Despite driving away from the ocean, the air smells salty out here. Wooden gates swing wide upon our approach, and we ascend up the paved path to the compound. Orange trees line the driveway and a bonfire glows in the distance.

Why these guys insist on having a fire in the middle of summer is beyond my guess. But it's what they do. There's a huge one almost every night.

Depending on what day of the week it is, and what we've got going on with the club, there are between ten to thirty men here. Double that if they've each got a girl with them. And some of them have more than one they keep around.

Pulling into the garage, the roar of the bikes grows loud against the metal pole barn. Once we shut them off, it has the opposite effect. It's almost too quiet.

For the first time, I hear her make a sound. It's a small sniff. Then she sighs. Her breaths are small and steady, as if she's sleeping against my back. Her tiny hands are locked around me in tight fists.

Looking over my shoulder, I say, "you can let go now."

She pulls her hands back as if she realized she was holding onto a hornet's nest. We just sit there for a minute before I ask, "are you gonna get off, or do you wanna go for another ride?"

She clammers down and freezes when she sees what's going on beyond the garage doors. In the light of the roaring fire, there are women dancing, men drinking, and various degrees of sex, drugs, and rock-and-roll. Her shoulders are tense and she starts to breathe a little heavier.

"Are we going down there?" she asks, keeping her back to us.

"I am," Rod says, combing fingers through his blonde hair. He saunters off down the hill and is lost to the darkness. I'm pretty sure I hear him say, Jim Fucking Beam, but I can't be sure.

Brick hangs back for a minute, pretending to do something to his bike, but I know he's watching her. He's waiting to see what I do. She was on the back of my bike, so it's my move.

"Do you want to go down there?"

She turns wildly and stares at me. "I want to go home," she spits.

Okay then, little pixie, home it is. "You are home," I say, snatching her hand, pulling her toward the house.

She pulls back, freeing from my grip. She gets loose easily. I've already forced her to come here, I won't force her to be with me too.

Jerking her head toward the fire, she looks wildly between the party, the garage, and me. Her mind is working a mile a minute. At first, she was compliant. Now, she's realizing her circumstances. I take a step forward and she flinches.

My thumb and forefinger grip her chin tightly. "I'm not going to hit you. Know that I will never do that," I say, my lips hovering over hers. She's a tiny thing, I have to bend low to even get close. "Now here are your options. Go down there and get fucked by the bonfire. Or come inside and have dinner."

She hisses. "Get what? They wouldn't do that."

My eyes rove her body. Her heaving chest, with no bra under that loose shirt and cotton gym shorts? Yeah, baby, you'd be getting fucked.

"Not everyone here is as nice as I am," I smile.

Her eyes roll. At first, I think it's her attitude. Now, I see it for what it really is. She's about to faint.

My hands grip her shoulders before she has a chance to collapse. I sigh. Yup- she fucking fainted. Throwing my arm around her, I lift her up and hold her to my chest. She's so little. We're easily up the back steps and through the door in no time.