by J. C. Allen
He blinked up at me and wiggled out of my arm. I let him go as he feigned a frown up at me.
And, once again, he said something that just floored me. Eventually, I thought I would get used to it, but that seemed less and less likely with every passing moment.
“Why can’t you two just get married so you can be my dad? I guess if you don’t want to, you don’t have to. But I thought we had fun together, and you can teach me more building things.”
Michael was so damn honest, and it reminded me of what Ella had said about him. It hurt me that he missed out on so much.
“I don’t have to marry your Mom to be your dad, kid. But—those kids at school can piss off because you’re not a test tube baby. You have a dad.”
I swallowed hard and internally cursed Ella for making me do this alone, but I understood why she did. No matter how uncomfortable this makes me feel.
“How do you know?”
I chuckled and scratched at my face as it grows hot.
“Cause…look, a lot of stuff happened between your mom and I.”
I wanted to tell him in a way that didn’t paint me as the bad guy… but I couldn’t exactly tell him the whole truth.
“And it made us… have to separate. I didn’t know—I’m your dad, Michael. I’m sorry that I haven’t been here.”
I didn’t realize my palms were sweaty, getting nervous over a kid. But he wasn’t just any kid. He was my son.
“I guess I can forgive you,” Michael said, grinning and hugging me.
I hugged him back. He relaxed against me. I wished that I got to hold him like this every day and that I didn’t miss out on so much with him.
“Let’s go find Mommy and Grace, I bet they’re gossiping.”
Ella gave me a whole box of pictures to look over. It brought back so many memories from high school.
We took a lot of pictures back then because she had a Polaroid camera that she loved to use every chance she could get. In a more secure box were some of our raunchier pictures that made even me blush just looking at them.
She had taken pictures of herself during her pregnancy, showing how her belly grew and grew almost every day. In some of them she wasn’t alone; she was with her mom or Grace.
It finally got to when Michael was born. The hospital looked well equipped, but what caught my eye—and hurt like hell—was how alone she was.
There were close up pictures of her doing skin on skin with Michael; seeing her have so much love in her eyes made me swell with emotion again, even the one of her breastfeeding for the first time. There were a few that looked like it was a rough process for the both of them. Then there were nursery pictures and ones of Michael as he grew up. A first day of school one, Christmas and Thanksgiving, and other little holidays all adorned the album.
I made it through all of them and wished I was still there with her.
But I couldn’t stay over that night, even though I had told Michael about us, as I reluctantly had to leave. I felt like I had left her unprotected, but after she told me about the whole gun thing, I was not as worried. I was still worried a little, but not nearly as much. Besides, her uncle and father—I presumed—had no intention of hurting her, only me. So the farther I was from her, the better.
As much as it hurts my heart.
I talked with Jaxson briefly before I go to bed and we agreed that we needed to meet and talk. I had been working on their house while I wasn’t at Ella’s, so we agreed to meet there.
I dressed in old jeans and a tee shirt to meet Jaxson at the house. He picked a place close to the club and farther from mom’s, but everything was a relative distance here because it was such a small town.
“You look like you’ve had better days.”
Jaxson was already here, leaning on his bike. He had his black shirt and jean combo on with his cut leaning on the bike. He looked much more casual than what we were going to be talking about.
“I didn’t sleep very well.”
He arched his brow as I shook his hand and swung my arm around to greet him.
“Oh yeah?” he said. “And who might be the cause of that?”
I rolled my eyes at him.
“Yeah I was with Ella,” I said before gulping. “But I also told Michael that I’m his dad.”
“No shit. How did that go?”
I sighed, smiling at the memory. “
Pretty good, actually. He’s a smart kid.”
“Must get it from Ella.”
I punched his shoulder, even though I agreed with him, and he laughed. I grabbed two protein shakes from the mini fridge and handed him one.
“Whatever man.”
I leaned on the desk as he sat on the stacked box, just trying to relax a bit.
“When do we all get to meet him?”
“I don’t know. He seems like one of those kids that don’t like crowds.”
“Like you?”
I am his father, after all.
“Sure.”
“Okay well… mom won’t like that.”
I cursed, almost forgetting about telling her. If there was one person who wouldn’t take kindly to not having found out about this—or confirming it, knowing what she suspected—it was Mom.
“Of course Mom can meet him. Every kid deserves a grandma that makes him cookies and spoils him.”
Jaxson snorted.
“Yeah, especially an Irish one. He’ll be having beer for breakfast by the time he’s fourteen.”
“You know mom never even agreed with that,” I said with a laugh.
“Well, we can spoil him then. How young is too young to ride a bike?”
I glared at him. I’d get him a bit into the club lifestyle, but the guy could barely ride a tricycle, let alone a motorcycle.
“No way.”
But Jaxson just laughed.
“What? Just because you can’t ride a bike doesn’t mean he has to suffer.”
“I can ride a fucking bike, I choose not to.”
“Whatever, you held the whole parade up yesterday—”
He couldn’t even get through it because he was laughing too much. Admittedly, this was getting to me—I was a club member, and just because I had not ridden a bike in some time didn’t mean I was any less of a member.
“Jesus H, are you done?”
He nodded with a smile, but knew better than to push the issue.
“How is Ella? You know, after everything.”
Smart to change the subject.
“As good as she can be, I think.”
I called her before I went to sleep, just to hear her voice before I dozed off. She seems to be okay, but I knew it was hard for her to journey back into the past and recount all those details. She only did it for me, and I didn’t know how to thank her. I just know that I needed it.
“Good. You should bring her by the club, help her let loose.”
Now that’s an image they’d all love to see.
“Yeah, maybe.”
“Anyways, thought you should know. The sheriff has extra patrol on the town lines. And he basically gave us free reign, if it ever comes to the club.”
I nodded.
“Good. We’re going to need it with what might be around now.”
“Simon… you might just kill me.”
Ella kissed my shoulder before I rolled off her.
“I could say the same baby,” I said. “You know, there’s something I’ve been meaning to say for some time.”
“What?” she said, nervously.
But I just laughed.
“I have to take you on real date.”
12
Rosella
Seeing Michael and Simon bond was the best thing to ever come out of this.
It made me forget all the bad things looming around, all the bad things that could happen. Michael wasn’t angry or upset. Somehow, he was very forgiving about the whole thing. He was old enough to know the difference and old enough to know that something was kept from him.
&n
bsp; If I had been eight years old and found out things were being kept a secret from me… well, in my family, I probably would have been relieved, to be totally honest. But in a normal family, I know I would’ve been pissed off. I would have lost trust in my parents and any siblings I would have had.
But he didn’t throw a fit about it. Michael was a better child than I ever had been or ever could be, and I was forever grateful that he was a good boy. If he was a trouble child or even just twenty percent more difficult than he was, I don’t know how I would’ve handled him.
For the next several days, Simon would come over and work on the house then have dinner with us. Michael was more than happy to talk to him. They talked about everything from construction work to cars to Michael’s favorite subject in school. I could tell that Simon wasn’t always in the mood to talk—even with his good days, he was still on the side of introverted than not—but I always appreciated how easily the two engaged.
Even Simon took to him easily, and I thought it was just because of how simple Michael is. Funny and sweet, just like his dad.
I couldn’t even begin to express how happy I was that Simon finally had a proper male figure in his life. God knew it wasn’t going to be his father or his uncle, and there really wasn’t anyone else who would have consistently made the appearance in his life to make a difference. It was a true gift to have Simon around, not just because he was a father figure but because he was a great father figure.
It was only helping things that he was making our house turn from a horror movie into a real home. I never thought I would have real hardwood floors of my own or wooden banisters and crown molding, but he did all that, all while building a house for Jaxson and Isabelle. Bit by bit, my home was beginning to feel more like a home and less like a run-down shack I’d gotten for cheap on the market. I had no delusions about being in a mansion or anything like that, but still.
And through it all, Simon pretty much did it without complaining. Like anyone else, he had the occasional bad day where I let him have his space, but for the most part, he came in with a cheerful attitude, a smirk on his face, and the muscles that made me crave him.
God, how I craved him. How I needed him. How I desperately wanted him inside of me pretty much every waking hour.
It was a small miracle that we hadn’t marked every spot in the house with sex stains.
On this day, though, I just had to have some alone time with my man. I loved Michael even more than Simon, but it was a different kind of love, and I needed to get it on with the pleasurable kind of love.
That was, after we tried to develop actual, normal love between us.
“Please don’t let him stay up past his bed time, he gets really cranky in the mornings,” I said to Grace.
We needed time to reconnect without having to watch Michael. Sure, the sex was great, but it would always be. There was a lot I felt like I had missed out on and that we needed to talk to each other about.
We couldn’t exactly do that while we were playing house. We couldn’t do that with Michael around, either. We needed to be completely alone.
“I won’t. Promise. Where are you guys going, anyways?”
I finished glossing my lips and then brushing down my hair. Sometimes, it couldn’t figure out if it wanted to be wavy or straight, and I didn’t know how to actually tame it. I just put mouse on it and let it be.
The long waves complimented my dark green olive halter top. I put a denim jacket on over it because of the wind chill. We had to take his bike to avoid him showing up in a truck, apparently a massive faux paus for a club member. Not like I mind. There is just something about a powerful man handling such a dangerous machine.
“Dinner and then to the club.”
After a little more conversation with her, I met Michael in the living room where he was watching television in his orange pajama bottoms. Simon had stopped wearing his shirt around when he worked, so Michael had been following his lead lately. It was quite cute watching them become even more alike every day, although hopefully Michael didn’t follow all of Simon’s bad habits—I didn’t want my son to be the wild player when he hit puberty.
“Bye bub, be good for Aunt Grace.”
I kissed his head and ruffled his hair.
“Yeah, yeah.”
Simon knocked, and I headed over to let him in. His jeans were a darker denim, tight in all the right places, with chains hanging from the side of his black boots. The dark tee shirt he had on was black and form fitting. I could make out the definitions of each ridge of his abs. And then his leather jacket, bleak under the moonlight, was darker than black and fitting him perfectly.
I licked my lips, nearly salivating at the sight of him. I got to his face and was pleased to find his full lips curled up in a grin, his jaw taut and eyes poised right on me.
It occurred to me as I approached that we had a really bad tendency to say that we were going to have serious conversation, that we were going to engage in adult topics, and that we were going to be mature adults… only for us to fall apart at the sight of each other, devolve into a hot mess, and just screw like bunnies.
But, come on, was that really the worst thing in the world?
“You look hot, babe.”
The brogue of his voice ran right to my core. I cleared my throat and stepped outside before I jumped his bones right there. But it only brought me closer to him, my breasts hitting his chest, the heat of his body reaching out for me. Yeah, this deep conversation stuff… It’s not happening for a bit at this rate.
“You don’t look too bad either,” I said.
He licked his lips in an effortlessly sexy way, looking me over with his dark eyes once again. Then he pulled me into a rough, quick kiss. His lips met mine, and his tongue swirled over me as his big, warm hands hold me in place at my hips. Fucking perfect.
Absolutely fucking perfect.
My arms went around his neck as I stood on my tip toes. His taste swarmed my mouth with his rough, piney scent.
“Jesus,” Simon said, more than a little taken aback by my lust for him. “We better go before we don’t make it out of here at all.”
I wiped at the edges of my lips to fix my gloss as he does the same.
“Let’s go. Otherwise, we’re never getting out of here.”
I wouldn’t have hated that, to be honest.
I felt like I had gone through a time machine, truly. The inside of the club looked exactly the same, if not better. There were huge, tattooed guys with leather jackets and beers and women on their lap.
It was funny how I could tell who came with a woman and who was just being propositioned by them. Simon held me close as we made it to the bar, as if to emphasize that no one but him was going near me. That was perfectly fine by me. It went without saying that I wasn’t looking to get passed around, and I didn’t think Simon had any interest in looking elsewhere either. He might have turned his gaze here and there, but it was never for anything that he looked at like he looked at me.
I found Zeke there, familiar as ever with his permanent grin and boyish attitude, passing out beers and drinks and throwing cash in the drawer like it was nothing. He came over to us as he flipped Jaxson off for some boy stuff. It was so typical of the guys that I couldn’t help and laugh at what I saw as stereotypical behavior—enjoyable stereotypical behavior.
“Oh look, it’s the rents!” he said, extending his arms and smiling at us both.
I glanced up at Simon, who only shrugged. Like parents? Because have you seen us recently, Zeke? We’re the furthest thing from adults right now?
“Fuck off,” Simon said as he slid him cash for two beers.
Even his arms, when he moves cash forward… I swore I couldn’t be around Simon without going out of my mind with desire. He must have picked up on it, too, because at one point, after drinking for a little bit, he asked me to follow him to a booth with a smirk on his face.
I knew something was up, but I couldn’t quite place it. He hadn’t looke
d over at the room where we’d had sex before; if something dirty was going to happen, I feel like it would have happened in there. Maybe he was going to talk so dirty to me that it would have been as if he was trying to make me come from his words only?
OK, admittedly, that seemed a little far-fetched. Simon was many things, but a linguist he was not. His dirty talk was not especially poetic.
But with him, it didn’t need to be. He was just so refined physically that it didn’t matter as much what his mind had.
I sat in the booth next to him, giving him a look as he told me to come closer. We now had a table between us and the rest of the bar—what was he…
Then I felt his fingers slide to my hips and my groin.
“Simon…” I said. “What are you doing?”
He didn’t answer. He just smirked at me as his fingers then slid up my skirt, moved my underwear aside, and went inside of me.
I had to fight so damn hard, at first, not to make any sort of expression that gave away that I was getting blasted under the table. But the problem with that was that it was turning into a losing battle; Simon’s fingers were moving inside me so well and making my body tremble so much that it was a battle I was not going to win. I eventually resorted to just putting my head on the table, trying to look like I was tired.
Two problems with that. One, Simon wasn’t trying to be subtle; he wasn’t trying to show off, per se, but he wasn’t caring if others noticed. And two, though I thought I was doing a decent job hiding my face, my groans and moans were getting so loud, there was little to no doubt that other people were noticing.
And sure enough, it only took him but a minute or two before I came into him.
It was so easy for him to just sit there hard and straining against his pants as he watched me come from carefully fingering me in the booth. I had to fight so hard not to make it too public that I was coming, but in this place, then again, no one probably gave a shit.
The music blared in the background, as did glasses clinking and chairs scraping the floors. It was a loud place, but I could still hear Simon talk to me.
