Manacle (MC Sinners Next Generation #3), Page 3

  “Ever think that the reason I wasn’t speakin’ to you was because I don’t want to?” he barks, leaning down and getting in my face.

  My lip trembles, but I hold my tears in. “We’re friends, Danny. We have been all our lives. Are you truly willing to give that up because we can’t be together?”

  “Fuck yes I am.”

  That hurts. The tears I was so desperately holding onto burst forth and run down my cheeks. His eyes move to them, and his face softens just slightly. I step forward and shove his chest. He doesn’t move. He’s like a damned boulder. It just makes me angrier. I do it again and again until he grabs my wrists and spins me around, slamming my back against the brick wall.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?” I scream into his face. “How can you hate me for wanting a life, yet I’m not allowed to fucking hate you for wanting yours? You’re so pissed that I didn’t choose you, but fuck, Danny, you didn’t choose me either. You chose the club. So you don’t get to fucking make me suffer because it hurts. Guess what? It hurts me too, you stupid, arrogant bast—”

  He cuts me off by slamming his lips over mine. I want to be pissed at him. I want to push him away. I want to tell him he doesn’t get to kiss me, but I’ve missed him so much. So much it hurts. His tongue invades my mouth and I let it. I inhale his scent while tasting him, tangling my tongue with his, kissing him with a force I’ve never shown.

  I need him.

  I will not wait a second longer.

  I reach down and take his jeans, jerking the belt off before popping the top button. I shove my hand down and find him commando and hard as a rock. I curl my fist around him, and we both moan. Danny’s dick is heaven. It’s hard, it’s thick, and it’s long. It’s the perfect amount of everything, and he knows how to use it. He’s proved that to me time and time again.

  “Fuck,” he grunts, finding the hem of my skirt and pulling it up. His big hands take my panties and rip them in one hard pull.

  “Danny,” I breathe, freeing him from his jeans. He uses his free hand to yank them down low enough that his cock can freely do its thing.

  He takes hold of my leg and hitches it up around his hip, and then he plunges inside me. No warning. Nothing gentle. Just pure, raw fucking. It’s exactly what I want—what we both want. My fingernails dig into his scalp as I rake my fingers through his hair, tugging as he fucks me with a ferocity he’s never used before. My moans are distorted and shaky because my body is slamming against the brick wall.

  It feels fucking incredible.

  “God dammit, fuck me harder,” I hiss into his ear.

  “Fuckin’ you as hard as I fuckin’ can without hurtin’ you,” he growls into my ear.

  “Hurt me, Danny. We both know you want to.”

  “No,” he grinds out. “I might fuckin’ hate you right now, but I’ll never hurt you.”

  But those words hurt me in a way he’ll never understand. I pull my fist back and drive it into his shoulder, screaming, “I fucking hate you for saying that, you dick.”

  “Yeah?”

  Thrust.

  “Well, I fuckin’ hate you for makin’ me love you so damned hard I can’t breathe without you.”

  Thrust.

  “Fuck you, Danny.”

  Thrust.

  “You’ll be doin’ that for the rest of your life. Fuckin’ me. Just not in the way I want.”

  Thrust.

  I groan and cling to him.

  “You think I don’t love you?” I gasp, arching into him. “I do, you arrogant pig. I love you.”

  Thrust.

  “Not enough, baby.”

  Fuck, he’s pulling out all the hurtful words today.

  I pull back and look into his eyes as my orgasm takes over. My mouth drops open and I whimper his name, shuddering as his cock takes everything from me. Then I whisper, “More than you’ll ever know.”

  He jerks and his jaw tightens as he finds his release deep inside me, his eyes never leaving mine. We stay like that, staring, silently challenging each other as all the pleasure slowly dies from our bodies and we’re left with nothing but the cold, hard reality that we’re never going to be. A tear runs down my cheek. Unhooking my legs, I shove him away and quickly pull my skirt down. I quickly turn around, unable to look him in the eyes for a second longer.

  “You think I’m bein’ an asshole,” he says, even though my back is turned. “But this is exactly why I cut contact. It ain’t healthy for us to meet up and do this shit, and we will, Skye. We don’t have the strength to say no, and I can’t just be a piece of ass. Neither can you.”

  I turn on him. “So what? We’re supposed to ditch decades of friendship because it hurts?”

  He doesn’t answer; he just stares at me.

  “God dammit, Danny! Is the club really this important to you?”

  “If you knew me at all, then you’d know the answer to that.”

  “You say you love me,” I croak, “but you’re not willing to give up a single thing for me.”

  “I’d give up my life for you, Skye, but you’re askin’ me to change who I am, and I can’t do that. This is me. I’m a biker. I’m going to run a club. You’ve known that your whole life. It isn’t me who’s askin’ for change—it’s you. This is what I am and have always been. You made the choice to accept that and bring yourself into my life as a lover. You let this get to where it is . . .”

  Anger bubbles up in my chest again. “And this is me!” I yell. “I don’t want to be an old lady, and it’s not because I don’t respect the hell out of the club because you know I do, but it isn’t the life I want. I want to travel, to fall in love, to have romance laid upon me, to have a beautiful wedding and live in a beautiful house. I want babies. I don’t want them to be raised in the club, but in a nice neighborhood with no drama and no danger. That’s me, and you can’t deal with that either.”

  “No, I can’t because it ain’t you. You’ve told yourself so many fuckin’ times that’s what you are that you actually believe it, but you forget that I know you, Skye. I know what makes you happy and what makes you tick. You love that club. You loved growing up in that club and you’re a part of it, even if you won’t admit it.”

  “You’re wrong!” I scream.

  “No, baby,” he says, calmly. “You are. But I won’t be around to say I told you so when you figure it out.”

  “I’m done here!” I screech, throwing my hands in the air. “I’m done. We’re done. You’re right; we need to stay away from each other.”

  “You don’t get to say when we’re done,” he growls, crossing his arms.

  “Yes, I do!”

  “No, Skye, you don’t. I make that call. I get to make it because you were never fuckin’ in it to begin with, so you sure as shit don’t get to tell me when it’s over.”

  I flinch.

  He turns his back and walks away, leaving me alone and heartbroken once more.

  He’s wrong.

  He is.

  Right?

  ~*~*~*~

  “Hey Preston.” I smile, placing a coffee down for an older woman and turning to face him. “What a nice surprise.”

  He grins and whips out a bouquet of roses that he had behind his back. My heart flutters, and a huge smile spreads across my face. “For you. I had a wonderful time the other night and wanted you to know I’d like to see you again.”

  My mind goes to Danny and our last meeting and my heart aches. I have to move on, not just for his sake but for my own. He’s wrong about me—I want this life. I want romance and adventure. I want a man to pick me up in his car, take me on a nice date, and drop me home with a soft kiss to the lips. I crave those things.

  Not a hard fuck against the wall followed by angry words.

  Something in my mind tugs at me when I have that thought, but I shove it back. It isn’t what I want. I don’t want to be an old lady, and I don’t want to be a president’s wife, to always be afraid for my husband, for my kids to be scared he won’t come home. Or
worse, to have one of my children taken and hurt the way Ava was. That very thought has my chest clenching, and I quickly push it back.

  I’m making the right choice here.

  “I’d love to see you again.” I smile to Preston, whose face lights up at my words.

  “When is your next night off?”

  “Tonight, actually. If that’s too soon, then Friday.”

  “Tonight is perfect. I can pick you up at eight.”

  I beam and bring the roses to my nose, inhaling their sweet scent. “That sounds amazing. What should I wear?”

  He leans in and kisses my cheek. “You’d look beautiful in anything.”

  My heart does a gentle little flutter, and my cheeks flush as he grins down at me before turning and walking out.

  This is what I want.

  It is.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “I had a really nice time.” I beam, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear and looking up at Preston, who looks really handsome in his button-down shirt and blue jeans. The glow from the streetlight outside my apartment highlights his gorgeous eyes, and my heart does a stupid flip-flop.

  “I did too. I really like spending time with you, Skye. I hope we can see more of each other.”

  I smile. “I’d like that.”

  “We are having a work gathering at my family home on Tuesday evening, I’d love for you to come and see what it is we do. Would you be interested?”

  “I’d love to.”

  He grins. “Then I’ll pick you up at five on Tuesday.”

  “Will I need a dress?”

  He leans down, slips his hand in mine, and brushes his lips across mine. My heart flutters. “I’ve got it all covered. I’ll see you soon.”

  He lets my hand go and steps back, disappearing down the front steps. I watch him go, listening to the hum of his expensive sports car as it drives off down the street. I had a lovely time with him. We talked, we laughed—he drove me to the park and we had ice cream. It was perfect. So why the hell is my heart so damned empty?

  I turn and unlock my front door, pushing it open.

  “Datin’ again?”

  I squeal and leap backwards, my hand to my chest. My dad sits on my sofa with Spike. My heart explodes with happiness and I lunge at him, throwing myself into his arms. He picks me up and holds me tight, like he always does. I miss him; I miss them all. Being away from home is harder than I’d thought it would be.

  Dad places me down and I look up at him, my heart swelling with love. He’s handsome, my dad. He has eyes just like mine and dark hair that still holds very little gray. He’s broad and covered in tattoos, but he’s the most loving person I know. At least, to me.

  “You scared me.” I beam up at him, then turn to Spike who is grinning at me.

  Danny looks so much like him. It burns. I keep my smile and walk over, throwing my arms around Spike’s neck. He’s bigger than my dad, and far more temperamental, but I adore him. Danny and I are kind of a Cade and Spike re-make. My dad and Spike have been best friends for as long as I can remember and before.

  “How you doin’, precious?” Spike asks, letting me go.

  “I’m good now.” I grin, turning back to my dad. “What’re you two doing here?”

  “Comin’ to check on you,” Dad says, stepping over and pulling me back in for a second hug. He’s affectionate, my old man. If he can touch you, he’ll take the chance. “Missed you, baby girl.”

  I press my cheek to his chest and breathe him in again. “Missed you too, Daddy. Is Mom here?”

  He lets me go. “Nah, we just had business to take care of. Wasn’t leavin’ without seein’ you.”

  “I’m glad you came.”

  “So am I,” Spike says, throwing himself back onto my sofa. “I wanna hear all about that boy who just kissed my niece on the porch.”

  “I’m not your niece,” I point out.

  He grins at me. “Close enough.”

  “That’s Preston. I’ve been . . . seeing him.”

  Dad snorts and I glare at him.

  “What?” he protests. “I don’t like his name.”

  “Daddy,” I say patiently. “You hang out with a guy named Spike who was named that because . . .”

  “We get it,” he grunts.

  Spike chuckles. “So, we get to meet this fucker?”

  I glare at Spike. “Do you have to be . . . so . . . Spike?”

  He throws his head back and bursts out laughing. I roll my eyes.

  “He’s right,” Dad says, plopping down onto the sofa next to Spike. “When do we get to meet him?”

  “We’re not even officially dating; we’ve just seen each other a few times. It isn’t at that stage.”

  “You sleepin’ with him?” Spike asks.

  Dad turns and shoots daggers at him.

  “What? It’s a valid question. You want your girl to get pregnant because you’re in denial?”

  “Fuck up, Spike. I’ll beat you,” Dad growls at him.

  Oh, boy.

  “Bring it on, old man. I’ll still kick your ass.”

  “You want me to go ask Mercedes how things are goin’ with her and Diesel in bed?”

  Spike bristles.

  “My point,” Dad grunts, turning back to me. “Do not answer that question.”

  I cross my arms. “I’m not sleeping with him, Daddy. Jesus. I’m not a whore.” No, I just fucked Danny a couple of days ago against a brick wall.

  “Never meant it that way, honey,” Dad says, his voice soft.

  “I know.”

  “You got any beer?” Spike asks, changing the subject.

  Bikers. What would I do without them?

  ~*~*~*~

  “Wait, so you’re totally seeing someone?” Mercedes asks as we walk along a busy street of Denver, looking for a place that sells good damned shoes. I can’t wear my shitty shoes to my date with Preston tonight.

  “Yeah,” I admit. “Kind of. It isn’t official, but I like him.”

  “And Danny?”

  I scowl at her.

  She throws her hands up. “I had to ask.”

  “Danny and I can’t be—you know that.”

  “I know that, I don’t necessarily agree with it.”

  I huff. “Can I just be excited about a date without being reminded of your brother?”

  She smiles. “Sorry, chicky. Yes, let’s go find some shoes.”

  “How’s Diesel?” I ask as we enter the first store.

  Mercedes cheeks grow pink, and I can’t help the smile that spreads across my lips. “He’s good. We’re good. He’s playing on the weekend; you should come.”

  “Yeah, I’m up for that. I need to get out.”

  She claps her hands. “Awesome. Oh, here, look!”

  She picks up a pair of silver strappy pumps. They’re gorgeous.

  “Wow,” I breathe. “They’re pretty.”

  “They’re super-hot. The sign says that they are the last pair and they happen to be in your size. You have to get them.”

  I flip over the price tag and groan.

  “They’re two hundred dollars. That could feed me for a month.”

  She giggles and snatches them from my hand, then glances over at the sales clerk who is helping someone else. She leans down and does something with her shoe, coming back up and wiping a streak of mud across the shiny new heel. I gasp, and she elbows me.

  “What’re you doing?”

  “Getting them cheaper.”

  “Mercedes!” I hiss. “That’s basically stealing.”

  She scoffs. “We’re biker brats; it’s how we were raised.”

  My mouth drops open. “Spike would put his boot up your ass if he found out.”

  She grins. “He would high five me is what he’d do. Where do you think I learned this? Watch and learn.”

  She walks over to the sales clerk and I follow her, my cheeks burning.

  “Excuse me?” she asks.

  The pretty blonde turns, her smile big. �
�Yes, can I help you?”

  “I’m really interested in these wonderful shoes, but I noticed this awful mark on them. Can you please tell me where this came from?”

  The clerk takes the shoe and her face scrunches. “Oh dear, someone who tried them on must have left it. Let me see if I can clean those up for you.”

  “Actually,” Mercedes says, “I don’t want shoes that are filthy. I buy new—I want new. I saw the same pair in the shop over the street for half the price; I’ll go back there. I just wanted to let you know.”

  She takes my hand and we start towards the door.

  “What’re you doing?” I hiss.

  “Wait for it . . .”

  “Miss, wait!”

  We both turn and the sales clerk rushes over. “Since they are the last pair, I’ll give them to you for a hundred.”

  Mercedes looks skeptical, the conniving little brat. “I worry that stain won’t fully come out, though.” She places her hands on her hips and rolls her eyes as if she’s contemplating if the discount is worth it.

  “Ninety dollars,” the clerk says.

  “Well, I guess I can’t go wrong with that. Thank you, how very kind you are.”

  The clerk beams. “Of course. I wouldn’t want you to think we don’t value our customers.”

  We pay for the shoes and the second we’re out of the shop, I spin on her. “That was mean! She’ll probably lose her job.”

  “She will not. The mark up on those is huge; she probably still made a profit. Besides, if I went to another shop and complained, the fancy rep of that shoe store would be gone.”

  “We basically stole shoes.”

  She grins. “You only live once, Skye.”

  “When did you turn into such a rebel?”

  She shrugs. “I was born this way.”

  I burst out laughing and throw my arm over her shoulder. I think I like her rebel side.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  I stand awkwardly, smiling and shifting in my gorgeous, expensive dress that I could never afford. Preston wasn’t lying when he’d said he had it covered. Earlier that morning, I was surprised when a courier delivered the most exquisite silk gown that I’ve ever had the pleasure of laying my eyes on. Then he brought me to his parents’ house. No. House doesn’t even come close to describing what this giant place is.