Amora Jones

Eric checked himself in the mirror yet again. He was getting some lunch, to catch up with his old friend, Julia. He had known her since high school, and had been in love with her for just as long. Even though they were just friends, and nothing more—Julia had certainly never thought of him that way—butterflies still rose in his stomach at the thought of seeing her.

The roar of the motorcycles started up and I opened my eyes. Did I really have to ride again so soon? It would hurt, especially on the slave bike.

He led me out into the main room and almost all the guys were there, but none of the girls. They looked at me like a pack of wolves eyeing prey.

Liam delivered me to Tony who gave me a pair of booty shorts and a crop top to wear before leading me to the bikes. He grinned at me as he handed me a helmet. “Don’t look so miserable. I’m not that bad to hang around.”

After leaving the gas station, we left the town behind us, heading down a back road into the middle of nowhere in the woods. I gasped when we pulled up to a huge house, at least six bedroom windows, maybe more. It wasn’t much to look at with a rough wood facade and dirty windows that made it look abandoned, but on closer inspection, I could see small security cameras planted in trees, monitoring the entire perimeter of the property. I didn’t know what exactly I had been expecting, but definitely not this.

Liam gathered me up into his arms and took me upstairs. I buried my face in his neck, hiding myself from seeing the gazes of his men. I didn’t look up until I felt soft, cotton sheets beneath me. I was in a bedroom slightly less spartan than Tony’s. But there were no pictures or any personal touches to be seen. Just a bed, a nightstand, and some drawers that was probably for clothes. “Doesn’t it feel sad, not having any pictures or items for sentimentality?” I asked.