by Forgy, M. N.
Dropping the pills on the couch, I wrap my arms around him and hug him hard. He tenses as if he’s not used to someone hugging him. I’d do anything to hear this man’s story one day.
“Thank you,” I whisper into the soft skin lining his neck. He smells minty, and his body is so hard and warm against my skin I feel safe. It’s so fucking good to touch another human being, that I don’t want to let go.
The soft inhale behind my ear doesn’t go unnoticed, his hand palming the dip in my lower back. I’m suddenly aware of every nerve ending in my body from the simple contact and have to pull myself away before I do something we both aren’t ready for.
Letting go, my face is flushed, and my breasts feel heavy with want. I turn away from him not wanting him to see lust stinging my face.
“I love reading,” I mutter, grabbing one of the books. Sitting on the couch, I run my thumb through the pages of hidden knowledge of having a baby.
He grunts in response.
“I’ve read the hotel pamphlet about a million times since I’ve been here and memorized the room service menu.” I laugh awkwardly. The unmistakable tension fills the gap between us, something happened between us and neither of us know what to do with it.
“Well, I gotta do some work, so you just sit there and… I don’t know.” He runs his hands over the back of his neck, seeming out of character. Maybe I shouldn’t have hugged him, I came on too strong. Wait, did he say work?
“Work?”
“Yeah, I hack shit on the side when I’m not doing club business,” he mumbles.
“Or when you’re not strutting around pregnancy stores.” I smile, trying to ease the tension between us. Our eyes lock, and his bee-stung lips smirk in the cutest way.
“Shut up.” He flips me the bird, marching to his room.
“Is that why they call you Mac, because you’re the geeky computer guy?” I can’t help but ask, he’s full of mystery and sin I can’t help but drown in curiosity. His steps slow, but he doesn’t stop all the way before he picks up his pace again and heads into his room.
I bite my bottom lip, my finger tapping on the cover of the book he got me.
I’m going to learn Mac’s story, even if it kills him to let me in. There’s a lot more to Mac than the brooding biker, and he proved that today.
MAC
Sitting on the couch, my laptop straddling my knees, I hack and transfer funds for one of my clients. My focus on the firewall, and the music Simone has playing in her room.
Something from Selena Gomez, “Marshmallow Wolves” or some girly shit. I’ve tried to keep my distance since yesterday, something happened. Something I don’t fucking understand. Yeah, I got baby shit for her, she needed it obviously but when I felt the baby kick. Something instinctive burned deep inside of me. I suddenly wanted to be more than an asshole, but the idea of it scares the shit out of me. My story isn’t beautiful, and sad to say it’s made me into the person I am today. What if I let her and this baby in and she decides she can do better?
Tapping my finger on the mouse anguish crashes in my chest like a hostile storm.
“What do you think?”
My eyes slip up my screen to Simone suddenly standing in front of me. She’s wearing a tight black tank top, her breasts nearly spilling from the top, and the new maternal shorts I bought her. With her round ass faces me, you can’t even see her belly bump.
Her thick hair spills down her back, her hooded eyes fluttering with black as night lashes peeking over her shoulder. Drinking her in inch by inch, my shaft tightens into a hard rod.
I suddenly don’t care about boundaries or pasts. All I want is to touch her, and now.
Setting my laptop to the side, I saunter to her. My head lowered, eyes only on her. The way her hair is a sexy mess, I think about it splayed across my pillow. Her brown glossy eyes dilated with lust, I wonder if they’d roll into the back of her head when I sunk into her to the hilt. I wonder a lot of fucking things that’ve never crossed my mind before.
Stepping up behind her, my fingertips trace her bare shoulder. Her glowing tanned skin practically begging me to do despicable things to her. Brushing her hair to one side, I run my nose up the nape of her neck, the smell of her coconut skin forcing me to inhale deeper.
She’s so clean and pure but fucked up in the head all at the same time.
“These shorts look hideous on you,” I whisper into the back of her ear. Her breath hitches, her shoulders rising. I offended her.
Clutching the waistband, I jerk them down her legs and they slowly descend down to her ankles. Grasping her jaw, her lips parts, her head turning just slightly to where our eyes catch.
“Only a complete moron would tell you to put more clothes on, I never should have bought them,” I admit. She leans into me, and I clench my jaw to keep from throwing her on my bed and diving my tongue deep into her mouth.
“Are you coming onto me, Mac?” Her voice laced with a husky sultry tone.
Dropping my hand from her shoulder, my fingertips teasingly caress the round of her ass cheeks poking out of her dark red panties. She has the thickest, sexiest ass I’ve ever seen.
“You’re the one dropping your pants, baby.” My finger slips beneath the lace of her panties and her chest rises from her weak attempt at controlling herself.
Clearing her throat, she eyes me with clearer eyes.
“I believe you did that.”
“If I did it, I’d be pulling these off too.” I fist her panties, the material rising up her ass crack giving me a full view of her round backside. Fuck, I could lose my dick in between those butt-cheeks all fucking night. I wonder if this is her normal ass, or from the pregnancy. Either way, I hope she keeps it.
She sighs, her body shivering from my touch. I want her, I want her so fucking bad I can close my eyes and taste it. So why haven’t I had her?
“I- I think we should slow down,” she whispers, but I don’t think she means it. Not by the way her head lolls to the side for me to scrape my teeth against. My cock twitches from the rejection, and I suddenly wonder what the fuck I’m doing with this woman.
“Simone, I’ve been trying to slow myself down with you since I met you,” I confess, and my chest burns realizing I’ve been holding back. I never hold back, every woman wants me.
She turns, her eyes wide and lips swollen.
I can’t help it, I push for more and press my lips to hers. It’s not sweet, or gentle. In fact, it’s downright rude and commanding. I take her taste and fill my mouth with it. Her hands come up, hesitating against my chest and I swirl my tongue inside her mouth. Her supple breaths brush against my face as I take what I fucking want. Grasping her ass cheeks, I pull her onto me, grinding the wet spot on her panties against the bulge in my jeans.
She moans, her eyes popping open, and her hands make contact with my chest. Shoving me back. Rejection like a fucking atomic bomb lands right in my lap.
Flicking my lips, the taste of her still drenching my tongue, I shift my raging hard-on to one side trying to calm the throbbing some.
“I’m sorry, I just…” The back of her hand rests on her mouth as she stares at me with earnest eyes.
“Tell me you want me,” I demand. I need to know it and now.
“I do, I just—”
“Got it,” I cut her off. She’s not like a club chick ready to drop to her knees and suck my cock. She’s a woman who takes her time, gives a man blue balls until she gets to know them.
If I want to fully taste Simone, I’m going to have to hammer my walls down and let her in.
Guilt that I’m trying to fuck my deceased brother’s girl tries to surface and has me suddenly feeling like a prick. These fucking feelings are giving me a headache. My eyes flick to her, feelings of guilt, but the wanting to pursue her conflicting with each other. It’s all so new to me. I care too much what she thinks, and it makes me anxious.
Sitting on my bed, I grab my laptop, deciding it’s night of porn and lotion.
&
nbsp; I want Simone, but she comes with so much of the unknown I need a fucking map to decipher any of this shit going through my head.
Bending down, she pulls her shorts up, humiliation staining her face as she leaves the room.
Collapsing onto the pillows behind me, I exhale.
“Fucking Pocahontas is doing my head in.”
One Week Later: Simone
Sitting on the floor with my legs crossed I look down at the street with my baby book in my lap, one hand on my belly. There are a ton of bikers down there today, more than usual.
The smell of mint overtakes the room and I look over my shoulder to a freshly showered Mac. His wet blondish hair is swept back, and he’s wearing an old looking Levi shirt with blue washed jeans.
His eyes slowly meet mine and I have to keep from smiling, a knot forming in the pit of my stomach. He has a look of torment dancing in his eyes, masking what beauty really lies within his soul. His bee-stung lips curve into a smirk when he catches me staring. We’ve been doing a lot of that, smiling and blushing around each other. I think we’re both scared to make a dominant move. I’m terrified. I’m not just a one-night stand, I’m not that girl regardless of what my belly might convey at this moment. I want something more for me and the baby.
“Club is having a party tonight,” he informs, digging his wallet out of a pair of dirty jeans. I look back to the motorcycles on the Strip, the idea of fresh air and being around other people appealing. I’m up for some conversation, loud music, and things that I’ll never unsee.
“Can I go?”
He scoffs, and I narrow my eyes at him. “I’m serious, I’m so sick of being prisoned to a room. I’ll blend in, just five minutes and you can take me back up here,” I practically beg. I’m not a prisoner, I’m being protected and if I’m in his club I’ll be protected from everyone, right?
His eyes fall to my belly, a smile on his face. “You blending in at this point is pretty much impossible, babe.”
My mouth parts, he called me babe. “Besides, it’s not safe. The clubhouse has been blown up once already with your crazy ex looking for you—”
“He’s not my ex!” I snap before he even has a chance to finish the sentence. Using all my strength, I pull myself up off the floor. My stomach is in the way of everything these days.
“I’m not done with this conversation.”
“Zeek would have my head if I took you to the club.” He shakes his head, grabbing his phone off the side table.
I place my hands on my hips, my lips pursed.
“I’m going, Mac!” I demand.
He freezes, his cold eyes piercing through me.
“I’m not staying in this room for another fucking minute. I want to smell the pizza from across the street, hear the bikers chuckle over a few beers, and watch girls make a fool of themselves. I need… I need people.” I shrug, hoping he understands I am human and need to socialize.
He huffs, rubbing his left hand over his chin.
“Please.” I bat my lashes in the cutest, sexiest way I know how. Mac notices, his tongue sweeping across his bottom lip.
“Fine, you got five minutes and I’m bringing you back up even if I have to drag you. Understand?” He points at me like a child, and I can’t help but smile. I don’t even argue.
“Got it!”
White tank top that barely hides my swollen stomach, the shorts that Mac got me, and some flip-flops on my swollen feet, I follow him to the Sin City Outlaws’ clubhouse.
I’m so excited to be out of the room I stare at everything we pass. People gambling in the casino, two men fighting and spilling beers over the blackjack table.
Getting closer, the smell of pizza makes my stomach growl and the baby kick. I’ve been staring at that damn pizza place for what seems like forever now. My taste buds salivate actually smelling it, being steps within its gooey cheese. I’ll have to get Mac to take me by there on our way back.
Tightly tucked behind the casino and hotel sits a newly refurbished clubhouse. I stop and look at it. Realization that Gatz died here pounding my excitement into grief. I place my hand on my belly, looking the place over. Mac stops, his hand reaching for mine.
“Stay close,” he warns, not seeming to notice my unease. I wonder how he does it, being in the club and moving forward knowing his brother died inside of it?
Entering the Outlaws’ club, it’s crowded with lots of people wearing leather. The smell of pizza replaced with cheap perfume, weed, and beer. The floor creaks beneath my flip-flops, and I notice it’s clean. New even. I look around the place and notice it’s all new. It was rebuilt after it exploded with Gatz inside. The baby kicks, and a sadness knots in my chest. Maybe coming inside wasn’t the best idea. Everyone disappears, the brand-new interior turning gray and charred as ash and flames fall around me like confetti. It’s as if I’m re-seeing the explosion the day it happened. Clenching my eyes shut, I will it all to turn back to normal. To hear the music, and smell the easy women, and see the men wrestling around.
Opening my eyes, breathing heavily everything is as it was, as if there never was an explosion here.
Trying to take my mind off the loss of Gatz tugging the strings of my heart, I stifle a whimper and look around.
Mac could get laid here with a snap of his fingers, makes me wonder if he’s holding out for me or just coming down here. I don’t want to think about it actually.
Everywhere my eyes look there’s something to make them widen with disbelief. I’ve worked with outlaws of every kind, but I’ve never gotten a peek behind the mask of their lifestyles before. Even when I lived with Kane, what I got to see was limited and strict. This though… is unreal. It’s exciting, and I never want to return back to my room. I could stand here all night and watch everything. Like a wallflower at prom night.
Sex is everywhere. A girl taking turns on two men with their bare cocks out sitting on the pool table, two women are making out on the bar, and there’s a man in ass-less chaps walking around without a care in the world. It’s a whole other world in here, and nobody seems to care of the carefree atmosphere.
A young man sitting behind the bar stares intently into a textbook. He looks out of place. His wavy blondish hair and sharp face lined with light stubble makes him appear ruggedly good looking. His shirt is missing the sleeves and is hanging off his shoulders to where you can see his hard chest.
“You must be Simone!” A man with red hair steps in front of me. He’s tall, and lumberjack looking. My eyes catch his name on his leather cut. Machete. That’s not scary at all. I feign a smile and hold my hand out to shake his. His eyes seem glued to my belly though, and I shift uncomfortably.
“Hey, keep an eye on her? I’m going to go grab a beer,” Mac demands rather than asks the tall man. I swallow, my hand reaching out for Mac but missing by inches. Lips tight with a smile I look back up at the man.
“I’m Machete, I was close with Gatz, not Kane,” he bluntly puts it. Gatz never mentioned him, but I sadly didn’t get to do much pillow talk with Gatz.
“Nice to meet you,” I holler over the music. He grins and turns to a man trying to talk to him over the loud music.
“That’s Bishop,” Machete points to the man I was staring at.
“He seems young to be in here,” I shrug. God, I’m already starting to sound like a mother.
“He’s seventeen, don’t let that sun-kissed baby face fucking fool you. We all thought he was just a kid too, but he’s about to be eighteen.” I nod, seeing it now that I look a little harder at him. The muscle in his arms, the wrinkles on his forehead. He fondly smiles at the blonde behind the bar, chewing on the end of a pencil. “Trust me, he’s better here than where he was.”
My brows furrow, curious what that means. Where was he before that being in a motorcycle gang is better for him?
“Holy shit you’re pregnant!” The wisecrack over my shoulder, has me glancing behind me at a man without a club cut on. He’s got really blonde curly hair, and a neck tat
too of a spider crawling through his throat. I give him a look, one conveying how idiotic he is.
“You giving barebacks?” He chuckles, a man behind him giggling like a school girl. Glancing back at the lumberjack, he’s gone, and I tense, not liking that Mac isn’t here.
The man with the spider tattoo reaches for my belly, and I take a step back not wanting the contact.
He glares at me with heated eyes. Fear beads down my spine, my jaw clenching.
“What’s your problem, bitch?” He reaches for my stomach again and before I can raise my hand to smack him away, Mac is standing in front of me slamming his knuckles into the guy’s face.
They fall to the ground and the crowd surrounds us. I’m nearly knocked over, but a firm grip grabs me by the elbow. I follow the hand, finding Machete trying to pull me from the crowd.
The music cuts and a loud whistle has everyone looking to the left. Zeek stands on the bar, his face red with anger.
Mac stands from the ground his lip bleeding, but the other guy isn’t getting up.
“You two, outside.” Zeek points to me and Mac. My hand on my chest my eyes widen. What’d I do?
I follow Mac through the crowd until we reach outside. The fresh crisp air makes me hiccup, it was stuffier in there than I realized.
“What the fuck is she doing down here?” Zeek wastes no time getting to the point.
“She wanted some fresh air, man?” Mac throws his arms out, his bloody lip making me feel bad.
“Get her back to the tower, and now!” Zeek raises a brow and turns to return back to his club. The way he’s talking to Mac has me pissed, this was my idea, not his.