Disclaimer: I don't own the Sons of Anarchy.

Fuck you all for reminding me. Just kidding, love anyone who even clicked on this story! It means a lot to mean that you're going to give this a chance. Enjoy!

I was his.

I knew he would never be mine. I would never lay claim to his unruly heart. His kiss – his touch – would never solely belong to me. He would forever crave the touch of other women.

But no matter how many women offered themselves to him, no matter his near indifferent feelings me, I would always be his.

No one else would do for me. I had tried to force myself to be with other men. I had even attempted to establish a meaningful relationship with someone. I couldn't though. I had never succeeded in erasing his dark eyes, his possessive touch, his tattooed body from my mind.

So I would forever be his. Long after he died from some club related accident. Long after the men grew tired of me. Long after I gave in and married someone from the loneliness.

I would always be his.

~SOA~

"Hey, babe," I murmured, bumping my hip against the side of one of the sweetbutts. She was young, that was for sure. She had long, inky black hair. It was teased and hair sprayed beyond belief. The heavy makeup helped to make her seem old enough to hang around the other girls, and the slutty outfit she had adorned put her up there with the best of them, even with her small rack. She was a new favorite amongst the men, but once her novelty wore off, she would be just another piece of ass. Her best feature were her long, mile long, legs, but even in heels, she was still short. If I had to guess, I would bet she had just turned eighteen the day she stepped into the clubhouse. My own age had just been a year older than her when I started hanging around the club.

I struggled to remember her name. We had so many women coming in and out of the club, some stayed for long periods, and others didn't. It became difficult to remember the ones who were new. I usually didn't bother to get to know them unless they were aiming to stick around for the long run.

"Kayla," I said suddenly, the name floating up from the depths of my mind. She rubbed her thumbs under her eyes, clearing off the smeared eyeliner and mascara. She wiped at her eyes and then at her cheeks, trying to hide the evidence of tears.

"Yeah, Jamie?" she asked warily, unsure of what I wanted. A lot of the whores around here didn't take kindly to new meat. I didn't blame her for being suspicious. When I first came here, the women started out nice, but went quickly from their faux friendliness to blatant threatening. It was always a fight for position at the clubhouse, and a fresh, beautiful girl coming in always knocked the old girls down a few pegs for a while.

I was quick to try and put her at ease, leaning against the bar and smiling at her. "You don't look to good sweetie, what's up?" I asked softly. The blaring music from the party covered up my words from wandering ears, but they were loud enough for her to hear.

She sniffed, before glaring at me with watery baby blues. "What's it matter to you?"

I sighed, not in the mood for a catfight tonight, as much as it would please the men. "Who was it, honey?" She continued to scowl at me. I shoved her lightly with my shoulder. "Either you tell me, and I go put them in their place, or you don't, and they can continue being a dick to you." It was hard for most of the new girls to get used to the harsh demeanors of the bikers. Some of the guys liked to get rough… a little too rough at times. Usually the Sons didn't like tearing up their warm and willing property, but having a bad day made them careless. Sometimes a sweetbutt got shoved around or yelled at. It wasn't anything for the women who had been here one or two years, but for a newbie, it was often the thing that decided whether they wanted to leave or stay.

She bit her lip, looking less hostile, but still distrustful. Her eyes drifted to the corner of the room. "Will he be mad at me for telling?" she asked in a small voice. I followed her gaze, spotting a middle aged man with curly black hair, light blue eyes, and a lean, but sturdy physique. I chuckled lightly. I should have already expected Tig. He had seemed stressed when he entered the party.

"Him?" I asked to make sure.

She nodded, before asking again, "Will he be mad at me?"

"Not after I'm done with him," I laughed with a wink. She didn't stop me as I covered up the fist shaped, red mark on her shoulder with my own cute, cropped jacket. It was a cheap piece of shit from some lower side boutique anyway. It was no sweat to get rid of it. It had just enough sleeve to hide the soon to be bruise. She shoved her arms through it, understanding what I was doing right away. I then proceeded to wipe at makeup still spread around her eyes. "Okay, you're good now babe. You can go to the bathroom, fix your hair, and get back to servicing another biker, or you can go home. It won't kill you to miss the rest of this party when we'll have another one just like it next week." She swallowed and nodded.

"Thanks Jamie," Kayla mumbled. I just grinned at her. It was fun sometimes to help out the younger sweetbutts. They reminded me of taking care of my sister before she married some guy from another charter.

"You're fine, no thanks needed. I'll go take care of him," I said with a smile, titling my head in Tig's direction. I didn't pay attention to what she did after that, intent on finding out what was Tig's problem tonight.

I headed toward him. He was staring darkly at a stripper on a pole. She was already topless, and though I could tell Tig was enjoying the show by the growing tent in his pants, his face didn't necessarily give the pleasure away. I glanced down at my outfit. It was type the Tig would love.

My leather skirt could barely be called a skirt, and the bra I was wearing, black, with a lacy enticing pattern, would have been minutely less slutty with the jacket over it. I knew he would love that I was in a thong (that matched the bra) underneath the skirt and prepared myself to be groped on heavily.

He spotted me coming and narrowed his eyes.

"Hey, Jamie," he greeted in his gravelly voice. I titled my head, fluttering my dark eyelashes.

"Stressed?" I asked in a low voice. He responded with a responsive, aggravated sound in the back of his throat. "Want me to help you out with that?"

His tune changed fast as he heard my words and his frown turned into a mocking smirk. "Are you gonna stray from the big, bad killer tonight for some Tig loving?" I laughed to myself and rolled my eyes. Taking his words as an affirmative response, I climbed into his lap. Placing my hands onto his shoulders, I positioned myself over the pretty impressive hard on hidden underneath his jeans.

"You're not getting anything past a lap dance and a good grind Tig," I smiled. Despite his rather eccentric mood swings, I liked Tig. He was a good guy. He always respected my boundaries, for some reason I couldn't fathom, considering he didn't care for any of the other sweetbutts' limits. He remained stiff in the chair as I began to move. I rolled my eyes. "Come on, take advantage," I urged. I wasn't really getting any pleasure from this, as much as I wished I could, because Tig was not a bad looking guy. But for some reason my body only responded to one man's touch.

Tig slowly leaned back, relaxing as I moved over him. I slowly swiveled my hips. "Good boy," I hummed. My brown locks brushed against his chest rhythmically as I started and maintained a smooth, enticing pace. He groaned as I sensually rolled and moved my hips over his. "Now, what's bothering you, sweetie?"

He closed his eyes as I continued moving slowly. "Don't start Jamie," he answered in an annoyed voice. I tsked and shook my head. I moved my hips slightly quicker and his mouth opened in pleasure.

"Now, now Tig," I began, taking my hands off his shoulders and running them through his hair. "Don't be difficult. You took your frustration out on one of the girls, the hot new favorite. We don't want to be scaring off fresh pussy, now do we?" He was practically panting as I pressed my groin into his. When he didn't answer, I leaned closer, licking a trail up his neck to his ear. "Do we?"

"Shit, Jamie," he whined. I bit his earlobe and dug my hands into his hair roughly before stilling my hips. His eyes opened in near panic. "Fine, no, no. Shit, I'll leave her alone." His eyes darkened when I didn't immediately resume my actions. "Don't you dare fucking stop," he threatened. I smiled victoriously. Restarting the movement with my hips, I moved away from his upper body. He looked about to complain until I grabbed both his hands and placed them on my breasts.

"Mmm, that's good, Tig." He explored my chest, massaging each breast with newfound fervor. I leaned back, getting a better angle to grind on him. "Moving onto the bigger issue, what has you so riled up?"

As I rolled my hips with practiced perfection, Tig growled. "Club business, babe," he forced out through clenched teeth. I hummed in thought to myself; I knew I couldn't push past that. Club business stayed with the bikers, not with the sweetbutts. I continued on with a question that wouldn't put either of us in a difficult situation.

I curled my fingers in his dark hair and yanked his head back, moving to suck on a sensitive spot on his neck that seemed to be on all men. "Anything you can tell me about?" I purred into his skin. I lightly bit the area around his throat, causing Tig to moan.

He was in no mood to refuse answering as he replied in a strained voice, "Nearly crashed the bike." I frowned to myself. I knew whoever caused their bikes to get torn up was losing their life in a brutal and painful way.

"Poor baby," I cooed, kissing up the area of his exposed chest and under his chin. "I'll make it all better." I moved one of Tig's hands to my ass, the flimsy thong the only thing blocking me from being completely bare to him. He slammed his head into the back of his chair.

"Oh, fuck yes," he hissed. He groped the area harshly. I was sure to have bruises on my ass from his strong hands. With his hands in this new position, he took the lead and moved me of his own free will. I was practically being slammed down onto his erection.

I followed his actions, and got rougher in my demeanor. I bit at his skin and scratched my nails into his skull. His fingers were digging almost painfully into the flesh of my ass.

It wasn't long till all my efforts pushed him over the edge. He came with a strangled groan that was barely heard in the loud club. What we were doing was hardly obscene. Most guys were either getting sucked off or fucking someone right in the middle of the party. Compared to everyone else, our actions were mild.

When Tig was able to move, he released his forceful grip on my body. His breathing was gradually going back to normal. I didn't climb off his lap, just moved so most of my weight wasn't on him.

"Fuck Jamie," he laughed roughly, "you got me cumming in my pants like I'm fourteen again."

I chuckled goodheartedly and licked my lips. "You're welcome," I smirked, giving him a little pat on the cheek.

Once he had fully recovered, I leaned forward and placed a kiss on his forehead. "You ever feeling overwhelmed, you come to me, alright? Even if it's just to talk." Staring into his light blue eyes, I could see he was thankful. Tig and I were friends. I would never be a Son, but I could still be a friend. Sometimes he just forgot there were other people outside of his brothers.

His expression suddenly turned from soft to mischievous. "So when I wake up in the morning, feeling a little "overwhelmed" can I come to you then? Will you take care of me?" I playfully slapped him in the chest.

"Dick," I giggled. He just wiggled his eyebrows and swiveled his hips underneath me suggestively. "I try to be nice…"

"Oh, you were very nice…" I climbed off of him with a snorted laugh.

He would need to clean up and I needed to check in with Gemma, if she hadn't already made off with Clay. "Seriously though Tig, you know I got you're back, buddy. I'm here." He smiled a crooked smile at me as I straightened my clothes.

"Goes both ways, Jamie," he called softly.

I carefully walked away, unable to help the smile on my face.

~SOA~

As I exited the shower, I wrapped a towel around myself. It was nice to remove the smell of the Club. To leave behind the constant scent of alcohol, sex, and gun powder than never managed to leave the building or the people inhabited it. I took a deep breath, inhaling the scents of vanilla and bergamot.

I had woken up with my hair a horrible mess. I hadn't bothered doing anything besides stripping out of my clothes and wiping off my makeup once I got home. I had been exhausted. Once the men had passed out, I had rounded up all the sweetbutts, who weren't trapped in some sleeping biker's arms, to get to cleaning. We had done a decent job getting the mess out of the way and not waking the guys up. Of course, we couldn't get everything, but the rest would be left up to the prospects.

Besides spending most of my time at the clubhouse, when I wasn't there, I was bartending at the place over by the church. I found it odd that the places were next to each other, but surprisingly, our busiest day was Sunday. I always had Fridays and Saturdays off for the club, but worked every other night. I still had the rest of the day free and intended to enjoy it.

I had gotten home sometime around ten in the morning Saturday, or today. Our parties usually lasted from Friday night to Saturday morning. I had slept around five hours before waking up. I had been eager to make the rest of the day count, even at such a late hour.

I didn't bother to change into any of my regular clothing. I didn't have anything to do today, and I would rather be comfortable than anything. I searched through my drawers for a large T-shirt. I found a navy blue one before making my way over to grab some underwear. I didn't own any underwear that was extremely comfortable. I was rarely at home, and most of my outfits, under garments as well, was seen by most of the club. I couldn't afford donning anything less than club worthy. So I grabbed some innocent white, lacy boy shorts.

I exited my bedroom, intent on having a lazy day. I would maybe pig out on some ice cream and watch a Supernatural marathon.

Any plans I had instantly disappeared as I caught sight of a large, hulking man standing right directly in the middle of my hallway.

Who is it? As if you didn't know. Sorry for the cliffhanger… or am I? Until next chapter! Tell me how you liked it!