Pick Up Drop Off

Savannah

There have only been a few situations in my life that I can honestly say were one hundred percent my own doing, and the consequences that came from them were fair.

I have gotten into trouble before—a lot.

But I always found a reason why it wasn’t completely my fault.

Growing up, I can’t even remember how many times I got hurt or something over a game of truth or dare.

I’ve jumped off houses, broken into people’s yards, and swam in their pools butt naked.

I have stolen kisses and flashed my ass out of the bus window to onlookers below.

I’ve done some other questionable things, but it was always something I could somehow defend, explain why I did it.

I never lost a game of truth or dare.

I was the best, and that came with some stories.

I would try and reason with my parents or with Uncle Jonah whenever I was caught.

I would fight back, explaining and arguing my end of the story till I was blue in the face, and a good sixty percent of the time I did good.

My punishments always lessened to a degree.

This was one of those times this was one hundred percent my own fault.

And the punishment that would be on me would be fair.

Thankfully, Moonpie came knocking on the door and interrupted us from tearing into each other right there on that door in the middle of school on a Wednesday afternoon.

I have never wanted to hate and thank someone more in my life.

I don’t know if I can blame the hot-blooded nature of my vagina and brain or say it’s Damon’s lips that switch off my rational thinking and give in to him, I don’t know.

I’d like to just blame Damon—that sounds nice, doesn’t it?

When Moonpie knocked, my train of thought started back up. I could have died from the embarrassment.

Not because I was caught making out and dry humping some guy in a dark room.

But it was Damon.

Here I was, hot and bothered, flush and excited, wet and willing for a man I had, at every chance said (out loud) that I didn’t want, that I wasn’t attracted to, that didn’t make my panties disintegrate.

And he knew too.

Moonpie gave me this look that even though he didn’t come right out and say it or smile in some type of perverted way, I knew he knew.

I ran out of the room like my ass was on fire—it kinda was if I’m being honest.

I ran to the girls’ bathroom and slammed into the stall, what I did next I’m not particularly proud of, but a woman has needs.

And Damon made me ablaze with desire.

My shorts didn’t even make it to my thighs before I was cumming.

As soon as my index and middle finger touched my clit, I came so hard I kicked the stall door like some energetic donkey.

My head hit the pipeline behind me, and my eyes went in a complete circle.

My panties were soaked.

I had to use tissue to clean myself up before I could even shower and change.

And this was not good.

Damon and I needed to cool off on this.

For good.

We can’t keep making out and dry humping because it wasn’t going to stop there.

At some point my vagina would jump into my brain, manhandle it into submission, and I would rip Damon’s pants off like a possessed woman on a mission.

And with my entirety, I believe, without a shadow of a doubt, it would not be just one time.

If my past has taught me anything, once I like something I tend to do it again and again and again.

I would probably be riding his dick when Jesus comes back.

Joe Dirt’s mother would be so proud.

***

After school, I lied to Percy and said my migraine was still acting up and I needed to go lie down.

He believed me, and when I was alone I made my bed to look like I was asleep in it, putting headphones over my fake ears, and climbed out the window.

Damon sent me an address that was on the outskirts of town, where it would take me hours to walk to.

Since driving wasn’t an option and the brand new knee I was personally designed for wasn’t up to snuff when it came to biking, I had to call an Uber.

They took me to a mile away from the building and was told to wait.

When I got to this abandoned warehouse it felt super sketch.

Every alarm ever was going off, telling me to hightail it out of there with a quickness.

But…

I had to do what I had to do.

I held my bag closer, my jacket pulled on as a little girl would wrap herself in a safety blanket, even in 94-degree Fahrenheit heat.

I knocked on the first door I came to and it opened like some evil super villain’s lair.

Whenever you watch scary movies and you’re screaming at the screen for that dumb bitch to not go in there?

That’s me.

That dumb bitch.

Going in there.

I willingly walked in and was all “Hello? Are you there, God? It’s me, Margaret.”

There was nothing and no one around.

The place was clean—it didn’t even smell like it had been closed up for a while.

“Hello? I’m looking for some shady person to give me something to take somewhere else? Kind of on a time crunch here.”

And the door shut behind me.

The room filled with darkness and silence.

My heart was racing at the speed of sound, and I was thinking about what Percy and Uncle Jonah were going to think when they found me here, dead.

The door opens back up, and a black and blue backpack sits right in front of me.

My shocked and confused gasp is the only thing that’s audible.

I haul ass, grabbing the backpack and getting the fuck out of there.

Before I could get back to my Uber, I had text messages from Damon telling me where to go.

Angel

Take the jacket off.

My lips parted, knowing he had to have seen me somehow.

~Was he the one who gave me the backpack?~

~Why couldn’t he take it?~

~What was in the bag?~

As reckless as I am, I wasn’t going to look in the bag.

I told my driver where to go, telling him to stop a mile away and wait.

I grabbed my backpack and Dora the Explorer'd it, walking down a busy street like it was nothing, just your everyday pick up, drop off thing for a biker prince.

~Nothing to see here, probably something definitely illegal in here, but hey, no big deal.~

When I turned down the last street, it was like I walked into a new country.

The entire block turned into biker country. The street was lined completely with motorcycles, and the row of what once was stores turned into one huge bar.

The other side of the street had a tattoo shop, a bail bonds, a lawyer’s office, a gym, and a mechanic shop.

Some empty space was at the end, and above the stores, it looked like apartments.

Now, I don’t know anything about bikers, about gangs, or how they typically set things up, but it was actually interesting, and I was impressed with how much I saw.

If I’m being honest, then you should know I kind of thought of bikers as grimy, grumpy old men with long white frizzy hair and a matching beard, racist or Jax Teller.

This was not what I expected and didn’t know where to go.

So I kept walking and texted Damon.

Savannah

bar or?

Angel

👍

I was thankful he texted back.

I have never been at a bar.

I have anxiety, I am the deputy sheriff’s niece, I was unaware of the social component that I will definitely fuck up going into this place and being around Damon.

Again.

This was not good.

Right before I stepped in, I remember he told me to take my jacket off.

I jump back, rushing my jacket to my arm and getting out of the way of the intimidating crowd around me.

A few looked me up and down, some calling out some “compliments.”

I held the backpack in my hand and stepped in.

The first thing was the smell and the change in light.

The music was loud but not deafening. What was loud, though, were the people.

Yelling, cussing, fighting, laughing.

It smelled like alcohol and cigarettes and sweat, and the lights were dark with a sunset orange glow off the back walls.

It was amazing!

I loved it instantly!

The bar curled in a U shape in the middle, and pool tables, dart boards, a huge flat screen, old school Pac-Man, and other games lined the walls.

A few tattered and rugged, dark, faded black leather booths were scattered around.

Tables filled the rest of the space, except for a smallish section in the middle where people danced.

This felt like coming to an Oasis for me.

Everything I saw made my heart grow, the excitement and thrill soaked into every nook and cranny in my body, making me want to never leave.

“Can I help you with something, darlin’?”

An older man with slicked black hair came up to my side, his dark eyes and matching features reminded me of Damon, just older.

He looked maybe late twenties.

His height and build showed such similarities to Damon that if he had as many tattoos then I would think I was looking at his older twin.

Instead of the bullring Damon had through his nose, this man had an eyebrow and lip ring, following a set of gauges on his ears.

“Maybe, I have…this?”

I shook the bag and shrugged my shoulders.

Now there were two dark angels to torment me—I’m in trouble.

The smirk on his face and the little chuckle he gave was panty-melting.

I gulped and licked my lips to bring some of this tension out.

“You’re looking for little D, then?”

~Little D?~

~I pray to God he does so I won’t want it.~

“Little D? Does that run in the family?”

No!

Bad Savannah!

The man in front of me laughed so loud the bar turned to look at us all at once.

“No, darling, it doesn’t. I could show you sometime if you’re free?”

“I’m actually quite expensive and busy. Rain check?”

~And what the FUCK am I doing?~

~I don’t know.~

The piercing-clad doppelgänger laughed again, drawing more of a crowd than before, leaned in to me, his hand on my lower back.

His lips skimming along my ear, his words are spoken without me even knowing what he said.

It’s not until he lets go of me and Damon is yanking me out of the main room to a dark hallway and making me trip into a room am I aware of what he said and what’s going on.

“I’ve always loved the rain.”

~Oh no.~

~I did it again.~

“What the fuck was that? What did he say to you? Why didn’t you tell me you were here?”

Damon fumed above me.

His fists locked at his side and a red hue laid feather-tip touches on his angelic face.

“First of all, watch how the hell you speak to me. Two, never put your hands on me again. And three, none of your fucking business!”

I jumped back to my feet, ignoring the pain that was shooting up my shin to my hip and the sting in my hands and wrist from catching my fall.

“Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?” He stepped closer, his lips turned white from the pressure he was holding them down with.

“You bitch! Who else is in this room?”

My jacket and bag lay on the ground beside me, along with the backpack.

My fingers jab into his chest like a stick to provoke the beast inside the both of us.

My horns showing while he bares his fangs. I wouldn’t back down.

How could I when I was having so much fun?

When the hard look on his face melts to a sinister calm one, I feel the twinge of fear that lights up parts of me that had closed up shop.

I felt alive.