by Zoey Parker
“I don’t hate him, I just…” Kira trailed off, tired of repeating the same line to herself over and over again. “Okay, fine, I hate him. I just can’t say that in front of my kid, okay?”
“Understandable,” Brent said, nodding for her to continue.
“Well, he wasn’t the worst guy in the world. He was nice to me in the beginning, but after a while he just got mean. Maybe because he was frustrated at work, or maybe he just fell out of love with me. I don’t know. I guess that can happen sometimes, for no good reason. He just started being so cruel to me all the time, saying awful things about my weight and how I looked and stuff like that.”
“What? That’s terrible,” Brent said, some new emotion flashing from behind his eyes in response to Kira’s last statement.
“Yeah, well, it wasn’t fun, that’s for sure,” Kira said with a drawn-out sigh, reaching across the dining room table to pour herself some more wine. She had somehow stumbled into a makeshift therapy session with her boss, a guy she was pretty certain didn’t even like her that much, so she figured she needed more wine if she was going to survive this encounter with her whole mind and spirit intact. “Anyway, we’ve been broken up for a couple years now, but he keeps…causing problems.”
“Like what?” Brent asked, his brow furrowed in concentration. Kira never would have guessed that he would be such a good listener, but then again he’d have to be, to be successful as a therapist which, from the looks of his lifestyle, he was.
“Well…” Kira hesitated to tell the full story, aware that she sounded a little bit irrational. Ah, fuck it, she thought to herself. She’d been pretty brutally honest with Brent about his flaws as a father. It was only fair that she share her own flaws with him, too. “I’m pretty sure he got me fired. And evicted. I’m not sure what I did to piss him off this time, but I think he called in a complaint to my boss and then on the same day threatened my landlord. He gets…possessive.”
“You’re not together anymore, though,” Brent pointed out.
“Yeah,” Kira agreed. “But logic doesn’t really appeal to him very much. I mean, if he wanted me so badly, you’d think he wouldn’t have cheated on me with some secretary down at the precinct. But he did, so…” She trailed off again, reaching for more wine to numb herself to the emotions that were being reawakened by this conversation.
“What a fucking loser,” Brent said, speaking with a sharp edge to his voice that Kira had never heard before. It was like he was angry—furious, in fact—and holding it in behind a careful mask of objectivity. But Kira could see through it, looking into Brent’s eyes. There was a fire that burned in his pupils. It made her squirm a little in her seat, unsure of what to do. A part of her wanted to thank him for feeling so angry on her behalf, but there was another, more frightened, more defensive part of her mind that felt naked, totally exposed under his gaze. I shouldn’t have told him anything about my private life. I can’t trust him. I’m being stupid. I’m drinking too much, she thought to herself even as she kept sipping on her wine.
She cleared her throat after swallowing, deciding to change the subject. “Anyway, the whole thing gave me Lucian. That makes it worth it.”
Brent shifted uncomfortably on his feet, tapping his fingers against the top of the table before returning his gaze to Kira’s eyes, staring at her so intensely that Kira almost flinched. Almost.
Finally, he broke the silence, asking in an uncharacteristically soft voice, “Do you really believe that? That it was meant to be? Like there’s a purpose for everything?”
“I don’t know,” Kira said. “But I believe you have to make the best of whatever happens, no matter how shitty it is.” She was unsure what they were talking about, exactly, except that it wasn’t a typical therapy session. Somewhere, hiding underneath their words, they were talking about Brent’s issues, maybe even his issues with Dylan. But she didn’t need to know more than that. Nurses and nannies have their own way of treating people’s minds, she thought to herself proudly as she saw Brent crack a slightly hopeful smile.
“All right, well, I better head to bed. I’ve got an early day tomorrow,” Brent said.
“Again?” Kira asked. “You’ve been working really hard. And you go to night appointments, too? I can’t imagine where you get the energy.”
Brent started to say something, opening his mouth a little, but then he shut it again, shaking his head instead. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow. Have as much wine as you want. Later.”
He disappeared up the stairs, heading to his bedroom and shutting the door loudly enough that Kira could hear from downstairs in the kitchen. Ah, what the hell? Kira thought to herself as she poured a final glass of wine to drink before going to bed.
Her body buzzed pleasantly, wrapped in some gentle comforting warmth that soothed her to the core, but somehow she thought that it wasn’t just the effect of all the alcohol. It was something else, something that only came about because she talked to Brent. She just knew it.
It’s different, living with a man this way, she thought to herself as she sipped at the wine. Maybe they can only open up to women if they aren’t fucking them. Maybe romance and sex and everything that comes attached to it messes up the communication pathways, and there’s no way to fix it once it’s broken.
One thing was clear to Kira, above all else. This was so much better than living with Larry had been. She could get used to it, having a man in the house she could talk to, who would listen to her, who would help her bear her emotional burdens.
You’re being silly, she said to herself as she drained the dregs from her glass and walked to the sink to rinse it. This is just a temporary thing. Once he gets sick of Dylan, he’ll be done with you, and it’ll be back to abject poverty for both you and Lucian. Don’t get used to it.
Still, as she slipped off to sleep, she couldn’t help but feel like this was where she was meant to be, at least for the moment.
Chapter Eight
Brent
“Jesus Christ, what other bullshit are you going to send to me now?” Brent growled to himself as he hopped on his bike and tore away from the Soul Catchers compound.
“Brent! Brent, come on, man!” his number two man, Howie, shouted behind him.
Brent groaned and sped up, pretending he hadn’t heard his friend yell after him. Three different Soul Catchers got arrested tonight, all in different parts of town. By itself, that wouldn’t be so weird, but at least another half-dozen members had gotten arrested the month before, too. Something was up. This wouldn’t happen all at once, just by mere coincidence. Someone was gunning for them, and he had to figure out who it was before he lost any more of his men to the law.
And that’s not even half of my problems, Brent thought as he pulled onto the highway, weaving through traffic so he could get home as quickly as possible. Earlier this year, they’d lost out on a major drug deal when another MC in the area stole their goods before they could make a cent. The monetary loss for that failure was bad enough, but it had hurt their reputation among the other MCs and gangs in the tri-state area. Things just seemed to be piling up on Brent, one after another after another, especially since he had Dylan to deal with now. He’ll be asleep by now at least, he thought to himself as he sped down the road to his house. I won’t have to deal with him. He felt a hard pang of guilt hit him right in the chest. He knew he shouldn’t think of his probable son in that way, like a chore to do or a burden to bear, but he couldn’t force himself to muster up any emotion other than dread when it came to Dylan, which only made Brent hate himself even more. He couldn’t seem to do anything right. He wasn’t a good father. He wasn’t good at leading the MC. Since he’d been so stressed out lately, he was even slipping when it came to his patients. Brent gripped the handlebars of his bike so hard his hands ached, but he couldn’t relax his grip at all, not even when he pulled up to his own house.
Brent switched off the engine but remained on the bike for a long moment, staring down at his own arms, shiverin
g a little in the midnight chill. He looked up at his house and saw that all the windows were dark, save one. The kitchen. Kira’s still awake and messing around in there, he thought to himself, swallowing hard to clear his throat. Staring at the little block of light shining out from the bottom window of his house, he felt resentment boil up inside of him. Why couldn’t she just go to bed early so he could pretend that his house was still his own, so he could stew in his loneliness and drink himself to sleep without worrying that someone would judge him for it? Why did any of this bullshit have to happen to him? Brent just wanted to be left alone. He didn’t want to have deal with any kids or any beautiful women with piercing eyes that seemed to strip through every layer of his skin. He just wanted to live in his own private misery, away from curious eyes. Was that really so much to ask?
Apparently it was, Brent thought as he forced himself off his bike, slowly walking up the sidewalk to the front door. He hesitated a moment before turning the knob and stepping inside, his body freezing in place like it desperately needed those last few seconds of solitude before going back into the house where three other people currently lived. Get on with it, he told himself as he finally stepped inside his house, slamming the door behind him just to get some of the anxious angry energy out of his body.
Looking back on it later, Brent wouldn’t be able to tell himself why he didn’t go straight upstairs. He had no excuse, really. After whining to himself for a half-hour about having to deal with other people, he should have just bolted straight to his room and stayed there the whole night, ignoring Kira and the boys until he could mentally prepare himself for interacting with them. But he didn’t do that.
Instead, he found himself walking towards the kitchen, opening the door to reveal Kira chopping something up on a cutting board next to the sink. She had headphones in her ears and was humming something that Brent didn’t recognize. She had her back to him, her hips swaying a little to the music her couldn’t hear as she chopped away at some long green vegetable. In the back of his mind, Brent wondered what she was making. It was after midnight, after all, but ultimately it didn’t matter that much. All he could focus on was the rhythm of her hips as they moved to the beat. Standing there across from her, it was like Brent could hear the song she was listening to, as if he could feel the bass that was encouraging her to move back and forth, sticking her ass out like there was nobody watching. As far as Kira knows, nobody is watching her, Brent realized, his mouth going dry as she swirled her body in one continuous motion.
Brent knew he should have either left the room or said something to let her know he was there. If he were in her position, he’d be incredibly humiliated if someone saw him dancing like an idiot, but then again, he didn’t have Kira’s body. She had these amazing curves that Brent almost always forgot were there underneath her cheap, stiff clothing. She looked so goddamned tempting, and anyway, there was something shameless about the way she moved, something so self-assured and confident, like she knew how hot she was. She was giving such a good performance that it would be such a shame to take away her audience. At least, that was how Brent justified it to himself.
“Mmm, ohhh, touch me,” Kira sang out, her voice high and sweet like a morning bird’s. Brent’s heart rate rocketed up, his pulse reverberating loudly in his ears as his feet moved forward, taking him closer to the dancing nanny in front of him. He couldn’t stop himself. To be honest, he didn’t even want to. His mind was still a tangle of ferocious emotions—anger and fear and self-hatred and lust all balled up in a stubborn knot. He didn’t have room in his head or his heart for any doubt. He simply didn’t have the capacity to stop himself from going up behind Kira, stopping an inch away from her back.
Suddenly, Kira went stiff, her shoulders rolling back and her hips going still before she reached up to take her headphones out of her ears. “Um…Brent?” she said in a small, fearful voice, clearly worrying that some intruder had broken in and crept up behind her while she wasn’t paying attention.
Before he even knew what he was doing, Brent pounced on her, wrapping his arm tightly around her waist and attacking her bare neck with his teeth. “Oh! Oh, my God!” Kira cried out, slapping her hand over her mouth a moment later like she was surprised at the volume of her own voice.
Brent growled and bit harder into her skin, licking her flesh frantically to taste the salts and proteins that composed Kira’s skin cells. He could taste her sweat, kissing her over and over again and imagining all the labor that she’d done that day, all the effort she’d invested in making this house a home. It made him angry and relieved at the exact same time. Who the hell was this bitch, coming in here out of nowhere and acting like she owned the place, letting the kids tear the house up, telling him what he needed to do and how he needed to do it? It was ridiculous. He was the man of the house, and he needed to show her who was boss.
But at the same time, even just listening to her quiet moans, the heavy sighs that left her mouth every time he kissed and pulled at her sensitive skin, Brent felt himself calm down, the tormenting emotions from before leaving his body little by little, more and more as he clutched harder at Kira’s chest, shamelessly grabbing at her bountiful breasts.
“Jesus Christ,” Kira groaned out, rocking her head back on Brent’s shoulder. She still hadn’t turned and seen him. Brent wondered if she knew for sure that it was him yet, but really he didn’t care that much either way. There was no way he was going to stop what he was doing, not until he had completely dominated the woman before him in every conceivable way. “Fuck, god damn it,” Kira breathed out as he squeezed harder at her tits, whining lowly as his mouth traveled to the back of her neck, making all of her little hairs perk up with his tongue.
God, her body was even hotter than he’d realized. Sure, she was gorgeous to look at, but he never knew how curvy she really was until he got his hands on her, letting his fingers roam down her front until he found the hem of her shirt, tugging it up over her head and tossing it across the room. If he hadn’t been so pissed off, so wound up with tension and excess energy, he might have decided to take his time, letting his hands wander over every inch of her uncovered skin. But he didn’t have patience for that tonight. He unclasped her bra and threw it away in the general direction of her shirt. Kira gasped softly and brought her hands up to cover her bare breasts, but when Brent growled right into her ear she let them drop again, leaving her tits vulnerable to Brent’s hungry, desperate touch.
He brought one hand to one of her nipples, pulling at it lightly while his mouth went over to her ear, licking the top before going down to lightly tug and bite at the lobe. “Oh, Jesus, fuck, fucking hell,” Kira whispered, groaning deep from her throat as she bent her head back further, giving him access to the front of her neck while his other hand drifted down to the button on her jeans.
“Yes, oh, God, yes,” Kira groaned, shoving her ass back until it collided with the front of Brent’s jeans, rubbing up against his ever-hardening cock teasingly. Brent lost his breath for a minute, his mouth falling away from Kira’s throat as his mind became enraptured by the sensation of her covered ass grinding up against him. She wanted it. So he was going to take it, right now, without even saying a single word.
Brent yanked on the button and zipper of her jeans, pushing them down along with her underwear to the ground. Kira gasped but made no move to cover herself this time, leaning her weight back onto Brent’s body, apparently totally confident that he would support her so she wouldn’t fall. For some reason that just made Brent hotter, his dick twitching in his jeans as he shoved his crotch harder against her ass, wanting her to feel how much he wanted her.
“Yeah, do it,” her low whisper barely audible under the hum of the heating system filling the air around them with warmth. “Please.”
Brent grinned to himself, leaning in again to breathe hotly against Kira’s ear, making her squirm like she’d been tickled. He felt a surge of satisfaction as she moaned and whimpered, his blood pumping harder throug
h his veins as he realized how much power he had over her. God, it was intoxicating, watching her react to his touch. Under different circumstances, he’d have loved to tease her all day, do everything imaginable to her before giving her what she wanted. But he couldn’t hold himself back any longer. After grabbing a condom from his pocket, he ripped his own jeans off in one clean, smooth motion, kicking them away to the other side of the room before turning back to Kira and forcing her to bend forward so that her ass was suspended up in the air. “Yeah,” Kira whispered, more to herself than for Brent’s ears, but he became even more turned on just from the sheer desire in her voice, the way she seemed to tremble with the force of her own lust. Brent ran his hands down her back, raking his nails across her spinal column until she shivered like a tree caught up in a thunderstorm, vulnerable and strong all at once.
Brent gave his thick cock a few quick strokes before rolling the condom down his length and aligning the head of his dick with Kira’s wet little hole. He couldn’t see it from this angle, but he could already tell that she was tight as hell, just from the way she clenched around his tip.
