**Shattered: Way Down We Go**
SONGS LISTENED TO IN THE MAKING OF THIS STORY
Better Than Me; Hinder
Ordinary Man; Ozzy Osbourne
Far From Home: Five Finger Death Punch
Torn To Pieces: Pop Evil
I Need You; Jelly Roll
I Was Born To Love You; Ray LaMontagne
I can't Tell You Why; Eagles
Someone You Loved; Lewis Capaldi
It Won't Last; Blacktop Mojo
Unsteady; X Ambassadors
On The Run; The Jompson Brothers
When I Was Your Man; Bruno Mars
Stay; Rihanna
State Of My Head; Shinedown
Trigger warning: This book contains drug use, if this might be a trigger, please read no further.
**Vocabulary**
MC: Motorcycle Club
Ol’ Lady: name for the female who a biker has declared as his
Mama’s or Sweet Butts: women who hang around or live at the MC’s clubhouse
Lay: Someone who is convenient to satisfy an immediate sexual urge
Prospect: Early stage member of an MC club and waiting to be full-patched
**Marlowe**
A light flush of sweat coated my skin for I needed a fix, and I needed it badly, so when Auriella held out the pills in her hand, I took them from her without question, quickly swallowing them with a drink from my bottled water.
“Your dad wants you in the room tonight, he said you have a request,” she told me, watching me recap the bottle.
I grimaced. “Do I have to? You know what happened the last time.”
She gave a small snort. “Of course you do,” she quipped, her tone that of disbelief I was even asking. At fifty-two, Auriella was my dad’s ol’ lady, as well our House Mother, and it was her job to make sure everything ran smooth within the compound, as well the clubhouse, and just like my dad, she ruled it all with an iron hand. I’d seen her beat the shit out of some of the girls for a simple eye roll when they didn’t like what they had been told to do. I didn’t like Auriella much, and she didn’t like me, but out of all the ol’ ladies Dad had had, I guess I liked her the most. However, she was still just another in a line of many. He was a viral man, and women had always seemed to flock to him. I suppose it had something to do with who he was. Stye Mills—my dad—was the president of our Charter; The Sons Of Morning Star, and as such, I’d seen some pretty damn bloody fights between the biker mamas over him. I’d never known my mom, as she had died giving birth to me, and life hadn’t been easy because of it. Many of Dad’s ol’ ladies had tried playing Mom, or my best friend to me, but I had seen through their bullshit. I wasn’t stupid. That's the only good thing I could say about Auriella, she didn’t pretend to be anyone but who she was, and though I was respected by the members as the presidents daughter, I was still nonetheless part of the stable—dancers, prostitutes and topless waitresses—and she treated me in that manner.
Most times I served the bar, but tonight it appeared I’d be working in the back, so ten minutes later with the drugs cruising through my system, I found myself standing before the door of my private room. I’d been assigned this one, and though I didn't know why I was the only one who worked in this particular room, I'd never voiced the question. I learned long ago you didn’t question anything Dad said or did. In fact, this was the only room I did work in. I didn’t dance on stage, nor entertain in the other private rooms as most of the girls did. Yet, again, I hadn’t questioned it, I was just thankful I didn’t. Nevertheless, that didn't take away the nerves I was now working with.
After drawing several deep breaths, I readied myself for dealing with the man inside. Well, not actually me, but rather my stage persona, Mystique, was preparing, and she—well, fuck—I, was scared shitless about it. I hated finding myself in this position again. The last time I entertained, barely three weeks ago, I'd sworn I'd never do it again after I’d endured a beating; the guy had damn near killed me. Thinking about it now, I realized I hadn’t seen the prospect around since then.
As I tried to still the slight tremors that raced through my frame, I smoothed the boy style shorts that bared my lower ass cheeks, then reaching up, I plumped my boobs in the matching bra-styled top. With a resigned sigh, I pushed a small button on the wall next to the door and started my introduction music. Afterward, hand on the doorknob, I twisted it and stepped into the room.
The low throb of music greeted me, its low pulse echoing within my body, and placing my butt against the door, I pushed it shut. As I did so, my eyes landed on the man in the chair. He sat low in the seat, his legs stretched out before him, ankles crossed. But at my entrance, he raised his head, then, with slow movements, sat the tumbler in his hand onto the tabletop beside the chair. Afterward, uncrossing his ankles, he straightened, peering in my direction. The dim lighting in that section of the room kept me from making out his features, but I could feel his eyes on me as his scent surrounded me, enveloping me within its allure—a mixture of spice and something...something musky and intoxicating: essentially male. A scent I knew well. I gave a small groan, a sudden flood of desire washing through me.
Torin Montero had been gone for the last three days making a run, and I was happy to know he was back and safe. The runs were always dangerous and some of the guys didn't always make it back. Rivalry between our MC and some of the other clubs always made for nasty business situations. There were a shitload of good looking men in this club, but Torin was the only one I'd ever wanted so badly, that as a teenager, I'd spent many nights having erotic dreams about him. He was, as well, the only man outside of my dad and my brother, Dillon, that had ever held my heart.
Suddenly, I wanted nothing to do with this. I didn’t want Torin seeing me like this: strung out and dancing in a sex room for whatever man paid my dad enough money. I wasn’t a whore, but taking off my clothes for total strangers made me feel as though I were. Yet, I knew I couldn’t refuse if Torin did request that I undress for him, because Auriella would beat my ass if I didn't.
As the first dance song on my soundtrack began to echo about the room, I heard the low, thick cadence of Torin’s voice. “Dance for me, princess.”
The time for escape had passed, and I drew in a deep breath. The throb of the music kept time with the pulse beating between my legs, as stepping forward, I made my way over to Torin, then I began sliding my fingertips across his left collarbone and onto his shoulder, where continuing to glide my fingers, I kept contact as I moved around to his back and across the broad expanse between each shoulder, afterward, I ran my fingers in a soft caress over the nape of his neck—God, how I’d always wanted to touch him in this way—and began making my way over to the opposite shoulder, shortly coming around to his collarbone, before with a pivot of my fingertips, and practiced turns of my feet, I came a full one hundred and eighty degrees, facing him again.
As I gazed into his eyes, my breathing increased, and I felt myself give a small pant as I moved my fingers down to his chest, as without so much as a pause in my actions, I lowered myself toward the floor, where in a slight squat, I maintained the position for several seconds, moving my hips to the beat before easing my way back up, I once again stood. With slow deliberateness, I let my knees brush his crotch, my breasts hovering near his face. A few seconds later and with a seductive move, I placed my leg on top of his thigh before letting it slide slowly across its width, and with only the tips of my toes touching the floor, I slowly I lowered my butt onto his spread thighs. The v’d hollow between his thighs cradled my butt, I and laced my arms around his neck, continuing to move, teasing him with my body.
Leaning forward, I allowed my lips to almost brush his, then after a soft exhalation, I backed off: a manipulative move to leave him wanting a taste of the lips I'd offered. Then, as slow as I’d climbed on his lap, I inched my way back off, unwrapping one leg at a time from the back of the chair as I slid with taunting eroticism backward off his lap until I was once again standing between his legs. Bending forward, I placed my hands on top of his knees, then moving my face back towards his, I gave him a light brushing of my tongue across his lips, being sure to leave him hungering for more as I withdrew.