Viking left over ten minutes ago but I’m still laying on the stairs recovering from whatever in the fuck just happened. My brain is racing a million miles a minute.
He talked a lot of shit, but he was also fucking me while doing so I only retained bits and pieces of the conversation. I’m freaking the hell out. I’m also certain I’ve got a big ass bruise that spans across my back right above my ass from being fucked on the stairs like some sort of biker whore porn star.
None of our issues have been resolved. There shouldn’t even be anything to resolve but he just piled a whole lot of shit on me and peaced the fuck out the moment he came in me.
Am I really considering doing this?
It’s insane. What’s the worst that could happen? He’s got to be wrong about Justice. He’s a decent guy with his shit together. Viking is a lunatic. There’s no harm in me proving him wrong though. I can go on a few more dates with the guy and tell Viking he made a mistake and then I can move on with my life. No harm. No foul. Justice never has to know about any of it.
“Whenever I want it, I’ll come take it. You won’t deny me.” The vicious bite of his words replay through my head and I know there’s something seriously fucked up in my brain because I loved every filthy second of the things he said and did to me. The way he violated me in a way no one else would dare to is something I know I could easily grow addicted to.
It scares me and thrills me all at once.
I like him a lot. More than I want to because I know I’m going to do anything he wants. He’s destroyed me. Ruined me for wanting any other man. I can do this. Three dates max. I mean do I have any other choice? Can I tell the Royal Bastards MC no? Sure, I could tell Justice but why would I put more bad blood between them when maybe I can put an end to it.
I finally move from the stairs and my body aches in the most delicious way. Work is going to suck tomorrow. I walk gingerly to the bathroom and turn the hot water on in the shower. I take my time rinsing away his touch, but his words won’t wash away so easily.
After my shower the moment my head hits the pillow I’m out.
When I wake up everything hurts, and my body definitely recalls being nailed on the stairs. It’s like someone shoved a steel pole up my ass and through my skull. I go through the daily motions of having my yogurt and protein bar along with my coffee with a pain reliever added to the lineup. Though I doubt it will do anything to touch the soreness I’m experiencing deep in my muscles. I could probably slather my body in lidocaine patches, and it’d still hurt. I twist around trying to find an angle to get a good look at the contusion I know is present on my lower back. I grab my phone and fire off a text to Wylla to see when a good time is to talk. I need to unload all this on someone and there is no one better than my bestie. I know she loves the club, but she also has a loyalty to me, and I know she’ll love knowing every dirty detail about this shit with Viking.
Also the fact that she is married to Easton Reed the Royal Bastards MC Vice President gives me an edge with insider information. I know the club has rules and the old ladies adhere to them, but I think in my case Wylla will share what she’s been privy to once I tell her what Viking basically ordered me to do.
Andi:OMW to work but we need to talk soon. Lunch? LMK as soon as you can.
There’s also a text from Justice. My stomach does a flip flop.
JM:had a great time last night. Can’t wait to do it again. Talk soon, beautiful. Have a great shift.
Ugh. Does he have to be so damn nice? I know that’s what I said I like about the guy, but that makes it harder for me to use him for information that may or may not lead to the guy getting hurt or worse if I find something damaging. Not that I expect to. It’s probably a waste of time. I’ve lost my damn mind and all for some dick.
I work in the emergency room at CAMC, short for Charleston Area Medical Center. I prefer the chaos of never knowing what patients will come through the door. Though lately we’ve been hit with a wave of overdose victims. Addiction has always been prevalent in our state but with this deadly Cloud Nine drug making a big comeback, things have been more out of control than usual. The healthcare system in this country is so damn broken. People treat the ER as though it’s a walk-in clinic or in replacement of a family doctor because they can’t afford one or the wait times to get an appointment are insanely inconvenient.
From the moment I walk through the door we have patients overflowing in the waiting area. I don’t get a free moment to hardly hit the bathroom. I’m a third of the way through my shift by time I get a chance to grab a coffee from the cafeteria.
I have a text back from Wylla Mae.
Wylla:You can’t say we need to talk and leave me hanging?!?!
Andi: I have a situation. Need your advice but can’t talk about it over the phone.
Wylla:Does this have a anything to do with a certain biker or a cop?
She knows me well. A little too well which is exactly why I need to know if I’m being completely stupid.
Andi:Both.
Wylla:Shit. You’ve been busy.
She has no idea.
Andi:Break time is nearly over. I have Thursday off.
Wylla: Ugh. I hate your schedule.
Me too. Me too.
My phone buzzes with a message from Viking.
Viking:I’ve got a problem. Hoping you can help me out, princess.
A video attachment comes through.
Holy shit. My cheeks flame as I try to turn autoplay off.
“Fuck, Andi. I’m thinking about that sweet mouth sucking my cock,” his voice growls, echoing through the cafeteria. People start looking around the room and I try to exit from the video, but my stupid phone seems to be stuck or something. “Nothing sweeter than sinking deep inside you. I’m so hard and wish you were here so I could fill that pussy up.”
I practically run from the cafeteria as the video continues to play out. He’s gripping his cock, stroking and tugging, pumping his fist up and down until he erupts on the screen.
I finally remember to hold the power button down to reset the device.
I’m going to kill him. After I watch the video again.
By the time my shift ends I’m dead on my feet. My patients varied from a severely dehydrated newborn with a stomach virus to an eighty-year-old male with abdominal and chest pains. He was grouchy and handsy. We get some combative people. Luckily, I’ve not been assaulted but it happens more than people realize.
I’m yawning like crazy and should probably grab something quick from a drive-thru but all I really want is to fall face down into my bed and sleep for ten thousand years.
My feet ache something fierce.
I get home and change out of my scrubs. I know I should shower but I need sleep.