claimed by the biker

There are only two things in this fucked up world I give a damn about, motorcycles and women.

​I ride them both the same way with a heavy hand and zero mercy. I like easing into the stroke, feeling the machine warm up beneath me, then manhandling them around tight corners until the metal screams. I want them redlining, vibrating through my bones until they’re begging me to let off the gas. I don't do "gentle." I do control.

​Sup, Boss.

​I didn’t look up. I stayed hunched over my bike, my knuckles bruised and stained with oil as I tightened a bolt. The sun was bleeding out over the horizon, turning the sky the color of a fresh bruise. Across the lot, the city was waking up, a swarm of suits and losers heading home to their boring lives.

​I’m good,I grunted, my voice like gravel being crushed. I stood up, wiping the grease onto a rag that had seen better days. We’re moving out soon. That rat Silas thinks he can duck me? We visit him tonight.

​I didn’t care about the money. I cared about the disrespect. In my world, you don’t owe a debt you owe your life. I didn’t know then that tonight, the payment wouldn't be cash. It would be a girl who looked too clean to even be breathing the smog of this city.

​I tossed the rag aside and walked into the clubhouse office. She was already there, leaning against my desk. One of my regulars. She didn't say a word, just watched me with hungry eyes.

​Hi, Kane. You called? she purred.

​I dropped into my leather chair, kicking my legs out. I didn't smile. I didn't offer a drink. I just stared at her until she shifted uncomfortably. Come here.

​She didn't need a second invite. She crossed the room, her perfume thick enough to choke on, Before I could even respond, she leaned further forward, her full breasts pressing against my chest as her tongue invaded my mouth. She was all heat and desperation, her tongue trying to find a spark in me that I’d buried years ago. I let her do the work. I watched her through half closed eyes, detached, just waiting for the itch to pass.

​I grew tired of the noise. I shoved her toward the couch, my grip firm enough to leave marks.

​Do not dare kiss me again, I growled, the command vibrating in my chest. On your knees.

​She dropped instantly. She knew the game. , turning to give me a clear view of her curves as she settled into place. I didn't waste time. I guided myself into her, the tightness making her gasp, her fingers clawing at the leather. didn't even learn her last name. I just took what I needed, the friction and the heat being the only things that reminded me I was still alive.

​Oh, fuck... this feels good,I hissed through my teeth as I hit the limit.

​A few minutes later, I was back on my feet, zipping my leather jacket while she was still catching her breath. To me, she was already gone.

​Clean yourself up and get out, I said, my voice flat, robotic in its lack of emotion.

​I walked out to the parking lot. The air was cool, but the sound was hot twenty Harleys idling at once, a choir of thunder that made the ground tremble. I kicked my leg over the seat, the engine's heat seeping into my thighs.

​The diner was five miles away. Silas was in there, probably shaking behind his register. He thought he was hiding a secret. He didn't realize he was about to lose everything.

​I twisted the throttle, the bike screaming as I tore out of the lot. I was ready for a fight. I was ready for blood. I wasn't ready for the girl with the innocent eyes and the well spoken voice who was about to ruin me.

******

Ella

Ella learned early that silence was survival.

From the outside, her family looked perfectthe kind everyone admired. Their country house sat far from the main road, surrounded by open fields and towering trees. Neighbors praised her parents for being strict, proper, respectable.

No one ever asked what life was like inside.

Stand properly.

Her mother’s voice echoed down the hallway. Ella straightened instantly, adjusting the simple gown she wore nearly every day. Her movements were careful, practiced. Mistakes were not tolerated here.

Her father sat at the dining table, reading in silence. He never needed to raise his voice. His presence alone was enough.

A girl must know her place, he said, lowering the paper. “

Ella lowered her gaze. Yes, Father.

Her mother stepped closer and struck her arm quick, controlled. Never hard enough to bruise. Never enough to leave marks. Just enough to remind her who held the power.

Ella worked evenings at a small shop in town serving customers, cleaning shelves, standing for hours. Not because her father needed the money.

Discipline builds character. Without it, you are nothing.”

Working at the diner was a cycle of grease and apologies, but that night was worse. I was elbows-deep in lukewarm dishwater when my boss, Silas, loomed over me.

​Jane got a call from the hospital. She’s gone, he barked, not even looking at me as he wiped a counter with a rag that was filthier than the floor. Ella, you’re covering her shift. Don't argue.

​I stopped, the soapy water dripping from my red, chapped hands. I looked at the clock it was already late, and the pit in my stomach grew. No problem, sir, I whispered. I didn't have a choice. I needed the money, and I needed to keep Silas happy.

​By the time I walked through my front door, the house was deathly quiet. The kind of quiet that precedes a storm. My father was sitting in the shadows of the living room, a half-empty bottle on the table.

​Where do you think you’re coming from this late? his voice was a low, dangerous rumble that made my blood run cold.

​I had to cover a shift, Dad. Jane was

​I didn't even finish the sentence. It had always been like this. A minute late was an invitation for a night of pain.

​Crack.

​The sound of his hand meeting my skin echoed through the kitchen. A sharp, stinging heat exploded across my cheek, forcing my head to the side. I didn't cry. I didn't scream. I just stood there, tasting the copper tang of blood in my mouth, wondering how many more slaps I would have to endure before I finally disappeared.

​I was used to being looked down on by customers and pushed around by my boss, but this... this was the pain I carried home. I looked at the floor, my hair veiling my face, waiting for the next blow. I was trapped between a world that didn't want me and a home that wanted to break me.

​I didn't know then that a man named Kane was currently screaming down the highway toward me. A man who would look at my bruised cheek and want to burn the city to the ground.

Work kept temptation away.

Idle girls develop ideas, he liked to say. “And ideas lead to rebellion.”

Ella believed him.

Until the universe decided to break her silence.

Until she met him.