by Karen Renee
After I tucked the phone back into my purse, he asked, “Who was on the phone?”
“Detective Davidson with the JSO.”
He nodded. I stepped forward to enter the house, but he did not move as I approached. I took a deep breath and looked up at him. I reached out to push the door open a little further so I could squeeze by him, but Cal grabbed my wrist and put my hand on his chest.
Looking down at me, he asked, “You pissed off still?”
I pursed my lips as I thought about it. Then I said, “I’m honestly not sure. I am sure I’d like to go inside.”
His hazel eyes searched my brown ones. His grip on my wrist seemed to tighten marginally, and his free hand wrapped around my neck, then he kissed me brutally. I was shocked by the sudden kiss and my lips parted with my gasp. His stubble scraped against the top and bottom of my lips in a pleasurable way. I let him overrun my mouth because it was a surprise and, really, because he was just such a damn fine kisser. When he pulled away from me, I opened my eyes to see a twinkle in his.
“Still pissed?”
I blew out a breath through my nose and turned my face down and to the side. “A little. You’re not kissing me into submission on this one, for your information. Can you let me in my house, please?”
Pulling me with him, Cal moved only a foot and then he closed the door behind me. He had not released my wrist. He ran his nose along my jaw line up to my temple.
“I’m not pissed any more, sweet cheeks. So, what are you mad about? You ain’t goin’ anywhere ‘til we get this sorted.”
Pushy, domineering, occasionally underhanded, I wanted to hit him in the worst way; but I had an overwhelming feeling I hadn’t felt in a long time. It couldn’t be love. Yet, I strongly suspected it was. I loved that he wanted me to be ultra-safe. What I didn’t like were the methods to his madness.
Rather than dwell on those thoughts and keep it to myself, I blurted, “I don’t like how you manipulated things this morning. I specifically didn’t like you not listening to me and being supremely bossy. I got a boss at work. I don’t need one in my personal life or in my bed.”
Cal smirked, and then said, “You need one in your bed for sure, woman. And, you like it.”
Mentioning my bed was a bad idea, so I amended, “I take back the in my bed part. Really though, certain things in my life need to be discussed. I don’t need to be ordered to pull over in the middle of morning rush-hour traffic, all so I can text you someone’s phone number when I’m already running late to work.”
Cal was rubbing both of his hands on my back, and he asked, “So that’s what pissed you off?”
I said softly, “That’s what made me hang up on you, which is what pissed you off to no end.”
Cal immediately said, “No.”
I gave him a small squint. “What do you mean, ‘No’? You dictated that I was never to hang up on you and never to walk away from a conversation with you.”
His hands stopped at my ass, and then he said, “What pissed me off to no end was the blatant disrespect. You didn’t listen to me and do what I asked—”
“Demanded, thank you.”
He gave me a sideways glance. “Look, you’re new to the MC world. Wait, I can see you got plenty to say, but hold on. Absolute rule one is giving respect. You give it freely; you’ll receive it just as freely. Hanging up on me because you thought I was being too bossy is lame, and you know it. I was pissed, and I went to extreme measures to get what I thought needed to be done, done. I’m sorry about that. I’ll listen to you more closely in the future, but honestly, we shouldn’t have shit like Gwen’s happening in the future. Yeah?”
I nodded, but said, “I don’t need protection from Gwen. It’s the people she owes money to, or whatever, that I need protection from.”
Cal closed his eyes for a moment, when he opened them he said, “You know your mother-in-law is in some deep shit. I’ve told you I’m not letting her shit touch you. Part of me not letting it get to you is you letting me handle her when she brings shit to your door. That’s what she did this morning. Now, so we’re clear, I’ll listen to you as long as you do me the same courtesy and listen to what I’m telling you.”
I pressed my lips together to suppress a smile. Cal had won, but he didn’t need to know that outright. Instead I said, “Fair enough. Though seriously, I’m not so on-board for your control-freak ways in bed either. Just sayin’.”
He released me finally. As I moved past him to put my purse on the counter, he smacked my ass with more force than was really necessary. Then he said, “Bullshit, sweet cheeks. You love when I take control. You aren’t pullin’ any wool over my eyes. Now go get packed, woman.”
I threw my arms up in the air briefly. “And there it is. More damn bossy! What about dinner? Is it going to magically assemble itself, move from my fridge, freezer, or pantry and cook itself too? What the hell, man?”
He shook his head at me. “I know my way around a kitchen, as we discussed before. I’ll make some dinner, and you’ll fuckin’ love that too, my woman.”
My heart warmed at hearing him call me ‘my woman,’ and I had to stop myself from beaming outright. I blinked, and left the room to go pack up, as ordered by my man.
Forty-five minutes later, I had all of my new Adamec shirts, my jeans, my ‘new’ cut-off shorts, and some conservative pajamas packed into my carry-on bag. I was bent over the lower drawer of my dresser rummaging around for my swimsuits when I felt Cal’s hands glide around my hips.
“Do you know what the absolute best part about fighting is, baby?” he asked quietly in my ear.
I straightened and said, “Absolutely nothing. I hate fighting with people I lo– erm, care about.”
Shit! The L word almost slipped out. Since I still had my back to Cal, I wasn’t sure if he caught that or not.
If he caught my slip, he let it go, because without missing a beat, he said, “No, baby. The best part is the makeup sex. It’s better if the fight and then the making up is really fresh, but you’re the one with the nine-to-five gig. Anyway, I made a quick Coq Au Vin since you’re down to two bottles of your fancy red wine.”
I whirled on him and shrieked, “What?”
Cal moved his hands to my shoulders, and then said, “Chill, Mal. I’m nothing if not observant. Part of my preparations today included a trip to Total Wine. Got you another case of MacManus and that’s at the compound right now. It’s coming with us to Daytona. I only used one bottle for the Vin portion of our Coq Au Vin. Have you ever had it?”
I tilted my head as I tried to calm myself. “No, I haven’t. But I’ve heard of it. Sounds like a waste of perfectly good red wine.”
Cal shook his head at me. “No, honey. It is one of the best uses of red wine, bar none. Anyway, a really good version stews almost all afternoon, but this version takes just ninety minutes. Means we have just over an hour to kill, and I know exactly how I want to kill it. So, how about it?”
I released a silent chuckle, only to say, “As I understand it, you’re a controlling beast in bed, so any arguments to the contrary I might have would fall on deaf ears.”
Cal leaned down and nipped my neck where it met my collarbone and then said, “You’re such a smartass, Mallory.”
Then we killed an hour with makeup-sex that was better than normal sex, which was saying something, as far as I was concerned. Seriously, I might have to go out of my way to pick a fight with Cal to get that kind of action again in the future. Delicious.
Cal and I had both climaxed for the second time over ten minutes before, but Cal was kissing all along my collarbones and neckline. His attention to my body was forcing me to take deeper breaths than normal, and I was catching strong scents of the meal he had prepared. It smelled heavenly. Heavy aromas of chicken with a hint of bacon and powerful overtones of red wine were wafting through the air of my house. The smells were making me feel almost as restless as Cal’s kissing. He moved down to the swell of my left breast and his suction became
stronger. I knew it was going to leave a mark. It felt so good, and then I heard myself exclaim, “Oh, God. I love you.” I felt my eyes grow wide, and I quickly raised my head blurting, “I mean – I love when you do that.”
Cal looked at me, but immediately moved from leaning over my breasts to stretching himself fully over me. He settled his hips in between my thighs. “Don’t try to take that back. You’re gone for me. That’s the best thing I’ve heard. The very best, because I’ve been gone for you for a while now. I love you, Mallory. No other woman does to me what you do. Maybe no other woman has tried to do anything but the physical with me, but I don’t care. You’re special as hell, and a damn unexpected firecracker in the bedroom. Our chemistry is fantastic. It gets volatile when we’re both pissed, but that isn’t wrong. We work. Say it again.”
I looked up into his hazel eyes that seemed more green than brown in the dim light, and I said, “I love you, Callous.”
He shook his head, and then said, “Cal, baby. Not Callous. Never Callous for you. I love you too, Mallory Jane.”
I gave him a tentative grin and then asked, “Why can’t I call you Callous, but all the bikers call you Callous, even Leathernecks?”
Cal closed his eyes while he took a deep breath, and just before he opened his eyes, he said, “Let’s talk about it later, baby. We got dinner to eat. Okay?”
I arched an eyebrow at him, but the smell of our dinner was too enticing to argue with him. There was more to his road name than a simple ‘let’s deal with it later’. Ten minutes later I was seated at my kitchen nook table, wearing Cal’s Salt Life shirt with the sleeves shoved up to my biceps. Cal was wandering around my kitchen in nothing more than his electric-blue boxer briefs. It gave new meaning to the term ‘sexy’ in my book. He placed a bowl in front of me along with a small plate topped with a piece of garlic bread. The bowl was mounded with chicken, pearl onions, and button mushrooms cut in half length-wise. I could see little bits of bacon if I paid close attention. The broth, if you could call it such, was a rich shade of burgundy, and smooth as velvet on my tongue and throat when I ate. I noticed little bits and pieces of dried herbs when I first looked at the bowl. But the first bite proved those dried herbs were not for decoration. The strong but pleasant taste of parsley and thyme hit my senses like a one-two punch. Cal was watching me as I ate, so I fought to keep my reactions in check. It wasn’t good. It was fan-damn-tastically good. Wrong or right, I had no intention of stroking Cal’s ego in the food department. I knew that he knew what he was doing after hearing about his best foster family experience, and I was certain he didn’t need my seal of approval to know he still had it. Nevertheless, I couldn’t stifle the groan of pleasure when the first well-balanced bit of mushroom, chicken, bacon, and broth went down my throat.
“Good stuff, huh, babe?” he asked me.
I gave him my best nonchalant look, saying, “Yes, sir. It is good.”
He grinned at me. “Wouldn’t hurt you to stroke my ego just a little bit, Mallory. But, the look on your face tells me everything I need to know about your dinner and how you feel about it.”
I lifted one shoulder and let it go, and then I said, “And that’s the very reason why I won’t say anything to stroke your ego, baby. You know too much for your own damn good, I’d say.”
* * * * *
Cal nudged my upper thigh in a very forceful way the next morning. My thigh was propped on his opposite thigh as we slept. I opened my eyes and was momentarily disoriented by the lighting in my bedroom. It was dim, but different mainly because I was lying on the opposite side than normal. Cal was definitely shifting my notion of what was normal anymore. I felt a swell in my chest. Did I love him for that too? That seemed silly, so I did my best to dismiss it from my thoughts.
I took a deep breath and then looked up to Cal. He looked sleepy, but determined. I tried to give him a look, but in my sleep-addled state, it was a dud. I felt his body jerk as if he was trying not to chuckle. He pulled my chin up so my gaze was forced on him. Winking, he said, “Get movin’, baby. Bike Week is the best week of the year. You, me, your best girl, and my brothers. Can’t get any fuckin’ better than that, baby. Sooner you get movin’, sooner we all get to Daytona.”
I couldn’t argue with that, so I pecked his cheek and then rolled out of the opposite side of the bed. I grabbed my underwear, bra, and jeans. I decided to top my jeans with an emerald green boatneck top with a black and silver jeweled neckline. After I took a slightly longer than normal shower, I put on my outfit and inserted my peridot hoop earrings in my earlobes. I put my toiletries into my purple carry-on bag. I exited the bathroom, and Cal went into it and closed the door.
In the kitchen, I brewed Cal a cup of Café Bustello, and fixed a caramel latte for myself. I poured Cal’s into a travel mug. He came out of the bedroom wearing a black long-sleeve shirt with the 2016 Daytona Bike Week logo on the front. His jeans were an extremely light blue and there was a horizontal rip just below the left knee. His hair was slicked up, and he was clean-shaven. Hot.
“That travel mug for me, sweet cheeks?”
I nodded. “Should I make something for a quick breakfast?”
Cal had just taken a slug of his java and shook his head at me. Once he swallowed, he added, “We’ll run through the Mickey D’s drive-through, then we’ll get your BFF. We can get breakfast for her too, but if she’s gonna have special requests, you need to get them now.”
Thirty minutes later, Natasha was sitting in the back seat, and all three of us were chowing down on various Mc-breakfast foods. Cal pulled into the compound, and Vamp and Starla were milling about outside a large white Ford F-150 that had a trailer hitched to it. The front plate of the truck was a white brick wall with Pink Floyd written in the spray paint script from The Wall album.
I looked at Cal and said, “I didn’t know we would be riding with Vamp and Starla.”
Natasha poked her head up from the seat behind me. “I didn’t think Vamp had a woman.”
Cal looked at Natasha in the rearview mirror. “He doesn’t, and if he does, it’s not my business and it’s definitely not your business. They’re our ride. This gonna be a problem, ladies?”
Natasha shook her head in the back seat, and from the front seat, I said, “Not at all, Cal. We’re just making conversation.”
Cal parked his car, unfolded from the driver’s seat, and moved our bags to the bed of the truck. I stepped out of the car and moved the seat so Natasha could angle out. She and I moved around the Mustang toward the front of the pickup truck. Starla was wearing a red t-shirt that had cut-outs in the shoulders, but the sleeves covered a third of her bicep. There was plenty of cleavage accented by white cursive script that read “Angel.” Directly over the “nge” of ‘Angel’ there were horizontal slashes in the shirt, which provided an almost peek-a-boo view of her white bra. She turned around to pull something out of the truck, and I saw white oversized angel wings on the back with slashing in between the wings. The word ‘Angel’ was written again, in a much smaller script, in between the wings where Starla’s bra clasp would be. It was definitely not a shirt I could pull off, but more power to Starla for giving it a go. I wasn’t sure if she was wearing skin-tight jeans or the jeggings which seemed to be the latest trend. Either way, she had no pantylines, and there was little left to anyone’s imagination.
When Starla turned back around to us, I introduced Starla and Natasha to one another. Starla took Natasha’s hand in a perfunctory handshake, and then she turned to me and gave me a light hug. She was wearing a department store perfume that I didn’t care for much, but luckily, it seemed I could only smell it if she hugged me. Hopefully the super-crew cab of the truck would give us enough space that I wouldn’t get a headache.
Starla pulled back and smiled at me. She shook her head gently and her chocolate brown spiral curls bounced slightly on her shoulders.
“I am so excited to see you again. I can’t wait to get to know you better! You, too, Natasha. Jackie has
such great things to say about both of you. This should be so much fun.”
Vamp and Cal were at the back of the truck double-checking the trailer hitch. Vamp was wearing a long-sleeved black t-shirt with a large white skull on the lower right portion of the shirt. The skull was holding a gun pointed my way, and the jaw on the skull was wide open as if the skull was yelling. Along the long sleeves was the same skull, but with two hands held up in an x pattern with guns in both bony hands. As shirts go, this one made quite a statement. Vamp caught sight of me and Natasha. He came over to us, hooking an arm around Natasha’s neck.
He said to her, “Hi-ya, Natasha. Long time no see.”
Natasha looked at him skeptically and gave him an, “Umm-hummm,” as only black women are typically capable of doing.
He unhooked his arm from Natasha and then turned to me; he grabbed my hand and kissed the back. With a large smile that crinkled his blue eyes, he said, “Mallory. It’s always a pleasure to see you. We’re all looking forward to popping your Bike Week cherry, as it were.”
I shook my head and said, “Nice front plate on your truck. I wouldn’t have pegged you as a Pink Floyd fan.”
Vamp let go of my hand with a grin. Then he said, “Gotta respect the classics, man.”
“Did you just quote the kid’s movie Cars?”
Vamp’s eyebrows furrowed and he said, “Don’t know. I never saw it.”
Vamp looked at Starla, and he said, “Cal’s shotgun. Mallory appears to be the shortest, so she’s in the center back seat, you and Natasha decide on which side you want to sit. Shouldn’t take us more than an hour and a half, unless you chicks have to piss every twenty minutes or something.”
Chapter 26
