by Amy Love
"Grandpa!" said three-year-old Julia as she ran out of her room and down the hallway, arms open for a hug long before she was close enough to get one.
Her father swooped her up into his arms and Chelsea watched them rub noses and playfully tweak each other's ear lobes.
"Can we go swimming?" Julia asked.
"Maybe after lunch," her father said. "If mommy says it is alright."
Chelsea lifted a finger at her daughter as she spun her head, question loaded to fire. "Don't ask right now. We'll see after lunch, Julia."
"Aww." Julie pouted, but quickly brightened and turned back to her grandpa. "I'm drawing pictures for you. Come see?"
"Alright," he replied with a nod.
Cheslea watched her father carry Julia down the hallway to her room, which at one time was the guest room, and for a time, her room. She bit her lip, wondering exactly how happy a woman could be during a single day.
It wasn't her father's first visit. He came down from Boston for the wedding, and then for Julia's birth, and for each of Julia's birthdays since then. Elias has told him several times that if he wished to visit more often, they would gladly help with the travel expenses, but her father only shrugged and never brought the matter up.
She went into Elias' office. "Dad's here."
"I heard the squealing announcement." Elias nodded with a grin, remaining focused on his computer screen.
She sat down lightly on his lap and searched his eyes. "Do you miss being more involved with the club business?"
He glanced at her and said, "Not really, no. Eric is doing a fine job, and the club is running smooth. We ride at least twice a month with two long trips every year."
"What about the security stuff, and the bodyguard stuff. You use to love that, didn't you?" she asked.
He reached out and powered his computer screen down, and then leaned back in his chair to look at her, "What's bringing this on?"
"Nothing—not really. I found myself out there looking at dad and Julia, being deeply happy, and I would like you to be deeply happy with our life as well. I don't want you to feel like you have to give things up for us."
He studied her eyes and then kissed her lips. "I haven't given up a thing I didn't get tenfold back with you."
"But… then you did give it up for us," she said.
"No," he said shaking his head. "No, that's not the way of it at all."
"What's the way of it, then?"
Elias thought for a moment, and then said, "There's an edge you have to keep in order to do that kind of work. To keep that edge, you have to possess a sort of carefree attitude regarding your own life. You have to be able to take risks, to make split-second decisions with less than perfect information."
He brushed a lock of her hair back from her face, with a gentle caress. "When I saw you with Julia for the first time, I knew I didn't have that carefree attitude any longer. I would never be able to take risks again, not like I was willing to do in the past. I wanted to grow old, watch Julia grow up, meet her first boy friend, see her go to college. So, it was over. It just was. Things I thought were important were suddenly trivial, and things I thought were niceties in life, like financial security, and planning a future, were suddenly, absolutely, important."
"That's why I gave up the Sergeant at Arms position, and why I don't do the bodyguard work anymore except as an adviser, and why I'm very content and happy with those decisions. So, no, I didn't give anything up. I just let the dead weight fall to the side of the road."
"Are you happy, Elias?" she asked.
"Very. So very, very happy. But I would be happier if I could finish my work day now." He smirked.
She playfully slapped his shoulder. "Brat. I was trying to have a moment."
"We'll have a moment when you get back from Doc's, how about that?"
"I may not want one then," she teased, and got out of his lap. "Do the voodoo that you do. I have to get going anyway."
"Taking the bike?"
"I thought it would be nice. Dad is jealous as hell, still."
"I would buy him five if he would accept them," Elias said, flicking back on his computer monitor.
"I know. He's just…"
"He's just a man, like me, and the rest of the brothers. We like earning our own way, and don't enjoy handouts," Elias finished for her.
"Something like that, yeah," she agreed.
The Dyna Low Rider was the most fulfilling ride she had ever experienced. The tank and frame had a custom paint job, done by Elias. The bike was his wedding present to her. The base color was a blended metallic blue which shone with a reddish gold in the light. Painted on the tank was a phoenix, rising up from a torrent of flames, and the vanity plate read "PHENX."
She loved the bike. Loved it and rode it as often as she could, which wasn't as often since Julia arrived in their lives, bringing with her things like mini-vans, diaper bags, and car seats.
Wearing leather pants and a tight, laced-up leather vest with no shirt or bra, she mounted the bike, adjusted her helmet and sunglasses, then idled the bike out of the backyard and to the road. There she checked the street, and then with a grin of pure joy, opened the throttle, and let the big engine roar her down the street toward Doc's office. She passed the Log Cabin and saw a few people waving. She returned the greeting, but didn't slow down. Hitting the boulevard, she glided through traffic, feeling the Texas sun warm her skin almost as fast as the wind cooled her.
Entering Doc's office, she gave Maria a smile and asked, "Is she ready for me?"
"Yep, her last client left a few minutes ago," Maria assured her.
Chelsea nodded and went into the office, closing the door behind her.
She met with Doc only once a month now. Most of the time it was just a quick talk about how the meds were working. She'd had four major med changes, but the last set seemed to be holding up. Her focus and memory were clear. She rarely had an episode anymore, and her sleep was sound and refreshing. Sex wasn't a problem. Sometimes social gatherings made her feel a little uneasy, and sometimes thoughts about Julia being hurt or injured would plague her. But none of these things were strong or overbearing any longer.
When Julia was first born, Chelsea was terrified her child would be hurt or kidnapped by someone. She spent many sleepless days and nights sitting in Julia's room by the crib, protecting her. From what, she didn't know, but she couldn't leave. She even had a gun in there with her, though she hid it from Elias. But after a few months, that passed, and it didn’t return.
"Hello, Chelsea," Doc said as Chelsea sat down in the chair across the desk from her. "How are you felling?"
"Very real," Chelsea told her. "Very real."
They talked for a bit, and then Doc brought the subject over to her father’s visit, which was a major minefield since his first visit for the wedding.
“I’m still not ready to discuss this with him. He knows something happened, and that I’m seeing you and taking meds. But I just can’t tell him the details, or even the highlights.” Chelsea confessed.
“You don’t think he’ll understand?” Doc inquired.
“No, I think he’ll understand perfectly, but there’s nothing for him to do. The cause is solved, and buried. The damage is still real, and present, but he can’t do anything about that. What am I going to accomplish handing him an emotional ball of shit like this, when there is no way for him to get it back off his hands?”
“So, you are protecting him,” Doc pressed.
“I’m protecting both of us! I can’t stand the thought of him looking at me with shame and pain for things he had no piece of, or worse, trying to hide his shame and pain. Seriously, when does crap like that get fun?”
“Chelsea, you have come a long ways, and your father’s visits have been good mile markers for us. His visit for your wedding, for example, you were terrified to tell him what you had become. Do you remember thinking like that? You took it all on as your responsibility. You let them do this to you. You firmly beli
eved that you agreed to be that way.”
Chelsea wiped at her eyes, “Yes, I remember that.”
“So, Chelsea, you’re right, it probably isn’t something you want to lay at your father’s feet, and say ‘here you go, deal with it’. But your reasons for not wanting to do so are so very far from where you began. And that’s why I asked.”
Chelsea thought about that and then nodded her understanding, “I haven’t felt like it was my fault in a long time.”
“Which is quite the rise for you,” Doc agreed. “So, Julia is three now, and running around the house, waking-up to crawl into bed with you at odd hours — how’s the sex life?”
Chelsea looked at her watch, “About to get better in thirty minutes.”
***
As soon as Julia was in the pool, Chelsea hurried to the office and pulled on Elias’ arm, “Come on, now,” she growled playfully.”
“Just a minute, let me finish with —”
“No! I’ll make it up with sweat labor at the bar if you want. We don’t have a minute,” she laughed, and yanked on him hard.
“I’m going to tickle you until you pee if you don’t cut it out,” he told her.
“Fine, but after,” she said, and yanked again.
“Done,” he said with a voice of victory, and for a moment she thought he was agreeing to the deal, and really intended to tickle her until she lost bladder control.
“Meep!” she squeaked, but then noticed that the transfer completion message was on the screen, meaning he was done with the transaction she was interrupting.
“What?” he asked, getting up, and coming at her.
“Nothing,” she lied innocently, and then grabbed his hand and pulled him into the bedroom.
She began undressing before she reached their door, throwing her shirt and bra toward the closet as she crossed the threshold. Then starting on her pants, “Hurry up!” she hissed at him. “You know she’s going to have to tell us something soon!”
She got her blue jeans off and charged at him, as he was unzipping his. She reached in with well-practiced grace, and pulled his cock out, “You know what?” she teased, stroking him, “Just do me against the fucking wall, you slow old man.”
“Old huh?” he laughed.
And then she was spinning, and pressed against the wall beside the closed door, “Wee!” she squealed, her hair flying as she turned.
She lifted her ass as soon as she felt him, and then he rammed his cock into her with beautiful velocity. “Oh fucking sweetness!” she growled, her hands rubbing and clawing at the wall as he started pounding into her. “God I love you and your fucking cock,” she moaned, and pressed back with each of his thrusts.
Five years? Five fucking years? Wasn’t this shit supposed to be routine by now?
After ten minutes, her eyes were rolling like an animal in terror, as her orgasm rolled across her, the agony rising, but not peaking.
“Fuck,” she gasped though her pants, “God, Oh fuck. Please. I can’t. Please. Oh, fucking, god, please,” she begged as his rhythm maintained her sweet agony for longer than she thought she could endure.
Then Elias took a handful of her hair, and yanked her back hard, arching her back, lifting her breasts, and it was just the right thing to send her orgasm into full climax. She screamed with its curling crash, struggling wildly in his grasp.
“Not bad for an old man, huh?” his deep voice groaned into ear.”
“Fuck Elias! Ah fucking sweetness! Give it to me! I need it! Please!”
His climax lifted her off her toes, hammering her up the wall. Her hands wildly sought for balance and control as he his thrusts pounded into her again and again, and then were joined his growling cry of release.
He swooped her up into a cradle and sat down on the edge of their bed with her. She purred and kissed his neck and cheek and then his lips. “You are so good to me.”
After returning her kiss he said, “I hope you still feel that way after.”
She shot her head back to look him in the eye, “After what?” she asked, not understanding.
“You’re the one who made the deal,” he said and his large hand ran down her sides, and began to close on her tickle zone.
She yiped, and sprang as fast as she could, trying to get away, while he pulled, and hauled her squirming body back toward the bed, “No, no!” she laughed with panic, “You can’t have been serious!”
Enjoyed The Long Ride? You may enjoy other works by Amy Love
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***
Time heals all wounds. A saying that Becky Hanson wishes was true.
For ten years she has tried to recover from her heartbreak at the hands of her high school love Kyle Robbins. Yet, even as she continues to feel the sting, the reason behind it fades from memory with every passing year.
Kyle Robbins was a high school troublemaker and involved with the White Rhinos MC.
Arrested for possession and sentenced to jail, he lost his girlfriend, his freedom, and his future all in one go. The worst part is that he never had the balls to tell her, instead choosing to let her believe he abandoned her.
Upon release, Kyle rejoins the Sons and tries to get on with his life even as memories of Rebecca continue to haunt him.
When an accidental encounter brings the two of them face to face with each other again, both of them come to the same realization: The spark is still there, but so is the gaping wound of heart break.
***
Sick of everyone around her assuming she's a meek little goody-two shoes, Abby Warner endeavors to do the most daring thing she can think of: get a tattoo.
Brett McTavish thought he was in for another day of tattooing flash onto underage teenagers and drunken tourists at his biker family's parlor. But when the wide-eyed beauty comes slipping into his shop, his day starts to look infinitely more interesting.
Despite their vastly different backgrounds, Abby and Brett can't seem to keep away from each other. And before they know it, the tattooed bad boy and the shy photographer are falling for each other. Hard.
But when Abby is forced to confront the dangerous and illicit nature of the family business, will she stick around or watch Brett ride off into the dust?
***
Sometimes the bad guys aren't the most dangerous.
Abby Warner is happy, working on her photography and spending time with her lover, Brett, at his tattoo parlor. She is used to the parade of leather clad bikers parading in and out of the studio, Brett's unconventional family and friends welcoming her with open arms. She's even learnt to love the feel of a thrumming engine between her legs, almost as much as the nights spent with her rough and tough bad boy between the sheets.
The local council isn’t so forgiving, and when a planned cleanup of the tourist strip is announced, Brett's beloved tattoo parlor is the first to be named. They're not just going to stand by and let their home be taken away from them. But when they decide to fight back, things start to get dangerous.
Who do you turn to when the supposed good guys are the ones you should fear the most?
***
When you're about to lose the man you love do you let him go, or fight to keep him?
The city has changed and Abby Warner is sad to see her lover's family of bikers preparing to leave for new horizons. But when his family asks him to come with them, Brett decides he has to think about it. Abby doesn't want to push him into making a decision, even though the thought of losing her protective, bear of a man hurts more than she can stomach.
And when the appearance of an ex-lover, a sultry, leather clad vixen is an added temptation for him, Abby almost feels like giving up.
But she has been through too much to lose him now. She might not be a motorcycle riding badass, but she has done things that would frighten the leathers off of any man or woman.
Abby will not give up her man without a fight.
***
The
language of love is universal but what about when you don't even speak the local language?
Bianca has been travelling for several months, enjoying her newfound freedom since graduating college, but she's starting to feel a little lonely. Europeans are more suspicious of shifters and whilst she's not overt about her nature, the young were-bear is missing the company of her own.
In a remote township she is stunned to meet Marco, a bear shifter living amongst humans. Their connection is instantaneous and Bianca's short stay soon becomes more permanent. This wolf amongst the sheep has captured not only her interest but also her heart. A mixture of primal lusts and a soulful bond transcends the obstacles of their differing cultures and Bianca has never felt anything so perfect, so right.
