Edison (The Henchmen MC 10)

Roan would occasionally be interested.

Reeve, well, he often didn't even go, didn't participate.

Reeve was another one with secrets. Not the kind like Roan and I had, blood-soaked and brutal. But they were there in that haunted look in his eyes, in his unwillingness to connect with anyone at all - his own brothers included - let alone random women.

He had been more inclined to participate back when his brother was single, when he would - more or less - force it upon him. But Cy was with Reese, leaving his women-filled shenanigans well in his past. As it should be. But it also meant Reeve wasn't pushed to do the normal shit Cy used to encourage him to do, usually just hanging back at the compound, claiming he was doing so so that everyone else could have a good time, but anyone with a working brain would know it was just an excuse.

Me, well, like they said, I was picky.

I had no interest in taking some random woman to bed because her pussy got wet at the idea of an outlaw biker, in being able to slum it, knowing it wouldn't come back to bite her because she knew that the next night, your average biker would be right onto the next woman.

I wasn't opposed to casual sex. Clearly, since I hadn't attempted a relationship since my very early twenties, back when I was so wet behind the ears that I didn't see that my lifestyle at the time was not something to try to bring a woman into.

It wasn't the lack of depth of the act that was the problem.

It was the lack of depth of the connection.

It wasn't enough to have a great body, to be interested.

I wanted more than that.

Yes, even just for a one-night stand.

I wanted a woman who intrigued me, who sparked something other than a fucking hard-on.

Cy was right; it was always the girls with 'something' about them, that thing that they had that you couldn't quite put a finger on, the thing that you wanted to understand.

Those were the women I approached in bars; the ones who couldn't care less if I did or not.

And it wasn't the challenge, that alpha bullshit about wanting to fuck the unattainable girl.

It was just the girls who had something, who by having it, clearly had some depth, that worked for me.

Cyrus was right; Lenny had something.

"You gotta wonder what lit that fire under her ass," he went on.

"What fire?" Sugar asked as he typed off something rapidly on his cell. Maybe getting in touch with Janie.

"She's training like she expects to be jumped at any minute," Cy explained. "I've never seen anything like it. If you're at the gym anytime between eleven and four, she's there, busting her ass. No wonder she's so fucking thin. I've never seen someone go at a heavy like she does. It's a miracle she hasn't broken a hand."

"So, what? You only want to dip your wick in a woman who can kick ass?" That was from Roderick.

"Nah, man," Cy went on, happy to do all the talking for me, a quality he was likely used to with his brother who barely spoke at all. "It's more than that. She's got this fucking attitude too. About as friendly as a junkyard dog one minute, giving you a ribbing of a lifetime the next. She's just unique. That's Edison's thing."

"You going there?" Virgin asked, another somewhat quiet member of the newer Henchmen guys. He wasn't easy to get a read on. Aside from knowing he and Sugar had been raised in an MC together and he had a way with women, I really didn't know much about him. Not even in well over a year of knowing him.

Honestly, that was a good question. One I didn't have an answer to.

Did I want to? Fuck yeah.

I had needed to go up and take a shower when I got back to deal with the painful need for release from grappling with her for over an hour. Just the memory of the way she'd shivered had my cock rock fucking solid again.

I wanted her, sure.

But that didn't mean I would have her.

Not even if I knew she wanted me too. Which she did.

It wasn't that easy.

"I pushed her to tears with pressure points today," I admitted, not knowing why I had the urge to share that information, maybe because I thought that hearing the whole of the situation out loud might help me understand it better myself.

"Lenny?" Cy asked, brows drawn together. "I once saw Malc push her through a routine that would make a Marine beg for mercy with no tears."

I figured as much.

I had been wondering if maybe the tears had less to do with the actual physical pain, and more to do with a release. Like how cutters need to self-harm just to be able to get emotions out, how the pain of the slice was the only thing that made the numbness stop, and brought about a cathartic emotional release.