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  Black & Blue

  Ily Jacks

  ♂◈⊙◈♂

  Copyright © 2017 Ily Jacks

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmosphere purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  For more information about this book and author, visit here.

  Cover

  Photographer: casther

  Source: depositphotos.com

  Cover Copyright © 2017 Ily Jacks

  Dedication

  To J-bird, M-cat, and L-dog for making the world sing

  To Sally for her unending support

  To Aimie for emphasizing lube

  &

  Judy’s Proofreading

  Book Summary

  Trouble seems to follow me everywhere. No doubt accepting a ride from a sexy, fierce biker on a rainy night seems like another bad move. Except this one desperate leap of faith brings Declan into my life.

  From unreadable machine to possessive lover, he challenges me to want more.

  Can I finally throw off the shackles of my tough life and embrace the promise of a good man?

  Table of Contents

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  Epilogue

  Epilogue

  About Ily

  1

  ♂◈ Adam ◈♂

  I can’t catch a break. Every move I make kicks me a step back in life. I thought running from Leto would give me the fresh start I needed. Instead, I’m still running, broke, and stuck in a dump off the highway.

  Hungry to the point of dry heaves, I need cash for food. I try begging, and a few men respond by shoving me into the road. Panhandlers aren’t welcome here, they claim.

  Desperate, I even talk up a couple of truckers at the gas station and offer to trade blowjobs for cash or food. This gets me punched in the face by one guy and threatened with a gun by another. Doesn’t anyone just say “no” anymore?

  I have one option left, and that’s to steal. In the convenience store, I walk down one aisle after another, trying to snatch anything I can. Unfortunately, the woman on duty watches me the entire time. I see her in the corner mirrors.

  Disappearing into the bathroom, I hope to lose her attention after a few minutes. I spend ten minutes hiding inside. I wash my face and drink from the faucet. Using the water, I try to smooth down my scraggly beard and organize my blond hair. If I can look halfway presentable, I might be able to hitch a ride. Or at least, the clerk won’t give me the stink-eye. Of course, I hope she’s forgotten I’m even here.

  Instead, I find her waiting for me when I come out. “Buy something or leave.”

  Searching the gas station parking lot for fallen change, I find two pennies. The trash cans are nearly empty, and the crap inside isn't edible. So, I’m left with the plan to rob the next person who pulls into the gas station.

  The rain and darkness conceal me squatting behind a black ashtray dome. I considering going after a family in a mini-van, but the kid staring from the back window kills my confidence. What if I traumatize him and he never recovers? Am I willing to ruin a child’s life for a few bucks?

  So I wait and wait. People come and go, but there’s always too many at a time. The weather conspires against me too. Cold mist soaks through my shitty black jacket, leaving me to shiver violently. By the time a Harley-riding man shows up, I’m ready to kill or die just to get shit over with.

  The biker is bigger than me, but I’m desperate, and he looks tired. His frame grows bigger the closer I get until I realize he’s several inches taller than my six feet. With a face covered in a thick, dark beard, he might not even feel my punch.

  “Not even close,” he says without flinching as he easily deflects my strike. “Are you even trying?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  He pushes me back but not too roughly. I even suspect he wants me to give it another try.

  “Just give me your wallet,” I say, puffing out my chest and standing as tall as my tired legs will allow.

  “Why would I do that?”

  “To avoid me hurting you.”

  A smile twitches at his lips. “I’ll think about it while I’m inside. You wait here.”

  Standing dumbly near his bike, I don’t know what to do. Should I look for something to hit him with? I laugh at the stupidity of the thought. The biker isn’t getting his ass kicked by me. No, I’ll find someone else. Or try dumpster diving again. There must be food around here. An unguarded dog’s bowl perhaps.

  “Hey!” someone yells, and I immediately panic that the biker called the cops. I turn to find a few guys my age approaching from the back of the gas station. “Are you still offering blowjobs for cash?”

  I long ago learned not to trust a smile. My uncle smiled a lot when he beat on my aunt and me. Then she ran off, and I was the only one around to see him smile. These guys are smiling with their lips, but their eyes shine with menace.

  “Naw, man. That was a joke,” I say, backing away and nearly toppling over the Harley. “I say dumb shit when I’m drinking.”

  “Are you sure? I mean, you sounded convincing earlier.”

  The blond guy in the front does all the talking, but I don’t remember him. Plenty of people have come and gone in the last five hours. Maybe he was one of them, but I doubt it. However, the scrawnier guy in the back does look familiar. Yeah, that’s the little twat who ratted me out to his friends. Now they want to roughhouse with the queer.

  “I’m good,” I mumble and fist my hands in my jacket. “Just waiting for my friend.”

  “You’ve been hanging around for hours, asking to suck guys off. Now that someone wants a blowjob, you get shy,” the guy says and reaches for me. “Don’t be a teasing bitch.”

  I smack away his hand just like the biker did with mine, but my tough stand only pisses off the guy. Grabbing for me again, his fingers snag my jacket. I instinctively kick him in the shin, putting what’s left of my strength into this one move. I pathetically hope my meager attempt will hurt enough to give up.

  “Fuck him up,” he growls while bouncing around on his good leg.

  Two of the guys start throwing punches while the scrawny fucker backs away. I really wish I could hurt him, but my main concern is to remain in one piece.

  Shoving my shoulder into one guy’s stomach, I manage to shove him back. I picture myself as a linebacker taking down the quarterback. Except this asshole refuses to go down, and his friend punches me in the kidney so hard that I think I’ll fucking die.

  My knees hit the concrete, sending blinding pain through my half-frozen body. I cover my head and realize I can’t even crawl away. Balling up, I pray they don’t kill me. Though after the way this day has gone, I’ll end up with a broken back. On the upside, maybe I can get a damn meal at the hospital.

  My wildly beating heart makes me nearly deaf to my ass-beating besides catching a muffled cuss word and a wounded grunt. I count in my head to distract from the pain. I reach twenty when the blows suddenly end, and I look up to find a new scuffle a few feet away.

  The biker slams two
of the guys into each other. Their faces collide, and I hear their teeth shatter. Crawling away from the fight and past teeth chunks, I spit up blood. Numb from the cold and pain, I glance back at where the biker casually beats the absolute crap out of the assholes. They end up bloody on the ground by the time the scrawny asshole tries to run. My bearded savior rips the shoes off one of the fallen losers and throws it at the coward.

  Even in pain, I laugh at the sound of the twerp crying out when the shoes knock him down. My smile fades as soon as the biker stalks in my direction. I stare up at him, praying he’s done with kicking ass for the night.

  “Stand up, kid.”

  I do as I’m told. Unsteady on my feet; I force my gaze to meet his. I pretend I’m not a starving, battered, and exhausted piece of shit looking to survive the night.

  The biker studies me from my feet to the top of my matted blond hair. Finally, he shakes his head and lets out a deep sigh.

  “You’re more pathetic than a wet kitten,” he says and kicks a pair of teeth away from his boot. “Do you have anywhere to go?”

  “No.”

  I know I should lie, but I can’t when he’s staring at me with his smoky eyes. He hands me a candy bar and can of soda.

  “I assume you haven’t eaten in a while.”

  Shaking my head, I tear open the candy wrapper with my teeth before biting into the chocolate. I follow each bite with a gulp of soda. Through it all, the biker silently watches me until I shove the last candy chunk into my mouth.

  “If you steal from me, I’ll skin you alive. Do you understand?” he asks. Without waiting for an answer, he throws his strong leg over his Harley. “Get on back, and I’ll let you bunk at my place for the night.”

  No way would I normally climb on behind a stranger capable of the kind of violence I just witnessed. I’ve been called dumb plenty of times in my life, but I’m not that fucking dumb. This guy might be another Jeffrey Dahmer, and I’ll end up in his fridge. If anyone’s unlucky enough for that shit to happen, it’s me.

  But I do climb on behind him because I’m out of options, and he’s the only person who hasn’t treated me like shit today.

  I’ve never ridden on the back of a bike before, so I grab onto his jacket and struggle to keep my balance. He never looks at me, asks my name, or shares his. The biker revs the engine, and we ride off into the misty night.

  I glance back at the bloody assholes and find them still reeling in pain. My mouth hurts like a motherfucker, but I still smile like a fool.

  ♂◈⊙◈♂

  Even wearing my gray hoodie during the drive, I’m soaked by the time we stop behind a two-story brick building. The biker parks next to an overfull dumpster and grunts for me to get off.

  Stumbling from the Harley, my legs feel like jelly. My starving stomach no longer growls, now as numb as the rest of my cold, battered body.

  “Where are we?” I ask when the biker only stares at me.

  Soft rain soaks his thick, dark hair and beard. He looks like a wild man, ready to skin and devour his kill. I’m desperate to look away from his nearly black eyes and remain in control of myself. I can’t, though, because he both terrifies and intrigues me.

  “I live in the apartment upstairs. You can crash here until you figure things out.”

  “Thanks.”

  When his hand jerks forward, I immediately flinch and expect more violence after a shitty day that’ll never end. His hand grips the back of my neck, sending panic and pain through me. I fist my hands and prepare to fight him. Exhausted after so long running, I never expect his lips to crush mine. He forces my mouth open and tastes me roughly.

  I can’t think. Nothing about the biker’s earlier demeanor made me believe he’d desire me, so his kiss throws me off guard. I never consider what he might expect from me in return for a safe place to stay for the night. No, instead my fear violently shifts into the kind of lust I’ve long imagined and never enjoyed.

  Before I can meet his passion with mine, the biker releases me and turns away. I’m left rejected and desperate, yet unable to show either emotion. My only option is to follow him obediently.

  Fatigue tricks me into believing the outdoor metal stairs will go on forever. Finally, the biker stops and unlocks a thick security door. I huddle behind him, shivering from the cold. When he walks inside, I half-expect him to shut the door on me. It’s been that kind of day, but he waits for me to enter before shutting and locking his doors.

  “I’ll find you dry clothes. Don’t sit on anything until you change.”

  The biker disappears down a dark hallway, leaving me at the entryway of his apartment. I’m a little taken aback by the size and décor. I expected something run-down like the outside. Instead, the walls are covered by gray textured wallpaper while the floors are an ashy hardwood. The black, leather couch and matching chair face the wall with a large flat screen TV. The place reeks of male taste, and I wonder if the biker renovated the place himself.

  With my body frozen and battered, I cringe when my dick hardens at the thought of him shirtless and sweaty working on the apartment. My lips still taste him, and I don’t know where he plans for me to sleep tonight. He says the couch, but he also made me his lustful bitch minutes ago.

  “These should fit,” the biker says, returning with a handful of clothes.

  Suddenly mute, I take the long-sleeve T-shirt, sweats, and socks. I look around, wondering where I should change. The biker says nothing, and I assume he wants me to do it in front of him. Unzipping my jacket, I kick off my shoes.

  “In the bathroom, kid,” he says, fighting laughter. “I don’t need your wet shit on my hardwoods.”

  “Sorry.”

  “I’m taking a shower to warm up,” he says, and a little part of me hopes he’ll ask me to join him. “You can do the same in the guest bath if you want. Or just change. I don’t give a shit but leave your wet clothes in the sink. My cleaning woman comes over tomorrow, and she’ll wash them.”

  After removing my soaked shoes and socks, I shuffle in the direction he gestures toward until I realize something.

  “I’m Adam,” I mumble. “I don’t know your name.”

  “Declan, but the guys in my club call me Machine. You can use whichever. Now go dry up before you drip all over my place.”

  I shuffle down the hall past a bedroom and finally reach a small, renovated bathroom. Stripping out of my clothes, I dump them in the sink. My gaze searches my reflection for the blooming bruises on my flesh. I see a few old injuries from when my old pimp last got hold of me.

  Leto never let me make enough money to get ahead, knowing I wanted to quit once I had the cash for a place of my own. After a while, I actually owed him money. Drowning in his scheme, I tried to find a legal job. Unskilled and uneducated, I wasn’t qualified for anything. I still refused to go back, and the fading bruises on my rib cage were his way of asking me to rethink my decision.

  I turn on the shower and adjust the water to as hot as I can tolerate. The room steams up quickly. Entering the standing shower, I’m quickly soothed by the water, and my teeth stop chattering. The heat also has the effect of worsening my fatigue. As great as the hot shower feels, I can’t wait to crawl under a blanket and sleep away my exhaustion. The only distraction from my fatigue is my hunger returning with stomach cramps and nausea.

  My mind returns to when Declan kissed me downstairs. He hasn’t seemed even a little interested, yet his lips claimed me. The confusing biker laid waste to my will, leaving me feeling like the virgin I stopped being long ago.

  Semi-hard already, my dick reacts to the hot water and my memory of Declan. I stroke my erection and close my eyes to imagine the one touching me is the bearded biker naked at the other end of this apartment. His large hand grips me tight, stroking me powerfully and refusing to relent until my jizz disappears down the drain.

  A hot shower and a hard orgasm erase two of my four needs. Now if I can get a bite to eat and crash somewhere, I’ll be in heaven.
r />   ♂◈⊙◈♂

  Declan is already in the kitchen by the time I emerge from the bathroom wearing baggy black sweatpants and a golden Coors shirt. He somehow looks larger than I remember. I think it’s the black wife beater pulled tight over his muscular chest, revealing massive, tattooed arms.

  “I own the place downstairs,” Declan says without looking back. His deep voice startles me since I didn’t think he’d noticed my arrival. “It’s a dive, but we make solid pizza. I have leftovers from yesterday if you want.”

  He turns to hand me a plate with two slices of pepperoni pizza. “Warm it in the microwave or eat it cold. There are drinks in the fridge. Pain meds in the cabinet. Settle in while I check a few things.”

  Declan walks past me, and I fight the urge to reach out and run my fingers over his hard, tanned bicep. My hero’s scent makes my dick hard, and I wonder if the earlier beating broke my common sense. Why am I aroused when I ought to be more worried I’ll survive to the morning?

  After the pizza warms in the microwave, I eat at the round kitchen table. Each bite is better than the last. By the time I finish the two slices and an ice-cold soda, I’m ready to sleep for a week.

  “This way,” Declan says, startling me again. I don’t get how a man his size can be so damn stealthy. I wonder if he was ever in the military. The tattoos on his arms and back tell a story I want to know. Another time, though, since he doesn’t look in the mood to share, and I’m dead tired.

  I follow him down the hall to the room across from the guest bathroom. Inside is a desk in one corner and a pullout couch in the other. Declan has the bed made up with a thick, patchwork comforter on top. This might be the nicest room I’ve ever slept in, but I don’t tell him. I don’t need to broadcast any louder how he’s invited a loser into his home.

  “Thanks,” I say, feeling tiny next to him. “For the food and the bed. The assholes at the gas station too. You didn’t need to do this.”

  “Don’t get weepy on me, kid. Just rest up. Tomorrow, you can figure shit out.”

  “I need a job,” I blurt out. “Something legal.”

  “By legal, do you mean with a paycheck and paying taxes?”