Take Me To Bed: Bedtime Quickies

by Alex Grayson

  Mom is sad. She thinks she’s hiding it, but she isn’t. I’m sad too. We miss you. We haven’t had a family dinner in months. You haven’t asked me about my midterms or been to see any of my football games. I bet you don’t even know Mom went to the doctor’s a few weeks ago. She said it was nothing, but she’d been crying. Where were you?

  After his impassioned rant, he turns on his heel and almost runs out of the office, leaving me standing with my mouth open.

  Luna had been to see a doctor? When? What the hell for? She never mentioned a damn thing to me.

  “What the fuck do you want?” I bark into the phone when it rings.

  “Good afternoon to you too.” The voice sounds almost amused, getting me even hotter under the collar. “To answer your question, I just had a conversation with your wife. Well, technically I talked and she listened, but I—”

  “Jesus fucking Christ, Damian.” I sit down heavy in my chair. “Does everyone have a fucking opinion?”

  “Shut up and listen. When was the last time you made her feel cared for? Loved? You need to decide if what’s been keeping you busy is worth losing your wife over. I know Luna, keep this up and you’ll lose her.”

  A cold fist closes around my heart, and I almost miss hearing the address he recites before I hear nothing but dead air.

  Shit.

  It takes me a little less than an hour to pull into the neighborhood. The first thing I notice is the black Lexus stopped beside the tan Toyota. The doors just inches apart. Then I catch what looks like a faint muzzle flash and everything slows down to a crawl as I hear the shattering of glass.

  I’m out of my truck, gun in hand, the next second.

  Another flash—this time I hear the dulled sound of the gunshot—and I take aim at the Lexus. The back window shatters and suddenly the SUV tears off with squealing tires, and I start running to the car.

  I don’t even realize I’m yelling her name.

  3

  Luna

  I heard the SUV speed off, but I’m staying ducked under the steering wheel. I have no idea who else is out there, shooting.

  “Luna!”

  My head shoots up at the sound of Ouray’s tortured yell, and I hit my head on the steering column—hard. My hand grabs for the back of my head just as my door is yanked open.

  “Jesus… Oh fuck, baby.”

  I try to lift my head, more carefully this time, but his large hands keep me in place. In the background I can hear sirens approaching.

  “Ouray, let me up.”

  “Stay put, Sprite. Don’t—”

  “Police! Show me your hands!”

  Great. I can hear the urgency in the cop’s voice, along with an edge of panic. They wouldn’t know Ouray from Adam and all they’d see is a large, scruffy biker bending over me. Not a good scene.

  “Ouray, listen to them, please.”

  “Screw ‘em. You’re hurt. Let me see.”

  “Show your fucking hands!”

  “I’m fine, now do as they say and let me get up,” I urge him; afraid they’ll shoot him next.

  “Police! Back away from the vehicle!” Another voice joins the first.

  “Ouray!”

  “All right, all right,” he grumbles, backing out of the car.

  Before I can pull myself all the way from my hiding spot, I hear a yelp followed by a thud. I scramble out of the car to find Ouray facedown in the road, Taser wires sticking out of his back while two cops struggle to get handcuffs on him.

  “FBI.” I pull my badge from my pocket and hold it up for the two to see. “Special Agent Luna Roosberg Strongbow. The man you’re holding down is my husband.”

  “You’re shitting me,” the younger of the two looks down at Ouray before checking me out.

  “She’s not.” My head swings around to see Damian jogging up. “SAC Gomez, La Plata County FBI.”

  Just as the cops reluctantly let Ouray up, I notice my target’s car backing out of the driveway. “Gomez, target’s on the move.”

  Damian looks in the car’s direction and whips out his phone, barking instructions.

  Twenty minutes later, I’m sitting in the back of an ambulance, getting a few butterfly bandages to close the cut on the back of my head and Ouray is cursing up a storm as the second EMT twists the Taser prongs from his skin. I haven’t spoken to him yet; I’m too pissed.

  Damian sticks his head in the door. “Both targets are in custody,” he informs me.

  “Shit. That wasn’t according to plan,” I point out.

  “Neither was you getting shot at,” he counters. “You get a license plate?”

  “Rental,” Ouray grunts. “Red plate, barcode sticker on the back window. 493-XBL. Black Lexus LX.”

  “Good man.” Damian grins at him, although for the life of me I can’t figure out why.

  “Are you kidding me? He blew my cover.”

  “You were getting shot at!” Ouray yells. “I’d say your cover was good and blown already. Jesus, Luna.”

  “How’d you know where I was anyway?” I snap at him, holding onto my snit, even though I have to concede he probably didn’t make things worse than they already were.

  “Well, that’s my cue to leave,” Damian announces, backing out of the ambulance.

  “Thanks for leaving me hanging, asshole,” Ouray yells after him before he turns to the EMTs. “We done here? Good.” He turns to me and grabs my hand. “You’re coming with me.”

  “What the hell, Ouray?”

  He doesn’t stop, just drags me along behind him, his hand firmly around my wrist until we get to his Traverse. There he opens the door, picks me up, and dumps me in the passenger seat before jogging around the front and climbing in behind the wheel.

  “You done manhandling me?”

  I scowl at him and he’s glaring right back. Looks like we’re going another round.

  “We’re gonna talk,” he says, starting the vehicle and pulling out into the street, passing the damaged rental car, which is being hooked onto a tow truck.

  Damian is standing on the sidewalk beside it, lifting two jaunty fingers when we pass. I have a good idea how Ouray knew where to find me, and I’ll be dealing with my boss later.

  “So talk.” I fix my eyes on the road and cross my arms over my chest.

  “We’re gonna do it properly, which is not in the car,” he rumbles, turning onto Highway 160, only to pull off again half a mile down, straight into the parking lot of the Hampton Inn.

  “Ouray…”

  He’s out of the car before I can ask him what the hell we’re doing here. My door is yanked open and he leans in to unclip my buckle, lifting me out of my seat like I weigh no more than a bag of flour.

  “What…”

  That thought doesn’t get any further either, because his mouth is on mine for a hard kiss.

  “Hush. You gonna come willingly, or do I need to throw you over my shoulder?” he grumbles.

  “You wouldn’t dare,” I protest, despite the ripple of excitement starting low in my belly.

  “Test me,” he snaps before grabbing my hand again.

  The young woman behind the desk breaks out a big smile when we march into the hotel.

  “Good afternoon, welcome to the Hamp—”

  “Room.”

  The poor woman visibly startles at Ouray’s bark. “Certainly, let me see what we have available.”

  He lets go of my hand long enough to slap a credit card on the counter. “King size.”

  She looks from him to me and back. “Of course. Would you like a mountain view?”

  “I don’t care.”

  “Whatever you have available is fine, thank you,” I quickly add, afraid my husband is going to make her cry with all that snapping and snarling.

  The second she puts a room key on the counter, Ouray snatches it up and stalks to the elevator. The poor girl is still trying to explain the room comes with complimentary Wi-Fi and breakfast when the elevator doors close.

  “Rude,”
I point out, but I can’t quite hide my smile.

  4

  Ouray

  “Get naked.”

  I don’t give her time to think when we enter the room.

  From the way her eyes flash, I can tell the thought is not unappealing. Good. I’ll fuck her after.

  “Thought you wanted to talk?” she challenges, her balled fists on her hips, her spunk showing.

  Thank fuck for that. My wife’s fire is what drew me in the first place—that small package comes with a fuckload of punch—but then I discovered the warm, beautiful heart under her ‘tough-guy’ exterior and I was lost.

  Seeing the car shot up, her curled in a ball with glass covering her, and blood coming from her head just about stopped my fucking heart. The thought of losing her terrifies me, and if I can’t make things right, I’ll be lost in an entirely different way.

  “We talk best in the buff. Nothing to hide behind.”

  I put my words into action, and in no time, my boots are off and my clothes are in a pile on the floor. When I look at her, she’s still fully dressed, her eyes tracing a leisurely path down my body. It’s not like she hasn’t seen the goods before, but her slow perusal reminds me my body is fifty-fucking-years old. Not that I’m in bad shape, but age shows.

  Still, I let her look her fill before I remind her. “Naked, Sprite.” I whip back the covers, pile the pillows against the headboard, and sit down on the bed. Luna strips, putting each item of clothing carefully over the chair, before she climbs in beside me.

  “You didn’t leave me any pillows.”

  “You don’t need any.”

  I reach an arm around her and pull her to my side. Her head falls naturally on my chest, and I wait until her hand comes to rest on my stomach.

  “I love you.” I figure that’s a good place to start.

  “That was never in question,” she answers, throwing me for a loop.

  “I don’t think you get it…” I look down into her beautiful eyes staring up at me. “…I love you in a way I’m not gonna survive if you check out on me.” Her fingers curl on my skin. “You scared me.”

  She casts her eyes down. “You tapped out. I couldn’t get through. You wouldn’t talk, wouldn’t listen.”

  “I know, the edges were fraying and I was trying to keep everything together. I’m sorry. Believe me, enough people told me these past days to get my head outta my ass. Including our son.” At that, she lifts her eyes.

  “Ahiga?”

  “Fuck yeah. Gave it to me both barrels.” I chuckle at the visual of our otherwise easygoing son facing off with me. “Wouldn’t back down either,” I add with a hint of pride, stroking my fingers over the enticing curve of her hip. “I could make excuses why I’ve been absent, but fuck, that’s all they’d be: excuses.”

  “I could see the pressure weighing on you, but that almost made it worse when you wouldn’t share. We’re supposed to share it all, the bad along with the good. It felt like you didn’t trust me enough.”

  “You’re the strongest person I know, it wasn’t you I didn’t trust; it was me. I was failing the club, failing my family. I was trying to make it right.”

  She curves a hand around my neck and pulls me down for a kiss. “It was never wrong until you pulled away,” she mumbles against my lips.

  My body starts to burn with need for her, and I close my eyes to visualize something other than those lush, pink lips and love-filled eyes. This is not the time to ravage my Sprite. Not yet, anyway.

  “Trust goes both ways, though. Ahiga mentioned something else; you saw a doctor?”

  I open my eyes but hers are lowered again, only the curled eyelashes visible against her cheeks. “Routine,” she mumbles.

  “Bullshit,” I counter curtly, and it has its desired effect. She lifts her gaze, flaring with irritation.

  “It’s nothing.”

  I tighten my fingers on her hips. “Only truth between us, Luna.”

  Her eyes flit off to the side before she answers, “It was nothing. I hadn’t had a period in two months…” Her voice drifts off and my mind starts filling in the blanks.

  “Pregnant?” Both fear and excitement course through my veins.

  More kids had never been on the radar after we adopted Ahiga. We’d both been good with that. That doesn’t mean another kid wouldn’t be welcome. Complicated, given our ages and life choices, but welcome.

  “No.” Her answer is delivered in a dull tone and she worms out of my hold, climbing out of bed. “Apparently, at forty-three, I’ve already hit my past due date,” she says over her shoulder, as she makes her way across the room. “Menopause,” is the last thing she shares before ducking inside the bathroom.

  The word is laced with regret.

  Luna

  Even as I close the door behind me, the tears pooling in my eyes start to overflow.

  Fuck.

  I couldn’t look in his eyes and see the disappointment reflected back at me. Before last year this development wouldn’t have even fazed me. Our life was good—solid and more than enough—but with Ouray already withdrawing, being told I’d officially entered the world of the middle-aged had hit me hard. What if he lost what little interest he had left? I know he loves me, but he still left our bed empty for nights at a time. How would he look at me now?

  I lean into the mirror, my reflection clear in the harsh light. A familiar face, but suddenly the lines and wrinkles stand out, along with the strands of silver in my otherwise blonde hair. I scan the rest of my body, still reasonably fit, thanks to a pretty strict exercise regime, but my skin is far from tight. My boobs—never my best feature—seem have dropped at least an inch, my once-perky nipples starting to point south.

  The bathroom door suddenly slams open with a bang as my husband steps in, his face tight and angry. He slips behind me and glares at my reflection.

  “Whatever you’re thinking, knock it the fuck off.” His hands grab my hips and yank me back against his erection.

  “How would you know what I’m thinking?” I snap back, instantly on the defensive. A bad habit, I know.

  “Because I fucking know you,” he growls, pressing his cock against my ass. “Feel that? Been fighting that since I first laid eyes on you. Always hard, always ready. Always so fucking eager to slide into your beautiful body. You think this’ll change? Jesus, Sprite, you could grow a bigger beard than mine and get bald on top, and you’d still fucking have me worshipping you.”

  “You say that now,” I protest lamely, even as I tilt my ass in need.

  “I’ll say that ’til the day I die. I fucked up, wasn’t there when you needed me to remind you.” His hand slides up to my breast until he cups the weight in his hand, thumb and index finger pinching my nipple. I gasp at the sensation and lean my head back on his shoulder. “We’re getting older, Sprite, nothing can stop that, but all I will see in every mark age leaves on your body is the beauty of all the years you’ve given me.”

  My mouth falls open when the fingers of his other hand brush through my curls and find my slick core.

  “So ready. Always ready for me, aren’t you?”

  “Ouray, honey…”

  “You think this will ever change?” Even as he asks the question, I can feel the wide crown of his cock slicking along my crease. With a harsh grunt, he thrusts inside me. “Never,” he growls, his eyes hot on mine in the mirror as he pulls back. “Never,” he repeats, surging home once again.

  The heat of him filling me, every nerve ending aware of his touch, the prickle of his scruff on my shoulder, and the fierce love in his gaze consume me. Until there’s nothing—no doubt, no fear, not even a hint of uncertainty—but the knowledge I’m exactly where I belong.

  When my legs are barely able to hold me up from the force of my release, and Ouray shudders behind me after finding his, he whispers against my ear.

  “Never.”

  5

  Ouray

  “Looking good, brother.”

  I lift my head to
find Trunk leaning against the doorpost, a grin on his face.

  Aside from a quick phone call to the club and a text to Ahiga, letting them know not to expect us back last night, we never came up for air.

  Middle-aged my wrinkled ass. Other than a few catnaps here and there to allow for recovery, and some more talking, we kept each other busy all night.

  “Whatever,” I grumble, more show than anything else. Not about to turn into a chick and ‘share,’ I quickly change topics. “Have you checked up on Yuma?”

  Last I heard Trunk was putting him on a plane to Denver, where he managed to finagle Yuma a spot in an inpatient addiction treatment center right outside the city.

  “He got there without incident. They’re assessing him over the next few days, and depending on what they learn, he could be there from one to three months.”

  “Fuck. How are Nosh and Momma with it?”

  Trunk rubs a hand over his bald head as he cracks a grin. “Good. Momma was almost her former self when she told her boy it was about fucking time.”

  That’s good to hear. I missed her. The old Momma would’ve kicked my ass home the first time I decided to sleep at the club, instead of in my bed with my wife. Not that she’ll need to anymore: I’ve learned my lesson. My eyes drift out the window, thinking of all the ways Luna reminded me what I’d be missing out on last night.

  I tried to convince her to spend another night in Cortez, but she reminded me we had responsibilities and a son to get back to. I dropped her off at the La Plata County FBI office in time for her briefing this morning, but not without laying a hot, wet one on her in the parking lot.

  I grin at the memory.

  Ahiga is surprised to see me in the line of cars waiting outside the school.

  Did you fix it? Is the first thing he asks when he climbs into the passenger seat.

  “Yes, I did.” I enunciate clearly, so the app on his phone translates accurately into text, and I can use my hands to drive.