by Amber Burns
“Maybe you should work on your patience instead,” she hollered after me.
“I’m a work in progress.”
I found a wash cloth and dampened it in the sink before turning to go and join her on the bed. I took the time to appreciate what she’d done, that she had finished undressing. She sat in the middle of my bed, brushing her fingers through her hair in an effort to get the tangles out. I wasn’t quite ready for round two, and I might’ve been joking. But looking at her then, I could feel my cock twitch in shared interest. I came to her and very carefully wiped away the cum seeping from her. She spread her legs, and I could see the want I felt for her echoed in her expression.
“Are you going to be good for a round two?”
“You gotta let my boy catch his breath,” I climbed onto the bed and curled around her. “But it's been awhile since the last time I got laid. I got some catching up to do. The question is, are you going to be able to keep up?”
“I don't mind giving you the chance to catch your breath, and you bet your ass I can keep up,” she relaxed against me. “It gives me the opportunity to grill you for information.” She rolled onto her side so that we were stomach to stomach. Her fingers started to trace along my chest and neck. “So you're serious about flipping burgers?”
“I need something mindless,” I told her. “Something part time, maybe?”
I hadn't really thought about it and right now with her wandering hands it wasn't a real concern for me.
“How do you expect to pay rent and your bills working part time?” She frowned at me, “You're not going to get lazy on me, are you?”
“I haven’t fallen asleep, yet, but if you’re going to start reaming me about quitting my job today, I might consider it.”
I cupped her face in my hands and watched her carefully. The best way to handle this was to be honest. I loved her and I didn’t want to chase her away, but I couldn’t lie to her either.
“I’m not okay,” I admitted and took a breath. I decided to forge ahead, I needed to come completely clean. “I shouldn’t have taken the assignment to go undercover. I realize that now because I saw so many people that were like me. I realized that we’re all going through similar shit. They saw me for what I really was, even if they didn’t find out I was a cop until the end of it. They knew what was wrong with me and did nothing but support me. I don’t remember how many times I was told I needed to get my head fixed. So, I’m going to take this time to do that. Don’t worry about me though,” I leaned forward and kissed her forehead, trying to put aside that fear that she might get up and leave after all of this. “I’m not going to get lazy, I’m going to work. Just let me have a bit of time off first, okay?”
Tara took in a shaky breath, fear gnawed at me as I saw a tear streak down one cheek.
“I didn’t help you. I’m sorry,” she wiped at her face and took another breath as if she were trying to work up courage. “I’ll be right here though, from now on. If you need me, if you need an ear or just someone to hold you, I’m here. I tried so hard to resist you, so hard to not give in and I failed miserably,” she leaned in and gently brushed her lips against mine.
“I love you, Chase.”
My heart skipped a beat, and our lips met, though we didn’t kiss. I was lost in it all until she pulled away and continued.
“I’m not going to push you away again, I can’t resist the pull I feel, and I don’t want to leave you hanging again.”
I cut off anything else she might have been about to say by catching her mouth, I kissed her hard hoping she’d get just how much it meant to hear her say that. My arms wrapped around here and there was no chance of her getting away from me now. It was too late, I decided. She was stuck with me now.
“No idea,” I mumbled against her mouth. “You have no idea how good it felt to hear you say that. I think I just got my second wind.”
I started to shift her on her back and nudge my way between her thighs.
“I was trying to be serious,” she pulled her mouth from mine, but it didn’t deter me at all. I traced my tongue along the length of her jaw until I found her neck to latch onto. “If this,” her tone went breathy as I scraped my teeth against her skin. “If living here gets to be too much and flipping burgers makes it hard to afford,” I paused then let go so I could see her face. “I think my place can fit the two of us.”
“Are you offering for me to move in?”
“Did you miss the part where I said if flipping burgers doesn’t pay enough?” She huffed. “The last time I checked that was a minimum wage kind of job. Are you going to be able to pay rent and keep your girlfriend entertained on that kind of salary?”
“I figured I’d learn how to cook, so I’d be able to feed you and that I could just keep you entertained by cuffing you to the bed.”
It seemed like sound reasoning. I really wasn’t sure how she couldn’t see the beauty behind that idea. It didn’t keep her from laughing out loud though.
“Burgers will only make me fat then I won’t meet your preferences, and you won’t want to keep me cuffed to the bed. And where are you going to get handcuffs from?”
“I’ll steal yours,” I told her and caught each of her wrists. With a tug, I pulled them up over her head. “That’d solve that problem, right?”
“Okay, this doesn’t sound like a horrible idea,” she said, distracted by my line of thinking and the slow way I started to rub my hardening cock against her lower lips. “You think we can take turns being cuffed to the bed?”
I hummed, getting distracted myself now, “It’s something I might be talked into.”
She rolled her hips up, and the suddenly the angle was just right so I could slide right in. It had us both breathless, pillow talk turning into sex.
We had taken the time to be honest with one another, to express ourselves and worries. It didn’t seem to change anything. Though I knew things would change in time, but that didn’t really matter. Just as long as I got to keep her. With her by my side, without having to hide anything from anyone, it seemed like life would get a helluva lot better. I could handle anything that came my way, and I didn’t have to be alone while I did it.
Epilogue
I took to being unemployed pretty well, or so I thought. I hadn’t had the itch or stress to get back to work, even though I knew that I couldn’t go without a job for too long. Savings would only get me so far, and while the idea of moving in with Tara was a great ideal, I didn’t want to mooch off of her. Our relationship still felt new, despite having worked with her over the past couple of years. I thought the best way to handle it was to take the advice that was dealt to me by men that had been in my shoes. I had to get my head straight if I was going to offer Tara anything. I made sure I went to the groups that were offered by the VA, and I went to see the psychiatrist like I was supposed to on a weekly basis.
“Depression,” the corpsman said with a sympathetic look like this information wasn’t obvious. “Probably post traumatic, how long was your tour in Iraq again?”
All of this was in my file on his desk, but he still made a point to ask.
“Thirteen months,” I said without missing a beat, and I shrugged a little. “I didn’t really see combat. I got lucky I spent most of my time on base.”
He shook his head, “You don’t have to see actual combat. Did you lose anyone you know while you were there?”
I hesitated a beat but nodded. So many didn’t come home. It wasn’t something I liked to dwell on.
“There was combat noise, right? Bombs going off? Gunfire?” He asked, and again, I nodded. “You might not think what you saw and what you dealt with while over there was normal for any combat vet, you might think you are doing okay. And you’re functioning. You’re coping. And that’s all well and good until it becomes too much and it weighs you down.” He paused to take a sip from his bottle of water, seeming to gather his thoughts. “A recent study was published by the Military Times that found that about twenty veterans c
ommit suicide daily. You’re not going to become a statistic, are you?”
I stared at him as I let that sink in. I didn’t really know what to say to it. I hadn’t considered suicide, even when I felt I was at a dark part of the day. It was all about working through it.
“I hadn’t thought about it,” I admitted.
“What about when you do?”
I shook my head, “I’ve got too much going for me now.”
“But you were a cop,” he pointed out. “And you quit. You’re making a drastic change to your life.”
I remained quiet for a length, digesting his words.
“I don’t want to be on drugs,” I said because I couldn’t see how they would help.
“It’s an option you should consider,” he didn’t push it, it was more like a suggestion. “They can help, they do help a lot of people. If you feel like the groups aren’t helping, then please, take it as an option versus the alternative. I don’t want the thought of suicide being your only option for relief to occur to you.”
To appease him I nodded, then looked to the clock. The minutes had ticked away, but my hour wasn’t quite done. I never liked these talks, because it felt like I had to go over so many things I’d rather forget. But I’m not going to get over them if I just ignore them. Shit doesn’t disappear like that.
“I have a girl that’s keeping me straight,” I told him. “I don’t want to give her up, I’m not going to hurt myself.”
“Good,” he nodded as he made a note in my file. “Support from a loved one is important. Does she know about this?”
I nodded, “She was bringing me here until I got a new bike.”
“A bike? As in a motorcycle?” I nodded and watched him make another note. “Do you ride with a group or are you a solo rider? You took a riding class, right?”
I nodded then snorted a little in amusement, “Are you asking if I'm in a gang?”
“They crop up here and there the ones that do illegal things, but a lot are actually started by vets. Did you know that?” He looked genuinely curious.
I couldn’t keep the smirk off my face, but I shook my head, “I didn’t realize that they were usually run by vets. Where’d you hear that?”
“There was a documentary about one of the notorious ones in Florida. It was started by an old sailor if I remember correctly,” he hummed as he thought about it, tapping on the legal pad that he kept notes on. “I can’t remember the name of the group though.”
I shook my head because it really didn’t matter to me. “Sailors, they’re usually trouble right?”
He snorted in agreement, “I tell ya, I lost money on that game against the Midshipmen. But it still feels so good to finally break that streak.”
I laughed, “An Army man betting against Army? That’s what you get.” I offered him a hand, “Am I free to go?”
He took my hand and shook it, his grip firm, and he pinned me with his eyes. “Same time next week, I’ll get a list of antidepressants that Tricare covers ready for you, with their side effects for you to consider.”
“I appreciate it, so far the two wheeled antidepressant seems to be working good for me,” I stood. “I gotta say I’ve been recommending it to the guys at the group. I think I might’ve won a few over.”
“That’s actually a good thing. Just do me a favor, if you start a club try to stay on the up and up,” he frowned just a little. If only he knew.
I gave him a salute, even though I wasn’t in uniform anymore and walked out of his office. It was like taking off a heavy pack of equipment. While I dreaded the meetings with my psychiatrist, they usually did make me feel better. I’d probably have a talk with Tara about whether or not I should consider pills. The idea of getting dependent on anything was one thing that kept me away from most drugs. I felt like I’d shake this eventually.
The open air was another relief, the sky was the brightest blue, and the wind blew just right. I knew I’d need to take the long way home. I trotted out to my new Victory, it was a deep green on black, and I was in love the moment I saw it. While it wasn’t necessarily new, it was new to me. Just seeing it from the sidewalk still struck me because it was mine. I was so struck by it I almost didn’t see the person standing beside it admiring it.
“This shit yours?” Wilson asked as he crouched down and took it in at a new angle.
“My Sportster got tore the fuck up,” I shoved my hands in my pockets. “It got totaled, and it took fucking forever to get it replaced.”
He stood up. “That other bike was shit compared to this, son. Are you making payments?”
“I got some savings that I used to help pay for it.”
“I heard a tale on the street that you aren’t wearing a badge anymore,” he pinned me with a look. “That shit true?”
I shrugged as I went around so that my motorcycle stood between us, “Yea. Turned in my badge and gun. Are you going to take this opportunity to put me down?”
“I ought to,” he pulled out a cigar from a pocket under his cut. He took his time to light it and give it a healthy pull. “But I instead I’m gonna ask you where the fuck you’ve been since you gave up your badge?”
“What?” I asked, confused.
“Boy, you’re missing your shifts at the garage. Do I need to knock your head to get you to see sense?” He puffed at his cigar again. “I let you have long enough hiatus to get fixed up. You can still do this shit,” he nodded towards the building. I was sure he knew what I was doing here. “But it’s about damn time you came home to the Brotherhood, don’t you think?”
“I-I didn’t know I was still in it,” my heart was pounding in my chest, and I felt breathless. The last time I felt like this I was with Tara.
“Fuck you,” he said as he eyed me, not looking as if he had any animosity behind it. “We’re brothers, kid, no matter what. I’ll let you get your cut on, but I expect you riding into the clubhouse before dinner. You hear me?”
“I hear you,” I could fight my grin. “My girl is five-o, do I need to keep her at home?”
“If you bring her around we’ll just have to behave ourselves,” he turned to head towards the building I had just come out of. “Don’t worry about Cole. I have him handled.”
I smiled and mounted my bike as Wilson walked across the parking lot to his Honda. I kicked her to life and sped out of the parking lot. I was dying to get my cut back on and find my way back home.
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Rowan
Woodsmen & City Girls - Book 1
By Amber Burns
1
Rowan raised the ax above his head, cold metal glinting beneath the sun and casting flecks of golden light across his hair. In one swift movement, he brought the ax down hard and split the log into two clean, twin pieces of timber. He ran a hand across his face, ruddy and pink with pleasant exertion, and stared down at his work. Around his feet laid thirty-seven split logs, all ready to be carefully and precariously stacked against the cabin’s outside walls. He nodded, satisfied with the work he had accomplished. The sun still hung high in the sky, beaming down at him, approving of his hard, gritty labor with her wide, white light smile. He stared up at the blue backdrop of the sky, at the way the tips of the trees tickled the early afternoon light, swaying gently in the autumn breeze. He smiled and rolled back his sleeves, pushing red flannel away from his tattooed skin. A fly landed on his wrist and spent a moment tracing the inky patterns that decorated his arm before again taking to the sky. He grinned and dropped the ax to its resting place on an old tree stump.
As he began to wrestle the smartly severed wood into rows against the side of the cabin, Rowan smiled. The morning’s activity of cutting and chopping and ax-wielding had left him wi
th a warm, satisfying burn in his abdominal muscles, the proof of having completed some true, hard work. He hefted piece of timber after piece of timber up against the cabin wall, enjoying the power of his arms, relishing the dots of sweat that began to crop up along his temples and dance down his face, catching onto the dark hairs of his beard.
“Good work, Rowan,” he grinned to himself, placing another log against the cabin wall. “Good work.”
The kettle sizzled as it rocked back and forth above the fire. Rowan easily tossed a large slab of freshly chopped wood upon the flames, feeding their red-orange hunger. He crouched before the fire and plucked the kettle from the flames. Steam spouted from the mouth of the iron kettle, shrieking, as Rowan fished a china cup from the assortment of mismatched dishes that sat on the wooden shelf above the mantel. He placed the cup on the floor and poured the boiling water from the lips of the kettle. As the water flowed through her lips, the kettle’s shrieking silenced.
