president off his throne. She won’t relent on her almost vulgar attitude and yet I find that I admire it.
If it hadn’t been enough, I was instantly attracted. I admire her. Her work effic and ability to learn new skills, willing to try at everything, she situates herself in the middle of every project. We have formed a common ground of her pushing and me retreating. It’s for the best. It’s what I must do. Not what I want to do. I want to crush her, not her will but just her body. I want her to cease fire just momentarily while I explore that vicious tongue of hers. Whilst I taste the venom of her. The poison I know would seep into my veins and burn me alive.
“Well, I was partially joking. I’ve seen your body when I’ve stalked you home each night. Watched you like a peeping tom. God how easy it is to get off watching you undress.” Her dimples give away how funny she finds herself. I don’t though. Not when all I’m now imagining is her hands moving below the waistband of her underwear. Would she move slowly, drawing out the tension or would she put pressure down to bring herself to bliss quickly?
“Juniper.”
“Austin.”
“I need the jeep. I informed everyone of that this morning. Why are you beneath it working?”
“I’m not beneath it.” Fucking smart mouth is now being pedantic with me. She chases away my sanity.
“Juniper.” I growl. The pent-up sexual tension is simmering too high. I need to get my ass out of this place. Out of the close proximity of her. Anywhere. A cold shower preferably. One in which I can take myself in hand and grind out the frustration. Like I have done so many times over this past year.
“God you’re such a grump. I was just tweaking. Anyway, it will be ready any second.” She saunters off. As she passes me, I can smell the mixture of oil, grease and flowers. Why does she always have a faint smell of flowers on her scent? How does she even manage it? I’m watching her little ass sway in those dark blue overalls and I’m nearly blinded by the punch to my gut. I don’t know how much more myself control can take of this woman.
I’m still standing rooted to the spot when she comes back out of the office. My head is a mess. My thoughts are solely focusing on her. My body is also in turmoil by those exact thoughts. She is like a tornado. Coming in and throwing all my progress up into the air. Like a puzzle I’d finally completed until a younger sibling comes in and chucks it to the floor. Losing a piece along the way. It doesn’t fit back together the way it once did.
Effective immediately I need to try and avoid her. You’ve tried that. My mind whispers back at me. God I’d tried but even sat behind my desk the monitors are too easy to switch between cameras and work. Always finding her here. Working. Alone.
“Come on then.” With a sultry voice and a change of clothes, obviously having washed her face and hands of grease. Now instead some tight shorts that look like she is ready for a bike ride and a loose knit jumper. Juniper is climbing into the passenger seat. When I don’t make a move to the drives, she climbs onto the seat looking over the roof at me. “You didn’t really think I wasn’t coming for the entertainment, did you?”
If I could run a hand down my face I would. If I could turn around and walk back into the club house, storm up the stairs and lock myself within my apartment, god I would. I could try and force her from the car but that would take touching her. Something I’ve never allowed myself to do. Knowing if I touched her, if I hauled her up, easily lifting her slim frame onto my shoulder. I wouldn’t put her down again until it was on the nearest surface and I was between those toned thighs.
My treacherous body isn’t the only issue as I know the craving, I feel to spend time with her. Juniper is trouble. Not in general. Not to anyone else. No, she is loved. One of the lads with her upbeat bubbly personality. Everyone loves her.
She is my trouble. Maybe even the end of my sanity.
