Page 34 of Scotch: Unraveled

“Because I’m gonna have to put a bullet in any man who looks atcha, and when yar sexy arse struts in that clubhouse, they’re all gonna be looking.”

It’s just a black Harley tee cut with a wide neckline to drape off the shoulder and a thick leather belt cinching in my waist. I paired it with a denim pencil skirt and my tall, black leather boots with the pointy toe and pointier heel. I call the look “sophisticated biker.” Maybe eventually, I’ll let loose enough to pull off a micro-mini and a tube top that only covers my boobs, but probably not. Baby steps. We’ll see how much into the life I’m willing to go in baby steps.

My hair is bigger than I normally wear it with loose curls and I even pulled out my best gold hoop earrings for the occasion. After a YouTube tutorial and an hour of applying, scrubbing and reapplying my face, I’ve finally perfected the 1940s movie star makeup look I was going for, though.

“So you like?”

As his answer, Rory pulls me against his hard, warm body to kiss the hell out of me. Good thing my lipstick is smudge-proof. Damn, this man always knew how to kiss, but he’s only gotten better.

“Baby,” I whisper against his lips, hardly able to speak, needing to catch my breath. “We aren’t going to make it to the party if you don’t stop.”

“Don’t fucking care,” he whispers back.

One of us has to be the reasonable party here. I take it upon myself and push him back a step. The man is so strong, he only goes because he’s giving in, not because I stand a chance in hell of moving him on my own. “I got all dressed up. You’re taking me out,” I scold him.

He laughs as he takes my hand. “I’ll be with ya all night. Ya know Elise, Trish, and Caity—they’ll be there, too. But I won’t leave ya unless yar ready.”

“Have I told you today that I love you?”

“Ya have now.” And that was the wrong thing to say because we fall back in to another round of kisses. It takes us another fifteen minutes before we ever leave his trailer.

Cigarette smoke billows out when Rory opens the door to the clubhouse. I’m unsure as to how I’m going to breathe in there. It smells yeasty, like beer, and smoke… and sex. And the reason for all three is pretty clear. Brighton and I went to plenty of parties in high school, and Rory always knew where to go when we were together the first time. But this…

There are women and men casually talking and laughing. All with drinks. Some men smoking cigarettes and I even notice—because who doesn’t recognize that scent?—a few guys smoking weed. And not two feet from them, there’s a man pounding into a woman bent over a sofa arm from behind. Right next to that chick’s head, there’s another woman riding a man sitting on the sofa.

My mouth drops open and it’s a struggle to close it. “They’re having… um… sex… in the open.” I speak softly yet sternly into Rory’s ear.

“Just a bit of fun, lass. No harm. Those men don’t have old ladies.”

“But they’re having sex in front of everyone.”

“That gonna be a problem?” he asks. As if I’m the one overreacting here?

“It might be. You don’t expect—”

“No.” No what? Is he telling me it’s not going to be a problem for me or that he doesn’t expect me to engage in public fornication?

“Rory, I… This is…”

“Ya see Elise fucking Boss on a table?”

What? Horrified, I scan the room looking to see her. I just never thought Elise would… “I don’t see her, no.”

“Caity? Trish?”

Ah. Now I get it. “No. I don’t see them fucking Boss on a table,” I try to joke.

“Woman,” he says. “This is serious. Check yar judgement at the door. We do thing differently here. The clubhouse is a place to let loose. Some of us don’t like fucking in public, some as ya can see, don’t give a fuck where they get their rocks off.” His voice holds an edge of irritation and he actually drops my hand.

Is he angry? With me? Oh, hell no. “Well, it makes me uncomfortable. You should have warned me. I’d have had time to, I don’t know, mentally prepare or something. In my life, people don’t just have sex where everyone else can see them. I’m not the unreasonable one here.”

“Drop the judgmental, bratty behavior or I’ll sit yar ass up on the bar and fuck ya so hard, yar moan’ll have everyone in the room staring.”

I fold my arms over my breasts and through gritted teeth hiss, “Touch me and I’ll make you wish you were never born.”

A skank piece who really should’ve picked up on the vibe coming from our side of the room picks the worse time in the world to saunter over. “Hey, Scotch, baby… you look tense. How ’bout I loosen you up?”

Then, I kid not, she drops to her knees in front of him and starts to unbuckle his belt like she plans to suck him off there in front of me. Something snaps inside me. That saying, “I saw red”—it’s a real, legitimate phenomenon. I literally see a red film drop in front of my eyes and I grab the woman by the hair to pull her up. She screams and claws at my hand, slicing several marks. All that does is piss me off more. This is something I’ve never done before, but I ball my fist and swing, connecting with her jaw. Blood dribbles down her chin.

---