Chapter 5

ETHAN

As Emily and I pull up to the club, the rumble of my Harley Davidson drowns out the vibrant evening sounds of Nottingham city. The old warehouse looms in front of us, its black and white walls standing as a silent sentinel, protecting the secrets within.

The club logo painted above the front door is the only indication of what's inside. A few prospects are standing guard. Some, I notice, have bloodied noses and are developing black eyes. Jake and Spike have obviously had a word with them, like I suggested.

Benji, one of the main causes of disruption at the club, steps forward as I guide my bike into its allocated parking place at the front of the building. As I turn off the engine, Jake and Spike appear from inside the warehouse. They take one look and Emily riding pillion behind me, nod, and then turn and go back inside. They know better than to ask questions. Everyone here at the club should.

Once Emily and I have climbed off the bike, I throw Benji the keys.

"Make sure she's cleaned," I order.

"At once, Prez," he replies as he hands me my sleeveless version of the jacket Emily's still wearing.

It makes me feel good when I see her wrap it more tightly around herself, as if it's offering her protection from the prying eyes of my men, who should know better than to be staring at her.

I can tell by the way Benji's eyes keep flicking to the beautiful woman beside me that he wants to know more. He won't ask, though. He knows he'll get another black eye if he does.

"This is it," I say, gesturing toward the entrance. "Welcome to my club."

Emily's eyes widen as she steps inside, overwhelmed by the sights and sounds of the dimly lit interior where leather-clad bikers and scantily-dressed women mill about. The air is thick with the scent of sweat and cigarette smoke, and the din of music, raucous laughter, and the clinking sound of glasses and bottles surrounds us.

The club walls are adorned with photos of bikes and the men who ride them.

"I took those photos," I explain, a sense of pride swelling within me. "It's a hobby of mine."

I curse myself for not taking any today. A photo of Emily when she first met me, looking like a frightened rabbit, would have been a good shot. I wouldn't have put it on public display, though.

Emily nods, her gaze lingering on a particularly risqué image of a biker and his girl, He's wearing jeans, but his muscular, tattooed chest is on display. The girl, in only her underwear, is straddling him on the bike with her head thrown back in ecstasy. I can see the shock mixed with curiosity in Emily's eyes, the conflicting emotions warring within her as she tries to reconcile the image with her sheltered life. I'm guessing this is the closest thing to porn she's ever seen.

Something deep inside me wants to take this innocent young woman and corrupt her. I'm tempted, but it would ruin her forever. She would never be able to go back to her family and the life she knows, so this can only ever be a temporary escape for her. My way of life is too different from hers. It would be impossible for Emily to live in my world forever. To be honest, the jaded feelings I've been experiencing lately make me wonder how much longer I'm going to be able to survive in it as well.

My eyes turn to another picture, one taken on Route 66. There's a single bike resting at a Stop sign, and the rider is standing next to it with his hand on the saddle. He's looking off into the far distant horizon, to where he still has to travel. There's so much more meaning to that photo than it seems on the surface. In truth, I've always seen it as a reflection of me. I keep holding onto the things I know are safe—the bike and my way of life, but also looking into the future at what could be.

"I like this one." Emily interjects into my thoughts, pointing at the picture I've been looking at. "It's a bit less, er, erotic." She smiles.

"More meaningful." I reply, and she nods. In that moment, there's an unspoken understanding between us. The distant horizon is something the two of us can never have.

I take Emily's hand, and as we make our way through the crowded clubhouse, I can feel her watching me. Her gaze seems to be searching for answers in the tattoos that adorn my skin. There's a mixture of fear and fascination in her eyes that stirs something primal within me. And when I notice the other members of the club staring at her, I hold her hand a little tighter as a low growl of possession threatens to erupt from my throat.

After ordering beers for both of us at the bar, I lead her to a corner booth where we settle down. Emily takes a sip of her drink, the bitterness of the alcohol seeming to embolden her as she looks around the room with renewed curiosity.

"So, what's it like being the President of the club?" she asks, raising her voice so she can be heard above the surrounding noise.

I lean in close, my breath hot against her ear.

"It's good, for the most part. It's just like running a business. I'm the boss, but I don't have to do it all on my own. Everyone has a role." I nod to where Jake and Spike are playing pool. "The blond guy, Jake, he's the Treasurer, so he looks after the finances. Spike is the Enforcer."

"Enforcer?" Emily's eyes widen.

"Think of it as an HR role. He makes sure everyone is happy and deals with issues in any way he thinks necessary."

As if on cue, Spike flexes the knuckles on his right hand, which are probably bruised and aching from the discipline he's given out.

"He beats people?" Emily asks, her voice lowered.

"If needed."

Next, I point out my Vice President, Rush. He's sitting with his old lady, Linda. He was my father's VP and best friend. Some of the club members, including me, thought he might want to take over as the President, but he wasn't interested. He prefers a bit more of a relaxed role, especially after the shock of seeing how quickly my father became ill and died. I think it reminded him of the fragility of life.

Linda turns around in her chair, revealing the back of her biker's jacket to Emily. It informs everyone she is the property of Rush.

"Is she really his property?" Emily questions.

"It means she's his old lady. They're married. No one in the club will touch her or disrespect her. She's like a mother to some of the younger members," I inform her.

"Not all the women have those jackets." I can see her looking over to where Jake and Spike are chatting with a couple of club women.

"Those two are sweet butts. They haven't been claimed by any of the men, so they're available to all of them."

"A-Available t-to all," Emily stutters. "Do you mean…sexually?"

I nod. "Yes, it's not as bad as it sounds. They live at the club and are well looked after and protected. Sometimes, a relationship forms between a sweet butt and a club member, and eventually, she might become his old lady. It's all part of the hierarchy of the club."

I can see her pale a little. "What am I?"

I chuckle. Then reaching out, I take her hand in mine.

"You're safe. You're my guest, and no one will dare touch you unless they want a beating."

"That's good to know," she responds with a smile.

"It may seem misogynistic and barbaric, but none of the men here would ever hurt a woman. When we're with a sweet butt, we worship them and make sure they're always given a good time. Everything we do with them is consensual."

"It's probably no different to being a debutante, except it seems the women here have a say in what they want."

I press my finger to her lips. "While you're here, there's to be no mention of that life. I brought you to the club to show you something different."

Emily nods her agreement, and we both finish our beers while I explain about the inner workings of the club, including the hierarchy of power and respect that governs our every move.

"It's not always easy," I admit, a hint of weariness creeping into my voice. "But it's worth it. We're a family, Emily. Brothers bound by blood and steel."

She nods, her eyes shining with a newfound understanding.

"I should have asked before," Emily says as she looks around the club. "Do you have an old lady?" Her voice is tinged with curiosity and maybe a hint of jealousy.

I chuckle softly. Memories of countless nights spent in the arms of countless women in the club flit through my mind.

"They come and go, but I don't have an old lady. No one has even come close," I reply, my tone casual despite the ache of loneliness gnawing at my insides. "But there's something about you, Emily. You're different to any other woman I've met, and I'm not saying that because you were courageous enough to jump on the back of my bike without knowing me."

She blushes at my words, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

"I'm not sure what you mean," she murmurs, her gaze darting away from mine.

I reach out and gently tilt her chin up until her gaze meets mine.

"You're special, Emily. You make me want to show you a world beyond the confines of your sheltered life. Even though I know I have to take you back there at the end of the day."

Before she can respond, I lean in and capture her lips in a searing kiss, the taste of her on my tongue sending a shiver of desire coursing through my veins. She gasps in surprise but soon melts into the kiss, her hands tangling in my hair as she surrenders herself to the heat of the moment.

When we finally break apart, I can see the uncertainty in her eyes, the fear of the unknown warring with the passion burning inside her.

"Come with me," I whisper, my voice a low growl of desire.

She hesitates for only a moment before nodding yes, and slipping her hand into mine, we make our way to my rooms at the back of the club. My personal living quarters are the largest here, consisting of a kitchen, bathroom, lounge area, and bedroom. The whole space is decorated in white and navy blue and has a very masculine feel to it.

I show Emily some more of my photos I've hung on the walls. There are a few pictures of bikes, but there are also scenic ones of the places I've traveled.

I lead Emily through the lounge and into the bedroom.

"Before we go any further, I want you to know I'm going to make sure we don't take things too far. I won't allow us to have sex, because I can guess what will happen to you when you return home if we do. But there are plenty of other enjoyable things we can explore together." I pull her toward me until her tiny body is flush against mine. "I want to ask you something. I know you're a virgin, but do you touch yourself?"

"Down there?" she asks as she bites her lip nervously.

"Yes."

She shakes her head, no.

"I was taught it's wrong. Sex isn't about pleasure. It's purely for breeding." Tears form in the corner of her eyes.

"You are worth so much more than you've been taught, Emily," I tell her, wiping away a tear that tumbles down her left cheek with my thumb.

"Do you trust me?" I ask, and she nods her head. "Okay, then remove your leggings and underwear," I instruct, my voice deep and thick with lust. "I'm not going to touch you, but you are going to make yourself come, and I'm going to enjoy watching every second."

"But surely you need to…er…touch yourself."

"Not when this is about you."

She nods her understanding and quickly removes the lower half of her clothing before climbing onto the bed.

"Lie on your back and part your legs," I tell her as I take a seat at the foot of the bed so I'll get the best view.

Emily lies back against the pillows and slowly opens her legs. She's neatly shaved, probably for the benefit of the man she's going to have to marry, and her pussy is already glistening with arousal.

"Good girl," I praise. "Now run your fingers over your sex, so you can find out what feels nice. Take it slow, though. We don't need to rush anything."

She moves her right hand between her thighs, and as she runs her fingers through her folds, she exposes her clit, which is peeking out from under its hood and desperate for attention. She strokes a finger over it and gasps.

"That feels so good," she whispers, and her eyes go wide when she touches the sensitive spot again.

"Keep stroking yourself there while you push a finger from your other hand inside yourself."

My cock is hardening in my jeans, and I want to get it out and stroke it, but this needs to be all about Emily. Besides, I think the piercings I have down there might be a bit too much information for one day!

"Ethan, I didn't know." Emily's breaths are coming fast now as she strokes herself repeatedly. "It feels so good."

"Keep going." I encourage as I lean in closer so I can see her arousal covering her fingers. The sweet scent of her sex is heavy in the room and fills my nostrils.

"I don't know if I can…"

"You can," I encourage.

Emily's hand moves faster and faster until her body starts to shudder and her breathing becomes ragged. As her first ever orgasm hits her, she writhes on the bed, and her moans of pleasure sound even better to my ears than my bike.

"Keep moving your hand," I order, encouraging her to bring herself to orgasm for a second time.

As she comes again, she arches her back and cries out my name before collapsing down on the bed once more. Her chest heaves as she tries to get much needed air into her lungs. I move from the foot to the head of the bed and press a kiss to her forehead. She looks up at me, her eyes glassy and full of pleasure.

"I never imagined it could be like that. Thank you."

I kiss her gently on the lips, and when she curls onto her side, facing me, I quickly cover her with blankets before I'm tempted to break my word and take her for myself.

"I promised to open your eyes. I hope I have."

She reaches up and strokes my cheek.

"I'll never forget this, Ethan."

A sharp knock comes at the door.

"What is it?" I shout in frustration.

"There's a problem out front, Prez." Spike's voice comes from the other side.

"Can't you deal with it," I grumble.

Knowing I need to take Emily home soon, I was hoping for a few more moments alone with her.

"It involves the girl and the police."

Emily turns to me, looking scared.

So much for a peaceful ride home.

"We'd better get dressed," I say reluctantly. Then sliding from the bed, I hand Emily her clothes. "I don't think you'll be riding home on the back of my bike tonight."

On exiting my quarters, we're greeted by a swarm of police officers standing inside the clubhouse, their guns drawn and voices raised in anger. When the other members of the club see me, they step forward ready for a fight, but I hold up my hand to tell them to stand down and not cause any trouble.

"Ethan Bennett, you're under arrest for kidnapping!" one of the police officers shouts, his voice echoing around the room like a death knell.

I look over to Emily and see panic and confusion written over her face as she tries to make sense of the chaos unfolding in front of her.

"I went with him willingly," she protests, her voice trembling with fear. "Ethan didn't kidnap me!"

But her words fall on deaf ears, and she turns deathly pale as a man, I can only assume is her father, steps forward. His face is twisted with rage and betrayal.

"Everyone will be told you were kidnapped," he snarls, his voice dripping with venom. "And I was required to pay a huge ransom for your safe return." Then pointing at me, he continues, "This thing here will rot in prison for what he's done." As he speaks, there's a look of utter disgust on his face.

Lord Hanbury grabs his daughter by the arm. She tries to protest again and looks toward me in desperation, but I shake my head, telling her silently to go with her father.

"I'm sorry," she mouths.

"It will be all right," I respond.

Turning away from me, Emily follows her father out of the clubhouse, and I'm grateful when she doesn't look back.

"Rush, you're in charge until I return," I announce as I allow myself to be bundled into the back of a police car.

The club has a good relationship with the local law enforcement, and they know we're not into abducting innocent young women. I'm guessing this is all a show put on by Emily's father to discipline her.

The car slowly pulls away from the club, and it's only when we turn in the opposite direction from the police station and head out toward the Aspley area of the city that I realize something is wrong.

It seems Emily's father is a much more influential and dangerous man than I anticipated.