Page 21 of Jagger
“I have a confession to make,” I said, causing him to glance at me again. “I googled motorcycle clubs Saturday night.”
“You did? And did you learn anything interesting?” he asked teasingly.
“More than I probably wanted to know, honestly,” I said with an embarrassed chuckle.
Jagger glanced at me quickly, reaching over the center console to take my hand in his and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Anything you want to ask me about, Angel?”
“Well, um, I did read that a lot of clubs have women who live with them, or hang out with them, and their sole purpose is to…service the needsof the members. Is that only the one-percent clubs you were telling me about, or does your club do that?” I asked hesitantly.
Jagger pulled his hand back and ran it over the back of his neck, looking distinctly uncomfortable at my question. My stomach clenched with a sense of dread as he heaved a sigh before answering.
“Yeah, we have a few bunnies who live in rooms over the garage on the compound. They also eat and drink for free while they’re there, and they…make themselves available to the guys.”
“So, they’re prostitutes?” I asked. I knew I probably sounded judgmental, mainly because I was.
“No, Angel, they aren’t whores, they just enjoy sex and like to hang around with bikers. They take care of the club, and the club takes care of them. They like the lifestyle, and the brothers like the easy pussy.”
I cringed at his bluntness, and he apologized. “Hell, I’m sorry, Molly. I’m not one to dress things up in fancy words. I call it like it is. They like fucking bikers, and the bikers like having pussy on tap, plain and simple. Some of them are hoping to snag a man for themselves, but I don’t know of any of my brothers who would make a club bunny his Old Lady.”
“So, all of your club brothers are having sex with the same women, and nobody minds?” I asked, trying to wrap my head around it.
“No, nobody minds Angel, because there are no feelings involved. The women are just a wet hole to get off with. It sounds crude, but I don’t know how the hell else to say it. That is literally all it is.”
I didn’t say anything, just taking it all in and trying to decide how I felt about it. Jagger reached for my hand again, and I looked over at him to find his eyes on me before they flickered back to the road ahead.
“Have I scared you off?” he asked, looking pissed off at the idea.
“No, but I…I’m not exactly comfortable with it all. I’ve just never been one for casual sex, so it’s hard for me to understand. I’m trying not to judge, I mean, it’s not really my business who you’re sleeping with.”
Jagger squeezed my hand and tugged it toward him, resting our joined hands on his thigh. “Maybe not who I was with before we met, but it’s very much your business now, Angel. And for the record, I won’t be touching anyone else while we’re seeing each other. I’ve never had an actual adult relationship, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t know the rules.”
I gave him a small smile as he met my eyes. I left my hand in his, and we rode in comfortable silence for the next few minutes until Jagger turned on to a side street leading to an industrial area. We passed several small, older warehouses, before turning again onto a road with a ‘Dead End’ sign at the corner. The only thing on this small stretch of road seemed to be a two-story brick building with windows only on the second floor, and a tall, chain-link fence around the building and adjacent parking area. There was a gate blocking the entrance to the lot, with a guard shack next to it that I noticed was unoccupied.
Jagger hit a button on a garage-door style remote clipped to his driver’s side visor, and the gate slid open, automatically closing as soon as we drove through. I looked around with interest, noting the half-dozen or so motorcycles backed up in a neat row by the door of the main building. There were two smaller buildings within the fenced-in area that I hadn’t been able to see from the road, one of which was attached to the larger building with a small, enclosed walkway. The other was the garage that Jagger had mentioned, with five garage bay doors along the front and an entry door on the side nearest the two-story building.
Jagger parked in front of the main building, on the opposite side of the door to the row of motorcycles. He flashed me a smile as he got out, and I opened my door and stepped out of the passenger side as he hurried around to meet me. I glanced at my purse, before deciding just to leave it in the car so I didn’t have to keep track of it inside. Jagger assured me it would be safe – “nobody would have the balls to break into my car in this parking lot” – and took my hand as he closed the car door behind me. I took a deep breath to calm my nerves and tried not to look as freaked out as I felt.
“You good, Molly?” Jagger asked me, tilting my chin up when I didn’t answer him. His eyes searched mine, then slid down to follow the tip of my tongue as I tried to discreetly lick my suddenly dry lips. His gaze sharpened, focusing on my lips in a way that did nothing whatsoever to calm me down before he brought his hand up to cradle my jaw.
“You are so fucking beautiful. I think I could look at your face for the rest of my life, and I would still think that every damned time,” he told me softly, and that unexpectedly sweet statement – delivered as only a man like Jagger could – took my breath away. I couldn’t even formulate a response as he slid his hand from my jaw to clasp the side of neck, angling my head as he lowered his lips to mine.
This kiss started off differently from those we had shared on Saturday night. Those kisses, even the very first one, had been an explosive expression of pure lust and desire. This kiss was soft and tender, his lips gently brushing mine before lingering and then sliding his tongue along my lower lip. My lips parted, and Jagger accepted the invitation, deepening the kiss as he slipped his tongue inside to tangle with mine. I moaned softly and pressed my body closer to his. The hand on my neck tightened ever-so-slightly, and he rubbed his thumb gently over the pulse point at the base of my throat as he pulled back to draw in a breath. He let go of my hand and brought his up to cup the other side of my neck, then leaned his forehead against mine. He turned his head slightly so that he could whisper in my ear, and his low, throaty voice made a shiver race across my skin, leaving goosebumps everywhere in its wake.
“If we weren’t in the middle of a goddamned parking lot, Angel…” he left his warning unfinished, and my mind raced with all of the sexy possibilities to fill in the blanks. I really wanted to hear what he would do to me if we were alone. I also really wished I had the nerve to just come out and ask him.
“Come on, we need to go inside before I change my mind about dinner and just take you home with me.” Jagger said as he guided me toward the double doors. He reached for one of the doors, holding it open and ushering me inside with his other hand at the small of my back. As soon as I stepped into the large room, Jagger was at my side, taking my hand again as he led me over to the bar along the left wall.
My eyes darted around the huge space, taking in everything. It was cleaner and brighter than I had expected. I had a picture in my mind of a dark, dingy, smoke-filled man cave, with a few motorcycle parts used as decoration. I was wrong. It was definitely a man-cave, but there was nothing dark, dingy, or smoke-filled about it. The overhead lighting made up for the lack of windows on the main level, so it was reasonably well-lit without being overly bright in the room. There was a huge, fully stocked bar that ran the length of the left wall, with bar stools in front of it. There were round tables and chairs scattered around in the center of the room, with a couple of pool tables to the right. I could see an open doorway leading into a kitchen, and a set of stairs and a couple of hallways that led Lord knows where. The walls were covered in motorcycle memorabilia of all kinds, with a few scantily clad women on some of the framed posters. I could see a raised stage area in the back corner, with two stripper poles on it, and a couple of sofas and chairs in front of it for prime viewing, I guessed. Luckily, there weren’t any strippers in sight at the moment. Actually, as I looked around, I realized I was the only woman here. I couldn’t say I wasn’t happy that I didn’t have to come face-to-face with any of the club bunnies right now. I needed to ease into this whole scene.
There were two men playing a video game on the largest TV screen I’d ever seen, one man cussing a blue streak as the other one ambushed him and he died on-screen.
There was another man watching them, offering commentary on their skills, or lack thereof. As he turned his head slightly, I realized that he was the flirty guy from the bar the other night. Trick, I think his name was.
Jagger came to a stop at the end of the bar where an older man sat nursing a beer and watching what looked like one of theFast and Furiousmovies on another big screen TV mounted to the wall behind the bar. The man looked more like my idea of a typical biker, with weathered skin and world-weary eyes. His hair was straight and long, gathered into a ponytail at the nape of his neck. His hair and bushy beard had been brown at some point but were now heavily sprinkled with gray. I guessed him to be in his late sixties or so.
“Hey, old man,” Jagger greeted the man with a clap on the shoulder. The man turned to look at him, his scowl turning into a huge smile when he caught sight of me standing at Jagger’s side.
“Well, hello there, darlin’. I didn’t get a chance to meet you at Inferno the other night. I’m Viking, and I’m sure as hell glad to have something pretty to look at around here.” he said, getting to his feet as he introduced himself.
