by Lane Hart
I stand there with my hands in my pockets watching him pull out the driveway and not knowing when I’ll see him again or why he’s acting so strange all of a sudden. I hope it’s not because of me…
“Everything okay?” Selina asks once he’s so far down the road that I can’t hear the roar of his engine any longer.
“Yeah, Hugo’s fine with you staying here,” I tell her. “As long as you don’t try and kill me in my sleep,” I add with a grin to hide my discomfort of having Hugo leave.
She laughs. “See, that just goes to show that you don’t know me at all!”
“Yeah, that’s the problem,” I remind her.
“Trust me, if I were pissed and going to kill you, I’d make sure you were awake so I could at least tell you why I was killing you.”
“Oh, wow. Thanks for that, I guess.”
“I’m joking, Abel. I owe you big-time for this. I promise I won’t screw you over.”
“Okay, good,” I reply. “Now let’s get your shit and take it inside.”
As she opens the passenger door of the truck and grabs a box, I say, “Do you want to sleep on the sofa or in my bed?”
Selina laughs. “Like that’s even a choice? In your bed, of course.”
“Okay, good,” I say, glad that she’ll be here with me while Hugo’s gone. It’s not that I mind being alone, it’s just, well, I’ve gotten so used to him being around all the damn time.
Things have changed between us. I knew that as soon as Hugo told me he was done with the threesomes. It’s time I face the fact that we’ll probably never be the same again.
What did I expect to happen? That my best friend would suddenly decide he wants to fool around with me, even though he’s not attracted to men? Yeah, I knew that would never go down, but it didn’t mean I stopped wishing that it would.
On the other hand, back in the hotel room last night, well, I’m pretty sure that all I had to do was say the word and Cory would’ve been down for anything. And it’s all I’ve been thinking about since the moment I woke up and watched him and Selina together.
I really hope I can get that fucker out of my head soon.
Might be hard to do with the heavy weight of his fancy watch in my jean pocket, constantly reminding me of him.
I need to pawn that shit as soon as possible and buy Nolan and Rita a nice-ass wedding gift.
It’s not like I don’t have my own money. I have plenty of it saved away.
I just think Cory owes them both for fucking them over five years ago. The asshole doesn’t deserve to have nice things, not when Nolan was miserable in prison for two damn years.
God, why did I waste even a second thinking about that son of a bitch?
Because he’s the first hot, naked man I’ve seen who would let me touch him?
That’s not a good enough reason for me to forgive him.
Chapter Fifteen
Selina
“So, that’s pretty much everything,” Abel says after he gives me a quick tour of the one-story house he obviously just moved into with Hugo based on the number of stacked cardboard boxes piled up everywhere.
“It’s nice,” I tell him.
“Yeah, it’s not bad,” he agrees as he rubs his chin in thought and glances around the living room and adjoining kitchen.
“So, now what?” I ask him as I walk up to him and run my fingernail down his bare stomach.
“Now, I need a shower,” Abel tells me as he shrugs off his cut and tosses it on the arm of the sofa. “Then I want to find out if your mouth is as good as Cory said it was.”
“Oh. But, um, you already did. Last night? Remember?”
His brow furrows as his eyes go distant in thought.
“We had sex, and then you finished in my mouth,” I remind him.
“Yeah, right,” Abel agrees.
“How drunk were you, big guy?” I tease as I dip a finger into his waistband, trying to shrug off the disappointment that I wasn’t very memorable.
“I remember now,” he says, but I’m not sure if I believe him. “A lot was going on.”
I tug the top button on his jeans free and pull down the zipper. “Maybe you need another demonstration?”
“You don’t have to…” he starts to say as I go to my knees.
“I want to, Abel,” I look up and tell him as I jerk his boxer briefs and jeans down to free his cock.
He’s still soft, so I can take all of him in my mouth and suck his length hard.
“I’m not trading…a roof for blowjobs,” he says as his fist tugs on a handful of my hair, pulling my mouth off him.
“You don’t want to come in my mouth?” I ask him.
He groans and looks up at the ceiling. “Fuck, yes, but not like this.”
“I busted your nose,” I remind him. “And you’re still letting me stay with you. Even before all that, I wanted you, Abel.” Sighing when there’s still a look of hesitation on his face, I say, “I know you just met me, so you don’t know me very well. Let me fill you in really quick. I love sex. Can’t get enough of it. Ever. The more male attention on me, the better. So, the only thing I’m worried about is if you are turning me down because you don’t want me or if you’re trying to be a nice guy.”
“Here’s what you need to know about me. I’m not a fucking nice guy.” He grips my arms and pulls me to my feet. Spinning me around and urging me forward, he presses on my shoulders and back, bending me over the kitchen island. Rough hands reach underneath me to undo my pants before they’re quickly tugged down to my knees. “Now, I’m going to prove it to you.”
After Abel bent me over the kitchen counter for a quick, panty-melting fuck so good the neighbors probably heard me screaming, he gave me a wad of cash and asked me to go get us lunch, mostly, I’m guessing, just to get rid of me.
I’m not sure what’s going on with him. He seems so hot and cold, making me wonder if Cory is still on his mind even today. It’s not like I can come right out and ask him. If I accuse him of wanting another man, he could be so furious that he might throw me out.
So, I’ll give him his space, roll with his mood swings until he decides he wants to talk to me about it. Maybe that’s another topic of conversation to broach if I get him drunk again.
Until then, I need something to keep myself busy and distracted.
I think Abel expected me to pick something up at a nice restaurant based on the amount of cash he gave me, so I hope he doesn’t mind waiting while I go to the grocery store to get everything to make him chicken and dumplings, green beans, baked apples, and biscuits.
Since my parents worked all the time growing up, my sister was a track star, and my brother played baseball, dinner fell on me, the third oldest, to cook for everyone.
The work I didn’t mind, but when no one would even tell me what I made tasted good or thanked me, not even my parents, it sort of wore me down. A little appreciation goes a long way.
And since I appreciate Abel taking a chance on me after one night of great sex, I want to do something nice for him.
The more he likes me, the more likely he is to give me the answers I need.
Getting him to talk won’t be easy. I’ll just have to keep a beer in his hand to loosen him up and keep his dick sated. I won’t mind the second part at all.
Abel
“Something smells good,” I tell Selina when I come back into the house from working on an old bike in the garage.
Just that simple sentence has her spinning around from the stove, beaming with a smile on her face. “Thanks. Have a seat!” she says as she finds plates for us from…the cabinet? The last I remembered, our kitchen shit was still in boxes because Hugo and I usually just grab takeout once a day and run it off the next morning. All the cardboard boxes that held our kitchen goods are now empty and broken down by the trash can. Guess Selina put them away. Jesus, how long was I in the garage?
“I’m sorry it took so long. I decided to cook instead of picking up something,” she tells me as
she slides a big, steaming plate of chicken and dumplings in front of me, followed by bowls of several other delicious-smelling sides.
“Wow,” I mutter in disbelief.
And she’s apologizing to me because it took her so long to make food from scratch? That sort of blows my mind. And despite how much I want to try and stay detached, to ensure we’re nothing but fuck buddies until she finds another place to stay, she’s impressed the hell out of me. I can’t help but watch her moving around my kitchen like she’s lived here forever and finally see something more than tits and ass now. Not sure if that’s a good thing or not.
Good. I think. Except, I can never be the boyfriend or husband she wants me to be, not when I can’t even be honest with myself about my sexuality.
Still, I find myself wanting to tell her how much this dinner and her hard work means to me. “This looks and smells amazing, Selina. I haven’t had a woman cook a homemade meal for me in…a long time.”
“Really? That’s a shame,” she says as she brings over an empty glass and fills it with tea. I didn’t even know we had glasses. I usually drink coffee in the morning, maybe a few swigs out of the milk or orange juice container, then beer the rest of the day.
“How long has it been since someone filled your belly with all the goodness you deserve?” Selina asks as she takes a seat at the table in front of her own plate.
“Years.” I don’t tell her that my mother was the last female to cook for me, and that’s been at least…fuck, twelve years now. “Jesus,” I whisper to myself under my breath since that’s the first time I’ve let myself think about my family in forever. There’s a damn good reason for that too – because it hurts so fucking much.
I pick up the fork Selina put out next to my plate and dig in despite the roll of my stomach remembering the last time I saw my parents…
“Oh no. Does it taste okay?” Selina asks, her eyes wide in panic. “You look a little queasy all of a sudden.”
“No, baby, it’s great,” I tell her, because it is. I shovel in another bite, enjoying the hell out of it and trying to push aside the thoughts of my family. “So fucking good. Thank you for doing all of this for me.”
Selina shrugs and offers me a basket full of biscuits. I grab two of them. “It’s the least I can do since you’re giving me a place to stay.”
I start to tell her she doesn’t have to cook for me to stay here, just like sex isn’t a requirement, but keep my mouth shut. She’s a grown woman. I’m not making her do anything.
The two of us dig into our plates and eat the rest of it in a companionable silence.
And instead of asking Selina how long she thinks she’ll be staying here because I don’t want her getting the wrong idea about us, about what I can give her, I let that concern go for a few more days.
In fact, as the next several days go by, living with a woman instead of a man gets better and better.
Neither Hugo, Nolan, nor I ever did much housecleaning, but Selina is like a maid on steroids, cleaning up after me without any bitching, making the place look spotless and even nice as more and more boxes disappear.
And while I have to ask her where everything is, it’s nice to open up dresser drawers or the closet and see everything all nice, clean, and organized by color and shit, instead of having to dig through boxes.
There are no dirty clothes on the floor or dishes in the sink. Selina treats me like a king during the day and then fucks me like one several times a night.
I don’t miss having to put in the effort to bring a woman home or figure out how to get her off since Selina is insatiable and practically comes as soon as I touch her, which is hot as hell.
I think I’m even starting to see the benefits of having a significant other around all the time. The woman I just met a few days ago by chance is quickly becoming a good friend, roommate, and fuck buddy.
Still, no matter how much I try not to think about him, images of Cory keep popping up in my head when I’m with her.
It’s like I can’t help wondering what it would be like with a man, with Cory, no matter how hard I try or how good the sex is with Selina.
At least once a day when I’m alone in the garage, I pull out my cell phone and look at his name and number in my contacts.
The first thing I did, though, was change his name to “Ginger” in case Selina or anyone else saw it in my contacts. And in case I ever grow the balls to actually start a chat conversation with him.
But each day, I talk myself out of it.
I should just delete his damn number and be done with it.
It’s wrong to be thinking about him when I’m inside Selina, especially since she’s been so good to me, cooking and cleaning for me.
Wanting to do something nice for her for once, I decide to bring in her boxes that are still sitting in her truck when I walk by and spot them through the window.
I open her unlocked truck door, grabbing the box in the floorboard, and start toward the house. Unfortunately, the damn weak bottom drops out of it, and all of her shit starts falling to the ground. I catch what I can, then pick up the rest, a few clothes, draping them over top of the box. Once I get them inside, I’ll even throw them in the washing machine to get the sandy grass off.
But then I see the white Punisher-looking skull and patches on a denim cut, and my feet freeze.
Chapter Sixteen
Selina
“What the hell is this?” Abel asks when he walks in the front door, holding up Dubois’s denim cut in front of my face. “Answer me, Selina! If that’s even your real name!”
Oh shit.
“It is, I swear!” I tell him as I take a step back, afraid of him for maybe the first time ever because of the anger rolling off him in waves. Worst of all is the hurt look in the eyes because he had started to trust me and maybe even care about me after spending the last few days and nights together.
“Then what the fuck are you doing with a Rebel Henchmen cut?” he yells. I don’t have a chance to try and explain before he steamrolls over me. “I let you in my home, in my bed. Was it all a lie?”
I have to fix this, to make him understand, or I’m not only going to be homeless again but will lose Abel for good before I even have him.
“No. None of this has been a lie, Abel! Yes, I was a club girl for the MC. I bartended for them, but that has nothing to do with us. Not anymore,” I tell him in a rush.
The anger on his face is replaced by repulsion, possibly even a hint of jealousy.
“You slept with those sorry-ass motherfuckers?”
I nod. “Just one. Dubois. The president. I wanted to be his ole lady, but then he was killed…”
Abel laughs and throws the cut to the floor like it’s some piece of garbage. “You were never going to be his woman! Do you have any idea the kind of man you were fucking around with?”
“I know Dubois wasn’t a saint or anything…”
“Hell, a saint? He’s closer to being Satan himself!”
“Why would you say that? What happened with your club and theirs?” I ask him with my hands braced on my hips. “That’s the only thing I lied about, okay? I want to know. I need to know, Abel! So, will you tell me the truth or give me some bullshit about how I don’t need to know the club’s business because I’m just a piece of ass?”
Abel runs his palm over his shaven head. “You weren’t just a piece of ass to me,” he says softly, in the past tense like he’s done with me. “Maybe at first, but I trusted you enough to let you stay here, and I’ve never let a woman stay more than a few nights.”
“Really? I wasn’t just a live-in fuck buddy? Because fucking is pretty much all you’ve done with me. You barely say a word. I still don’t even know why you and Cory were fighting that night…”
“That is none of your business!” he shouts at me before taking a calming breath. “Sorry, but it’s personal. Not club shit. This is different.”
I consider pushing him on the issue but can tell by his clenched jaw tha
t the matter is closed for further discussion.
“Fine. Then talk to me about what happened with the Savage Kings and the Rebel Henchmen.”
He arches one sexy eyebrow. I expect him to slap me next or tell me I don’t get to make demands of him. Instead, he asks, “Are you sure you want to hear this? It ain’t pretty.”
“I can handle the ugly,” I assure him with my chin raised confidently.
“Fine. Sit your ass down.”
I do what he wants, taking a seat on the sofa while he paces in front of it. “You know Leroy, right?”
“Ugh, yes.”
Abel’s boots still before he asks, “Did you fuck him?”
“God, no! I was with Dubois, so he wasn’t interested, thankfully.”
“Yeah, you were lucky, then. Rita needed Nolan’s help to get away from Leroy. He was set on making her his, but she wasn’t interested. He only gave her some space because he thought she and Nolan were married and in the middle of getting a divorce.”
“But they just got married the other day,” I remark.
“We know that. The big oaf didn’t,” he huffs. “Rita lied to buy herself some time because for some unknown reason, the giant motherfucker didn’t want to be with someone else’s wife.”
“Okay, so she left him back in Cape Cartwright. Why did everyone else end up dead?” When Abel doesn’t say anything, I ask softly, “Did…did the Savage Kings kill Dubois and the other guys or not, Abel? You can tell me the truth. I won’t tell anyone. Who do I have to tell?”
“No, Selina. We didn’t kill any of the Rebel Henchmen. Leroy did.”
“He really did, or you set him up to make it look like he did it?”
The way Abel stares at me in surprise, I brace myself to hear the worst. But then he says, “The clubhouse murders were all Leroy.” He holds up his right palm like he’s testifying in court. “I swear to you that’s the honest to god truth.”