by Bijou Hunter
“I’ve changed my mind again,” I sigh once I free my breasts, and his lips find my left nipple. “I’m ready for your big dick.”
Grunting, Goliath wraps his arms around my waist as he goes wild on my tits. I stroke his head, offering tenderness against his rougher touch. Not that I want him to change. Still, I always suffer pain in my chest when I think of him growing up with a bitch mom. Did she cuddle with him? Did she hold him when he cried? No matter the truth, I always imagine him left to himself too much, which makes me want to smother his giant ass with all the love he missed out on.
My mothering instinct gets overwhelmed by the sheer force of his giant dick making me come. I forget to cuddle or be gentle. I yank on his hair, claw at his arms, say some weird shit about cupcakes, and just go stupid under him.
Sexually satisfied, I stretch out and admire his powerful body in its element. Goliath never seems larger than when he’s thrusting his big dick into my body. His ripped arms flex as he moves faster. He’s so sexy when he gets close to finding the kind of relief he already provided me.
Goliath hides in his head when he fucks. His eyes are closed as he’s propped up over me. Then just as he’s about to come, he opens them and really sees me. The look in his eyes screws with my heart a little. I instantly want him to need me. Not tolerate my presence for the fucking, but really need me. I want to exist for him like no other woman can.
Except as soon as he comes, I get the feeling that he wants me to leave. I don’t, of course. I remain stretched out on the bed and refuse to move. Goliath is relaxed nearby, but he might as well be in a different room. There’s no cuddling, no warmth. The sex is over, and he’s done with me.
But I refuse to leave. He’ll have to physically kick me out if he wants me gone.
“River is my sorta step-cousin,” I say when the silence gets oppressive.
Goliath’s gaze remains on the ceiling when he asks, “Cousin?”
“His mom and my dad were stepsiblings. Their parents broke up. So they aren’t stepsiblings anymore. But he’s family without being blood-related, and I don’t fuck family.”
“Do you want to fuck him?”
“No. If I did, I would have before he fell for Max. He would have nailed me, no doubt. He was such a slut before he met his woman.”
“Don’t shame him for wanting what he wants. Fucking feels good,” Goliath says, shooting me a frown.
“I shame no one,” I lie. “Did you think that was a dig at you?”
“Nomp.”
“Because you are a slut, right?”
Goliath swallows hard, and I sense he’s considering whether to speak up. Finally, he says, “I used to tell Swamp Thing that I never loved fucking as much as I did killing. He’d put off hurting an asshole, so he could get laid. Said coming was more important than going. I like fucking, but killing an asshole feels more important. I can get off any time I want with my hand. It’s not like I can take a life every morning, though. But Swamp Thing claimed I would run out of people to kill. That was before he got fucked by Fuse. He might have changed his mind in prison about that fucking-versus-killing thing.”
Listening to Goliath talk, I’m struck by something so obvious that I feel like a damn dunce for never picking up on it before. I knew he was angry over the Skullz screwing him. I understood his distrust of the Reapers, even though I figured he needed to get over that shit.
But I completely missed how he was grieving his friends. To me, Swamp Thing and Grabby were the bad guys. We ended their lives without a second thought. But Goliath viewed them as the only people he could trust. They’d run with him in the Skullz, they got screwed over just like him, and they were making plans for when he was released. Even if I can’t imagine Goliath agreeing to target the Band and little Iggy, those men were his future.
I think of him out here in this trailer. He’s almost always alone, even when he goes into town. Goliath’s grieving a life stolen from him, first by the Skullz and then by the Reapers. A man ill-equipped for feelings, he lets his resentments fester.
Just like he does with his mother. She’s awful. My mom never turned on me. Even when I was a hormonal teenager who freaked out over nothing, she still loved me so much. Goliath knows his mom is trash, but he can’t let her go. Not because he wants to keep visiting, but because what the fuck else is he supposed to do?
“I don’t want our baby to be around your mother,” I say, and he instantly glares at me. “She’s too negative, and I don’t want our kid feeling bad about himself. She hates bikers, and our baby will grow up in that life. Everyone in our kid’s life will wear a patch or be related to someone who does. How can he feel confident if he has a judgmental bitch cutting him down?”
“She does her best.”
“I heard what she said about you,” I say, rolling to my side and studying him glaring at the ceiling. “I don’t want her ever saying that shit about our kid. When he’s an adult, he’ll learn the world sucks, and people are mostly selfish, and he isn’t special. But until then, I want him to believe the lies told by the people who love him. It’s what everyone deserves.”
Goliath turns his glare to me, but I know he’ll agree. Deep down inside, he hates his mom and wants to stop seeing her. If I give him permission to blow her off when it comes to his kid, maybe he’ll blow her off for himself too.
“Life must be so easy for your family,” he mutters.
Despite my first instinct, I don’t lash out like I want. Goliath was picked on by his mom and likely her holy roller friends. He grew up feeling attacked, judged, and dismissed. If the person he loved shit on him, why wouldn’t he automatically expect everyone else to do the same?
Sitting up, I grab a pillow to hold in front of me as a shield. Goliath isn’t my friend, let alone my man. He’s a stranger. I don’t trust him, and I’m unsure he really likes me. I shouldn’t share my private information with him.
But he’s also my kid’s father and a member of the Reapers. I want to be sociable with him if friendship is all he can offer. Goliath needs to understand who I am. Instead, he sees me as a pampered bitch.
“As a child,” I say quietly, “my mom was sold to a biker club to pay her dad’s debts.”
Hearing my words, Goliath doesn’t soften up like a normal person. His frown just changes from a self-pitying pout to a snarly frown. He probably wonders why I’m telling him my family’s problems.
I ignore his expression and continue, “I don’t know many of the details about her captivity except that Kirk Johansson found her in a fucking container and saved her. She had to rebuild everything about herself after living with those monsters, and she’ll never be okay. My father loves her with all his heart, and her kids dote on her. Yet sometimes, her mind returns to that box, waiting to be raped by monsters.”
I look away from Goliath because I crave something from him that he refuses to offer. Feeling on the spot, I try to remember why I opened up to him in the first place.
“So, no, my family’s life isn’t easy. Sure, I grew up in a happy home with two loving parents. I had it better than you, but you need to stop thinking of the Reapers as a bunch of fucking pussies with heart-shaped eyes and Hallmark parties. You had a shitty childhood. So did a lot of people. The difference is you never got a family that cared about you. I think you could have one with the Reapers.”
Sighing, I hug the pillow and settle my racing heart. “It’s important to River to reward you for what you did for Max. He loves her so much, and he hates that she was ever unhappy. That’s how some people love. When he looks at you, he sees the man who saved his woman when she was just a kid. If you gave him a chance, he would be a good friend to you.”
“Not your brother, though.”
“Shane’s never had anything bad happen to him directly. He’s always been strong and respected. My mom and I treat him like royalty. I loved him from the moment I first saw him. Until then, I was jealous that Mom was going to pay attention to someone else. Then I saw Shane, an
d I fell so deeply in love that I would take a bullet for him. That made Shane strong and confident, but he loves too deeply. He absorbs other people’s pain.”
Feeling cold now, I think about finding my shirt. “When he looks at you, Shane sees a threat. Men connected to you tried to kill his wife and sons. Shane has trouble moving past shit. He holds on to pain and lets it fester deep until the smallest reminder returns him to the original sin. With that said, he loves me, and he’ll love his nephew or niece. That kid will remind him of you, and that will make you seem less like a threat. Shane will never be easygoing like River, but he will watch out for you. Not just because it’s his job as VP, but a little version of you is growing inside one of his favorite people.”
Goliath doesn’t speak for a few minutes. His expression remains stuck on pissed. Then he mutters in his growly voice. “I’m sorry about your mom.”
“I’m sorry about yours.”
“She isn’t so bad.”
“Maybe not now, but you were little once, and the world was out to get you like it’s out for everyone. She was the only person you had. No father or big sister to watch your back. I can’t forgive her for not loving you when I bet you were the cutest little fucker.”
Goliath allows a half-smile. “Now, you’re kissing my ass.”
“Not really. I have babies on the brain, and I keep wondering what you were like as a kid. Then I imagine her treating you wrong, and I want to punch her in the face.”
“Don’t punch my mom.”
“How about I slap her around a little? Nothing broken, just give her two rosy cheeks.”
Goliath again allows a smile. “Okay, but she likes to scratch. I saw her fight a church bitch years ago, and Mom went straight for the eyes.”
“Good to know.”
Goliath smiles easier now, wearing a slight grin even when we’re silent. I notice how the aggression he usually holds in his shoulders is gone. He lets his gaze wash over my body as I fiddle with the quilt.
“Do you want a boy or a girl?” he asks.
“I don’t care. Whatever the kid is, I’m naming it Kirby.”
“Why?” he says, frowning again.
“When I was little, I thought Kirk’s name was Kirby. I think that maybe I heard my mom asking, ‘Will Kirk be there?’ a few times and just got it in my head how that was his name. My mom was so happy when I said I wanted to name my kid after the man who saved her.”
“Shouldn’t you name your boy after it’s father or grandfather?”
“Do you want the kid named Dean?”
Instantly irritated, he growls, “No.”
“Then why would you ask?”
“What about your father?”
“He doesn’t want another person in the house named after him. Though a girl named Dylan might be badass.”
“Kirk Johansson is dead, right?”
“Yeah. He died when I was little. My mom had a breakdown after his death. She’s never really been the same, but it’s not like I knew her well before he died. She was just my mom. Still, he’s the reason I exist, so I’m going to name my firstborn after him. And no one, not even the guy whose big balls created the kid, will talk me out of it.”
Goliath gives his big shoulders a shrug. “Don’t matter to me anyhow.”
“What if I have a girl and name her Butterfly?”
“Don’t care.”
“Do you think the men at the clubhouse will like her name?”
“Don’t care.”
“They’ll razz you, Goliath P. Giant. Oh, they’ll razz you good. But don’t you worry. I have no intention of naming our daughter, Butterfly. Or Rainbow or Peach or anything so frilly. I didn’t really care for my name growing up. I liked Taylor’s better. People don’t sound as scared when they say, ‘Shelby’s gonna kick your ass,’ as when they say the same thing using Taylor’s name. I want people to piss themselves over my girl’s wrath. Which, of course, means she’ll be super delicate and prissy and overall obnoxious. Can’t choose your kids, right?”
As Goliath’s gray eyes study my face, I get the weird feeling he’s about to tell me to leave. I thought I wanted him to end our time together, so I didn’t have to. Now I’m afraid to be embarrassed by how I want him more than he wants me. I think of his reaction after he was done the last time. Things got ugly fast. I don’t know if we can ever be friends if we keep sharing those kinds of horrible moments together.
“Do you want me to text you before I come over next time?” I ask, scooting off the bed.
“I don’t care.”
While dressing, I don’t dare look back at Goliath. I’m unsure why I hoped he would want me more after his time away from Shasta. He’s lonely and mourning his friends, but that doesn’t mean he needs me around. I’ll either have to learn to accept the crumbs he offers or shut down these booty calls for good.
THE GOLIATH
I feel like a fucking chump. Shelby shows up when she wants and leaves randomly. I have no choice in the matter.
“You could show up at her house,” Hugh says one night at the Saloon. Shuffling cards for another hand of poker, he adds, “Or call her. Didn’t you have girlfriends before?”
“Yeah, but they lived at my old place. I didn’t have to make appointments to see them.”
“What did you do before they lived with you?”
“I don’t remember. They seemed to move in fast.”
Hugh gives me a quick eye roll. “Shelby will never move into your trailer. The woods freak her out, and she thinks you don’t like her.”
“Then why does she show up?”
“Because she likes you,” he says, dealing the cards. “You do seem as if you don’t like her, though.”
“I like her fine.”
“Then why do you care if she shows up or not? I mean, if you can take or leave her, why deal with her at all? Just date someone else or nail a sweet butt. Dione’s still pouting that you don’t stick your dick in her. Why not turn her frown upside down?”
“If I fuck Dione, I can’t fuck Shelby.”
Hugh frowns at me. “I don’t want to shit on your parade, but you sound like a teenage boy. Just tell Shelby you want her to show up more often or tell her you want to fuck someone else. Tell her rather than telling me when I’m not the person that can help you.”
“I’m talking to talk. If you don’t like it, go sit somewhere else.”
“Fuck that,” he says and snorts. “I was sitting here first. You joined me.”
“I’ll leave.”
“Big baby,” he says and folds his hand. “What don’t you like about Shelby?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you like about her?”
I can’t answer. Words don’t explain how I feel about Shelby. Instead, I admit, “I want her around more.”
“Then tell her to come around more.”
“I don’t want her knowing I want her around more.”
“Then you’re in quite the fucking pickle,” he says, dealing the next hand.
“Is that what you do with Utah?” I ask, looking at my shitty cards. “Tell him to come over and then to go away.”
“No. I usually want him to come over, and he’s the one that decides to leave. It’s always been that way. Utah doesn’t want anyone in his space after a certain point. He’ll never settle down and have kids and be that kind of person. I’ve gotten used to his moods.”
“Why?”
“Honestly?” Hugh says, lowering his voice. “Because there aren’t a lot of options in Shasta, and I don’t want to move. Utah is the best I can do. He and I are good together as long as we know our boundaries.”
“And that’s enough?”
“I didn’t think it would be, but I have the Band. Now there’s Taylor. She and Kelsi are talking about having a baby. I’ll have a family without Utah. The one thing my friends can’t give me is what Utah offers,” Hugh says and then pauses before adding, “The reality is if Utah asked me to move in with him tomo
rrow, I don’t think I’d want to. I like where I live, and I don’t want him around all the time anymore.”
When I frown harder, Hugh shrugs. “I used to, though. I was the Shelby of our relationship. I got butthurt when Utah blew me off. I had ideas in my head of how things should work. I wanted Utah all the time, but he’s actually an annoying prick when I spend too much time with him. He never fucking talks. He’ll sit in the same room and hide in his head. I’m used to more back-and-forth with the Band.”
“Can’t he learn to be less like that?”
“No. Well, maybe. I don’t know. It’s like when he plays video games with me. Utah just sits silently. When we watch TV, he says nothing. When we eat, he rarely speaks. If he had Kelsi’s personality, I think I’d want him around all the time, but that’s just not who Utah is. He doesn’t want to change, and neither do I.”
Hugh’s acceptance of less from Utah makes me blurt out, “I want Shelby.”
“I know. You’re not subtle.”
Ignoring his taunting, I explain, “I can’t be with a woman like her.”
“Why?”
“I don’t want to be with anyone.”
“But you were with women before.”
“How’d that turn out?”
Hugh nods before asking, “But were they like Shelby?”
“Nomp.”
“What were they like?”
“Becklyn was chaos. She never stopped moving, talking, plotting. She had something fucked-up inside her. It made me feel sorry for her. Jaymes was quiet, sneaky, needy. She also had something fucked-up inside her.”
“You like fucked-up women.”
“Nomp. I wasn’t happy with either of them. I didn’t know how to ditch them without them pulling shit that made me feel guilty.”
“Do you feel guilty when you hurt Shelby’s feelings?”
“I do now, asshole,” I growl when Hugh won’t stop reminding me that I’m a dick. “Why are her feelings so easy to hurt?”
