Wrench (The Club Girl Diaries Book 6) Page 9

  She surprised me by throwing her arms around my neck and cuddling into me. I didn’t waste a second in picking her up and squeezing her tightly to my chest.

  “You’re the best, Wrench,” she whispered.

  “You know I’ve got your back,” I told her. “Take a stand and let them know you won’t take their shit anymore, but try not to throw any more punches. Your mom about lost her mind with that one.”

  Sugar had freaked out when she’d been called down to the school to deal with the scenario, and Optimus hadn’t been much better. It’s been one problem after another. Yet, Sugar was determined to keep her there, just saying over and over again that it was where Harlyn needed to be.

  I wasn’t seeing it.

  All I was seeing was this poor kid who was screaming for someone to take notice of her and nobody was listening. Sugar had buried herself in a pile of dreams and aspirations, barely even acknowledging the fact that I was ready to lay my patch down on the line for her, and now I was taking a bench seat. And with Rose’s return and Blizzard’s mom showing up asking for the club’s help, Op’s mind wasn’t quite in the game either.

  There was a lot of shit going on, but not a lot I could do about it. Except be there for that little girl when she needed me, like in times like these.

  Harlyn giggled and pulled back, her eyes sparkling with humor. “Mom wouldn’t like you swearing like that.”

  I chuckled. “She has a problem, you tell her to come talk to me about it.”

  She wouldn’t need to though because my plan right now was to find her first.

  Optimus stepped into the room, his brow raised in question as I stood to my feet. “Dad’s here now, bet he’ll help you with your homework.”

  He rolled his eyes but walked over anyway. “It’s times like these I wish I’d stayed in school longer.”

  I smirked. “Time to fulfill your duties, father.” With Harlyn’s back to him, he mouthed the words ‘fuck you’ before taking a seat at the table. “Where’s Sugar at anyway?”

  “Harlyn’s staying here the night, she wanted to catch up on some new design shit. There’s an empty shop downtown, but the owner won’t lease it to her unless he knows for sure that she’s got a profitable business to go in there,” he explained as he scooted his chair closer to Harlyn and peered over her shoulder. He groaned loudly. “Math! Of course, we’re working on math today.”

  I laughed, patting him on the shoulder before making my way to the door. “I’m gonna go visit my sister. I’ll catch you later.”

  “Traitor,” he grumbled. “All right, all right, let’s do this shit.”

  “Daddy,” Harlyn warned in a teasing tone.

  I could practically see him roll his eyes from across the room. “Stuff… let’s do this stuff.”

  Jumping on my bike, I took off toward town. My sister didn’t live too far from Sugar’s new house, so over the past few weeks I’d used her as a cover. I hated doing it, and the lectures that came every single time I pulled up were beginning to get old really fast. I was walking a fine fucking line, one that I knew would soon be pulled out from under me, and I’d be forced to deal with the consequences of my actions. I wanted to tell Op, let him know that Sugar had become an important part of my life and that he could beat me, shoot me, suspend me, but as far as I was concerned I was falling for her, and I needed her with me.

  Sugar, on the other hand, was determined to keep the peace between us, and not let whatever it was that we had, effect the dynamics of the club. I heard her, and I appreciated her concern for the brotherhood and my relationship with Op and the others, but it was like she couldn’t see that by keeping this secret she was actually doing the opposite.

  I was lying, sneaking around, betraying the faith and trust that they had in me, and as far as I was concerned, that was far worse than dealing with the tension that coming clean would create. I knew Optimus would come around, though. He’d be fucking pissed that I went against direct orders, and I couldn’t blame him for that. I knew exactly what I was doing when I decided to chase Sugar. But, I also knew that Op would understand what it meant to have no control over who your heart wanted to pursue.

  Sugar was it.

  I couldn’t argue with the way that my body and mind wanted to fight so desperately to make her happy. I couldn’t argue with how her body would instantly relax when I touched her, and how because of things like that, I suddenly felt like I had a purpose.

  She was a strong woman. One who I knew could deal with the harsh realities of club life. One who never questioned my commitment or dumped on me when I needed to put the club first.

  I’d had women before who constantly needed attention, and answers and reassurance. Sometimes, I just couldn’t give them that. I couldn’t answer their questions, I couldn’t explain why I had to run off in the middle of the night when my brothers called, I couldn’t keep easing their insecurities when it came to the club lifestyle and the businesses we owned, or the constant women that were around.

  Sugar, she didn’t need any of that.

  She just got it.

  Sometimes I wasn’t really sure where we sat, what we were. We both had lives. I still had to do my duties for the club, and she was not only trying to raise a child but also starting her own business. I could tell that she was becoming stressed, trying to do too much at once, burning the candle at both fucking ends, but she wouldn’t let me help either.

  And since Blizzard had caught us hooking up in the meeting room a few days ago, I think that had hit her hard as I hadn’t seen or spoken to her since.

  I’d let her have her space, her time she needed to think.

  But as far as I was concerned, time was up.

  Music blasted loudly in my living room as I sat in the middle of the floor, papers spread out so far around me that I wasn’t quite sure how I would even escape the mess when I finally needed to get up and move. My pencil scribbled across the pad I held propped against my knee, sharp lines forming skirts and tops, beautiful designs that I couldn’t wait to find fabric for so they could come to life.

  This was my escape, it had been that way for a long time. It was a way to focus, to keep my mind off those things that haunted me, the whispers in my ear that drove me to the edge. It kept me busy when all I wanted to do was lose my mind and sink back into that hole that I’d climbed out of, and reminded me that I had a purpose, that I could do some kind of good, and give people something they might not have had before.

  I’d grown up in a rich family, one where you never wore anything that didn’t come with a label or a well-known designer’s name on it. Money was no expense, you had to look and act like you’d just stepped off the runway at all times, even if you were just going up the road to buy milk. I’d grown up thinking that was normal, that people who dressed to look anything less than perfect were beneath me.

  But as I grew up, I realized that it was all false, that the world I lived in was so fake.

  A part of me had always felt like I was different to the girls I went to school with. Freedom and excitement seemed just out of reach when you had parents who made you feel like you couldn’t even sneeze without worrying whether people would look sideways at you.

  I attended a private girls school, where the focus was less on education and more on grooming us to be perfect wives and members of society. We learned how to cross our legs, how to cook, how to greet guests and host parties for hundreds of people.

  I guess it wasn’t all a waste though.

  It was the lessons on style and beauty where I found my love for designing and creating. My mother thought she’d hit the jackpot the day I came home and told her that I desperately needed to go to the mall and go shopping. I still remember the look on her face as her eyes lit up with joy and she practically jumped out of her chair, grabbing her purse on the way to the car. She craved normality, she wanted a picture perfect family that could rival that of royalty, and I was dragging them down.

  Up until that point, I’d already
become so frustrated with playing to their rules that I’d begun to rebel and refuse to take part in my father’s company balls or dinners and started hanging out with a group of older kids in town who attended the public school. They weren’t horrible kids, most of them had ambitions and dreams for their future. They wanted to go to college, earn degrees, and work hard for their success. But they also knew how to have fun, how to make the most of their young lives, and live them to the point of no regrets.

  Yet, I was still spending most of my school day learning how to put a fucking piece of steak in my mouth and chew ‘like I had a secret.’ Just thinking about it made me so angry.

  My older sister Eva though, she was the perfect daughter, the role model student. And by the time she graduated from high school, she already had a ring on her finger and was making plans to be married. Her husband was the son of one of my father’s business partners. A rich asshole who, as my sister told me while she was drunk at her bachelorette party, had a tiny cock.

  Yet, she never even thought twice about marrying him.

  Desperate to be the trophy wife in the image of which she’d been created.

  I hadn’t spoken to her in over eight years.

  Much like my parents, she’d disowned me when I hit that stage in my life where people began to notice that I was… different. My parents thought it was just a phase, trying to play it off as some kind of defiance disorder that they could cure with a few pills and some strict rules. But that just pushed me further into the darkness. It isolated me, making me feel like a freak or a weirdo.

  Shame followed me around, and the way people were looking at me sideways like I had some kind of disease, it made me sick.

  I guess that was still one of my biggest fears. Knowing if people found out the truth about the darkness I harbored inside me, that they would see me as less capable, that they would strip me of the dignity that I’d fought so hard over the past six years to gain back in my life.

  I wasn’t that person anymore.

  I caught glimpses of her occasionally. After the voice message and my breakdown, I’d tried my best to throw things in the opposite direction. I was trying to keep things under control, but I couldn’t push back that feeling in my gut that said something was coming.

  Wrench was my saving grace.

  His touch, his presence, it all soothed the demons that were trying to break free. Wrench wasn’t like a lot of other guys, not even like other club members. He didn’t demand my attention constantly, he didn’t always need to touch me or kiss me like we were horny teenagers. He let me have my space when I needed it, he let me do what I needed to do, but he encouraged me to pursue my passions. He was content with spending time with us, not just me but Harlyn too. He made sure she was a priority in his life, even if it meant hanging out with her when I wasn’t around. I felt as though I could breathe again.

  The only problem? He wanted to come clean with Optimus and the club, to let them know what we were feeling for each other was real. It was more real than anything I’d ever felt before. But I was scared, and I knew he was growing frustrated.

  What if he lost his patch?

  What if because of me, everything he cared about was torn away from him?

  He kept telling me that Optimus would understand. That he would see it. If not straight away, then eventually, but I couldn’t help thinking of the risks.

  What if he blamed me?

  What if he was given an ultimatum and decided to walk away?

  I’d pushed my secret stash away, feeling more comfort from Wrench than they had ever given me. He could protect me, the warmth he created inside my body was one I’d never felt from anything other than… well... pills. I was on a high, one that felt like I could never come down from, one that I never wanted to lose.

  “Holy shit, you’ve been robbed.”

  My body jumped as his voice boomed inside the small space, but it soon settled when I looked over and saw him leaning against the wall with a smirk on his face. I picked up the stereo remote and shut off the music before pushing my aching body to its feet.

  How long had I been sitting there?

  “It’s not that bad,” I replied, poking my tongue out at him like a spoiled toddler.

  He laughed. “You say as you stand on your little island surround by a sea of papers. You couldn’t have stacked them in a nice neat pile?”

  I rolled my eyes and held my arms out wide. “I need to be able to see them all, so I know which designs I’ve already drawn, and then sometimes I can match some with others to make outfits or entire collections,” I rambled, explaining the method to my madness. “There’s a process I have to go through, you know.”

  He held his palms up and leaned back. “Okay fashion Nazi, should I just go and leave you to it then.”

  “No…” I grinned. I was happy to see him and feel his energy. The last few days had been hard, but I’d thrown myself into work, and that had held my focus for long enough. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  I tiptoed over all my pictures, there must have been at least a hundred, give or take a few. I smiled in victory as I made it to the other side without disturbing too much of my mess.

  He shrugged, but a smile filled his face. “Dunno. Saw Harlyn at the clubhouse. Op said she was staying there the night.”

  My body buzzed, his words a subtle hint, but they sent shivers through me. I chewed on my lip as I took a step closer to him. “Yeah, needed the extra time to get this all sorted for my meeting tomorrow with the landlord of the building downtown.”

  I swept my arm around the room. It wasn’t just the papers that had taken over, but also four clothing racks that held clothes I’d already designed or purchased from other women who had ambitions like mine and needed their work showcased to buyers. That and there was a station set up in the corner with my sewing machine and piles of material and threads.

  “Looks like a sweatshop in here,” he chuckled, folding his arms across his chest.

  “You know, that’s not a bad idea. How are you with a needle and thread? I could put you to work,” I joked, wiggling my eyebrows.

  He pushed off the wall with his shoulder, stalking toward me with two large steps, not even pausing before bending and hooking his hands under my legs and lifting me up. I squealed in fright, wrapping my arms around his neck while my legs rounded his waist and held on tight as he turned and headed down the short hallway.

  “Feel free to put me to work, but I had a different job in mind,” he whispered as he ducked inside my bedroom and kicked the door closed behind him. He dropped onto the edge of my bed, my body still clinging to his. Our faces were only a breath apart, our noses almost brushing against each other.

  I skimmed my hand up the back of his neck, tugging on his cap and pulling it off his head, tossing it to the floor. “What did you have in mind exactly?” I asked as I brushed my fingers through his flat hair, fluffing it up.

  His hands moved to my hips, holding me snug against him as his lips descended on mine. “This,” he murmured before our mouths met. It started out soft but I was needy, desperate to feel him around me, inside me, any fucking place I could have him. So far, sex had been off the cards, both of us content with touching, playing, creating maps of the other person’s body and committing them to memory.

  Wrench was determined to hold off, telling me that when that came that it would be a time where we could lose ourselves within each other, and not have to worry about what time Harlyn would be home from school or whether someone would come looking for him.

  I flattened my body against him, getting lost in his kisses and the way his hands trailed over my back and thighs—one moving one direction, one moving the other.

  “Damn,” he growled, pulling back and inhaling a deep breath. His eyes drifted down, taking in my dress. I’d made it myself. It was cute and summery, a bright yellow flower pattern with buttons that ran the entire length from my breasts to the hem.

  “This one of yours?” he asked, and
I brightened.

  “Yeah. Do you like it?”

  “Is it easy to fix?”

  I raised my brow and looked down. “What do you mean? It’s not—”

  Both his hands reached for the hem, and I gasped as he tugged with what seemed to be little effort. The buttons began popping off, flying across the room as he pulled it wider and wider, until the last button that held it together just above my breasts pinged off to the side, hitting my vanity mirror.

  I was exposed, my mouth hanging open as I stared down at what was left of one of my favorite summer dresses. “You just… I can’t…”

  “I did, and you better believe it,” he said with a smug smile on his face.

  Without giving me a second to reply, he stood up with me still hanging on him and turned, dumping me on my bed on top of the soft covers. I laid there, gaping up at him as he tossed his club cut onto the chair in the corner of my room and pulled his shirt over his head.

  “Better close that pretty little mouth, gum drop, before I put something in it,” he told me as he grabbed my ankles and pulled me toward the edge of the bed.

  My torn dress fell around my body and he hooked his fingers in my panties, gently pulling them down my legs. With a flick of his wrist, he sent them flying across the room, his eyes continuing to hold mine, his cocky grin sending a thrill through my body.

  With a hand on the back of each of my thighs, he pushed my legs apart. All I could do was watch as he leaned forward and swiped his tongue through my center.

  “Fuck,” we both groaned together, his eyes hazing over in a fog of lust.

  He dipped forward again, this time, taking my clit into his mouth, sucking and swirling his tongue around the swollen bud like it was his favorite lollipop.

  I pushed myself up on my elbows, watching him as he used his mouth to torment me, my breathing becoming more erratic by the second as he lapped at the wetness he was creating. His touch which usually calmed and pacified me was now electrifying my body.

  I threw my head back and twisted the comforter in my hands as I struggled to breathe. My hips had a mind of their own as they lifted toward his mouth with each touch, begging for more, screaming out for some kind of release. He wouldn’t allow it, though, pulling back just as the heat of my orgasm began to build inside me.