Masked & Miserable: A Novella of the Sacred Hearts MC (Book 3.5) (2 page)

“Yeah okay. Just let me clean up…”

What was I doing!?
This was so not the way to fly
under the fucking radar! This could be a total disaster if any of the guys
found out, so why was I taking such a huge risk!?

My thoughts had been railing on this inner diatribe the
entire time I’d cleaned up my area, through locking up the shop and they were
pretty much on the same bent several minutes later as I walked along the
cracked sidewalk beside Aaron. I had my hands stuffed into my jeans pockets and
my leather jacket zipped against the mid-November chill. My prospect’s cut blew
back and open over the jacket and I saw Aaron eye it sidelong out of the corner
of his eye.

“So what else do you like aside from tattoos and Johnen
Vasquez?” he asked and huddled into a leather bomber jacket of his own, his
hands thrust deep into the pockets of it.

“Well, as you can probably tell, I’m trying to patch into
the local MC.”

He smiled, “I don’t know many…” he cleared his throat, the
pause pregnant, “Bikers,” he finished. I sighed inwardly, catching his drift
full on. He didn’t know many
gay
bikers, and truth be told, neither did
I, not a single damned one… I was so fucked.

“They don’t know. I’m, um, careful about it.” I swallowed
the bitterness, and wondered why the hell I was telling him.

“Oh. I can’t imagine that’s good,” he said querulously. I
wanted to snort and say something snappy or sarcastic like ‘no shit, Sherlock’
but I didn’t have it in me. Nor did I really have it in me to discuss the MC
and my standing in it, at least not for right now. Don’t get me wrong! I saw
prospecting for the Sacred Hearts as a total labor of love. I loved the guys
like they were my family and would do anything, and I do mean
anything
for them but for tonight, right now, looking at Aaron with the perfect physique
and those deep, soulful, liquid brown eyes. I just wanted to be me. The real
me. No masks, no hiding, and believe me I knew just how fucking dangerous that
could be but for right now…

“Yeah, well it’s complicated,” I said dryly and he was as sharp
as he was hot because he changed the subject, but not entirely so…  

“So was that your motorcycle back at the parlor?” Parlor!?
Who said parlor anymore? I shook my head laughing softly.

“What back at the shop?” I asked and smiled, teasingly. He
smiled back and it made him devastatingly handsome.

“Yeah,” he said shyly.

“Yeah that was mine.” 

“What is it?” he bowed his head against the sharp autumn wind
that cut in our direction and I admired his profile when he did it.

“She’s a 1970 BMW 75/5,” I answered.

“She?” he grinned, I shrugged.

“Meh they’re like ships, they’re all she’s…” I smiled.

“Does
she
have a name?” He held the door to the bar
he’d suggested and I stopped.

“Not yet. Some of the other guys, their bikes have names.” I
ducked inside. It was surprisingly mellow in here. Not loud at all. Aaron grinned.

“Must be between sets,” he muttered and I felt my brow
wrinkle in confusion. He shrugged laconically, “Or it’s a slow night.”

I blinked, “What’re you talking about?”

His eyes widened and he pointed out the glass door. Shit! My
eyes had been just for him, I hadn’t noticed the sandwich board outside
proclaiming loud and proud that it was open mic night.

“Oh,” I said, then muttered, “Wasn’t looking at the damn
sign.”

Aaron smiled really wide and bit his lower lip to keep from
laughing and I felt an answering grin of my own. I caught myself thinking,
damn!
Never had a lip bite looked so fucking sexy before,
as we went into the bar,
which wasn’t really super crowded for a Thursday night. We found a table pretty
easily and I took one of the tall stools.

“What’re you drinking?” he asked.

“I’ll just have a beer.”

“Preference?”

“Surprise me.”

He came back a few minutes later and set a bottle of
Hefeweizen in front of me. He sat across from me and took a pull off his own.

“Thanks man,” I took a drink. Cold and crisp.

“So if you had to give
her
a name, what would you
name her?” he asked and I smiled and laughed a little.

“No idea,” I answered honestly.

“Well what did the other guy’s name theirs?” he asked. I
leaned back slightly and blew out a breath.

“Well, Dray, that’s our VP, he named his bike Matilda after
his mother. Reaver calls his Baby and Trig named his bike Betty after the
song.” I took another sip of my beer and Aaron raised his bottle to his lips.
God
I wanted to be that bottle.

“What song?” Aaron frowned and I gave him a one sided smile.

“Black Betty, it’s an old song but he took it from the more
modern version by RamJam.”

Aaron raised an eyebrow, “Never heard of them.”

I grinned and brought out my phone. It was a good song and I
happened to have it. I plugged in my headphones and handed him one side while I
put the other in my ear and it almost felt like a modern version one of those
old ass Norman Rockwell paintings. You know, one of the ones of 1950’s
perfection where the dude and his date are sucking the same milkshake out of
two different straws? I laughed and Aaron smiled, his brow furrowing in
confusion.

“What’s so funny?” he asked and so I told him.

He laughed too and asked softly, the smell of beer and
spearmint faint on his breath, “Is that what this is? A date?”

I swallowed hard and licked my suddenly dry lips. Aaron
gasped faintly and I was startled to realize that he thought I was hot. Which
was, admittedly, a little weird for me. Not that he found me attractive as a
dude
,
just… most people were turned off by all the ink and piercings and I had
a
lot
of both.

“Depends,” I said, voice faint, “Do you want it to be?”
Aaron’s deep dark eyes slid over my face, searching before he nodded slowly.

“Good song,” he said, “Catchy and a real good beat.”

We listened to the rest of it and he handed me back my
earbud and leaned back. I suddenly missed the closeness. He smelled really
nice. Like clean laundry, a mellow aftershave and that ever present but faint
tang of spearmint which was only slightly out of harmony with the rest of him
but still managed to fit.

We talked. A lot. Like a real damn lot, and Aaron was a cool
fucking dude. The more he talked the more I liked him. And not just because he
was my kind of hot. I think he liked me more than a bit too but I couldn’t let
myself be sure, at least not until I walked him a few more blocks to his place.
He stopped in front of his apartment door and smiled at me. All of a sudden I
realized, acutely, that we were alone. A fission of anxiety travelled up my
spine, his liquid dark eyes assessing through the lenses of his glasses. The
faint light from his landing gleaming along the silver wire frames. I felt like
my damned chest was going to cave in when he leaned towards me, deliberately,
slowly… I couldn’t stand it. I put my hands up, touching his face on either
side gently and closed the gap between us.

Oh god! His kiss was electric! His mouth warm and his lips
soft and full beneath my own. I groaned and plunged my tongue past his lips. He
tasted fresh and cool. Like the beer we’d drunk overlaid by the sweet crisp
zing of spearmint from the mint he’d sucked on the way from the bar. My dick
got hard from it. Hell I think I’d had a perpetual stiffy since he’d walked
into the shop! He broke the kiss.

“Come inside,” he breathed against my lips and I pulled
back. Both of our chests were heaving. We’d kissed each other breathless. Fuck
I wanted to. I really wanted to.

“I don’t do one night stands,” I told him and flicked my
tongue over suddenly dry lips. He groaned and his mouth crashed against mine.
We kissed savagely, needy… for several more moments before he broke away.

“Neither do I,” he breathed.

“Pretty bad if we fuck on the first date,” I said with a
little self-deprecating smile, he smiled back.

“Who said anything about fucking? Maybe I just want to
cuddle,” he said with a rakish grin and I barked a laugh. I waved a hand
motioning for him to unlock the door. He did with shaking fingers.

“I’m serious, I don’t do one night stands,” I reiterated.

“I’m dead serious too. Gimme your phone and I’ll prove it.”
I went through the door behind him and he shut and locked it. I handed him my
phone. He looked at me and frowned.

“Unlock it first dork,” he complained and I grinned, took it
back and unlocked my phone, thumb zipping over the screen. He added himself as
a contact and handed it back. I raised an eyebrow and called the number. His
phone started ringing, he smiled and he pulled it out of his pocket.

“Okay Aaron Cartwright. I believe you,” I said glancing at
his full name that he’d entered.

“Okay Andy…” he faltered, thumbs poised over his screen.

“Buchannan,” I supplied and smiling he typed it in and hit
save.

“Good, now that we’ve got that out of the way…” he tossed
his phone on a small table by the door, “Kiss me,” he demanded. Who the fuck
was I to argue? For the next several minutes it was my mouth against his, our
hands moving in a frantic dance to get each other out of our mutual clothes.

Aaron lived in a small studio. A bed took up the vast
majority of the room, he had a single folding chair, a stand for sheet music
and sure enough, a Cello and a guitar propped to either side of it by the
little apartment’s only window. Thick drapes obscured that. Light glowed softly
from a floor lamp by the bed, one of those halogen deals and it was bright
enough to see by without being blinding. Pretty soon we were at the bed, the
mattress hitting the backs of his thighs where I had him backed up to it. He
reached out and the light from the floor lamp flared.

“I want to see you. All of you,” he said against my mouth
and I yanked his belt through the loops and let it fall. Sounded good to me. I
wanted to see him right back! He pulled my shirts, a thermal overlaid by a tee,
off over my head and I raised my arms to let him do it. I had a couple of
necklaces on, just a couple of odd ball things and they tumbled free, the cold
metal resting against my chest. I jerked back from them and pulled them off too
and dropped ‘em. Aaron’s eyes were roving my tattoos. His fingertips touched
lightly the zombified little mermaid Disney princess on my ribs and I jerked,
laughing.

“Ticklish?” he asked, a slow smile spreading on his lips which
were swollen from my kiss. He bit the lower lip and Squick Jr. was standing
straight
at attention. I relieved him of his sweater and tee and kissed and bit along
the side of his neck and shoulder. He threw back his head and gasped out this
lush moan as I let my fingers splay along the heated skin over his ribs. I
pulled him tight against my body and groaned. He was so fucking beautiful.
Tight in all the right fucking areas!

“God please tell me you like it all,” I said against his
neck.

“I want all of you,” he said back, voice brittle with
desire. We made quick work of the rest of our clothes and his fingers wrapped
around my cock, stroking.

“Holy fuck!” I cried out, bowing my head.  He turned me and
pushed me down onto the bed and got to his knees between my own. He looked up
my rainbow tatted body and then looked at my cock.

“Never been with a man who’s pierced,” he said, fascinated.
I smiled.

“I’m a night full of firsts then aren’t I?” I asked and he
smiled and took me into his hot waiting mouth. I think I’d fucking died and
gone to heaven! Aaron had the most talented mouth… Holy God.

I bowed my head and closed my eyes and gave myself over to
the sensation. He swirled his tongue around the head of my cock, teasing at my
Prince Albert piercing and I felt myself twitch, I had to fight myself to hold
still, my hands fisted in the comforter to either sides of my hips as his head
bobbed between my legs. He fondled my balls and I sucked in a sharp breath.

“Oh fuck yeah!” I threw back my head and moaned and he must
have liked what he heard because he sucked me with more enthusiasm. I about
lost my shit when he slipped his finger into my ass.

“Aaron! Aaron! I’m going to come!” I warned him and he
smiled around my cock in his mouth and worked at me harder.

“Oh shiiiiit!” I felt myself spill down his throat, and
couldn’t help it, my hips bucked and I went deep, he swallowed and I could
fucking
feel
his throat convulse around the tip of my head when he did
it. I’d had a few decent blowjobs in my time but fuck he was by far the fucking
best
I’d
ever
had.

He sat back on his heels and smiled this secret little smile
and watched me as I relearned how to breathe. I raked him with my gaze and he
got up onto the bed, sitting beside me.

“You’re good at that,” I stated and suddenly I couldn’t wait
to taste this beautiful man. He smiled and blushed faintly.

“Haven’t had a whole lot of practice,” he said, slightly
embarrassed.

“Then that’s one amazing natural talent,” I told him and
reached for him. I kissed him and laid him back against the bed. He kissed me
back with serious intensity. Truth was I’d only been with one or two other guys
myself and after that spectacular display I was feeling some performance
anxiety. I pulled back from the kiss and went down on him.

He was velvet wrapped steel in my mouth. Not overly long,
not overly thick, just a perfect size. I took him all the way in and I heard
him pant. I rolled my eyes up his body and saw that he’d taken his glasses off.
They were dangling forlorn against the bed in one outstretched hand. His other
arm, the one with the bandage on it from the fresh ink I’d laid under his skin,
was thrown over his eyes. I sucked him and his hips lifted off the bed.