by Voss, Deja
He makes me feel like a queen.
I feel it in the way he holds me down on his hard cock, in the way his teeth pull at my lip just enough to get my attention, the way he’s staring in my eyes like he is waiting for me to reveal the meaning of life. I don’t have an answer for him. This alone might be it. We just might find our salvation in each other’s weakness. The way I keep cumming over and over makes me believe this might be exactly what life really is all about.
I feel his dick stiffen and throb inside of me, his back arching as he digs his fingers into the flesh of my ass, and he grimaces and grunts, cumming inside of me, out of breath, his brow dripping with sweat. He’s so gorgeous, so perfect, just rough enough around the edges. He tenderly hugs me to his chest, kissing the top of my head, our hearts pounding and our lust-filled moans turning into whispered laughter.
I could fall asleep like this. Completely satisfied, I rest my head on his shoulder.
He stirs beneath me, and my heart sinks as he disappears into the hallway. I thought I had him, even if it was just for the night, but he’s already wandering away, back to the dark places he goes. I can’t even save him with my body. I feel foolish even entertaining that thought.
He’s gone for a moment, but soon, I spy his frame hovering in the doorway, and can’t help but smile, scolding myself for my petty insecurities. If I know anything about Brooks, it’s that he’s a man of his word. He’s not a coy guy. He’s a genuine man.
“You alright?” I ask, admiring his perfectly chiseled body in the moonlight.
He paces towards the little twin bed, the mattress sagging as he flops down next to me. “There’s a teenager living in this house. Can’t just leave used rubbers laying around. What the hell kind of example are you trying to set,” he laughs, pressing his lips to my shoulder. “You thought I was just going to ghost on ya? Don’t you think that’d be a little awkward?”
Honestly, from him, I could tolerate awkward. I could tolerate anything he has to offer, because I know he has so very little to give between the club and the ghosts and his past, and yet he continues to give it all to me. Every sliver he has, he goes out of his way to make sure that I am safe, happy, and comfortable.
“Why didn’t we do this sooner?” I laugh, as he pulls the sheet up over me. He wraps his arms around my body, clinging to me, as he nuzzles his face into my back.
“Because I’m a head case, you were all beat up, and your sister never leaves the house,” he says, kissing my shoulder. He sighs contentedly, reaching for my fingers, taking my hand in his. “You’re amazing.”
“You’re a good man, Brooks,” I sigh, kissing the back of his hand.
“You don’t have to say that,” he says. “I know exactly what kind of man I am. I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough.”
He clutches me tighter as his breathing grows deeper, hanging on to me for dear life as if I’m going to slip away into the night. He has no idea what kind of man he is, and I’m going to make sure I spend every day from here on out showing him that I don’t care if he’s the president of a motorcycle club, I don’t care what he’s done in his past, he’s more than good. He’s a hero.
***
Things would be a lot less complicated if I knew he was just using me for sex.
I wake up alone, naked, all signs of him, all signs of the night before, completely erased from the room. As if nothing happened. Maybe this was all a dream.
I don’t think my thighs would ache like this if it was something I just fabricated in my mind, though. I look around the bedroom and feel a sadness rush over me. This had to have been so hard for him. This room had been such a sacred place, signs of Esther everywhere, and now it looks like a hotel room. It’s very nice, the gesture was very kind, but was it something he was prepared for emotionally?
Is this what screwing a married man with a good conscience feels like? The way he still talks about her, she is still obviously very much his wife. Am I doing something wrong by being with him, by caring about him the way I do?
Who are you to decide? It’s really none of my business either way. Still, I wished he was still here, wrapped around me like he was last night. I wish I could kiss him, tell him everything is going to be alright, tell him that even though literally everything about us has changed, nothing has to be different.
I wrap the comforter around my body as I get out of bed and peek my head out into the hallway. Only Mr. Gingerbread is there to greet me, and he bounds at me furiously, whining for his morning meal. My suitcases are stacked neatly outside of the bedroom door, and I throw on a pair of sweatpants and a tank top, following Gingerbread into the kitchen to get him fed.
All through my morning routine, the showering, the coffee, the getting dressed, the make-up, I keep hoping that he’ll walk through the door to tell me he was outside working or got called out on an emergency club thing. He never shows. I struggle with the urge to call him, text him, anything. It feels like the way we left things last night was so open-ended, and I don’t want to drive him out of his own home if he thinks that maybe he made a bad decision.
I am the guest here, after all.
When Josie arrives back from her babysitting sleepover, I show her the room, and she bounces from bed to bed, overjoyed that she finally has a place in this world that she can feel safe and comfortable. I try to hold back my tears once again, that this man who was a total stranger to her had more kindness in his heart for her than our own father, and hell, even myself. What if I fucked everything up last night, though? How am I going to break it to Josie that he doesn’t want us here anymore?
“Where’s Brooks?” she asks.
I shrug, grabbing the basket where she’s been keeping her clothes, and start hanging them up in the closet, pretending like I’m not battling with the same question myself.
“So, your birthday is only a few days away,” I remind her. “What do you want? Do you want a party? I can take you and your friends to the movies or something?”
“How about just the three of us go out to eat?” she asks.
“Okay,” I nod. I’m not sure if I can deliver her request, but there’s no sense in crushing her dreams. The kid really never asks for anything, anyway.
“You guys are the most important people to me. I always thought I would be fine by myself. I never understood why you always worried about me so much until I got here and my life started being normal.” Living with a strange man, her much older stepsister, and hanging out with a bunch of bikers is normal? It breaks my heart knowing what she went through before. She hasn’t once mentioned wanting to visit Dad. I guess I haven’t really given him a second thought either. I haven’t once thought to drop by and check on him. For all I know, he’s dead in a ditch somewhere.
“What do you want to do today?” I ask. Hopefully something extremely labor intensive that doesn’t involve me sitting around this house all day worrying myself into a panic. “I have to go back to work tomorrow. Might as well make the most of it.”
She flops down on her back on the bed. “I didn’t sleep too much last night. Trixie made me watch The Godfather with her. All of them. I want to take a nap.”
“You’re no fun,” I say. It looks like I’m going to be killing time on my own, trying to keep my mind off of last night’s developments, trying not to be crazy, or needy, or worry about him. Did I scare him away? Did I ask for too much.
I toss on some running clothes, figuring I’ll go out and do a little exploring. I don’t even bother with headphones, just take off through the woods behind the house, letting the sounds of the birds chirping and the branches cracking beneath my feet wash over me.
Mindful of the sun, I run hard and fast until my legs are trembling and my lungs burn. I come to a clearing at the top of a hill, and crouch down to catch my breath for a second. Sweat pours down my face, and I swat away at mosquitos. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of something unusual.
I slowly walk to the giant maple tree. Fresh cut red ros
es litter the ground below my feet. I trace my fingers over the letters that must have been carved in the bark many many years ago. EB + BH 4EVER. I feel a sense of sadness wash over me, bringing me to my knees, and I sob uncontrollably. I know he was here, probably not long before me. I feel like I’m invading something sacred, that I shouldn’t be here at all, but something inside me tells me to stay. Something tells me to sit here with my sadness.
To sit here with her.
The man I love’s first wife.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper through my tears. “I’m not trying to take him from you.”
All the logic in me is telling me I’m being crazy. She can’t hear me. She’s dead. I have nothing to be sorry for. I have no reason to be here, but my tears don’t stop.
“I promise, Esther. He will never stop loving you. But I love him too. I want him to be happy. I want you to find peace, and I’m going to do whatever it takes to help you. I will never let your memory die.” I feel so silly talking to this tree, talking to a ghost, talking to myself, but every word that comes out of my mouth is true. It’s liberating. As the clouds part and the sun shines through the leaves in the tree, warming my face, I feel so much better. Maybe this is what I needed this whole time.
I needed reassurance from the one person who couldn’t talk. Just because I can’t hear her, doesn’t mean I can’t feel her or speak to her, though. I need to tell her that we’re in this together, all three of us. His sadness is now mine, and I wasn’t going to let him get away. I wasn’t going to let her slip away. I could feel it in my soul; this was my destiny.
I kiss my hand and press it to the tree before continuing back down the mountain. We have a long road ahead of us, but somehow, I feel like there was a reason I found that place today. I no longer feel like an outsider in this relationship.
Josie and I eat a quiet dinner together, no sign of Brooks’s return. I leave a plate in the fridge for him just in case. I have a sneaking suspicion he isn’t going to be back for it tonight, though.
It’s hard to keep my mind from wondering where he might be today. It isn’t my job to ask questions. It’s my job to be patient but firm. Know which battles are worth fighting. I know he’d be straight with me when the time is right. I know it isn’t another woman, at least not a living one.
I set my alarm for 6 a.m. so I can be on top of my game the first day on the job. I’m nervous about the possibility that they could find out where I’m staying and who I’m keeping company with. I’m worried that I might not be up to the task no matter how many times I remind myself that I’m doing the right thing.
I slide under the covers in the little twin bed, pulling the rose printed comforter up to my chin. I can still smell him on the pillow, and I don’t know if it turns me on or makes me sad. That seems to be the central theme of our relationship. Not forever, though. If this is going to be a forever thing, we’re going to have to start making each other happy.
Josie follows shortly behind, to my surprise, and as she slips under her sheets, she lets out a joyful whoop.
“I feel like a princess,” she says. “Isn’t this awesome?”
If only she knew the war I am waging in my mind right now. All she knows is what’s in front of her each day as it comes. Apparently, every day she’s here is the best day ever. She starts snoring within seconds, and even though I feel a bittersweet sadness, I can’t help but smile. Knowing that she’s safe and happy is awesome.
Could it be that easy for myself and Brooks?
Chapter 19
Esther: One Year Ago
I pull off to the side of the road when I get halfway down the mountain to a spot where I know I have good phone service.
“Hey, Nick,” I shout into the phone, trying to resist my urge to smash it to the ground. “I’m going to need you to meet me at the spot. Fifteen minutes.”
He hems and haws and ‘he’s so busy’ and ‘could it wait?’
No, it can’t wait. I could fucking keel over tomorrow and this shit needs straightened out right now. No loose ends, especially not if one of those loose ends involves a man who’s putting their hands on one of my girls.
“Nick, it’s serious,” I plead. “I need your help.” I’ve been doing a really good job keeping my condition under wraps. There’s no need for anyone who could try and take power away from the club to have any idea that there was a weak link riding around with a belly full of cancer. I check my make-up in the mirror. At least my jacket hides a lot of the bag of bones underneath. “Please come to the spot? Alone?”
Worst-case scenario, I could shoot him. I just might for fun. What are they going to do? Give me life in prison? Once they get a load of the kind of medical bills my treatment entails, they’ll probably just send me home anyway.
He finally agrees. I’m sure he knows exactly what this is about.
The secret meeting spot is about ten miles away, down a long bumpy dirt road. When the club and the police have shit to work out, this is where we go. Nobody has any reason to drive past here and cell phones don’t work. I push my bike a little faster than I should, but now’s as good a time as any. I’ve been riding this same bike for eighteen years now, and she’s basically an extension of my body. She definitely gets around a lot better than I do lately.
Ollie is going to shit when she finds out I willed it to her. She’s had her eye on it ever since she started to ride. I am personally delighted with my will. I hope the day I die, everyone celebrates. My years as an escort seriously paid off, and I have money stashed everywhere on that mountain. All my men, my husband, my brothers, my nieces and nephews, my dear friends, they’re going to be set for life.
I round the corner, leaning into the curve of the road, the sun shining so bright through my sunglasses that I’m damn near blinded. I start to lose my balance, and my heart begins to race. Why am I so wobbly?
Is it the medication?
There’s loud banging and it sounds like it’s coming from inside my ears. I fall to the ground with my bike, everything going in slow motion. I manage to land on the ground next to it, not under it, but the flaming hunk of metal is the least of my concerns.
I’m full of holes. Two that I can see in my stomach. I don’t know what to do, so I jam my fingers into them. Maybe this is a dream. Maybe I accidentally double dosed my meds and forgot. I try to scream, thinking maybe that’ll jar me out of whatever this is, but I choke, blood dripping from my mouth. If this is the end, it’s a lot gorier than I expected it to be.
Chief Sanderson is standing over me, his pistol pointed at my head. He’s wearing a half smile of a sneer I’ve never seen before, like he’s just accomplished his life’s mission. If only he knew the truth. I saved his daughter’s life, and he’s so ignorant that he’s going to take mine? I try to cover my face with my hands, but I can’t move.
Nick Desmond stands behind him, tears running down his face. Now he’s throwing up.
What a fucking pussy, I think.
Maybe I should save my last words for something more eloquent. Fuck that. That’s not how I was raised.
“My husband is going to fucking kill you all,” I whisper through the blood. I do my best to make sure my smile will be stuck in their minds for all eternity. I will haunt the shit out of these assholes if I have the choice. “I was already on my way out, but you’re in for a world of suffering.”
I hear him cock that pistol.
Everything is going to be okay, Brooks.
Chapter 20
Present Day: Brooks:
“Uncle Brooks!” Jesse shouts, wrapping my knees in a big bear hug. I tousle the kid’s blond hair, trying not to show him my current mental state. These kids don’t need any part of what’s going on in our world right now. Maybe someday they can choose for themselves.
“What are you doing here?” Goob says, greeting me at the door in his underwear. “I just got the baby down to sleep. Jesse, why are you answering the door, bud?”
“I knew it was Uncle Brooks, Dad. I
heard his motorcycle,” the kid says in a mocking tone. He’s an impressive shit. I know it’s eight in the morning, but I couldn’t stay in the house any longer. Falling asleep next to Helena was probably the greatest thing that’s happened to me in a long time.
Waking up next to her was the worst. She looked so pretty in her own weird way with her hair all wild, snoring like a fucking chainsaw, not a care in the world. Her soft skin pressed all up against mine made it hard not to roll her over for round two. Something about how much I wanted to spend every night like this for the rest of my life sent me into a panic attack.
I ran off before the sun could even come up. I grabbed a flashlight and a handful of roses I cut from the bush in the yard and went to that spot where Esther and I used to hike all those years ago. Like some asshole who shows up with a bouquet, begging for forgiveness for cheating on his old lady, I sat underneath that giant maple tree and tried to get my mind right.
I tossed the roses as an offering, a prayer, a sacrifice, I don’t know. I just thought she might like them.
I screamed, I cried, I begged her for a sign. I want to do the right thing, not just for Esther but for Helena’s sake. If falling for her is wrong, I can’t be stringing her along anymore. I closed my eyes and tried to picture what Esther would look like if she was here right now. I tried to hear her voice. I thought this spot was sacred, and that if I ever needed her, this is where I would find her.
Instead, a big black crow perched itself in the tree and began taunting me with his mocking cackle. More followed, their laughter growing louder and louder, mocking me, teasing me, infuriating me. All I wanted was a word with my dead wife, and these stupid birds were telling me what I already knew, and I didn’t want to admit.
I’m fucking dead, Brooks, I swear the one with the beady red eyes said. Get out of here.
I’m not a spiritual guy, but something inside me urged me to get the hell out of there right then, that I was not wanted there, that I shouldn’t be there. The hair on my arm stood up on end and my legs couldn’t move fast enough. I tore down the side of the hill and back to the yard before the sun even had a chance to come up. The whole thing left me chilled to the bone.