by Max Henry
I shake my head. “Half of them have no idea what you and Bruiser got up to, and besides, most of them aren’t really in a position to be throwing stones.”
She seems slightly placated by the thought, and relaxes her posture. “He’s cute.” Ramona smirks.
I glance over her shoulder at the men, and nod. She’s dead right—the boy is good looking. Despite the shock of dark hair that’s styled longer on top, Ty’s trimmed beard and sharp dress sense give him an unobtrusive air of sophistication. He comes across as upper class in appearance, but certainly fits in with this rowdy bunch just as well.
My eyes track to Vince, sitting on the far side of the table and facing me. I wait for him to look my way, but the seconds turn to minutes and I give up. He’s far too engrossed in what they’re discussing to even acknowledge I’m in the room. Some reality TV program has since absorbed Ramona’s attention, and Jane is still busy banging about in the laundry.
I glance around, hoping to see something I can occupy my time with, but everything is in place. There’s not even a sign of a dust-bunny for me to capture. I could sit with Ramona and watch the petty dramas of people I don’t know, but sitting idle isn’t a task I do well with.
On the second sweep of the room, I spot Jane’s low bookcase. It houses two-dozen or so worn paperbacks, and I move off the sofa to investigate. The spines are creased, indicating the collection is well loved, and I run my finger across the rippled titles as I browse. A crime thriller snags my attention, and I pick it up to read the back cover.
The premise grabs my interest, and I figure it’s been a fair while since I’ve had the opportunity to just sit back and read. The noise level in the living room—taking into account a television competing against four talking men—is far too high to concentrate. I gather up the book, a bottle of water from the kitchen, and relocate to the spare room we’ve been sleeping in.
Sunlight warms one side of the bed. I position myself so the book and my head are out of the heat, but my legs hang over the edge of the mattress, soaking up the rays. The story intrigues me from the get-go, and I soon lose myself in the book, only realizing how much time passes by the changing light.
Warm afternoon hues lick the walls of the room, and I finally close the book at the end of a chapter to take a breather. I set the story aside, and rise from the bed to make a toilet stop. As I cross the hallway, I can’t help but notice the men have moved. Rest stop complete, I decide to detour via the living room and check out what everyone is up to.
Ramona has fallen asleep on the sofa, her head lolled at an awkward angle to rest on her shoulder. Mack is engrossed in the cartoons that now play, curled up in the corner of the armchair with his favorite tiger teddy. Jane sits out on the porch with the men, playing with Rocco between her feet as he tugs on a rope toy like the puppy he most certainly isn’t. The mood out there appears to have lightened, and the guys are laughing with each other as they swap stories.
Pausing in the entranceway to the hall, I watch everybody for a while, pain spreading in my chest when it becomes obvious how invisible I am. They’re so settled, going about life as usual, and not even missing me in the slightest.
I’m not needed here.
Panic takes hold, and I dart back to the spare room, intent on finding escape in the story again. Only it never happens. It’s not for the lack of suspense in the book, simply that my heart’s no longer in it.
I’m distracted, thinking about how happy everyone was without me. As much as I can see the ridiculousness of it, I can’t stop feeling cheated by Vince. Why didn’t he come get me when they’d finished discussing the club business? Does he not want me there?
An overwhelming home sickness takes over, and I flop onto the bed, cursing the fact I came down on the back of Vince’s bike. If only I had the truck then I could head home, back to where I’m wanted and where I’m needed—even if most of the time it’s only to do the housekeeping.
The alarm I’m feeling is ludicrous. I’ve been reading for an hour or two, tops. Nobody has actually said anything to indicate they’re excluding me on purpose, but still I feel redundant. If I were here, or back at the clubhouse, I wonder if it would really matter. Have I been of any use to Vince on this trip other than being a plaything at night? After all, they never cashed in on my connection to the southern chapter—they didn’t need to.
I want to believe having me here has made a difference to Vince’s trip, but my stupid insecurities have me wondering what it is that makes me so special. Why would he want me for anything more than a bed-warmer? What benefit could I have possibly brought just by being here at the house the whole time?
Ignoring the hum of the talk and laughter that continues outside, I roll to my side and close my eyes. Vince and I haven’t discussed how long we’ll be here now that the immediate danger is gone. Maybe it’ll be a week, or perhaps a month?
I don’t know. All I can wish for is that somewhere in that timeframe I find a reason to be here with him. A reason why he needs me at his side.
BRONX AND Ty are laughing over an old story about the two of them hustling their way out of a dire situation. I lean back in my chair, finding foot space on a nearby low table, and smile as they retell the events with such humor. Alice passes me a new beer, and I lean forward to take it from his outstretched hand. He chuckles at the story, adding his two cents in.
The afternoon is nice, settled. We’re acting like a family, friends—normal people. Nowhere are there the signs of the tension that riddled our relationships a week ago: no crossed arms, no clenched fists or snarky comments. Everyone is content to sit and hear out the light-hearted stories, which have probably been told a dozen times before.
I only wish Sonya wanted to share in this.
Placing my feet on the ground, I scoot up in the chair. The guys rib each other over their varying recollections of an event, but nothing sinks in. I take a swig of beer, and decide to go see what she’s doing.
“You right, Dad?” Alice asks.
“Sure.” I nod. “Be back soon.”
He nods and re-joins the noisy banter. Jane gives me a knowing smile as I pass, and I offer her one I return. She’s patiently sitting there, listening to the men compare the length of their dicks more or less, without a singular complaint.
I have a small chuckle when I get indoors and find both Ramona and Mack curled up asleep, cartoons playing in the background. Sonya still appears to be in one of the spare rooms, so I wander down the hallway to find her.
Her hair is fanned out behind her head where she lies on the bed we’ve been sharing, not stirring as I enter the room. I make my way around the bed, crouching down beside her to see if she’s asleep or ignoring me. Her eyes flick open, and she stretches her gorgeous body out rigid.
“Hey,” she murmurs.
“Why you still in here?” I ask. “Thought you would have come out by now.”
“I didn’t want to impose,” she answers.
“Impose?” I repeat. “Why would you be imposing?”
“Well,” she starts, staring off at the power point beside the bed, “you guys looked like you were having a good time. I didn’t feel as though you needed me there.”
“Babe,” I say, stroking the hair from her face. “Don’t be foolish. Of course I want you there—that’s why I’ve come looking for you.”
She sighs, and curls her knees into her body. “You need the time to make up for the lost years with Alice. I can’t help with that.”
“So?” I frown. “What’s that got to do with having you beside me?”
“I’m imposing, Vince. I’m not sure I’m needed for you to do this. It’d probably be better if you didn’t have me as a distraction.” She offers me a small smile, but that placating bullshit only infuriates me.
I rock back on my heels and blow out a sharp breath. “Woman, get this bullshit out of your head. You asked me why you needed to come on the way here, and I told you then I wanted you with me. Why would I change my mind?”
She shrugs, and moves to a sitting position.
“Are you still stewing over that shit with King and your connections?”
She nods.
“I want you here, Sonya,” I reiterate, taking hold of her hands. “Stop feeding your head with rubbish.”
“I know it’s silly,” she says. “But I guess I wonder why you need me, you know? I’ve been trying to find an answer, and I just can’t come up with one.”
I shake my head, and move position to sit beside her. “Why would you wonder that?”
“Well, I know why the clubhouse needs me,” she states, “and Mack. Ramona needs me as a friend. But you . . . other than sex, I’m not sure what it is I have to offer you?”
“I’m going to tell you a story,” I say. She turns her body toward me, and waits.
“I met this woman, once, who could light up a room with her smile alone.” I steal a glance at her, and suppress my glee when she appears as though she’s thinking what I want her to—that I’m talking about Julia. “People gravitated towards her, loving the way she made them feel valuable, special. You see, she had this way about her that came naturally, a real compassion for others, putting them before herself.”
“She sounds lovely.”
“She was, but something happened.”
Her fingers entwine, and she leans forward. “What happened to her?”
I level my face with hers. “She stopped believing it did any good.”
Sonya swallows hard.
“That beautiful woman met a man who needed that compassion, and she offered it without hesitation. But that woman thought it wasn’t enough.”
She takes a staggered breath, and I know she’s unsettled at the realization I’m talking about her.
“She was so preoccupied with trying to find some magic answer to what it was she was destined to do that she missed what she had done entirely.”
“I still can’t see it,” she whispers.
“I know you can’t, baby.” I close the space between us, and dot a kiss to her lips. “So let me fill you in: without your encouragement, I wouldn’t have come here, convinced that I couldn’t help, and dare I even say it, things would have turned out a whole lot fuckin’ worse. Without you, I’d still be getting my slack ass drunk, looking for meaningless one-night stands, certain I couldn’t have another relationship without being disappointed. And without you, I wouldn’t have been anywhere near as happy as I was just now, sitting out there listening to my boy talk with his friends and feeling like I’m finally a part of his life again. Take the credit for those things, baby, and realize what you’ve done for me by simply being you.”
Sonya smiles, happy tears wetting her cheeks, and sits up straighter, pushing her chest out. “I guess you’re right, Vince. I missed all that. I was so determined to find some magic skill-set that I overlooked what I already have.”
“You don’t need to be super-human,” I reassure her. “So what if you aren’t something mind-blowing, like the only woman in the world strong enough to juggle two motorcycles.” She laughs. “You’re still important. I still find you amazing.”
Despite the fact I’ve just spouted off the most words I’ve ever used to describe a person, they’re still not enough. The right phrasing, or explanation eludes me. I simply can’t express what this little hurricane has done to my life.
“Thank you for having the kindness to tell me,” she says. “I know it’s not easy for guys to talk about things like you just did.”
And yet again, she blows me away by immediately thinking of someone other than herself. My palm finds her cheek, and I rub the pad of my thumb over her lips.
“What would you do,” I ask, “if I told you I love you?”
Her eyes enlarge, and she sucks in a sharp breath. “Say that I wouldn’t have anyone else tell me that. I literally wouldn’t wish to hear it from anyone but you.”
“I love you,” I whisper.
She smiles, yet she doesn’t say it back.
“It’s true,” I tell her. “There’s a reason why you were the first woman to grab my eye since Julia, and that’s because you’re exactly what I need.”
She smirks. “I caught your eye, huh?”
I chuckle, and cup her breasts in my palms. “Actually, these did when you leant over me to get that glass of water my first day in the club.”
Sonya slaps my hands down with a giggle. “You noticed me all the way back then?”
“And watched you ever since.”
Her legs slip apart, and she raises a hand to her throat. “Wow.” I feel the tension build inside of me as her sweet tongue darts between her lips, wetting the plump flesh. “I guess this would be a good time,” she says, “to share that I’d dreamt of what you would feel like on me, and in me, since then too.”
My cock stirs, and fire ignites low in my belly. Sonya leans forward, her hands on my thighs, and pushes her chest towards me. I lift my hand, dipping the tips of my fingers inside her tank to brush over her pebbled nipples. She moans, exposing her neck to me, and I lean in to suck on the point of her jugular, restraining myself from the overwhelming urge I have to bite her, claim her.
“Vince . . .” she breathes, eyes closed and head tipped back.
“What would you like, baby?”
“I want to play with myself while you stroke your cock. Let me taste you while you jerk off.”
I’ve never heard of a better way to spend the afternoon.
Sonya darts of the bed, and shuts the door. I sit on the side of the mattress, and make quick work of my jeans, a small gasp escaping her when she realizes I’ve been commando all day. She tugs the denim off my feet, and kneeling between my legs, runs her palms up the inside of my thighs. My dick springs to attention, glistening in anticipation.
“You look so damn good,” she purrs. “So damn good.”
Her eyes track my hand as I wrap my grasp around the base of my cock. I pull in long slow strokes as she licks her lips, watching the skin roll over my hard shaft. I swipe the pre-cum from the tip, and rub it over the head. She groans, letting her legs slip wide. My stroking intensifies, spurred on by the sight of her slipping a slender hand into her shorts.
“Take it off,” I order, needing to see her hand work that swollen cunt.
Sonya stands, and whips her shorts and panties off. She resumes her position on the floor, taking a pillow from the bed so she can lie with her head propped up as she plays with herself.
I train my gaze squarely on the arousal glistening on her lower lips, and feel my mouth growing heavy with saliva, eager to taste her.
“Fuck your cunt with those fingers, baby,” I instruct. “Feed yourself to me.”
She does as told, slipping her digits in deep, and pumping until I can see her cum start to run from her. She groans, lost in the sensation. I nudge her with my foot, not wanting her to crest yet, and she locks her heated gaze on me as I pump my cock with long strokes, palming the head.
“Come sit on my face,” I instruct her, and lie back.
The bed dips as Sonya crawls over me, knees positioned either side of my head so her dripping pussy is hovering over my face. I bury my nose in her sweetness, relishing the squirm I get from her. Sonya groans, deep and guttural, as I plunge my tongue deep, flicking her honey over my taste buds.
“Fuckin’ heaven,” I murmur into her pink folds. “I could eat this every day.”
She grinds into my face, and I swear if I died in that moment there would be no sweeter end.
Bicep flexing, and shoulders tense, I tug on my cock hard, the familiar tingles starting in my spine as I near climax. Sonya’s fingers trace my abs, which are popping from the exertion, and she continues to ride my tongue as I groan and growl into her wet heat.
I let go, cum branding my stomach. She swirls her fingers through it, and as I ease the last of my high, seats herself on my chest so I have a front row seat to the sexiest show in the house.
Her fingers, wet with my cum, plunge into
her swollen cunt; her thumb stroking her clit in quick circles. Sonya orgasms, her backside clenching on my bare skin, moans echoing about the room as I watch her come all over her hand.
Her cries subside, and the second she pulls that magic hand free I grab her by the hips, and move her back to my face. She giggles, and quivers as I work her spent pussy with tongue, and fingers, persisting until the laughing becomes groaning, and her squirms become her pushing for more. Sonya comes again, hard, spectacularly, and I drink everything she has to offer, wondering if I’ll ever get enough.
“Vince, honey . . .”
“Yeah, baby?” I ask, her come wet on my face.
She scoots backward, positioning herself over me and taking my lips with hers. I enjoy her kissing, sucking, and biting, pulling her back for more before finally letting her go.
“I love you, too, Vince.”
Every muscle in my body hums as my heart sighs.
RAMONA WALKS into the living room where I’m curled in an armchair, reading Jane’s book in the afternoon sun. She sighs, and runs her hands over her head, tired from battling Mack over whether he could have another two biscuits so close to dinner.
“He’s at that awkward stage,” she explains. “It’s probably a growth spurt.”
“You might be right,” I agree. Maybe I don’t have kids of my own, but I may as well be an honorary mother with how many kids have grown up within the club compounds I’ve lived in over my years. “You’ll just get past one and he’ll have another. Murphy’s law.”
She chuckles and flops onto the sofa. “That’d be right.” Her chin lifts to point toward where Vince has re-joined the men outside to see Bronx and Ty off. “How are things with you two? You both seem a lot happier today.”
“Yeah.” I smile. “We worked out the last pieces to the puzzle, I think. It’s hard, trying to distinguish the way I felt about Mike from the way I feel about Vince. I spent so much time at the start worrying about what I was doing to Mike’s memory to really realize just how important what Vince and I could have was.” I take a look at the man outside who’s stolen my heart. “I’m glad I decided to try.”
