“All good, baby?” Charge asks me, backing out of the driveway.
“All good,” I say as the house I grew up in fades in the rearview.
I stare out the window, thinking about it all, and when we crest the hill before Route 12 becomes Main Street, a roar and a rumble breaks the quiet. Heading toward us is a line of bikes, black and shining in the late afternoon sun, huge men straddling leather seats, feet cocked out on metal pedals.
At the head is a mountain of a man, hair in a wild brown braid whipping back and forth in the wind. On the side of his helmet is a skull with two hammers intersected underneath. Steel Bones.
He raises a hand to Charge as we pass.
Charge chuckles, and he says, “Call Heavy.” A ring echoes in the car.
“Ayup.” A man answers. There’s a lot of static on the line. Wind.
“You comin’ for us?” Charge speaks loud and slow. The man must have Bluetooth in his helmet. Still must be hard to hear.
“We was. Now I guess we’re headin’ to the Headless Horseman for some brews. Since we mustered an’ mounted an’ all.”
As each biker passes us in perfect formation, he raises his hand and nods.
“Harper call you?” Charge asks.
“Naw,” the man laughs, gravelly and full. “Boots. Said some fuckin’ accountant was tryin’ to steal his grandson. Dude just kind of comes up with kin out of thin air, don’t he?”
“You really need forty men?”
“Probably, no. But that’s how many showed up when the call went out.”
“Put the first round on my tab,” Charge says and then presses the end button.
I watch the line of bikes disappear in the rearview, riding into a hazy orange sunset, and I can’t help marveling.
I know I’ve lost a father and a stepmother today. Whatever they’re going to be to Jimmy now—and I’d never take anyone he loves from him, ever—they’ve proven they’re nothing to me.
But isn’t the world a strange, strange place because damn if in the same day, it didn’t show me that family can be more than I ever thought it could be.
By the time we pass the gate to Gracy’s Corner, Jimmy’s conked out in the back. His bruise looks like a dirt smudge. I have that mom-itch to wipe it off.
My heart aches, thinking how I didn’t know it’d gotten bad at school. He hadn’t told me.
When I asked about his day, he told me about the new hamster. Playing with a parachute in gym class. Getting papier-mâché in his hair in art.
When I asked who he played with, he said the boys. And I didn’t dig deeper.
He was keeping the hard stuff bottled in.
I know where he gets that from.
Charge makes a quick call. Asking someone named Wash to go pick up his bike from General Goods and take it to Pops’ house.
Then he rests his hand on my thigh.
Not hard. No pressure.
When he goes to shift, he lifts it, then sets it back. Other than that, he’s quiet.
“So, Harper, eh?” I say after a while. It weirdly feels like the safest topic of conversation.
“Yeah. Didn’t figure you’d like me callin’ her. But I figured if it worked out, you wouldn’t hold no grudge.”
“I hated her at the picnic.”
“She was bein’ a real bitch.” He snorts. “Ain’t gonna lie. She is a real bitch.”
“You didn’t say anything. And all those women hanging on you. You didn’t say anything.”
Charge shrugs. “I was with you. They saw that.”
“Didn’t seem to faze them.”
Charge shoots me a look. Not an ounce of guilt on his too handsome face. His eyes are crinkled with amusement. “Baby, you just don’t know the life. None of ’em flashed tit or cupped my jock. They was…fazed.”
“I didn’t like it.” Understatement of the year.
Charge’s lip twitches. “It’s kind of our way, baby. But you say hands off, hands off.” His face gets serious again. Guarded. “You said you can’t do this no more. You mean that?”
I did? Oh, I did. “I meant that night. I can’t do it anymore that night. I heard about your record…I got scared. You can see why.”
Charge’s face gets somber again.
“Baby, you don’t get it. But you will. You’re my old lady. I ain’t gonna let anything hurt you or Jimmy. Sure as hell not my past. You two are my future.”
“We are?”
“Yes, baby.” There’s a tinge of exasperation in his voice. “And don’t tell me you can’t do it no more. I’ll do it for both of us. All three of us. I don’t wanna hear that shit again.”
My beat-up heart swoons a little. Then I remember the slow fade. “Why didn’t you call this week? Come by?”
Charge sniffs. “I was drivin’ around the tri-state on a wild goose chase for most of it. Club business. And I was bein’ a pussy. I didn’t want to hear you tell me it’s over.”
“I wasn’t gonna say that,” I say softly.
“No?”
“Probably not?” I sigh. “I was afraid of what would happen if my dad and Victoria found out about your record.”
“Somethin’ like what just happened?”
“Yeah.” Exactly like what just happened, but without a bitch lawyer rolling in on stilettos to save the day.
“You mean you kickin’ ass, Mama Bear?”
Me kickin’…Was that what I did?
“Yeah,” I say slowly. “Me kickin’ ass.”
“That’s my girl. But anyway, you missed your chance.”
I look him a question.
“Cause it ain’t ever gonna be over, baby. You’re mine. Jimmy’s mine. I might not have what you need now, but I’m gonna get it.”
“What do you mean?” Until this moment, it never occurred to me that beautiful, sexy, gainfully employed Charge Denney might think he didn’t have what we need.
I mean, damn, he bought me a car.
“We’re buildin’ an addition to Pops’ house. A room for Jimmy. A bigger one for us. Add an accessible bathroom to Pops’ room. That’ll leave a third room for the future. Figure the part of town is rough, but Jimmy loves the river. Gonna convince Irvin Gunder-what-the-fuck-ever to sell your building to Steel Bones, rent it out to some of our girls from The White Van. Class up our part of the neighborhood. Heavy’s already on board.”
“Isn’t The White Van a strip club?” I whisper, in case Jimmy’s not all the way asleep.
“Yeah.” Charge grins. “A classy one. The girls are clean. Sweet, too. They’ll look out for Pops when we’re not around.”
“Where will we be?”
“I don’t know. Some boat. Somewhere.”
“Fishing?” Jimmy’s drowsy voice pipes up from the back.
“Yeah, little man. Fishin’.”
✽✽✽
When we get home, I rouse Jimmy back up and head for the stairs to our place. Charge grabs my hand, tugs me toward Pops’ instead.
“Not tonight. The sofa’s a pull-out. Jimmy can sleep there. You’re sleepin’ in my bed.”
“Your bed?”
“Yeah. Still maybe got Star Wars sheets from when I was a kid, but there’s room for a li’l peach next to me.”
“But…” I nod at Jimmy.
“My woman and my kid ain’t sleepin’ another night under a different roof.”
“But it’s not, you know…appropriate.”
Charge shakes his head. “Mamas and Daddies share bedrooms, Kayla. That’s normal as shit.”
I don’t know why I’m arguing. My whole body wants to curl up on Pops’ couch, feet in Charge’s lap, while Jimmy plays Legos on the carpet. It’s my brain that’s slow to come along.
Jimmy’s already up on Pops’ porch, gazing back at me expectantly.
“Come on, Mama. Sleep over.”
“You trust me, remember?” Charge cups my neck with his big palm, nudges me forward.
“I trust you.”
“You just gonna have to
come to understand that we’re a family now. I’m Papa Bear. You Mama Bear. Mama Bear does what Papa Bear says. An’ she best git inside an’ git me a beer.”
“Oh, yeah?”
Charge’s voice has gotten gravelly, and it’s doing something to my insides.
He growls, soft and playful. Lunges, snaps his teeth, and slaps my ass. I shriek and hurry up the stairs. “I’m going. I’m going!”
Later that night, after we order pizza, and after we have a long, teary talk with Jimmy about Cal Porter and smack-talking and keeping your temper, and after I nod off on the sofa while Pops and Jimmy watch Spaceballs while Charge goes to my place to get pajamas and toothbrushes…after that we tuck an exhausted, smiling Jimmy into bed. Charge leads me to his old bedroom, posters of Mustangs and motorcycles still hanging on the wall, and a set of dumbbells in the corner.
It smells like decades-old Axe body spray and fresh cotton sheets.
“This where the magic happened?”
Charge grins at me while he sits on the edge of the bed to unlace his boots. The sheets aren’t Star Wars. They’re dark green plaid. Faded from washing, but clean.
“Nah. Didn’t bring girls here. When I was a young buck, I was more the climb-in-her-bedroom-window type. Once I prospected, the clubhouse was always closer.”
I close the door, lean back against it, and it strikes me.
This man is beautiful.
I’m still in my work clothes, clutching my pajamas—a tank top and boy shorts—to my chest. I can’t wait to get out of these khakis, but I wait. And watch.
Charge is so big on that bed. After kicking off his boots and peeling of his socks, he unbuttons the flannel he’s wearing, shrugs it off his broad shoulders. The straps of his undershirt rest in the divot at the top of his delts. He’s so cut, when he moves to take off his watch, little muscles jump and ripple.
I can’t believe this man is mine.
This is my life. Kayla Marie Tunstall. The girl who gets dealt a crap hand every time.
I freakin’ won the man lottery. A hunger begins to gnaw in my belly.
“You gonna stand there all night?” Charge grins.
“Maybe,” I say. And then, I don’t know where it comes from, maybe the leftover adrenaline from the day, but the devil gets in me.
I grab the hem of my ugly, red General Goods shirt over my head and pull it off, tossing it to the floor. Then I tug the scrunchie from my hair and shake it out like a lady in a shampoo commercial.
“Yeah?” Charge’s grin grows impossibly wider. “That’s how we’re gonna play it tonight?”
I shiver. I’ve never stripped for him before, and it’s chilly in here. But the way his blue eyes are eating me up? It’s hot, too.
I take tiny, deliberate steps across the room to the bed, and I stop about a foot from him, standing not quite between his knees
“What else you got, Peaches?”
I crinkle my nose like I’m thinking, and then I reach behind and unclasp my bra, letting it fall down my arms. The chill air puckers my already hard nipples, and Charge groans, reaching for me.
“Uh, uh, uh.” I hold up a finger. “I’m not done yet.”
“All right, Peaches. Whatever you say.”
“Yeah. Whatever I say.” The thrum between my legs turns into a throb.
Charge leans back on his hands, grinning like the cat who ate the canary, and for once, I’m not trying to hold in my stomach or twist a little to the side to narrow my profile. I just want to wipe that smile off my man’s face and make him go absolutely crazy.
I know I can, and the idea makes me punch drunk.
I pop a button, lower a zipper, and kick off my pants.
“You gonna show me, baby?” There’s an edge to Charge’s voice now. He’s not smiling so much.
“When I’m ready.”
“Okay, baby. You’re in charge.”
I am. And for a second, a cold wind from the past sends goosebumps down my arms, but it’s not strong enough to dampen the heat that Charge’s gaze is stoking in my core.
I hook my thumbs in my panties, and I slowly slide them down, stepping out of them. Charge holds out a hand. I pause. Make him wait. Then I drop them into his waiting palm. His fingers close them in his fist.
“Oh, Lord, baby. They’re soaking. You wet for me?” His voice is an octave deeper now, at least. Nothing’s funny now.
“You want to see?” I don’t know where this is coming from, and it doesn’t feel quite like me, but I can’t stop. I’m riding a wave, and it feels amazing.
“Hell, yeah.”
I think a beat, and then I lift a leg and prop it on Charge’s thigh, opening myself to him. He could reach me if he wanted, but he keeps his palms flat on the bed and caresses me with his eyes. The blue is dark now, and it’s like he can’t settle on where to look: my face, my breasts, my pussy.
I slip my hand between my legs and part my lips for him, so he can see what he does to me.
He moans. A full-out, tormented moan. “Oh, let me touch, baby. Please.”
I shake my head no, and he groans.
“Then you touch it, baby. Run your fingers over that sweet clit and give me a taste. Come on.” He’s almost panting.
So am I.
“I do what I want,” I say.
“Come on, Peaches. Please.”
So I take pity on him. And myself. I swipe my fingers through my cream, sending delicious little spasms zinging through my belly, and as soon as I lift my hand, he’s taking each finger in his mouth, sucking them clean, pulling me to straddle him with one hand while he unbuttons his jeans with the other.
“You like teasin’ me, Peaches?” he murmurs, fevered, while he adjusts me over his angry red cock which strains toward me as if it has a mind of its own.
“Yeah.” I giggle. “I guess so.”
“You guess so,” he mutters, thrusting up at the same moment I sink down, allowing him in all the way to the root, steadying myself with a hand on his shoulder while I exhale to take every last hot inch.
It feels so good.
And that’s before he leans over and takes one of my stiff nipples in his mouth. His beard rasps the sensitive skin, and he uses his tongue, laving, and his teeth, scraping lightly as he sucks. I’m so wet now it makes a slurping sound when he strokes into me, over and over. I’m going to fly apart.
He takes a break, moves to my other nipple.
“Lift it for me, baby. Offer it to me.”
I do, not sure exactly when he took charge, but not caring either, and he licks and sucks, squeezing me, and I’m so tender and swollen, I arch my back, trying to get away or get more, I’m not even sure myself. The coil in my belly is getting tighter and tighter.
Charge strums my other nipple with his calloused thumb, letting go of the one in his mouth with a pop. He leans forward, rests his forehead on mine, and rocks into me slower and slower until he has my full, undivided attention.
“Not now, but when you’re ready, I’m gonna put a baby in your belly,” he says. “A little brother or sister for Jimmy. And these tits are gonna swell up so fuckin’ pretty.”
He obviously doesn’t know what happens to boobs when you’re pregnant. But the idea of a baby? One day?
It makes me feel raw. But good. Like how a spring day is raw. Looking forward when you’ve been just getting by…it’s a hopeful feeling, but there’s hurt in it, too. Sadness for the past that can’t be changed.
Charge notices that I’ve lost focus so he strokes harder, gripping my hips so there’s no give, no space between us when he’s all the way inside me. I had been so close, but the orgasm’s danced off now, and I groan in frustration.
“Where’d you go, baby? Come back here. With me.” He takes my chin and lifts it for a kiss. A soft one, despite his bristly beard.
I reach up, ring my arms around his neck.
“Hold on, baby. Okay?”
“Okay,” I moan into his shoulder, and he does this thing…he lifts himself fro
m the bed, half bounces me, filling me deeper than ever, and he turns to lay me on my back on the bed. I hook my legs around him, and he rocks, then thrusts, slow and steady, as if he has nowhere else to ever be. I’m just hanging on for the slow, sweet ride.
He uses his free hand to brush a piece of hair from my eyes, and he drops kiss after kiss on my forehead, my nose.
He moves a hand to push my knee higher so he can hit deeper, so deep inside me that there’s a twinge of pain and the hunger-stoking sensation of him nailing that spot, and he knows it, so he goes to work, slamming it over and over until a wet, hot gush of fluids soaks his cock and trickles down between my ass cheeks, pooling on the sheets.
“That’s it baby. Squirt all over me. You know how I love it when you get me all wet.”
Even though I’ve flooded the bed, he’s not stopping, going double-time instead, murmuring encouragement. “Now cum on my cock, baby. Let go. Let go.”
I’m crying, moaning into his chest. I have enough brain still working to know I can’t make too much noise, but it’s hard. I’m so close, I’ve been close for hours now, and I want it so bad, I’m desperate.
“Charge,” I whine. “It’s so close.”
He slips a hand between us and goes for my clit, circling the edges with the light touch he’s learned I like.
“I got you, baby,” he murmurs in my ear, and then the orgasm is right there, and all I need is Charge, whispering, “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful when you cum for me. My pretty peach. I’m gonna make you feel good every night, baby. Just like this. Just like this.”
He cums, hard, his body seizing, muscles bunching, and I can feel a rush of hot wetness fill me up while my insides clench and flutter, my own orgasm racing through me, cresting in waves one bigger than the next, making me gasp for air.
After, he props me in a chair while he changes the sheets. Then he sneaks out to the bathroom in his boxers to bring me a warm washcloth. He sinks to his knees in front of me, props a leg on his shoulder, and with gentle swipes, cleans between my legs.
I don’t have the strength to be embarrassed.
He bends over and plants a kiss in the curls above my slit.
“Next, I’m gonna taste this peach again.”
Charge: A Steel Bones Motorcycle Club Romance Page 21
