Regrets

Mazikeen

We get into the bar, and he lifts me onto the stool, his body staying closer to mine.

“What ya havin’?” He looks at me.

“Wine,” my word makes him laugh, as does the guy behind the bar.

“Fuck sake Babe, I get ya a professor, but na, ya ain’t drinkin’ that shit,” he says before turning to the guy behind the bar. “Pops give us two of ya finest, this one needs a real drink,” he points towards me.

“King, I was fine with wine,” I argue.

“Ya favourite drink Miss?” He leans in closer. “That why?”

“No, but it’s the only thing I drink or ever have,” I explain. His eyes widen.

“Babe, are ya sayin’ you only ever tasted wine and never got fuckin’ drunk?” He laughs loudly.

“Do I look like someone who goes out drinking and getting drunk?” I ask.

“Na, but we’re so poppin’ that cherry t’night.” He turns to Pops as he calls him. “Two shots, ya favourite ones please, Pops,” King calls, and my eyes widen.

“King,” I say.

“Pops, measure it out, I’ll mix it,” King smirks at me. Pops walks back and places the drinks down, followed by shot glasses.

“Don’t be dirtying my bar, King,” Pops says.

“Not dirtying ya bar Pops; I plan to dirty somet’ else,” King’s smile widens.

“Careful boy, she don’t look like a sweetbutt to me, ya sure she handle ya filth?” Pops looks at him, then at me.

“I can handle filth, more than you know,” I snap back.

Pops chuckles. “Fuck, better watch my back with this one,” Pops smirks and walks away.

“Head back, Miss, mouth open,” King holds out a shot glass.

“Or just hand it to me, King, and I will take it myself,” I say as I reach for the glass, and he laughs, stopping me.

“Fiesty Miss, I like that in a woman. This one ya mix in ya mouth, head back, and open,” his words send a shiver down my spine. Pops is standing by the bar, smirking and watching.

I’ve never done shots before. So, right now, I’ve no idea if there is a shot that you mix in your mouth! Sighing, I jut my chin up to raise my head slightly and open my mouth.

“Don’t swallow. Keep it there,” King orders as he pours it into my mouth. I keep my mouth open and watch as he throws a shot in his mouth. Wait, why does he get to take his own while I have to be fed it like a baby bird.

I’m ready to swallow and too busy arguing with myself to notice what happens. I feel his hand grip my chin, and he leans into me. The liquid seeps out of his mouth into mine.

I feel his tongue sweep around in my mouth and moan. He stays close, his mouth moving from mine.

“Swallow,” his order is instantly followed; I swallow the drink and moan at the taste. King’s body stays close, which stops my mind from coming back to reality. His head lowers, and I feel his nose stroke along my neck. “Ya smell fuckin’ divine Babe. I need a taste,” his words have my body shiver before he licks along my neck and groans.

“Baby King,” the voice comes from behind us, and King’s head snaps up. His eyes glare behind me, and I feel someone walk around my body.

“Where’d ya get this bitch?” The guy stands looking at me, he’s scary, his entire neck and head is covered in tattoos.

“Colt don’t, what do ya want anyway?” King looks at him.

“I’m not a bitch, don’t call me that again,” I snap at the guy, and King’s head throws back as he laughs and fuck, it’s a beautiful sound.

“Colt, what do ya want?” King asks again while laughing.

“Big King wants you,” Colt speaks before walking away.

“Babes, bitches is a name for women in the bikers community, along with sugarbutt. It wasn’t an insult,” King smirks at me.

“Insult or not, I won’t be called a bitch,” I argue.

“Fuck Babe, calm it,” he laughs.

“No, King, I won’t calm it, and stop calling me Babe,” I argue.

“What’d ya rather I call ya? Bitch, sugarbutt? Miss? Professor, or teach?” His mouth kisses my neck. I go to argue and hear someone.

“Ezekiel King, here now,” the voice has King snap back.

“Stay, wait for me,” he turns and walks off. I now take in the bar. When we came in, it was relatively empty; now, it’s full of bikers and women.

My eyes don’t know where to go. I see King standing leaning over the table. The man facing him is large. He’s scary, I thought Colt was, but something about this guy just seems unfriendly.

His eyes snap from King to me, and I shrink back slightly. He’s King’s dad. The Prez, even I can tell by his eyes he’s King’s dad. I should leave.

“Give me some lessons teach, or I could give ya some,” a guy appears next to me. “King’s a boy, ya need a real man,” he leans closer and I stand to walk out.

King appears and pushes him back.

“Don’t get angry, baby king, was just offering her a real man rather than a boy,” the guy mocks.

“Go near ’er again, I swear, ya will regret it!” King shouts.

“Look at the baby king, cute, really. She will need a real man, a woman like that doesn’t want playtime; she wants a fucking show,” the guy roars in King’s face.

“Swear down, ya speak about ’er or go near ’er again; I will take ya outside!” King shouts.

“You think ya can take me, baby king?” The guy laughs more.

“He wouldn’t ’av a problem, and when he’s finished, I would be demolishing wat’s left of ya!” The guy, who I assume is King’s dad, stands behind him.

I turn and walk out, what the fuck was I even doing? He’s my student! I don’t even know how old he is. Scolding myself, I begin walking and soon hear the rumble of a bike.

“Babe.” King stops ahead of me.

“Stop calling me babe!” I shout, and he sits on the bike, shocked.

“We were havin’ fuckin’ fun! What the fuck happened?” He swings his leg over the bike and stands before walking to me. “Ya didn’t refuse or push me away, babe, so why now?”

“King, you’re my student! I shouldn’t have even agreed to get on the bike with you, let alone all that. That’s not me, and I’m not someone who is happy being around situations and places like that. I’m a good girl. That’s not good,” I argue.

He opens his mouth, and I continue.

“I get it, that’s your family, but I can’t do this, King; you’re a student, and the outlaw gang is far from legal,” I shout.

“Club! It’s a fuckin’ Club!” He roars at me. “You’re to teach us about discrimination and all that, but ya doing it yaself!” He shouts at me. “Just get on the fuckin’ bike, and I will take ya back to ya car,” he moves and climbs on it.

Sitting on the back, I hold onto him. I know calling it a gang hurt him. Of everything, I judged him and made assumptions, but it’s hard not to do so.