Walking The Crossroad

by Parker, Liberty

  They asked permission, we accepted for a fee, and now I’m regretting that decision. We weren’t hard up for money, but you know what they say about keeping your friends close and your enemies even closer.

  I watch as Lorenzo passes my men, gives them chin lifts and continues onto his SUV. He climbs inside, but before the door shuts, he salutes me and I turn my head so that I don’t give him the type of send-off that I’d like to.

  “What did he say, Pres?” Blaze asks me.

  “Let’s discuss it at the table, message Knuckles and let him know we need to meet at nine a.m. sharp. Right now, I just wanna get home to the old lady and kids.”

  “Sounds good.” I see him take out his phone and shoot out a text. We all climb on our bikes and head back to town. We met in the middle of nowhere, and the sooner we’re back on our turf, the easier I’ll feel. The guys and I pull up to the gate and once it’s closed we split ways. I head home as do most of my men, while the others head into the clubhouse to relax and unwind with a couple of beers.

  * * *

  When I pull up to my house I see my daughter swinging on the tire I put on rope and hung from the tree in front of our house. She sees me coming and starts waving at me as she jumps out of her makeshift swing and begins running my way. My girl is a daddy’s girl, heart and soul.

  When I shut off my bike, I hear her yell out, “Daddy!” as she barrels into my arms.

  “How’s my princess doing today?” I ask her, as I twirl her in the air then place her on my hip. Her arms go around my neck and she squeezes the life out of me.

  “It was a good day, Mama and I made cookies!”

  “You did, huh? Did you save your ole man any?”

  “Yes,” she whispers in my ear, “I hid you six chocolate chip cookies since they’re your favorite.”

  “That’s my girl,” I praise, walking towards the house. She lays her head on my shoulder as I make my way up the steps of the porch. The door swings open and my boy runs out of the house. I can hear his mother yelling his name from the back of the house.

  “What did you do, Son?”

  “Nothing,” he says, looking up at me with innocent eyes.

  “Then why is your mom hollering like a loon for ya?”

  “Ugh, she doesn't like the way I cleaned my room,” he says, looking down at his feet.

  “What did you do?” I ask again.

  “She just said she wanted my floor clean, I did that,” he expresses.

  “He shoved everything in his closet!” my old lady hollers coming out onto the porch chasing down our son. “I went to put his clothes away and a mountain of toys fell on top of me. Jasper, he had it piled to the top!” she angrily states, placing her hands on her hips.

  “I did what you asked,” he says, shuffling on his feet and looking up at his mom with his eyes wide, wearing an innocent like expression.

  “He’s got you there, Miracle,” I say to my wife and old lady. My girl starts giggling on my hip and my wife narrows her eyes at me.

  “If you’re so apt to take his side, why don’t you put his clothes away? Hmm?” she asks me.

  “Woman, I wrangle grown ass boys all day long, I wanna come home and enjoy my family.” The look she gives me says, ‘you ain’t getting any for a long time,’ which makes me sigh. “Boy, go clean your closet and put your own damn clothes away.”

  “But, Dad…” he begins to whine.

  “Now!” I use my dad voice, which isn’t much different from my President voice. He scurries into the house mumbling under his breath. I can’t catch what he’s saying, but I know that it isn’t pleasant thoughts.

  “He’s your son,” my wife states.

  “To the core,” I reply, smacking her on the ass. She yelps and this causes giggles to come from our daughter.

  “You, missy, you need to go wash your hands, dinner is ready.”

  “Yes, Mama,” my girl replies, wiggling to be let down.

  “What do you do before you get out of my arms, Miss Thing?” She puckers up her lips and kisses me on the cheek.

  “I always kiss you first,” she says. I place her on her feet and she rushes to the bathroom to do her mother’s bidding.

  “I missed you today,” I tell my wife, bringing her into my arms and placing my lips to hers. We make out like teenagers for a few minutes before she pulls back breathless.

  “Love you, Jasper.”

  “Love you too, Miracle.”

  Two

  Miracle

  “Deeper, take me deeper,” my husband begs, as my lips are wrapped around his cock, and he’s breaching the back of my throat. I swallow him as far back as I can and watch in anticipation as he rears up on the balls of his feet and positions his hips to where he can thrust into my awaiting mouth.

  He harshly fucks my mouth as I swallow, lick, and suck his huge dick as hard as I can. “Keep those hands behind your back,” he issues his demand. There are times when he needs to control me in the bedroom, and I allow this because it turns me on.

  I can never take all of him, but where I lack in that, I make up with enthusiasm. He is dynamite in bed, but my favorite thing in the world is making him lose control when I give him head. “I’m coming,” he groans out and I prepare to take everything he can give me.

  I love the taste of him, he’s salty, and musty. “Yes! Take it all! Just. Like. That,” he enunciates each word with individual thrusts, and he hollers out my name as he finds his release.

  He looks down at me and satisfaction mars his face. “Up on all fours, beautiful. I’m fixing to show you how much I fucking need you. This is going to be fast and brutal, so prepare yourself.”

  Giddiness takes over me, because I know that he’s fixing to make me come—hard. I get up on the bed and get into position. He drags my body to the end of the bed where my knees are on the edge. He moves between them and lines his cock up with my entrance.

  “Please,” I practically beg him, because he loves it when I do.

  “You want this?” he asks, rubbing the head of his dick between my soaked, swollen lips.

  “Yes,” I breathlessly reply.

  “How much?” he asks, steadily lubricating himself with my juices.

  “So much that I ache for it,” I respond.

  “We can’t have that, now can we?” When he says the last word, he thrusts inside of me and I swear I can feel him in my navel. He’s wide, and long, and every time we are together like this, it feels like the first time.

  “God, yes!” I scream out as I stretch to accommodate his girth and length. He relentlessly pounds into me as I grab the comforter in my fists. I need something to ground me, to hold me here. My body bounces up every time he enters me with the strength and power I love.

  “Take it! Take it all!” he commands, as he repeatedly slams his hips roughly to where they meet mine. Over, and over again, he pounds into me, taking me to heights that sometimes I wonder if I’ll recover from.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I chant, as my orgasm quickly approaches.

  “Get yourself there, I won’t last much longer.” I slide my left hand down the front of my body until it reaches my clit. I rub small circles, randomly adding pressure to get me there quicker.

  Before I realize it’s happening, stars are dancing between my eyes and I lean down to bite the comforter because the sensations are too much to deal with. I scream into my bed as he roughly grabs my hips I’m sure to have bruises from and thrusts. Once, twice, three times before he finally succumbs to his own release.

  I fall down to my stomach and he lands on top of me. “I can’t move,” I tell him, and I can’t. My body feels like a limp noodle.

  “Give me a second,” he pants, trying to catch his breath. What seems like minutes later, but are actually only seconds, he rolls off of me and lands on his back. He throws his arm over his face and I can tell something is bothering him.

  “Do you wanna talk about it?” I inquire. I know my place, but I also know my man, and sometimes we con
verse and come up with plans. It’s not pillow talk, he trusts me and knows I know how to keep my mouth shut and know when and where I’m allowed to speak.

  “I can’t, baby, not right now anyways,” he replies, getting up and heading to the bathroom. I hear the shower turn on and he peeks his head out the door. “You gonna come join me?”

  “Yep,” I say popping my ‘p’ for emphasis. “Be right there,” I tell him as I go to my dresser and grab a fresh pair of underwear and a night shirt. I used to sleep in my birthday suit, but that stopped the minute our kids got old enough to come barging into our bedroom.

  I lay my clothes on the bathroom counter and step into the shower. He brings me into the clutch of his arms and I feel all of his strength and power surround me. I have always felt safe in his arms, he makes everything alright when I have worries or fears. “Everything will be okay,” I whisper to him.

  “Bet your sweet ass it will,” he grumbles. He squeezes me tightly, then turns me around in his arms and moves us under the shower head. Our bodies get soaked from the spray and he lifts my head up with his fingers under my chin. “Nothing will ever touch you, I promise you this.”

  “I believe you, baby. Now, let’s get cleaned up, we have two kids who don’t believe the sun needs to rise before they do.” He chuckles at me and cleans us both. I love our moments like this, they are ones I treasure, and look forward to the most.

  As we crawl into bed after our shower, I look into his chocolate brown eyes and declare my love for him, “I will always be here by your side, no matter what. I love you, Jasper.”

  “I love you too, sweetness.” He always switches out his endearments, which is fine with me because they tell me his moods and always make my heart skip a beat with the love that comes through his voice and shines through his eyes. Men in the MC aren’t always known for fidelity, but my man has never cheated on me in all the years we’ve been together. We’re in our late thirties, and still in as much love as we were in our teens.

  We didn’t start having children until later in life. We wanted the MC to be established and knew in the beginning things would be rough as the men made a name for themselves.

  Kobe is seven and Milly is five and the apple of her daddy's eye. He is fiercely protective of them, and I fear for the day that they suffer their first broken heart or injury. So far, we’ve been lucky and there’ve been no broken bones or stitches required. Which is odd, because our son is all boy and a daredevil in everything he does.

  The day he decided he wanted to race dirtbikes is the day I mentally prepared myself for the worst. So far, we’ve only suffered scratches and bruises, but the mother in me cringes every time he sits on that seat and fires up his bike. He’s had a mini race bike since he was four years old, and is now preparing, and training, for competitive races.

  See, told you, daredevil. But as his parents, we stand by his side and encourage him to follow his dreams.

  Our princess, our Milly, is a girly-girl. She loves to take dance classes and is in gymnastics. Her father encouraged her from an early age to be as girly as she could.

  He didn’t want a tomboy, but to an extent, she is. She loves to go to the garage and watch her father and uncles work on their bikes. She asks about everything they're doing, and helps them maintain and work on their bikes. Much to her father’s dismay, she’s decided that she wants a bike of her very own.

  She has also announced that she wants to be a mechanic. If I could’ve captured her father’s face that day, I would have. He was dumbfounded and kept looking to me for guidance.

  But I, for one, will never tell my kids that they can’t do something that will make them happy. If she wants to work on bikes then I say let her, if she wants to serve in the military, I’ve got her back. I wouldn’t like it, but I wouldn’t discourage her either.

  The day my children were born, I decided then and there that I would always be supportive and the kind of mother they could come to and talk about anything. I may not always agree with them, but I will listen and try to be supportive in anything they decide to pursue.

  At the end of the day, they need to know that I’m trustworthy and they can come to me about anything. I want my children to be independent to a degree, and follow their hearts and minds. My husband on the other hand, wants to control as much as he can.

  He constantly worries about their safety and puts all kinds of protective measures in place to ensure that outcome. It can be annoying at times for both them and myself, but I wouldn’t change a thing about him or them.

  My life may not be perfect. It may be dangerous at times, but I wouldn’t change anything about it.

  * * *

  I wake early the next morning, to pounding feet in the hallway, and the innocent giggles of my children. Those giggles let me know my children are up to no good. I slide out from underneath my old man and grab some leggings to throw on. As I walk out the door, I grab my flip-flops and place them on my feet. We have hardwood flooring throughout the house and it can get a bit nippy first thing in the morning, even in these dreadful summer months.

  I quietly sneak down the hallway so I can spy on my babies and see what they’re up to.

  “We should make Mom and Dad some cereal too,” Milly says to her brother.

  “Nah, let them sleep, we’ll eat in the living room, and turn on cartoons. We’re big now so we can make our own bowls, we don’t need Mom to do it for us. Plus, they never get to sleep late, we should let them do that more often.”

  “Okay, bubby,” she says, and tears pool in my eyes at the thoughtfulness of them. I sneak back into the bedroom, shut the door slowly so they don’t hear the closing of the door and slip off my flip flops, placing them next to the bed and crawl back under the covers and slide in next to my husband.

  He instantly wraps me in his arms and I drift back to sleep cocooned in his love.

  * * *

  An hour later I wake again when I feel my husband stirring in the bed.

  “Morning,” he says to me in a raspy sleep-filled voice.

  “Good morning.” I then proceed to tell him about what I overheard with our kids this morning and he smiles proudly.

  “Those little shits are growing up too fast,” he voices his thoughts out loud.

  “That they are,” I agree.

  “I need to get to the club, baby. We’ve got church in...” He pauses and looks at his bedside clock before continuing, “thirty-minutes. I need to get a move on.”

  “Alright, babe. You get dressed and I’ll make you some breakfast really fast.”

  “You’re too good to me,” he states, slapping my ass as I pass him.

  “And don’t you forget it,” I wink over my shoulder, which causes him to chuckle.

  “Too damn much,” I hear him mumble as I leave the bedroom. Have I mentioned I love my life?

  Three

  Jasper

  We’re sitting in church and I’ve just relayed the conversation I had with Lorenzo yesterday. The brothers are unimpressed, pissed the fuck off and I hear a lot of cursing in the background, which I expected.

  “We need to put an end to these motherfuckers and put a stop to their skin trade operation,” Cobra demands.

  “Agreed,” Bowie responds.

  “I’m in,” Machete announces.

  “Let’s put it to a vote,” I bang the gavel on the table. “All those in favor of going to war with the Valdez organization vote aye, all those opposed vote nay.” I begin to make my way around the table, officers are always last.

  “Machete?” I ask… “aye,” he votes.

  “Kong?” ... “aye,” he votes.

  “Dawg?” ... “aye.”

  “Cobra?” … “aye.”

  “Prowler?” … “aye.”

  “Malice?” … “aye.”

  “Bowie?” … “aye.”

  “Blaze?” … “aye.”

  “Reaper?” … “aye.”

  I turn to my VP and ask him, “Knuckles?” … “aye.”
>
  “The last vote is mine and I vote, aye.” Looks like it’s a unanimous decision.

  “We go to war!” I announce. The brothers go wild stomping their feet and banging on the table. “This means lockdown once I make that phone call,” I inform everyone. All heads nod in agreement, our gates will be locked and security will be tight.

  “Prowler, I need any and all intel you can find. I want to know what they eat morning, noon, and night. I want to know each and every time one of them takes a shit. I want to know their every move and thought. Don’t leave any stone unturned. I want to know their weaknesses and strengths. It’s time to strategize, brothers. Plan on having church at least once a day until we’ve got all the information we need to start war and chop these assholes off at the knees. Church dismissed for now.” I bang the table indicating their dismissal and I go into my office and contemplate what I’m going to say to Lorenzo to hold him off until we have a plan in motion.

  * * *

  A couple of hours later, I’m no closer to figuring out what to say, so I dig into the club’s businesses and work the financials. The one thing I hate about my job is this paperwork bullshit. We have several legit businesses to cover for our illegal ones. We funnel money through those so that our money always looks clean and legit.

  I hear a light knock on the door. “Daddy? Are you in there?” I hear my princess ask. The first true smile of the day graces my face.

  “Sure am, baby girl. Come on in,” I call out.

  She walks through the door and comes over to me. I push back my chair and she jumps in my lap. “Bubby wants to go riding on his dirtbike and I wanna go too, but Mama says she can’t watch us today because she has a doctor’s appointment. Can you and our uncles take us?” Since most of the brothers’ boys ride, I decide to see if they want to make a day out of it with our kids. It may be awhile before we have the chance to do it again, war isn’t a time for fun and games and we need to enjoy our families as much as we can now.