Out of the Ashes

by Anne Malcom

  Gwen was looking like she had walked out of the pages of Vogue. I had to stop myself from drooling at her electric blue Manolos. She was dressed all in white; white cropped high-waisted pants tucked into a silk floaty blouse. A slight baby bump poked out from her pants. Not a stain on her. I wanted to hate her on that alone. My white pants didn’t last an hour.

  These women were enough to give me a complex.

  Unfortunately, at that moment she jerked out of her conversation and gave me a warm smile.

  “Mia! It’s so nice to see you, I totally forgot you managed this place.” She strutted up to the desk, greeting me warmly.

  My plan of hating her for her ability to wear white unstained seemed to be lost.

  “I’m not usually here, but after the day I’ve had I had to be in a place of calm.” I spread my hands out, gesturing with my coffee cup. “Coffee plus beauty salon equals calm.”

  Gwen laughed and her friend leaned on the desk. “Amen to that, although I think we could replace that coffee with something akin to a martini glass,” she suggested thoughtfully. “I’m Lucy. I’m sure you’ll be seeing me around, considering when I’m not at work, Gwen’s store and here are the places I frequent in Amber.” She held up long, mocha-colored nails. “These are not a result of my own practiced hand,” she declared.

  I laughed warmly and genuinely. “I’m Mia, and I applaud you for being able to live with those. It’s my dream to have beautiful nails, but I can’t seem to function without breaking them,” I sighed. “I am destined for a lonely life without a decent manicure.”

  Lucy laughed again. “That’s the saddest thing I’ve heard. That mug definitely needs to be replaced with a martini glass,” she surmised.

  I sighed again. “Unfortunately, being the boss and all, I have to set a good example. I was late and under-caffeinated today, so drinking on the job may not be the best way to round that off,” I told her sadly.

  “Well, us girls are having cocktails at Laura Maye’s bar tonight, and by the sounds of it you are in dire need. You’re coming,” Lucy decided firmly.

  I was slightly taken aback. Sure these women were nice, but I didn’t expect an invite to cocktails. Not that I didn’t welcome it; I was in serious need of girlfriends. My ones back home were in contact via the phone, but flesh and blood would be good too.

  “Actually, that’s a great idea,” Gwen agreed. “I have been hoping to see you and Lexie again. I know what it’s like to move somewhere new, not knowing anyone,” she continued with a smile.

  Seriously. How could women this beautiful and stylish be nice? There had to be some sort of catch.

  “Well, obviously Lexie can’t do cocktails,” she added.

  I waved my hand. “Yeah, she’s already committed to going to a kegger tonight,” I said almost without a thought. I then realized that not everyone had my sense of humor.

  The laughter I got relaxed me slightly.

  “Awesome, I’ll go there later and do keg stands with her,” Gwen deadpanned, rubbing her belly.

  “She learned from her mother, so I warn you, the Force is strong with her.” I sipped my coffee, relaxing into easy banter with someone who didn’t feel like a complete stranger.

  Gwen smiled again. “So, cocktails?”

  I thought on it. The whole time Lexie and I had been in Amber I hadn’t had the time to go out on the hunt for new friends. Everyone at work was cool, but I was their boss, so it kind of hindered any banter about underage drinking. I also didn’t think having a “fuck buddies” type relationship with my hot, dangerous, biker neighbor counted as making new friends. And this “fuck buddy” type of relationship with my hot biker neighbor was something that definitely needed the help of girlfriends. I hadn’t told any of mine back home and I wasn’t going to go and blurt it to total strangers just yet, but I wouldn’t mind starting to build some new friendships in our new home.

  “That actually sounds more than ideal after the day I’ve had,” I replied, thinking longingly about a Long Island Iced tea. “But I’d better check what Lexie is up to.”

  Lucy nodded knowingly. “A teenage girl on a Friday night with a house to herself? Recipe for a party,” she said decidedly.

  I laughed at that statement. “Lexie is more likely to spend the night making kale chips if she has the night to herself, or watching some film with subtitles,” I told her.

  She raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow.

  I shrugged my shoulders. “My kid is like a unicorn of the teenage world. She is yet to sneak out, smoke a cigarette or steal a beer. If I didn’t give birth to her myself I would wonder about her genetic connection to me,” I said with a straight face.

  Gwen’s face softened and she rubbed her belly once more. “Let’s hope my rascals do not take after me either—” she shuddered slightly, “if they’re anything like I was as a teenager.” Her face brightened. “I’m so glad to have another mum around. I can rack your brain.” She jerked her head to Lucy. “These ones aren’t exactly full of motherly advice and my own is half a world away, so I’m so excited to have another mum in the group.”

  I smiled at her. “I made it all up as I went along and I’m pretty sure it was a fluke that Lexie is a well-adjusted young woman. Probably more well-adjusted than her mom, but I’m happy to help in any way I can.” I truly was. Without Ava I would have been lost, considering I didn’t have parental role models to model my own parenting from. I knew how freaking scary it was to be responsible for another human being.

  “Well, I will be glad to be talking shoes and sex with Amy and Rosie while you ladies do diapers and formula,” Lucy declared. “We’ve gotta run. It was so nice to meet you Mia—looking forward to meeting your girl, and having a beer chugging race with her.” She waved her freshly manicured fingers at me.

  Gwen did the same. “Seven-thirty tonight at Laura Maye’s. I’ll text you,” she said.

  “Nice to meet you, see you tonight,” I replied, then my brain caught up. “You don’t have my phone number,” I called in vain, but they were already gone.

  Turns out in small towns you didn’t need to give out your phone number to potential friends. Just one biker. Which was what Gwen was explaining. I was two cocktails deep and fully relaxed. So this might be why I didn’t feel a little more alarmed to hear that Gwen and her equally beautiful, equally glamorous friend Amy were married to the two hotties Cade and Brock. It was hard to imagine the petite, chocolate-haired beauty clad in Gucci being with a rough biker like Cade who looked deadly. Ditto with the curvy, red-headed bombshell who was obviously from a lot of money, considering her jewelry and handbag that cost more than my car.

  “I already knew you’d met Lucky, considering he wouldn’t shut up about ‘the hot MILF who named her car Betty,’” she explained, sipping her soda. “So got your number off him—small towns. Once one person, namely a big-mouthed biker’s got your digits, they’re practically public domain,” she informed me. Her face was panicked slightly. “I hope you don’t mind,” she added.

  I waved my hand. “Not at all. Lucky seriously called me a MILF? That’s so sweet,” I sang, feeling the effects of two very strong cocktails. I frowned slightly. “And I didn’t name my car, my child did,” I clarified, not wanting my glorious new friends to think I was an idiot that named cars. Plus, I was at least ten years older than them. I felt like I needed to at least give the illusion of maturity.

  They all laughed slightly, then Amy leaned forward slightly drunkenly. Woman had had at least two more cocktails than me; I didn’t know how she wasn’t on the floor. “Now, Mia. You’ve gotta tell me, you’ve got a sixteen-year-old kid—totally beautiful by the way.” She gave a head tilt. “Yet you look younger than me.” She moved her head in even closer, moving to a whisper. “What’s the secret? You make a deal with the Devil or somethin’?” Her voice was so serious I couldn’t help but laugh. Like properly laugh, throw my head back and everything.

  That’s how the rest of the night went; easy chat with wom
en who were impossible not to like. Women who were fast becoming friends.

  “Bye, Gwen!” I called. “Thanks for the ride.”

  “Anytime!” she yelled back with a grin.

  “Your place next time—you’re making daiquiris,” Amy added from the passenger window, giving me a thumbs up.

  I laughed. “Lexie’s got a great recipe,” I called.

  They pulled away, sounding the horn and I waved once more.

  I may have been a little tipsy. A smidgeon. This was not due to the fact I drank a lot. This was due to the fact I was a mother who had a poor constitution for strong cocktails on account of hardly ever consuming them. When most of your time is dedicated to raising a child, cocktails with the girls was not something I got treated to. When you have that child before you are legally allowed to take a drink, that meant I didn’t even have cocktails with the girls prior to that. More like stealing beers from my parent’s fridge.

  Needless to say, three of Laura Maye’s “specials” had me stumbling slightly down our pathway. Those same cocktails had me pause and turn to squint at the house across the street. Like mine, it was dark and didn’t show any signs of life. It wasn’t late, and I didn’t think bikers were the early to bed type, so I deduced he wasn’t home.

  I turned back to my own house, deflated. Three cocktails had me feeling not only tipsy, but horny. Though my priorities needed to be in place. Which was why I crept into my house and checked on my most important priority.

  Lexie was fast asleep, the dim light from her lamp showing she had once again fallen asleep with a book on her chest. I quietly approached her bed and lifted the book off her. I made sure to mark her page before setting it on her side table and brushed the hair out of her face.

  “Did you have fun, Mom?” she asked groggily, slowly opening her eyes.

  “Sure did, Dollface,” I whispered. “You have a nice night?”

  She yawned. “Yeah, and the strippers all left before you got home, which was a plus.”

  I shook my head. “I hope you got good photos.” I kissed her head. “Night sweetie, love you.”

  She rolled over. “To the moon,” she murmured, already falling back asleep.

  My heart warmed slightly. When she was little Lexie was fascinated with space and the moon. At five years old, when we were lying on the grass of our backyard watching the stars, she pointed at the full moon. “Is the moon far away, Mommy?” she asked in the way that every five-year-old did. Like their parent had the answer to every question in the universe and trusted whatever answer they got to said question.

  I found her little hand and squeezed it. “Yeah, baby, so far away they need a big spaceship to travel there,” I told her.

  “Farther than Ava and Steve’s house?” she asked with wonder.

  I giggled slightly. “Yeah, doll.”

  “Farther than the ocean?” she continued.

  I struggled to keep a straight face at her serious tone. “Way farther,” I told her somberly.

  She was quiet for a long time, this working in her little five-year-old head. Then she turned, resting her head in her chubby little hand, the other one touching my cheek lightly.

  “Then Momma, I love you all the way to the moon,” she declared.

  I gathered my precious little girl into my chest, one single tear escaping my eye. Everything I had gone through the past five years, everything, was worth my little girl uttering that single sentence. “Me too, baby. To the moon,” I whispered against her blonde head.

  I looked at that same blonde head, much bigger now and full of so many mature adult thoughts it scared me slightly. I turned out her lamp and left the room, feeling almost swollen with the love I had for that little human. The one that, no matter how big she got, would always still be the little girl who declared she loved me “all the way to the moon.”

  As I slipped into a cami and shorts I got slightly tearful at the realization my little human was turning into a little woman. One that was strong, smart and sensible.

  My thoughts were interrupted by a sound that I felt in my belly. That I felt below my belly. Harley pipes.

  I peeked out my window to see the lone headlight of a motorcycle pulling into Zane’s driveway. A huge figure got off the bike, disappearing into the house. I swallowed, desire and longing pooling in my stomach at the sight of that figure. I felt like I had been without him for days, not hours. With the help of alcohol lowering my inhibitions, I found myself crossing the street without even a robe on.

  I didn’t even pause as I approached his door, one thing on my mind. The door opened before I could even knock, dark eyes locking onto me.

  “Babe,” he growled as I made it to him, his jaw hard. “You don’t have anything fuckin’ covering you.” He sounded pissed, and maybe if I had been less inebriated I would have heard the concern underneath.

  But alas, cocktails and an inability to hold my liquor gave me a one-track mind. And a crazy amount of confidence apparently, because I pushed his chest, directing him inside.

  I knew it wasn’t my mad upper body strength that had us moving into his hallway; it was more like the surprise and desire that flared in his eyes.

  I didn’t register much beyond the need to touch him, feel him inside me. My hand reached up to his neck, yanking his mouth to mine.

  That’s where my actions stopped. His arm locked around me, clutching my ass firmly while his mouth claimed mine. I moaned as his hard body pressed into me. As much as I would I have gladly liked to kiss him forever, I had something else in mind, which was why I pulled back.

  Zane frowned at me, or more accurately, glowered.

  I ignored this, directing him so his back was to the wall, lowering myself down onto my knees.

  Zane let out a hiss of breath once he realized my intentions, his hands roughly landing on my head.

  “Wildcat,” he murmured hoarsely.

  I glanced up at him, my hands on his belt. “I want to taste you,” I declared brazenly, freeing him and clutching his beautiful length in my hand.

  His face was taut, the muscles in his cheek twitching.

  I kept eye contact with him for a beat, then resumed my mission. I licked the tip of him gently, teasing, tasting. His hand tightened at my head and I heard his rough curse. I smiled to myself and took him fully in my mouth, my panties soaked at the erotic control I had. Complete control over a man who, I had learned, liked to control everything with his strong hands. Not this time. Once I had gotten used to his size in my mouth I went for it, sucking licking, using my hands. Feeling more turned on than I thought possible, I used my free hand to touch myself while I continued sucking Zane.

  “Fuck, Wildcat,” he bit out darkly.

  Whatever control he had was lost as I touched myself. His hands moved to the back of my head and he started to fuck my mouth. He wasn’t gentle. He fucked my mouth. I took it. I fucking loved it. My hand moved in tandem with his thrusts, working myself to orgasm as I felt him tense. He let out a grunt and emptied himself in my mouth. I came hard as I swallowed him.

  Without having time to recover, Zane’s hands were underneath my arms, and he yanked me up his body. He lifted me and carried me into his room, his face taut, hard. He set me down on the floor and I swayed slightly as he steadied me with his hands at my hips. I felt his cool gaze rove over every inch of me. I smiled lazily, my jaw slightly tender, but in a good way.

  “You shitfaced?” he clipped, his voice low.

  I grinned even more. “I wouldn’t use that term, rather pleasantly buzzed,” I amended.

  He shook his head. “You’re shitfaced.”

  I shrugged my shoulders, loath to argue. My grin was gone as his eyes turned hooded.

  “Take off that shit,” he ordered, nodding to my PJ’s.

  I stared at him; his arms had left my hips and were now crossed over his impressive chest.

  “Now, Wildcat.” He didn’t sound angry; his voice was flat. His eyes were blazing.

  I hurriedly compl
ied.

  I stood naked in front of him, while he stood fully clothed. His eyes devoured my body in a way that made me feel no shame. It also made me forget I had just had an orgasm. I wanted another one. Like now.

  “Get on the bed, all fours,” he demanded hoarsely.

  I felt a delicious tingle between my legs at his rough command. I did as he said, feeling exposed and vulnerable in the position I found myself in, but also hot as hell.

  Calloused hands ran over my ass, squeezing roughly. “Gonna take this ass,” he declared in a gravelly tone.

  His fingers moved to dance around my opening. I tensed slightly. No one had ever touched me there. It seemed taboo, forbidden. But I found myself wanting it. Wanting him there. His fingers continued their journey until they reached my soaking pussy.

  “Not tonight though.” His fingers slipped into me and I moaned.

  He yanked me right to the edge of the bed, his finger slipping out of me.

  “Gonna fuck you hard, Wildcat,” he told me roughly, hands at my hips.

  I whipped my head around to meet his eyes. He was still fully clothed, his jeans unbuttoned.

  “Turn the fuck back around,” he ordered, his hand going to my neck.

  I felt myself get hotter at his command, and I didn’t have time to think much else after he slammed into me and commenced in fucking my brains out.

  Two orgasms and multiple positions later, Zane and I lay in bed, breathing heavily. He was naked now, my head on his muscled chest, his arms clutching me to him. I felt good. Sore. Sated. Safe. In his arms, I felt safe. No matter how rough he was, no matter how hard he fucked me, he never went too far. Never hurt me. It didn’t matter that he barely spoke; the only looks I got from him were either filled with hate or desire. It didn’t even matter the cut he wore hinted at a dangerous motorcycle club. Right then, lying with him, I felt safe. Safest I’d felt since...ever.