Sweet Dreams

by Kristen Ashley

  “No blood, no gore, Bub,” Tate commanded when Jonas was picking our viewing fodder.

  Tate was laid full out on the couch, his head on the headrest and I was tucked between him and the back of the couch, my head on his chest, his hand playing with my hair. We were on film number two and I was struggling to keep my eyes open. Therefore, I sleepily announced I was going to bed, pulled up Tate’s body, kissed his lips, climbed over him and off the couch and went to Jonas where I touched his hair and then I went to bed.

  The first time Sunny’s words woke me up, Tate wasn’t there. The second time, his big body was curled into mine. The third through fifth times, I was snuggled into his back.

  Which brought me to now, very awake in the dead of night and facing a nightshift the next day. I’d survive it, I had before, but it wouldn’t be fun.

  I rolled to my back and when I did, Tate rolled into me.

  His hand slid along my belly as his face buried itself in the hair at the side of my head.

  “You’re havin’ a rough night.” His voice was scratchy with sleep.

  “I’m okay.”

  His arm gave me a squeeze.

  “Had to send you in there, babe.”

  He meant to talk to Sunny.

  “I know,” I whispered.

  He was silent a moment then he said, “Knew it’d do this to you but had to send you in there.”

  “I know, Tate.”

  “I did it knowin’ she’d give it to you and it’d mark you.”

  “Tate –”

  “Also did it knowin’ I’d be here when you dealt with it.”

  I rolled into him, wrapped my arm around him and he pulled me close.

  “I know,” I repeated then whispered, “It’s okay, Tate.”

  He felt guilt, I knew he did. He didn’t like me losing sleep and he didn’t like knowing he did something to exacerbate that.

  But he had to do it, and so did I, we both knew it but these were the consequences. He was right, he was here to help me deal with it and I was right too, I had him with me so it would be okay.

  “Why didn’t you have kids?” he asked and I blinked at his change of subject before I realized he changed it to take my mind off Sunny.

  “Unconscious self-preservation,” I used his words and he chuckled, his hand sliding up my back and into my hair where his fingers started to play with it.

  “Knew, deep down, he was a dick,” he guessed.

  “Yes,” I answered.

  “Didn’t want to bring a kid into that,” he went on.

  I sighed then said, “Yeah, but I wanted kids, so did Brad. I put it off, made excuses and he didn’t push it. Then I felt him pull away, he didn’t talk about it anymore and I buried it.”

  “Regret it?”

  “Not having kids with Brad?”

  Tate amended my statement. “Not havin’ kids.”

  I thought about it and thinking about it made my stomach hurt.

  And that hurt sounded in my word when I said, “Yeah.”

  Tate’s hand cupped the back of my head and he tucked my face in his throat while he said, “Baby.”

  “It’s okay,” I whispered into his throat.

  “Right,” he replied and I knew he didn’t believe me. Then again, he was right not to believe me since I was lying.

  I changed the subject. “Tell me about your Dad.”

  “Show you,” he offered and I tipped my head back to look at him even though I couldn’t see him in the dark.

  “Show me?”

  I heard his head move on the pillow as he looked down at me.

  “Dad was big on video cameras, huge. Minute they were on the market, he bought one. The thing was mammoth, had to put it on his shoulder. It cost a fuckin’ fortune, but he got one. Traded up every time a new camera came out. He even did edits. Put shit to music. Was always fuckin’ around with it. My games. Parties. Holidays. Barbeques. When Wood and I went out on our bikes. Pop would get hold of the camera, Stella, Neet, Wood, me and we got footage of him. So, I’ll show you.”

  “He was a good guy,” I stated.

  “The best,” he replied.

  “Proud of you.”

  I felt his body go solid for a moment before he relaxed.

  “Yeah,” he whispered.

  “He still would be,” I told him.

  His body went solid again.

  “Babe –”

  “He would, Tate. You’re a good man, a good dad.”

  He didn’t respond and he kept quiet for so long, I let it go.

  Then he relaxed against me and the feel of his hard, big body, his warmth, his scent hit me as his hand lazily travelled the skin of my back.

  So my hand lazily travelled the skin of his side, his hip, then between us where my fingers wrapped around his cock and started stroking.

  A low, sexy noise came out of his throat and he did the impossible, his teeth found my bottom lip in the dark and nipped it.

  My legs moved restlessly as I felt a swell between them.

  I kept stroking.

  “Funny,” Tate muttered, his lips still so close to mine I could feel his escalating breath.

  “What?” I asked when he said no more.

  “When I played ball, at Penn State, one thing I liked about it, outside the game, it got me great pussy.”

  My fingers squeezed his cock as a startled giggle escaped my throat.

  “It got you great –?”

  His hips pressed into my hand and I started stroking again.

  “High-class college girls,” he said, his voice getting thick, “sorority.”

  He moved, his hands on me and his head so his lips were drifting light on the skin of my shoulder, my neck but he didn’t move in a way where I lost purchase on his cock. I knew what this meant so I kept stroking.

  “Sorority,” I whispered.

  “Oh yeah,” he whispered back, lips at my ear. “Liked that idea. Knew, when I made the pros, that was laid out before me.”

  “I might take that part back…” I stated, my hand stopping but not moving from its position, “about you being a good man.”

  His head came up and his hips pushed into my hand. “I was early twenties, Ace.”

  “Right,” I muttered.

  His hips thrust again and my hand started moving.

  “Knew I’d find one, though,” he whispered, his lips back to travelling my skin as he spoke. “With that amount of choice, I’d settle on a good one, gorgeous, sweet, high-class pussy in my bed every night, goin’ to my games, watchin’ me play, helpin’ me make babies and I could take care of her.”

  I liked what he was saying, my mind liked it and my body liked it so I started stroking faster.

  “Tate.”

  His mouth came to mine but he didn’t kiss me.

  Instead, he said, “Sucked when I lost that. I lost the game and I lost that future and that fucked with my head.”

  “Tate,” I breathed against his lips.

  “Came home, hooked up with Neet and knew that would be my life, Neet or someone like her and, havin’ that taste of the good life, knowin’ it was gone, that fuckin’ sucked.”

  “Honey –”

  “Didn’t have any fuckin’ clue, I waited twenty years, here I’d be, a gorgeous, sweet high-class piece in my bed givin’ me a hand job.”

  My heart stuttered, my breath caught, my nipples got hard and I felt a rush of wet between my legs.

  “I’m not a piece,” I told him, trying to sound offended but not really offended at all.

  His hips started moving with my hand.

  “Nope, babe, you’re a high-class piece.”

  I felt another rush between my legs and I pressed against him as I stroked harder.

  “That’s it, baby,” he muttered, his voice almost a groan.

  “This high-class piece is done giving you a hand job, Captain.”

  “No you aren’t,” he growled.

  My hand wrapped tight, I pressed even closer, I aim
ed with more hope than certainty and, luckily, my teeth succeeded in nipping his lip.

  Then I whispered, “She wants to give you a different kind of job, honey.”

  I felt his lips smile before his mouth took mine in a deep, hot kiss.

  He rolled to his back, pulling me on top of him and he stopped kissing me to invite on a murmur, “Knock yourself out, Ace.”

  I grinned in the dark. Then I took my time moving down his chest. Then I took my time doing other things to him.

  I’d stopped sucking and started licking when I heard Tate growl, “Stop fuckin’ around, babe.”

  “Mm,” I mumbled against the head of his cock and his hands, already in my hair to pull it away from my face, fisted.

  “Ace,” he called as I kept licking.

  I didn’t reply, I took him in my mouth, his hips bucked up, I pulled him deep, heard his groan and then slid him out and glided my tongue from tip to base.

  “Babe, seriously,” Tate warned.

  My hand was wrapped around him, holding him so my mouth could work him, I swirled the tip and then stated, “I’m enjoying myself.”

  “You’re makin’ a point,” he returned.

  I opened my mouth over him and sucked him deep again. His big hands cupped my head and held it down so I gave him what he wanted until I heard him groan again then I pulled him out.

  “Dammit, Laurie,” he growled.

  “Patience, Tate,” I told him but he was done.

  I knew this because he knifed up, I found my body pulled from between his legs and positioned at his side, my head still facing his lap. My knees were in the bed, he pushed them apart, yanked my panties down my behind and his hand was between my legs. He didn’t tease, he wasn’t playing, he was serious and it was my turn to groan, which I did, pushing my hips into his hand.

  “Suck me off, babe,” he demanded.

  “Okay, baby,” I gave in and immediately did as I was told.

  It took some concentrated effort, considering he was working me, fast and hard while I was working him, fast and hard. But he kept giving it to me while I gave it to him so I had to return the favor.

  Luckily, we both succeeded in bringing it home and it was unbelievably hot.

  Tate righted my panties on my hips and my body in his bed and threw the covers over me before he went to the bathroom to clean up. When he came back, he took me in his arms and held me close.

  Then he said, “We’ll talk about that shit in the morning.”

  He didn’t sound angry. He sounded tired, satisfied but mildly disgruntled.

  “What shit?” I asked, sounding much the same, except the disgruntled part.

  “I get to play, babe,” he answered and my head came up.

  “I don’t?”

  “Nope.”

  “Why?”

  “You just don’t.”

  I felt my chest seize and I whispered, “You didn’t like it?”

  His body went still a moment then he burst out laughing and rolled into me so he was mostly on me.

  “Tate –”

  He cut me off. “It seem like I didn’t like it?”

  “Well… no, you were, um… groaning and –”

  “Clue in, Laurie, I’m gonna tease you and I’m not just gonna tease you in bed.”

  “You were teasing?”

  “Partly, yeah,” he answered.

  “What’s the other part?”

  “No woman has taken that kinda time with me.”

  “So you liked it,” I stated hopefully.

  His lips touched mine then slid to my ear where he said, “Yeah, baby, I liked it. And you can do it again. But, I’m just sayin’, I like to be the one who plays.”

  “Oh… kay,” I said hesitantly because I didn’t get it.

  “I like making you catch fire,” he went on.

  “Okay.”

  “And I like control.”

  “Okay.”

  “And I don’t like losin’ it.”

  “So you didn’t like it.”

  “Babe, I liked it.”

  “But Tate, I don’t get it.”

  He rolled us to our sides again and stated decisively, “You will.”

  “I will?”

  “Once you come fully into your biker babe, Ace, you’ll get it.”

  I still didn’t get it but now he sounded amused so I knew he wasn’t angry and I was too sleepy to try.

  I snuggled into him and muttered, “Well, I liked it.”

  “I got that,” he muttered back.

  I felt my brows draw together, “You did?”

  “Babe, you were drippin’ wet when I got my hand between your legs.”

  “Oh.” Well that explained that.

  His hand slid into my hair and he gently ordered, “Sleep for me, Laurie.”

  “Okay, Tate.”

  “Sweet dreams, baby.”

  I closed my eyes and snuggled closer. “You too, Captain.”

  For some reason, his hand suddenly twisted in my hair, it didn’t hurt at all but there was something intense about it and my eyes opened.

  “You’ll have sweet dreams?” he asked quietly and sounding like he cared, a lot.

  God but I loved this man.

  I felt my mouth smile and I pressed even closer.

  “I’m a good girl, I always do what I’m told.”

  His hand left my hair so both his arms could wrap tight around me.

  “Love you, Ace,” he murmured and my stomach melted.

  He said it. Right out.

  He said it.

  “Love you too, Captain.”

  He kissed the top of my head and, in return, I kissed his chest.

  Then I fell asleep and had sweet dreams.

  Just like I was told.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Unpack

  For a month and a half, nothing big happened.

  Well, big things happened. I should say nothing mammoth happened.

  * * * * *

  The first big thing to happen was that Tate didn’t take Jonas back to Neeta.

  This pissed Neeta off. She also blamed me for it. I knew it three days later when Tate had been called to go round up a fugitive from justice and therefore was out of town.

  Even with more information, nothing had moved in the May-December case. Tambo told Tate that all the residents in the neck of the woods where Sunny was attacked didn’t fit the profile and every last one (not that there were many) had alibis.

  This didn’t make Tate feel elated he had to go out and hunt down a fugitive. He didn’t like leaving me and his son when a murderer was on the loose. But he also had bills to pay and mouths to feed so he set up a posse of semi-bodyguards who drove me to work, took me home, stayed with Jonas when I wasn’t around and only left when they knew that I’d set the alarm. This posse included Pop, Dalton, Jim-Billy, Ned and even Wood. Once Tate set this up, away he went.

  It was the very day he left when they came to Bubba’s when I was at work.

  Three skanks, only one of them mildly attractive and one of them was overweight but dressed like a skank showing lots of skin. I tried not to be judgmental, to each their own, but really, exposing that amount of flesh when there was that amount of flesh to show was just plain wrong.

  I knew they’d lived hard and rough and I could tell that by their faces and their attitude.

  Twyla had squelched her own attitude enough to have been released from day duty (but only if I was working with her) so she and I were on nights and it was closing in on eleven. Dalton was behind the bar and Krys was back in the office when they came through the door.

  I was standing at the bar in front of Dalton and he was completing an order when he looked over my shoulder, clocked them and muttered, “Fuck, Laurie, get behind the bar.”

  I looked over my shoulder at them too, then at Dalton and asked, “Sorry?”

  “Behind the bar,” Dalton repeated.

  “You! Bitch!” I heard shouted and I looked back at the women
to see they were advancing on me.

  Like she had magic, Twyla appeared at my side.

  The three stopped in front of me and the heavy one looked me up and down and stated, “What’s the big deal? She ain’t all that.”

  Then the somewhat attractive one declared, “We’re here for Neet.”

  “Oh my God,” I whispered, staring at them and figuring out who they were. “You’re Neeta’s posse.”

  “Damn straight,” the non-descript skank confirmed like she was proud of this insane fact.

  “You got a problem?” Twyla asked, moving slightly in front of me.

  “Not your business, dyke,” the somewhat attractive one returned.

  Oh no.

  As Twyla’s entire body puffed up in affront, I quickly moved in front of her as Dalton made it to my side.

  “Maybe you should just go,” I suggested.

  “And maybe you should just leave Tate, bitch,” the somewhat attractive one ordered, definitely the voice of Neeta’s Crew. “He’s personal property, you get what I’m sayin’?”

  “Are you serious?” I asked, thinking the whole thing was funny. Personal property? Had I been hurtled back through time to junior high?

  “Deadly,” the somewhat attractive one leaned in and hissed and she looked serious.

  “I’m not leaving Tate,” I replied only because they seemed to be waiting for my response. “And you all coming in here for Neeta is absolutely ridiculous. I mean, really?”

  “You’re tryin’ to turn her boy from her,” the non-descript one alleged.

  “Hardly,” I retorted.

  “Carmen, maybe you should –” Dalton started to say to the mildly attractive one.

  “Not your concern either, Dalton,” she cut him off then her head turned and she glared at Jim-Billy, a new arrival at our group. She looked him up and down, her lip curled and she sneered, “What you gonna do, Pops?”

  “I’m just positionin’ so’s I can watch Twyla kick your ass up close,” Jim-Billy replied.

  “Right,” she stated and turned her sneer to Twyla, “like we can’t take this bitch and her lesbo bodyguard.”