by Hazel Parker
The next twenty-four hours, which followed what was probably the most exhilarating twenty-four minutes or so of my life, were a complete and utter whirlwind.
But they were also a massive success, thanks in no small part to what I was able to tell law enforcement and then Edwin.
Every single cop that I had spoken to had agreed that it was the Devil’s Mercenaries club that had started it. They all could not believe that they would take a club feud out into a public location like this, but that just made it that much easier to prosecute them, well the few left. When I advised them that Splitter had come to protect me, a few of them looked at me askance, but when I asked them if they questioned me, they all backed down.
I got them all to agree that the Savage Saints had been the one to calm down the battle, that Splitter especially had played a critical role in wiping out the threat. I got them all to acknowledge that the Saints had done nothing to escalate the battle and everything to end it as quickly as they could. Questions about how and why were important, but the most important fact—what their objective had been—was solved.
This was all critical when, after they let the Saints return home and I took a police ride-along to the DA’s office, I got to meet Edwin. I laid out in no uncertain terms what had just happened.
“Every website, every news release, everything that you are reading right now is all saying the Saints played the role of hero,” I said, thinking of how the cops would have been the “sources on the ground.” “If you want to prosecute one of their kind for the sake of making an example of one of them while using the eyewitness of some Mercenaries to help your case, you go right on ahead. I will be on the other side of the courtroom ready to fight. But in the court of public opinion? Everyone will hate you. They’ll see you as in the pockets of the DMs.”
I silently laughed at how I was using Savage Saint language already.
“And since you’re planning on making this a career of sorts, I don’t think you’ll want to be starting on such an egregious foot, do you?”
Edwin could only shake his head. He knew he was beaten; he just didn’t want to admit it.
“You know your client is fully guilty, Ms. Reynolds,” he said. “My changing my focus doesn’t have anything to do with that. Only to do with the fact that we have much worse vermin on the streets.”
“I’m not here to talk about my client’s status,” I said, crossing my arms. “I’m here to remind you what matters most is prosecuting those who would bring chaos to the Los Angeles area. If you want to prosecute one club that does good in its community and does nothing worse than throw a party that gets a little too out of control sometimes, be my guest. But I think you and I both know which is worse between the Mercs or the Saints.”
Edwin looked at me, let out a long sigh, and told me he’d be in contact with me later.
By morning, I had gotten a message that Splitter’s trial had been delayed. It also had a message that said that they were open to dismissing some of the charges against Splitter if he was willing to assist law enforcement in rounding up the remaining Mercs. I had no idea if Splitter could successfully do that—I was beginning to realize that the Mercs were a much larger organization than I ever could have anticipated—but it was as big an opening as I had ever seen. He’d still face some charges, but it was much easier to fight a couple than half a dozen or so.
I sent the good news to Splitter, who was recovering in the hospital. He just responded with the hands raised emoji, which drew an actual laugh from me.
More importantly, though, I just felt an enormous amount of relief. I had helped Splitter survive what could have been a life-ending sentence; in return, I supposed he had helped me survive what could have been a life-ending attack. I guessed then that we were even.
But as the day went by, I began to realize something with a coy smile. I didn’t want to get even.
I just wanted to be with him.
* * *
“You’re sure?”
He wrote that message to me for what was about the third time in a row after I had told him as much.
“If you ask again, I’m changing my mind,” I wrote with a winky emoji. “Come on over. Don’t be shy.”
Finally, after assuaging him of my concerns for yet another time, Splitter advised that he was coming over. I smiled with glee as I prepared everything that he would need—some whiskey, some dessert, and even a nice, juicy steak for when he got here. I timed it so that it would be about a twenty-minute ride without traffic—reasonable for the time, about eight o’clock—and began cooking the steak and laying out everything.
Just as the steak finished, though, I was left feeling a little confused. I had not seen or heard any motorcycles approaching. I had, however, gotten a text message a few minutes before from Splitter advising me he was close by. I didn’t think it was easy to get lost going to my place; my house was pretty noticeable, and no one had ever complained before about any of the maps apps taking them to the wrong location.
I did see a quiet electric car pull up. I went to the window, pulled the curtains apart, and stared in confusion when I saw Splitter getting out of the car. He waved to me, and I waved back, unlocking the door so he could come inside.
As soon as he stepped inside, I shut the door for him and pulled him in for a kiss.
“First things first,” I said, trying to sound seductive. “No bike?”
He laughed, perhaps because he knew that I would have asked that question first—but only now realizing it.
“I decided to leave it at the shop,” he said. “I figured you’d want some privacy if I came over, and our bikes are not exactly meant for subtlety.”
“Aw, Splitter,” I said, kissing him again. “That’s not necessary, but that’s sweet. I think after what happened yesterday, people would be understanding if you came over.”
“Yeah, well, like you said, I’m not looking for fame or unwanted attention. I’m just looking for a connection.”
He smiled and sniffed the air.
“Damn, something smells really good.”
“You mean ‘darn,’” I said, gently ribbing him. “And yes, I have steak on.”
“Seriously?” he said. “You’re the best.”
He immediately headed for the kitchen, dragging me by the hand. In this spot, I could see the bandage wrapped around where he had gotten shot. Undoubtedly, it would take some time for that wound to heal, but he didn’t seem bothered by it at all; at least, he hid the pain well enough that I didn’t think anything was up.
When he sat down, I don’t think I’d ever seen a man consume a steak so fast in his life. He at least used a fork and knife, but I’m pretty sure that he ate the whole thing—probably a full pound—in under ten minutes, possibly under five.
When he finished, he rubbed his belly, let out a nice “ah” and smiled at me.
“You know,” he said. “There’s only one way to make this evening better.”
“And what’s that?” I said, cocking an eyebrow, having an idea of where this was going—and liking it.
Splitter smirked.
“I want to ask you if we can go steady.”
I leaned back in my chair. That was not what I was expecting.
“Listen,” he said. “I’m a big fucking idiot, in case you haven’t been able to tell. I betrayed your trust really bad, I know, and I’m never going to compete academically with anyone from Yale or Duke or any of your friends. I’m just a guy. But I care so much about you. I want to keep caring for you and make sweet, sweet love to you like no one else ever would. Damnit, Amber, you make me want to be a better man.”
“Aw,” I said.
I already knew how I was leaning. I hadn’t thought that Splitter would ask the question so quickly after how yesterday had started—even given how it had ended—but it was one that I was going to bring up at some point.
“You know I’m a sucker for rules,” I said. “So, here are a few.”
“Go,” he said. “
I’m already not swearing as much or smoking as much. For you, what are the others?”
“No, no, no, think of these as personal rules,” I said. “You handled the professional ones reasonably well. You passed, overall, maybe not an A, but you’re still in the class.”
“See, I told you I’m not as smart as your Ivy League friends.”
I laughed and, wow, did it feel good to be bantering cheerfully and lightheartedly with Splitter like this again. We’d gotten so serious and so concerned about things while his case was ongoing—which, in some ways, I supposed it technically still was, but the hard part was over—that we’d forgotten what attracted us together in the first place.
And, sure, the Mercs were still out there, and we still had some last minute legal things to wrap up, but we had a little bit more freedom to bounce around now.
“One,” I said. “You have to respect my faith and my Sundays. That means that while I will go out with you on Saturday nights, you cannot expect me to go crazy. I will not miss my early morning church on Sundays, and if I do, then I won’t go out with you for at least a month’s worth of Saturdays.”
“Understood,” Splitter said.
“Two,” I continued. “I’m not quitting my job for any club stuff. I’m in it until I retire, or, more likely, until I die. I know that you and I will work for some time, but when that officially wraps up, if you’re going to pull me away, it had better be for an emergency. I’ll trust you to know what an emergency is.”
Splitter nodded.
“And finally,” I said, a wicked grin forming on my face. “You better keep up those love making skills.”
Splitter arched an eyebrow.
“Do—do, not say, do—those three things, and we can have something that might just work out.”
Splitter opened his mouth to speak, closed it, looked at me, and stood up.
“What?” I said.
Then he grabbed me, lifted me up, and kissed me.
“I’m showing you,” he said through the kisses as he led me upstairs into my bedroom. “This is how I’m going to be better.”
“Mmm,” I said. “Yes, much better, yes!”
It wasn’t quite what I meant—only time was going to give Splitter the chance to show me the things that I needed him to do—but as far as getting off on the right foot for us being long-lasting, he couldn’t have done much better.
He got me to the edge of the bed, and the sensation of being thrown overcame me. But unlike before when he actually had thrown me, he never let go, holding me out over the edge.
“I won’t let you go again,” he said as he gently lowered me to the bed and then mounted me with more kisses.
I didn’t think that a softer touch from him would have actually worked, but thank heavens, it was even better than the last time.
His kisses moved all over my body as if determined to leave his lips all across every inch of skin and every freckle that dotted me. Bit by bit, he was undressing me, until I had nothing but my panties on. He was more delicate, more finely attuned to my heavy breathing and my moans than he was before.
All sex with Splitter was good sex, but this was great sex. If our first two times had been all about unleashing the enormous passion that we had, then this time was about fine-tuning it to what we each liked—and Splitter was a great listener to my body as well.
I might as well have called him doctor for how well he seemed to read me and what I liked.
After he had had his way with my breasts, he moved down, kissing my chest in between them and moving to my belly button. He brought out the tongue a little bit, making me shake and wiggle like a nervous wreck. He just laughed as I did so, asking me if I enjoyed it.
“What do you think?” I said, adding my laughter.
Hey, sometimes sex was funny, and in a good way!
Then he moved down to my panties, and the laughter was done. It was time to be serious, very serious. Serious about coming from his tongue.
And heavens, he moved so quickly—like a snake with how fast his tongue had darted onto my clit—that I had no time to switch over to serious. I was still laughing when it quickly changed into a moan as I tossed my head back and closed my eyes, my hands going to my breasts.
“Oh, Splitter,” I said.
I reached down to his hair and pressed him deeper into me, an act that he seemed to welcome with eager excitement. The moaning on his end increased even more, and I was left to feel like I was floating on every cloud in the sky. My God, how did he do this so well?
The tension built up almost immediately, and I couldn’t even begin to describe how grateful I was that as a woman, I could come multiple times in one session; if I were a man, I would have already shot my seed long ago. He was just that—
I couldn’t even finish my thought, and he was already pushing me to the brink. My hands squeezed around his skull, and I lost all conscious thought. Everything in my brain and my body shifted its focus to between my legs as I swelled, pulsated, and heated up.
And then it all rushed out.
I cried out Splitter’s name as the fires of orgasm consumed me, burning me into ashes of pleasure. Oh, heavens, I couldn’t contain myself—I had to spread like wildfire. I had to consume Splitter into this burning fire of orgasm. I had to have him.
I fucking had to have him!
I was so on fire that I was swearing and not caring about it. I was no longer Amber Reynolds; I was some sort of an animal, nay, a demon in lust, only able to be released with more orgasms. I pushed Splitter away, then changed my mind, pulling him forward so that he would be inside of me. He said something about a condom, but I didn’t care.
I had him inside me, and the difference between having his enormous girth in me without a condom and with a condom was like the difference between sleeping on a stone and sleeping on the world’s softest pillow. The pleasure was tenfold better, no, indescribably better, and I only regretted not doing this on our second go around. Our first, maybe, but I sure wasn’t in a state to contemplate anything like that.
He pushed his weight into my breasts as I gasped, clawed at his back, and whimpered his name like the domesticated animal that I was. I was at his mercy, begging him to have his way with me, completely at his whims. He was treating me softly right now, still on something of a tender romance, but I didn’t wait longer.
“Fuck me!” I growled. “Fuck me, Splitter!”
Splitter took the cue, picking up the pace and driving me so hard that it felt like I was going to be compressed into the bed. My grip tightened on him until it felt like I couldn’t hear anything but his breathing, the pressing of bodies down low, and the shaking of the bed. It may not have sounded like much, but it was like a sexual symphony to me.
Then, with shocking force, he pulled out, flipped me over, and got back inside in seemingly one motion. I buried my head in my pillow, again approaching orgasm as he did me doggy style. I arched my butt up so he’d get a better view; I heard him groan in appreciation, and it brought a wicked smile to my face.
He already had me coming again within less than a minute; my cries reached across the house, but I didn’t care. He’d unlocked a side of me that was so repressed, I didn’t even know it existed, and I knew we were going to have to practice this many, many more times in the weeks and months ahead.
Yes, I was in this for the long haul. I was absolutely in this for the long haul.
“Oh, fuck, I’m gonna come,” he moaned.
He pulled out, had me turn on my back, and I looked up at him as he stroked himself to the edge. Just as he began to gasp, I took over for him, grabbing his stiff shaft and vigorously stroking him. He shot his seed onto my chest moments later, groaning and quivering as he fired rope after rope. I looked up at his muscular, sexy body as I finished pumping him, smiling in awe the whole time.
“Oh, man,” he finally said as he sat back on his heels. “Oh, Amber. Did I follow the third rule?”
“Haha,” I laughed. “Yes. But the corollar
y to that rule is I need a towel!”
He quickly stood up, nearly stumbling over the bed, and ran into the bathroom before grabbing a towel for me. He wiped it up and down my chest and belly, cleaning me of his cum. When I was satisfied, I motioned for him to come and kiss me. He laid down by my side, wrapped his arms around me, and kissed me as if he was never going to leave.
Which, at this point, I fully expected to be the case. I didn’t see Splitter going anywhere anytime soon.
“You know,” he said when he finally did finish. “I can’t say I ever anticipated you being this.”
He made a point to look up and down my body.
“But now that you’re here, I’m glad. I’m in it for the long haul. I’m here to be with you, Amber. I’m not looking anywhere else. I… maybe I’m too damn emotional, but… aw, damnit, the truth is, I love you.”
I cooed and kissed him again. It was hard to argue with someone who had just rescued me from an assassination attempt, wiped out my would-be murderers, and then done everything possible to protect me. In most other cases, yeah, maybe it would be too soon.
But after what Splitter did for me yesterday? After everything we’d been through since we first met?
“I love you too.”
He’d earned it.
We’d both earned it.
We’d earned each other, and we belonged to each other.
Epilogue
One Week Later
I sat in the hall just before our weekly meeting, considering my good fortune.
Edwin had agreed to drop all but the public disorderly conduct charge against me if I agreed to help him round up the remaining Devil’s Mercenaries, do some community service, and testify in court. Given that I already did work in trying to eliminate the Mercs and volunteered at the animal hospital, I was basically being given the sentence of “do what you do.” I had to pay a five hundred dollar fine for the charge, but all things considered, that was a drop in the bucket.
Trace especially loved me, because I had managed to negotiate a nice payment plan through Amber thanks to my life-saving efforts at her office. Admittedly, she was having a tough time because of what had happened with that; countless documents were lost in the fire, and it would take quite some time to build up the firm and find a replacement. Insurance would give the company a nice check that they could use, but that would take some time to process.
