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Benji
Four months earlier
“Never thought I’d see this day again.” Smoke chuckles as we watch Timber pick up the tiny redhead he brought to the Club tonight and carry her towards the bedrooms. The bar breaks into hollering as they exit, the tension that’s permeated the atmosphere since Maddi and Mad Dog argued earlier, finally easing. Pot smoke billows from my nose as I laugh. It’ll be good for Timber to get laid on a regular basis by someone other than a clubwhore. It’ll keep his eyes off my sister.
“Pass that here.” Smoke demands, gesturing towards the joint I’m holding. I flick it at him and the dumbass tries to catch it, burning his fingers in the process.
“Fucking cockhead,” he howls, shaking his burnt fingers. I throw myself back in my seat, laughing so hard I can’t breathe, while he whines like a little bitch. Once he’s righted the joint, he sticks it in his mouth and inhales, filling his lungs and holding it.
My head’s spinning from a combination of the pot I’ve smoked, the whiskey I’ve downed, and the crystal meth I smoked before I got here. I’ve learned if I smoke pot in front of everyone and drink enough, then they’ll think I’m stoned and drunk, not off my head. The only two who realize are Maddi and Mad Dog, but it’s easy to get them off my case now that they’re broken up and spending their time arguing with each other.
With Joel lost in his head, depressed about his hands, it’s become easier and easier to get high without anyone noticing. In my more sensible moments, I can admit to myself that I’m playing Russian roulette with losing my footy career by running the risk of returning a positive drug test, but with the way my right knee is failing me, I’m probably going to need surgery soon anyway.
“Fuuuuck,” Smoke drags out the word, pulling me from my uneasy thoughts. “Now fucking Connor’s gone, I’d love a shot with Lacey. She’s the hottest fucking woman here by far. She was always too good for his greedy ass. How she fell for his bullshit, I could never work out. She’s an absolute sweetheart.”
Following his gaze, I take in Lacey as she dances with my sister and a group of Old Ladies. Her short, flared skirt is swinging as she moves, showing glimpses of toned, tanned thighs. Slowly raising my eyes to take in the rest of her, I watch as her obviously bra-less tits sway under her shiny top, hard nipples visible, and the bottom of her stomach playing peek-a-boo. With her eyes closed, her dark blonde hair brushes her shoulders as she gyrates. The look on her face is one of ecstasy, as if she’s doing more than dancing in a dingy biker club.
I’m still checking her out when her eyes open and she looks at me, big, brown eyes widening as she catches me staring. Two bright red spots appear on her cheeks and her mouth drops open. At her reaction, my dick twitches in my pants, her embarrassment making me hot. I raise my glass of whiskey at her and wink, laughing when her whole face turns red, and she looks behind her as if to double check that it was her I was directing my actions toward.
Watching as she composes herself, I laugh louder when she blows me a kiss. Her cheekiness makes my dick harden all the way. I love nothing better than a cheeky minx. They’re the best rides.
I’m about to rise from my seat and join her on the dance floor—orders by my footy club to rest my knee, be damned—when fucking Smoke nudges my arm. Some of my whiskey sloshes out of the glass and lands on my jeans. Lacey shakes her head at me, giggling as she turns her back, and resumes dancing with Maddi.
“Fuck you, Benji. Leave her alone.” Smoke orders.
Elbowing him viciously in the side as I stand, my immediate attention is on signalling someone to bring me something to wipe up the wet patch on my crotch. I look like I’ve pissed myself, thanks to my asshole cousin.
“She’s a big girl. I’m sure she’ll tell me if she’s not interested.” I smirk, grabbing the paper towel one of the prospects has passed to me. It soaks up some of the wetness but not enough to salvage my pants. Fuck!
“God, you’re such a cockhead. Can’t you leave one woman in the Club alone? Fuck me, I just said I like her.” Holding his side where I elbowed him, Smoke rises to his feet and gets in my face. The bar’s packed and no one is paying any attention to what’s going down between us yet.
Good. That means nobody’s going to step-in and shut this down.
I shrug at his words, chuckling when his face fills with rage. Adrenaline fills my limbs and I ready myself to push him over the edge. He’s too much fun when he gets like this. “What’s your problem? Hasn’t Lacey got too many curves for your tastes? I thought you liked stick insects.”
My reminder about his skinny ex-girlfriend isn’t subtle. I fucked her behind his back while I was still in High School. My actions that night heralds the beginning of our ongoing antipathy for each other, one I’m not sure she warranted, since she wasn’t the most appealing woman. She was way too skinny for my tastes so me and Joel had nicknamed her “The Praying Mantis”. Not that her long, thin limbs had stopped me from giving her one in the back of Maddi’s car during one of our visits to Brisbane.
She’d only been a quick fuck to me, so having her walk back into the Clubhouse and break up with Smoke immediately after, hadn’t been on the cards. Neither had her turning to me and begging for a repeat in front of him. Losing his girlfriend to his younger cousin had pissed him off and he’d tried to kick my ass for it. Once I’d handed him his own instead, any familial feelings between us were muted. He might be seven years older than me, but that night was the beginning of a fierce rivalry between us.
One that rears its ugly head regularly.
“Drop dead, you little shit,” he snaps at me.
Smoke’s always been a hot-headed fighter, too sloppy and emotional to inflict much damage, and I can normally fend off his wide loping swings without much effort. Tonight is no exception. He balls his fist and pretty much sends me a postcard warning me of the punch he’s about to throw. Expertly, I weave out of his way, laughing the entire time. When he sends a second blow my way, I side-step once more with ease. I’m almost out of his trajectory when I twist the wrong way on my right knee.
My bad knee.
The knee my footy club has been threatening to send me for surgery to fix.
Our antics have gathered an audience, and if it wasn’t so bloody painful, it’d be funny seeing everyone’s mouth drop open as his fist glances off my chin and I fall. Hitting the floor with a cry of agony, I grab my knee and curl into a ball. Fucking hell, it hurts. Excruciating pain shoots up my leg, pain that I try to ignore, as I brace myself for Smoke’s follow-up throw.
“Fuck, Benj. Your knee?”
I stare at him for a moment, dumbstruck that he didn’t take the opportunity to get a free one in, before nodding.
“Yep. I think I’ve fucked it this time,” I groan as I attempt to push myself upright. Trying to stand fails miserably, so I’m still sitting on the floor breathing through the pain, when Maddi and my best friend, Kyle drop to their knees next me, followed by Joel.
Just brilliant. The nanny brigade has arrived.
Jerking my head out of Maddi’s hand when she checks to see if Smoke caused any damage, I send Kyle a plea for assistance with a nod. He works out what I’m asking straightaway, nudging Smoke to get his attention.
“Grab him under the shoulders. We’ll put him in my room,” Kyle says.
“No. He needs to go to the hospital,” Maddi interjects, trying to take control of the situation in her normal bossy way.
Shaking my head, I snarl at her, “I’m not fucking going. If it’s still sore in the morning, I’ll get the physio at my club to have a look. Back the fuck off.”
When she falls silent, looking stunned by my ferocity, I try to transmit “hurry-up” with only my eyes to Kyle. As usual, he comes through for me. Moving Maddi out of the way, he grips me under the arm. Smoke comes to my other side and does the same. I need to get out of here before someone works out that I’m not just drunk. I know my knee is fucked, but I can’t go to the hospital high, so I’m just gonna have to deal with the pain tonight.
It takes everything in me not to scream when I’m pulled upright and Kyle and Smoke manhandle me toward Kyle’s room. Joel trails behind, looking pissed that he can’t help because of his mangled hands. I thought the last time I went down with my knee on the footy field was painful, yet I’d happily go back and experience that a dozen times over rather than deal with this injury. Despite my agony, I smile at my little brother, trying to pull him out of the funk I’m watching him fall into as he lifts his shaking right hand in front of his face with obvious effort and tries to move what’s left of his fingers.
The only silver lining is that Maddi doesn’t follow us. She’s obviously still smarting from my earlier nastiness. I hate when she’s shitty with me. It’s like kicking a puppy. She’s been like my mother and sister rolled into one since Mum died, as annoying as that can be sometimes. Not to mention what she went through for me. What happened to Joel because of that ... and the secrets I’m hiding from both of them. Guilt starts swirling in my gut when I think about the past and my fuck-ups. I hate remembering that shit, so I force myself to swallow it down and concentrate on the here and now.
Forgetting gets easier when Kyle and Smoke lift me onto Kyle’s bed in his room at the Clubhouse and the pain ratchets up another notch. It takes both of them to get me settled, my fists bunching at my side when Smoke straightens my leg out once I’m leaning against the headboard.
“I’ll leave you to it.” Smoke nods at me, sympathy in his expression. When I don’t answer him, he shakes his head at my rudeness and pulls a smoke out of his ever-present pack, lighting it as he exits the room.
“You high?” Joel asks from the end of the bed. He doesn’t bother to wait for my denial, launching into his tirade in the next breath. “You’re a dickhead, Benj. Dad’s out there, so’s Maddi. Our little brothers. You think you’re God but you’re not. Everyone’s stressing about you.”
Moving until he’s next to me, I shrink away from him when he lets the full force of his anger and pain show on his face. “You have everything I wish I still had and you’re taking it for granted. Stop abusing your God-given talents and straighten yourself out or I’m done with ya. I can’t watch you end up a fucking cripple like me.”
He’s stripped every ounce of oxygen from my lungs with his vehemence, remorse for the ongoing drama I keep causing my family making me feel sick. I know I need to stop using, I try all the time, but it’s not as easy as everyone thinks. Smoking ice makes me feel good; feel powerful and in control. I don’t have to worry about the past or the future when I’m high. That’s not something I find easy to give up.
As my justifications bounce around my brain and I internally lament how unfair he’s being, I watch as he lifts his arm and tries to bunch his hand into a fist. His limb refuses to cooperate, his growing frustration evident, and I finally drag in a breath when he gives up trying to swing at me. I send Kyle a fleeting glance for help, and in that time, Joel manages to find a way to make his arm listen to him. His elbow connects with my eye. It’s not much of a hit, but it’s more than I expected from him.
Grabbing his wrist when he begins to swing again, I hold his arm still. He struggles for about two seconds, quickly realizing that I can easily overpower him. Eyeballing him, I press my free hand against my eye, checking to see if he broke the skin. He hasn’t, thank Christ.
“What the fuck, Joel. Why did you do that?”
“Someone’s gotta knock some sense into you.”
Turning his back on me, he strides as fast as his limp will allow him from the room without another word. It takes him a long moment to slam the door shut as he leaves. The small bang the door makes after watching the concerted effort he puts into it, highlights just how hard it was for him to manage even that small physical outburst. I feel like a cunt for making him feel worse.
“Jesus fucking Christ.” I twist toward Kyle, who was suspiciously quiet and unhelpful during Joel’s attack. “Is everyone on their rag tonight? They’re all over-emotional.”
The laughter that I force to follow my remark dies on my lips when he doesn’t join me. He looks more serious than usual, his typically jovial expression replaced by worry.
“Bloody hell. Not you, too.” I groan. “I’m fine. The physio will fix my knee tomorrow...” I trail off when he cuts off my protests.
“We’re not worried about your knee. That’s the least of your problems. Joel’s right. You need to get straight—”
The door to Kyle’s room swings open, interrupting him, and in waltzes one of the last people I want to see tonight. The thumping music from the bar fills the room, the pulsing ache in my temples informing me that my usual comedown headache is starting to take hold.
“Can you give us a minute, Kid?” Mad Dog addresses Kyle by his Shamrock’s road name in a tone that makes it clear that he isn’t really asking a question.
Rolling my eyes when Kyle scurries out of his room after giving Mad Dog a respectful nod, I burst into laughter at his departure. Ever since he beat Kyle up a few years ago to find out who my dealer was, Kyle’s been wary of him. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t also—having been on the receiving end myself a couple of months ago—but I don’t let Mad Dog know. And I certainly don’t treat him like God, like the rest of the bloody MC does.
“How’s the knee?” Mad Dog lifts one corner of his mouth in half a smile when he looks at me. I think he’s entertained by Kyle’s behaviour as well.
“Totally fucked.” I admit the truth for the first time. “I think this is it. Time for surgery.”
“Might be a blessing in disguise,” he muses, the humour in his eyes dying as he moves to stand next to the bed. “Give you time to sort your shit out. It’s pretty fucking obvious to everyone, but bloody Beast, that you’re using during footy season. You need to head to rehab before you get any worse.”
“Well, that’s not gonna happen so fuck off. I don’t have a problem. Every now and then is not an addiction.” If I could use both legs, I’d knock the prick down where he stands, looking smug and as if he holds all the answers. My temper flares, flames of rage taking hold.
Fucking pompous asshole.
Pointing my finger at him as I pull myself upright, ignoring the pain that shoots up my leg, I set him straight in no-uncertain terms. “You and Maddi are no more. You walked, remember? Fuck, we all watched her cry while you walked away again tonight. That means you don’t get to comment on anything to do with my family. That right expired when you broke my twin’s heart.”
I can tell I’ve gotten under his skin with my barbs about Maddi. The dickhead still loves her, she still loves him, but he decided to end their relationship after she was hurt the last time out of some misguided idea that she’s better off without him.
“Listen here, you dumb fucker,” I grit my teeth when he grabs the front of my shirt and hauls me closer to him, the movement jostling my knee. “I mightn’t be with Lainey, but that doesn’t mean I’ll stand by and watch her get hurt. The shit you’re doing is hurting her. Fuck Benji, can’t you see that?”
Staring into his hard eyes, I want nothing more than to deny his accusation. As much as I love him like an extra brother, I still hate when he’s right. Even with the remnants of my earlier high floating through my system, I can’t lie. I’ve seen how my drug use is adding to the pain she’s already dealing with.
“I guess that makes two of us then.” I acknowledge that he’s right, but not without throwing in my own little reminder that he’s just as bad. “I’ll work on my shit when you admit that you fucked up and get back with her.”
The colour drains from his self-righteous face after my expertly aimed challenge, and he lets go of my shirt and heads for the door. Since playing with fire seems to be my speciality today, I can’t help directing one last pot-shot his way.
“Walk away, pussy. Isn’t that your forte lately?”
Mad Dog comes to a stop with the bedroom door open to the hallway. I watch as he drums his fingers on the doorframe, and his previously slumped shoulder straighten and rise. Without turning to look at me, he growls.
“You’re lucky that I still remember you as the little kid who used to chase me everywhere. The one who had the potential to grab the world by the balls and make it his bitch. Because it’s becoming harder and harder for me to stop myself from knocking your head off your fucking shoulders. Next time you go to tear strips off your sister in front of everyone, it might pay to remember that she’s the only reason I haven’t. Yet.”
Mad Dog’s words hit the only spot in my heart that’s not numb from the drugs and alcohol. The spot that, no matter how much meth I smoke or whiskey I drink, keeps rearing its ugly head and making me feel like shit. Jumping like a little bitch when the door slams shut behind him, I slump back against the headboard and grab my pounding head with both hands.
Fuck him. Fuck his bullshit guilt trips.
I need outta this place before I say something else I shouldn’t.
Actually, scratch that, I need another hit, but no one in this Club is going to walk out to my car and grab my pipe and baggie for me. At least when I’m off tap nothing weighs on me. None of their words can touch me.
“Hey.” A soft voice breaks my reverie.
Lifting my head, I watch in puzzled silence as the door closes with a quiet snick as she engages the lock. Lacey makes her way into the room. She has a devious smile creasing her face and it lifts my spirits. She’s up to something.
“Hey,” I push my headache to the back of my mind as I speak to her.
“You don’t mind if I sit down?”
“Of course not.”
Her presence has me confused. We’ve hung out plenty—she’s Maddi’s best friend, after all—however we’ve never been alone like this before. My puzzlement must show on my face because she reaches over and grabs my hand.
“I kinda feel responsible for you getting hurt out there,” she teases as she perches on the edge of the bed. She takes in a deep breath before continuing, “I heard what Smoke said. I’m not interested in him, not like that. He’s my friend.”
“I wasn’t worried.” I wiggle my eyebrows at her.
Letting go of my hand she slaps my chest, not impressed with my cheeky remark. I grind my teeth together, so I don’t let her know how much even that small movement makes my knee hurt. Leaning forward, Lacey stares at me with a strange intensity. I return her gaze, noticing her enlarged pupils and her chewed-up, red-raw bottom lip. I think little goodie-two-shoes Lacey Marquis has a skeleton in her closet. A secret that we have in common, except mine’s not much of a secret anymore.
“God, I hope we’re on the same page here,” she sighs after she speaks. Reaching into her handbag, she pulls out a glass pipe, a hot-pink lighter, and a baggie. The baggie is about a quarter full of pale crystalline shards with a rock-like substance. My heartrate accelerates, but I stay silent. I want to reach out and snatch the bag from her since it’s exactly what I need right now, but she might’ve been planted to test me.
Could this be a trap?
“Benji, I’m going out on a limb here. Can you say something?” Her tone is plaintive. She waves the bag in front of my face and, this time, I do take it from her. Pressing the shards with my fingers, I smile when they resist the pressure and keep their shape. She’s got the good stuff.
“I don’t understand,” I question her, turning the bag over and over in my hands. I need to find out her story before I accept her gift. “Since when do you smoke? You’re not that sort of girl.”
Her features harden as she answers, “I was Connor’s Old Lady. Do you really think I’ve never dabbled? That I’m the innocent little girl everyone thinks I am?”
Pain leaks from her words and I see straight through her tough front. She might have dabbled previously—not that I’ve ever heard about it before—but the quality of the product I’m holding in my hand, tells me she doesn’t “dabble” anymore. It would appear that Lacey hasn’t been handling Connor turning rat and leaving her behind as well as we all thought.
“Fair enough,” I concede with a curt nod. “I don’t have to tell you that this doesn’t leave this room? The last thing I need is Maddi getting on my ass any more than she already is.”
Lacey accepts my point with a small incline of her head.
I let out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding as relief takes hold.
Pulling the bag from my hands, she loads the glass pipe with a nugget. Flicking her lighter, she inhales until her lungs are full, the rock in the bowl of the pipe glowing bright orange when she sucks. With her lungs full, Lacey passes the pipe to me and I repeat her actions.
I’ll never be able to properly explain the rush of warm heat that engulfs my body when I smoke meth. It’s like liquid euphoria flows through my veins, relaxing my mind but hyping my body all at once. All my aches and pains disappear. Happiness and contentedness floods me, and all my guilt, my worries, and my problems take flight.
Flopping back against the headboard, I let loose the cloud of smoke I was holding in my lungs and hold on as the rush hits. Lacey is wobbly when she makes her way onto my lap and blows her smoke into my face. I inhale her offering, holding the air in my lungs again before letting it back out into her face. Giggling as she rides her own high, she falls into a sitting position next to me and lays her head against the headboard next to mine, her eyelids fluttering shut.
I’ve never been this close to her. Never realized how beautiful she is, how curvy her body is, or how good she smells. Tilting my head, I nuzzle my nose into her hair and breathe in her shampoo. Strawberries and something sweeter. Resting my cheek on the top of her head, I run my gaze down her body. She’s relaxed as fuck, her arms hanging loose, and her legs splayed. Her skirt has risen, her hot-pink panties clearly visible. Her nipples are hard under her lightweight top, her chest rising and falling with defined movements as she pants. The heat emanating from her body coupled with the slight shuddering tells me that she’s high as a kite, riding wave after wave of ecstasy.
Shifting closer to Lacey—careful not to move my busted leg too much because I’ve learned the hard way that just because it doesn’t hurt too much right now, that probably won’t be the case when I come down—I slide my finger up the inside of her closest thigh and then along the crease of her leg and her panties.
“You know I’m going to fuck you tonight?” I murmur.
The only answer I receive is a snigger before she shuffles closer to me and pushes my shoulders against the headboard. Swinging one of her legs over my lap, she settles against my bulge, grabbing my face with both hands, and kissing me hard on the lips.
“I’m pretty sure I’ll be doing the fucking, my sexy one-legged wonder,” she purrs, alluding to my broken knee.
Arching her back, her hands grip the bottom of her shirt and she lifts it over her head, throwing it onto the floor with a flourish. Standing with her legs on either side of mine, she shimmies her skirt to her ankles. I grab her full hips when she starts to lose her balance on the bed as she kicks her skirt onto the floor. My hands on her hips, I take my time running my eyes over her flushed face, down to her naked tits, before making the descent past her soft stomach to her panty covered pussy.
“Little Miss Trouble?” I cock an eyebrow as I read the front of her panties. “Fuck. You come bearing meth, wearing panties like this. You might just be fucking perfect.”
Hooking my thumbs in the side of her panties, I slide them down her legs, steadying her as she steps out of them. Once she’s bare before me, I usher her forward until her mound is directly in front of my face. I’m not sure if God will approve but I thank him anyway for short chicks. What I’ve got in mind wouldn’t work with a leggy woman.
“Spread ‘em, Lacey.”
She doesn’t hesitate, parting her thighs, and rewarding me with the best sight a man can receive. I’ve fucked many women—sometimes on their own, frequently two at a time, and occasionally in groups with my teammates—that I honestly should’ve seen it all by now, yet I don’t think I’ve seen a prettier pussy than the one Lacey proudly presents to me. Smooth, pale skin, pretty pink lips, and a hot pink jewelled piercing in the hood of her clit.
Fuck me dead.
Hands on the soft globes of her ass, I push her forward until there’s no space left between my mouth and her sweet spot. I lick her clit until her hands make their way to my hair, tugging and pulling as I work her over. Guttural sounds escape her, telling me she’s not far from coming. Letting go of her ass, I spread her lips with one hand, revealing her shiny nub. Sucking it into my mouth, I drive two fingers into her tight channel, bending them forward and rubbing that spot on the inside wall that sends all women wild. My dick strains against my jeans, wanting to join the party, but I ignore him for the moment.
With her knees wobbling and her hips bucking, I send Lacey over the edge. The way she’s pulling my hair borders on painful, adding spice to the moment. When it looks like her legs are about to give out, I pull my fingers from her and hold her upright, still sucking her clit like a madman while she screams her pleasure.
Once she’s finished, I help her lower her weight onto my lap, and wrap her legs around my waist. Taking her mouth with mine, I kiss her before pulling back and sliding the fingers I used on her into her mouth. “Suck.”
Lacey does what she’s told, cleaning my fingers with relish.
When she’s done, she scoots backward on my lap far enough that she can undo my jeans and release my cock. Moving to the side she wrestles my pants down my hips until she’s exposed my entire erection and half my thighs. I try my hardest to assist her, but my bloody knee sends shards of pain up my leg, forcing me to stay as still as I can. Realisation that surgery looms in my immediate future flits across my consciousness for a moment. I push it back into its box with the rest of the problems I’m ignoring right now.
My heart’s pounding in my chest and my hands are shaking slightly, testament to how off my head I am, when I grab Lacey by the top of her arms and pull her back onto my lap. Angling her so she’s hovering over my cock, I coax her down, letting her take me inch by inch inside of her gorgeous body. Her walls clamp around me, squeezing tight, her slick heat engulfing me.
“Fuck me sideways. You feel good.” I groan as she braces herself on her knees and starts to move.
I should feel guilty. I’m taking advantage of her at her lowest since it’s highly fucking unlikely she’d be sliding up and down my cock if circumstances were different. There’s so many things wrong with this scenario that I don’t know where to begin. Lacey is Maddi’s best friend, she’s been through shit with Connor up and leaving her, she’s obviously struggling and using ice to mask her emotions, and her behaviour isn’t normal no matter how much she protests that “she isn’t the innocent everyone thinks she is”.
If I was a good man, I’d put a stop to this.
But, I have no illusions about my virtues.
The few that I had, once upon a time, are long dead. Doing the right thing didn’t stop my saint of a mother from dying, and it sure as shit, never had any bearing on the hurt thrown Maddi and Joel’s way.
Why should I start worrying about doing the right thing now?
One night in Lacey’s perfect pussy isn’t going to do her too much damage. She’s a big girl, she knows my reputation, so she should have a clear understanding that this will happen once.
Twice, tops.
The feeling of her hot, velvety cunt encasing my length drives all thoughts of doing the right thing from my mind. Grabbing her hips, I help her find the leverage necessary to rush both of us toward orgasm. Working in sync, we fall over the edge together in minutes. She slumps forward, laying her head on my shoulder as we pant in unison, our physical exertions lifting our mutual highs to a new level, adding an extra exhilarating element to our fucking.
After giving Lacey a short time to regain her senses, I push against her shoulders, so she’ll sit up and look at me. When I’m on drugs, my cock barely softens between bouts so I’m raring to go again.
A crooked grin on my face, I wink at her. “Ready for round two?”
“Just say the word, Benji...”
