by Amy Davies
Jodie
Today is the day I get to meet Stefan Bryant. He sent me an email confirming his session. To be honest, after having no communication with him since he sent me his medical notes, I didn’t think he would keep to his appointment. But here we are.
Tucker has a day off school as he wasn’t feeling well when he went to bed last night, suffering from stomach cramps and a high temperature. He seems a little better this morning and managed to eat some breakfast, but he’s still running a high temperature.
Finishing up my makeup, I run a brush through my hair once more and make sure I look presentable. My cheeks are a little rosy today and my eyes seem brighter. I’m not sure if it has anything to do with the ex-soldier now biker I am about to treat, but damn, I am glowing. From how Preach described Stefan to me, he seems like the type of guy I would go for.
I love my dark pixie cut hair. I used to have hair down my back, but then Tucker arrived, and it took too long to dry and style, so I cut it.
I make my way to the kitchen. My house is single story, with three bedrooms, two baths and an open plan living room and kitchen. The back wall is half windows, letting in a load of natural light, which is amazing here in Fort Lauderdale. The white walls and furnishings were a selling point for me. I love clean-cut living.
“How you feeling, kid?” I ask Tuck, feeling his forehead, checking his temperature. Pulling open the fridge, I grab the carton of orange juice and pour him a glass. He may not be eating much but he needs fluids and vitamin C.
“Tired. I’m glad I’m not going to school today. I’m going to camp on the sofa and watch movies all day. Pacific Rim one and two is on, so I’ll start with them.”
“Good choice. You can’t go wrong with a bit of Charlie Hunnam and Scott Eastwood.” I wink at him and make myself a cup of coffee. He gives me a gentle smile and stands to leave the kitchen, but the doorbell rings. He gets to it before me.
“Hey, little man. Is your mom around?” comes the sexiest voice I have ever heard. Deep and smooth like melted chocolate. My body shivers as the sound washes over me. Damn, what is wrong with me? Okay, it may be to do with the fact that I haven’t had sex with an actual man in over three years, but my vibrator has been a satisfactory replacement.
“Umm, yeah. Moooom,” Tuck calls. I shake myself out of my stupor, place my mug on the kitchen unit, and make my way to the front door. I quickly rub my hands over my thighs to dry the sweat that has decided to appear.
Why am I so nervous? Oh yeah, because he is a freaking biker. If ‘Sons of Anarchy’ is anything to go by, he is going to be hot as hell and carrying a huge chip on his shoulder.
As I round the corner, my steps falter when I see him. Stefan Bryant.
Over six feet of pure, sexy manliness. Short dirty blond hair with the facial hair to match, which frames his perfect, kissable lips. Damn. His piercing blue eyes seem soulful. He has a nose stud in one side of his nose and a small gold hoop in the other.
Why does that add to his sexiness?
He has a full sleeve of tattoos with images of flowers, skulls, and tribal markings. A thick silver ring adorns his right thumb and a twisted silver ring decorates left index finger, which again adds to his sexiness. I have never been one to like tattoos nor been a fan of men wearing jewelry outside of their wedding ring, but on Stefan it looks hot.
He brings his gaze to mine and it’s like the air has been sucked right out of my lungs. I cough when my body protests at the lack of oxygen and he smirks at me. Yeah, he knows I like what I see. Hell, I bet he knows the effect he has on all women in his vicinity.
He’s wearing a sleeveless workout top, a pair of basketball shorts and running shoes. I can only imagine what he looks like underneath the clothes. Shaking my head at the thought, I clear my throat.
“Mr. Bryant, I presume,” I enquire, moving in front of Tuck, who looks between me and Mr. Bryant. I look down at my son and nod in the direction of the living room. He huffs and walks way.
“Indeed, but you can call me Opal. My grandfather was Mr. Bryant.” He holds his hand out for me to shake, so I do. I am not the kind of woman that cowers away from a man, but I am very cautious of men I don’t know. Still, Preach vouched for this man, so that means something to me.
“Opal?” I ask. He nods.
“It’s my road-name at the club. I can assume that Preach told you who I am.” I nod. “Good. So, are we going to get this started? I’d really like to ride my bike sooner rather than later.”
“Of course. If you’d like to take the path down the side of the house, I will meet you at the pool house and join you as soon as I sort my son out.” I give him a polite smile and watch as he limps around the side of the house.
Closing the door, I walk over to Tuck and put my hands on my hips. Dragging his eyes from the TV, he looks up at me and gives me a bright smile, putting on an innocent look.
“How many times have I told you not to answer the door without me checking first?” I scold him.
He looks down at his hands, having the decency to look ashamed, because he knows he has done wrong. He brings his gaze back up to mine before he answers.
“I’m sorry. I was just trying to help, that’s all. I know you’re tired because you were looking after me all night.” He sighs and my heart melts for this kid. Leaning over, I ruffle his hair and give him a smile.
“Okay, now you know once more. It’s my job to look after you, okay? Please don’t open the door again. Now, you know where I am. I will leave the door open. But please, and I mean this, Tucker Marian Simms, do not come into the medical room without knocking first,” I tell him firmly.
He rolls his eyes, like he’s tired of hearing me say the same thing over and over again, but I need to drum this into him. I can’t have him walking into the medical room when I have a soldier in there, swearing like a sailor and angry at feeling weak.
“I promise, Mom.” I kiss his head, leaving him to his cartoons. I smile when I hear his giggles as I leave the house. He is such a happy kid; laid back and never letting things get him down.
I step out into the day’s sun, loving the feel of the heat on my skin. I have always been a summer baby and hate the winter, so moving here added points to the good choice pile.
I push open the door to the pool house and what greets me has every cell in my body firing. Heat creeps all over my body, and I can guarantee my cheeks are flushed.
Opal is laying on the bed with his arm over his head, and he is shirtless. His shorts hang very low on his abdomen. His skin looks sun-kissed, the black and grey tattoos on his arm popping against his tanned skin. I lick my lips, enjoying the view of his smooth skin, the way his chest rises and falls with each breath. A sparkle catches my eye, and I squint to see what it is. My breath hitches when I see both of his nipples are pierced.
The natural light coming from the skylight bounces off his tight abs and those perfect oblique muscles ladies love.
“Enjoying the view, sweetheart?” His voice jars me out of my ogling and I almost let out a squeal. Clearing my throat, I step over to my desk and pull open Opal’s file again to give it a once over.
Letting out a huff, I cross the room and take a seat on the stool next to the bed, flipping open his file. I run my gaze over the words but don’t actually take in the information. Not that I haven’t read over it before today. I’ve had a few weeks of getting ready for the man, but now that he is physically here, my mind has gone blank.
We sit in silence for a few more minutes, but I can feel his gaze on me, burning a hole in the side of my head. My cheeks heat up and my body reacts, feeling slightly buzzed.
Satisfied that I know what Opal needs, I close the file and look at him. He has shifted on the bed, now leaning up on his elbow, which has made his biceps bulge more, if that’s possible. His shoulders look more defined. Damn, this man is built.
He clears his throat and my gaze snaps up to his. The smirk he’s wearing lets me know that he caught me checking him out, but I
have to admit, he is worth getting caught.
“Okay, so how have you been feeling since you got the cast off?” I ask, closing the distance between us.
His piercings catch my eye again, and I shake my head and move to the bottom of the bed, to the injured ankle. I hear him chuckle and look up at him. He smiles at me, and the smile is enough to have me stripping naked, lying on my back like a dog in heat and begging him to fuck me.
Oh, good Lord, where did that come from?
“It’s been alright. Aches a little but that’s expected. So, what do we do to get me back on my bike, Doc?”
His voice is gravelly, and it makes my body shiver. My nipples pebble beneath my padded bra, and I thank God for the extra padding. I bring my hands up and rub them together to make sure they aren’t cold; I have always had cold hands.
Cold hands, warm heart, my mother has always told me.
Sucking in a deep breath, I prepare myself to touch Opal for the first time. Bringing my gaze back up to his, I’m surprised to see him assessing me. A smile breaks across his face when our gazes connect, and my heart skips a beat. Flipping hell, this man…
“Go ahead, Doc, put your hands on me. You know you want to,” he taunts, knowing full well that I have to touch him.
Pulling my big girl panties up, I grip his foot, running my finger over the scar. It measures about five inches long and looks clean and healed. It’s still slightly pink from the surgery, but the skin is looking healthy.
This time he shivers from my touch, but at least his shiver is from my physical contact, I reacted to just his voice. I can only imagine what his bedroom voice sounds like. No doubt it drops a few octaves, sending women to their knees.
I clear my throat and get back to inspecting his injury. I know Opal needed pins and quite a few stitches. Preach told me that Opal was run off his bike by someone out for his club, the Rugged Skulls MC. From what I’ve heard about them, apparently, they are good guys, until you cross them.
Preach also told me that Opal is definitely one of the good guys. He served a few tours with him after I left and took a different path. I was also told that Opal is single but loves the ladies, and that I should be careful with him. I’m not sure if that was Preach’s warning for me, or whether he was warning me away because he wants me. He’s made a few hints over the years, and now that I’m not with Roy, he would gladly take his place. Even though I love Preacher, I have never thought of him that way, and I’ve told him that. I am not one for games. I had enough of that with Roy.
“I hope you’re ready, Opal, because I want to see if I can make biker cry.”
His eyes widen a fraction before he gives me cocky smile.
“Bring it, baby.”
Oh, I’ll bring it.
Five
Opal
Holy fucking shit, this woman is hot but a fucking specialist in torture. My ankle is killing me, but I’m gritting my teeth and taking it. I know she’s only doing her job but damn.
“How does that feel?” she asks in her polite doctor voice.
“Fine,” I answer as she flexes my ankle again. Fuck! I swear I hear the bones break again.
She rotates my ankle, applying pressure to the heel, causing me to hiss again. My ankle is moved left and right, stretched forward and pushed back. Every movement makes my body tighten. I know this needs to be done, that it’s the best thing for me, but my body isn’t on the same page as my brain.
Looking down at her, she offers me a smile, but I can’t find it in me to return one, so I lie my head back down and look up at the off-white ceiling.
I think back to when I saw her standing in the doorway to her main house, the way my heart stuttered in my chest. She was fucking beautiful and seeing her fierce Mama bear role had my body reacting in ways it shouldn’t, especially with her kid inches away.
I’m breathing heavily and sweat is pouring down my face, covering my entire body. Thank fuck I decided to wear my work out clothes.
“That’s good, Opal. Just a few more and then we can move on to the next exercise, okay.” I nod, not bothering to answer her.
The focus is on me to get fit enough to ride my bike without causing more damage to my ankle. You would think that even with an ankle injury you can ride a bike again, but man, you need to shift gears, and that causes the mechanism in the ankle to work. If they aren’t working right, then permanent damage is caused, and I don’t want that shit.
“Ouch! Fucking hell, Doc,” I growl.
Lifting my head, I look down the bed at her. The buttons are open on her polo shirt and it’s gaping open, giving me a glimpse of the fleshly tits she’s keeping hidden.
But right now, not even the sight of her creamy breasts is distracting me from the pure fucking agony she is making me endure. Motherfucker.
I hiss again and she smiles up at me, looking fucking pleased with herself. Shaking my head, I lie my head back down and squeeze my eyes closed. She runs her hands over my calf, massaging the muscle, then moves back down to my ankle, doing the same thing.
A moan escapes me at the amazing feeling of her hands on me, but that’s short-lived when she tightens her hand on the back of my Achilles. I snatch my foot out of her hold and sit up, my head swimming a little by the sudden movement.
“What the fuck, Doc? That hurt like hell. Jesus.” I swing my legs over the side of the bed and slide off before walking over to where my t-shirt and runners are.
“What are you doing?” she asks, looking stunned, resting her hands on her hips. Hips I want to grab as I plow into her, as her fleshy tits swing or bounce with each thrust.
“I’m done for today.” I rip my shirt over my head before sitting down and pulling on my shoes. My breathing is heavy from the exhausting session we just did, and I didn’t even do any fucking lifting or anything; it was all her. She flexed the fuck out of my ankle and calf.
“You’re going to quit, just like that? I didn’t peg you for a quitter, Opal,” she snarks at me, coming around the bed to stand in front of me.
My gaze slides up from her feet, over her shapely calves, thick thighs that… Nope. I shake my head again, not needing images of her wrapped around me.
Her hips are wide, and she has a flat stomach. You would never have guessed that she had a kid. Her tits are large and round and fleshy in that perfect fucking way I love.
I love tits, what can I say.
Her slender neck comes into view, her perfectly shaped jaw, then her lips; fuck me, her lips. Plump, sharp, and dark from the lipstick she’s wearing. Lips that would look beyond amazing wrapped around my shaft. Her pert nose suits her face and amber eyes.
Amber eyes that are scowling at me. But to be completely fucking honest, I couldn’t give two fucks right now. I just want to get back to the club, soak in a hot bath, and get Dezi to fuck me into a sleep-induced coma.
“Are you just going to ignore me, Stefan?” she asks, using my government name, and my cock likes it because that bastard perks up. Standing to full height, I expect her to step back, but she doesn’t. Clearly, she knows how to handle herself. Of course she does, she’s military.
“Got nothing to say, Jodie.” I step away from her and walk over to the door, picking up a bottle of water as I walk by. My heart is racing, and my body is throbbing in time with my heartbeat. Sweat covers my skin, making my clothes stick to me, and no doubt I stink to hell and back.
I grip the door handle and pull it open, but her voice stops me.
“Tough man, I see. I know men like you, Stefan. You always think you’re more together than you actually are. You were the one who wanted to get healed up enough to get back on your bike, but from what I can see, that bike of yours clearly isn’t as important as you want me to think.”
Her words hit me like a brick to the chest. I spin around and know I’m about to regret my next words, but my anger wins. She has pushed my buttons. The man about to unleash a verbal attack on her is not me; the pain has fogged up my head.
“You kn
ow fuck all about me, Jodie. Nothing. So why don’t you keep your fucking high horse opinions of me to yourself, yeah? Maybe look at your own life, see what you fucked up there. I mean, it’s obvious you don’t have a man if you’re this uptight and very fucking openly eye-fucking me. A fucking patient of yours, I might add. Think about that, Doc.”
With that, I step out, leaving a shocked but also a fearful-looking Jodie behind. That look alone almost has me going back in there and pulling her into my arms and kissing the hell out of her as my apology.
Stomping my way to my truck, I see her son sitting on the front porch, playing on an iPad. He looks up when he sees me and gives me a chin lift. Brave boy but a well-mannered one.
I never saw any evidence of a man living in the house. Makes me wonder if the dad is around. Is she a single mom?
“You watch over your mama, got it, kid,” I tell him, and he gives me a nod.
“Yes, sir.”
Giving him a chin lift back, I climb into my truck and drive back to the clubhouse. The entire way I stew over what I said to Jodie. Fuck, I was a douche to her. Shit. I turn the music up to drown out the voices in my head, mainly my own mama’s voice telling me that she would be disappointed in me for the way I just mistreated Jodie. Shit.
Pulling into the clubhouse compound, I look up at the Tower and smile at the history of this place. When the club wanted to add to it to house everyone, I was pleased that they kept all the original structure but added the basics to make it livable. The Tower is where Magnum stays when he’s had too much to drink or he wants to fuck Risky at any point during the day.
He actually owns a house at the back of the property. It is huge and only a stone’s throw away from my place. Each of us boys have a place back there, with a big firepit and structure that Lilly, Magnum’s mother, added. It has flowers and lights and shit. She said that the place needed a lady’s touch when we all get old ladies.
Shutting the truck off, I gingerly climb out, feeling every muscle and tendon in my ankle and calf pull tight. Jesus that Doc worked me over. Limping into the clubhouse, the music is playing and Risky is behind the bar, with Drix sitting in front of her, both talking in baby language.
