“This place hasn’t been touched in over thirty years. Me walking in and changing it all, it feels wrong,” I murmur.
“Listen, I knew who Eleanora was; not well, but when I was a kid, I remember her. My dad was a member. I’ve been around since I was born. She didn’t come to the clubhouse often. She came for family things, like barbeques. She tried to be part of the club, she claimed her status as an Old Lady, but she wasn’t immersed. I saw her around, but I don’t think that the club was for her. For MadDog, she fought and she tried.
“MadDog didn’t spend a lot of time here with her, though. He was all about the club. That club has always been his life, his family, and his home. This place never really was his home, not really. I have a feeling you’re a different kind of woman, one who wants her man happy, and one who cares if he’s in her bed at night?” Colleen announces.
I gasp at her words, as does Bobbie, and even quiet Teeny.
“I care where he is,” I murmur.
“Right. Then part of that is making this a home for the two of you to share. He didn’t keep it this way as a shrine to her. He kept it this way because he’s a man and he didn’t give a flying fuck. He didn’t live here. He slept here on occasion, and his son was raised here, but that’s it,” Colleen says. It aligns with what Max told me about his marriage and his life.
“Okay,” I agree.
“Now, what color are we going to paint this room?” she asks, looking around.
The wallpaper, yes, wallpaper, is an awful French blue background with pink flowers covering it. I bite my bottom lip and think about Max, about what he would like. Nothing feminine, but yet, something soft and soothing.
“What about a light dove grey with white baseboards and white crown molding?” I ask as I bite my bottom lip.
“She’ll do,” Genny announces.
We spend the next two hours going through every room in the house, except Fury’s, and make notes on what colors to paint them and what furniture and accessories we need to buy for them. It’s fun, and by the end, I’ve come to realize that these women aren’t nearly as scary as I had anticipated. They’re nice, like Kentlee and Brentlee, and the Old Ladies in Idaho.
“Lunch, then paint swatches?” Teeny asks, her voice still very soft and quiet.
“If we pick out the paint colors, then the guys can get working on it first thing tomorrow. I bet they could have the whole inside of the house painted by the time we go furniture shopping.” Colleen says.
“What about the floors? All this awful shag carpet has to go,” I point out.
“We’ll pick that out, too. There are a ton of guys that will come out to the house. I bet we have this place completely remodeled by end of week,” Genny says.
“All we’ll do is pick out what you want and tell them, let them worry about measuring and how much to buy,” Colleen suggests with a shrug.
“I think I should call Max,” I mutter.
“Yeah, you do that, call your man,” Genny says.
There’s an edge to her tone, and there’s something I don’t necessarily like about it.
“I can’t just do things without talking to him,” I say defensively.
“Of course you can’t. Most Old Ladies ask their man’s permission for everything. I know I do,” Bobbie chimes in. Genny rolls her eyes.
I assume Genny thinks she rules the roost, but I wonder what things are really like. Does Soar pretend to be one thing with her, and then completely different when she’s not around? I feel catty for even thinking about her relationship, about her life, so I will myself to stop.
I shake my head of the mean thoughts that are rolling through it and decide to call Max. This is his house, not mine, and I’m just staying here. I’m not his Old Lady, I’m not his wife, either, I’m just his—something.
This undefined, committed, monogamist something we have between us—where we live together, sleep together, and get to know each other—something.
We’re in a relationship, is what we are, but neither of us is willing to define that, not yet at least. Maybe if we were closer in age, maybe if Sniper weren’t my brother, maybe if we would just both come out and say what we want. But we’re both avoiding, and for whatever reason, I’m perfectly fine with that right now.
“Mary,” Max grunts when he answers my call.
“The girls want to go pick out flooring, paint colors, and countertops. We’re not going to order anything, because I honestly wouldn’t even know how to order the right amounts. I just wanted to make sure that it was okay with you, to pick it out and then bring home the samples tonight,” I say, walking away from the women.
“Yeah, sweetness that’s good. Why don’t you pick out some new appliances, too. Those that we have are old as shit and have to be on their last leg. Make sure they have what you want in stock so that I can get it tomorrow. I’ll have some guys and prospects over. Hopefully we can bang all this out in a few days.”
“Seriously?” I breathe.
“Wasn’t fuckin’ around with you when I said we’d remodel the place to what you wanted, Mary. You pick it all out, and I’ll get working on it tomorrow. I’m going to be shorthanded here in a couple of weeks, so the sooner the better,” he murmurs.
I can’t help myself, I can’t stop myself from smiling—huge.
“Okay,” I whisper.
“I’ll be home later tonight. Have fun with the girls,” he murmurs.
I feel a thrill run up my spine—home, tonight. Home. This is going to be our home; and though we’ve rushed like a freight train into this—something—we have going on, I can’t help but feel giddy and completely lovesick at the thought of what’s to come.
“Get your permission?” Genny asks, rolling her eyes.
“As a matter-of-fact, I did, and he told me to pick out new kitchen appliances as well,” I say with a shrug.
“Let’s get moving then,” Colleen shouts happily.
We all follow her to her giant SUV and pile inside. We decide to get lunch first, all of us not really thrilled at the chore of going to the hardware store on an empty stomach. Then we spend the rest of the afternoon picking out paint colors, appliances, flooring, and countertops.
By the end of the night, I never want to see another home improvement store again for the rest of my freaking life.
The paint colors were so overwhelming that, by the end, I didn’t even give a shit if my bedroom was Dragons Blood or Salty Tears. I ended up just letting Colleen choose. As long as it was about the color we’d talked about, I didn’t care anymore.
I stand outside of my house. Yellow, the color that Eleanora picked out the day I bought it for her. Looking around, I can’t help but let my mind drift back to Eleanora, and then I’m filled with guilt and regret. I didn’t do enough for her while we were together. I didn’t love her enough, not like I should have—not like I could have.
Another story of a biker fucking up a good girl, a girl I loved but didn’t know how to really show her. I didn’t know how to feed that love and make it grow, not at the age I was.
I tried to keep her as far removed from the club life as I could. It pissed her off, because she felt like I was hiding things, and she was right.
It wasn’t the place for her.
She fought and fought to be a good Old Lady, to be what I needed, but I wouldn’t let her. Not the way she wanted. By doing that, I think I kept her at an arm’s length in every aspect of my life, and that shit was not good for us.
I try to shake off the thoughts of the past, knowing that I can’t change them. But I can be a different man now—for Mary, I can be a better man.
Walking into the house, I take note of how empty it is, how empty it feels. It’s as if the heaviness of the past has lifted, like this could possibly be a clean slate for us. Just ridding the house of furniture and her things has lightened the entire inside of the home.
I make my way upstairs, on a mission to find Mary. It’s the only place she can be, considering we’ve only
kept one piece of furniture in the house, and that’s the bed.
I walk into the bedroom to see her lying on her side. She’s asleep, still dressed in what she wore for the day—a pair of tight jeans and a loose V-neck shirt, which seems to be what she’s most comfortable in. She always looks hot as fuck in them, too.
Her hair is pulled up into a messy bun, and her face is bare of any makeup. She looks gorgeous. Even in sleep, she looks absolutely, fucking stunning.
“You’re late,” she mumbles as her eyes flutter open.
“I had a schedule to make for some runs coming up. It’s a bitch to try and get these pansies situated when they all have important shit that they suddenly need to handle when I schedule them to leave,” I grunt.
“Did you eat?” she asks.
My dick jerks at the thought of eating her pussy, not food.
“No,” I murmur as I start to pull my clothes off, leaving them in a pile on the floor.
My eyes stay connected to her bright blue ones as I crawl up the bed, up her clothed body. She rolls onto her back, and her arms lift as her hands wrap around the sides of my neck.
“I thought you’d stay all night,” she whispers once I’m just centimeters away from her.
“No, sweetness, I’m not staying away from you if I can help it,” I mutter before I press my lips to hers.
Mary-Anne arches her back and presses her tits against my chest as I press against her, pushing her into the mattress with my body.
I moan when her legs wrap around my hips and she lifts her pussy to grind against my bare cock. The jeans are rough, but fuck, she’s so warm already. I move one of my hands to her side, beneath her shirt, and gently slide it up to cup her tit over her bra.
“Max,” she breathes into my mouth. Fuck, she’s so damn sweet.
“I’m hungry,” I murmur against her lips as I nibble her soft skin.
“There’s not much in the kitchen to eat,” she breathes as her body trembles beneath mine.
“Not hungry for food, sweetness, hungry for this pussy of yours,” I grunt as I slide down her body.
I hear her giggle as I unbutton her jeans and pull them down her legs, tossing them behind me somewhere. I listen to them hit the floor before I wrench her panties down her long, lean legs as well. Wrapping my hands around the back of her knees, I spread her wide for me.
“Max,” she sighs.
I lift my eyes to look at her, and I grin. She licks her lips in what can only be anticipation of my mouth on her sweet cunt.
I don’t bother saying a damn word. Nothing else needs to be said. I just need to taste her, to show her how much I want her right now. I need to feast on her.
I flick her clit with my tongue a few times, enjoying her little gasps when I do, then place a kiss on it before I move down to fuck her with my tongue.
I lap at her, fucking her, licking her, and nibbling her sweet, juicy cunt as she dives her fingers into my hair and whimpers above me, her body shaking and thrashing. She stills, freezing with nothing more than a whimper, but I can feel her pussy spasm and then flood my mouth with her sweet release.
“Holy—oh, my god,” she whispers as her body begins to relax.
I want to shove my cock inside of her right this fucking second, but I also want her to keep that sweet satisfied look on her face. Her eyes peer down at me, and I feel like I’m something fuckin’ special just by the way she’s taking me in.
I press my lips against hers and trail my fingers down her side as my other hand wraps around the back of her neck. Feeling the strands of her hair between my fingers, I tangle them in the band that’s holding her hair up and yank it off.
Once my hand has worked its way between her soft, swollen, wet thighs I begin to gently stroke her. She’s sensitive and groans every time my fingers graze her clit, but I want to bring her to the brink again, slowly.
“Max, what are you doing?” she breathes as her eyes roll in the back of her head.
“Gonna make you come with my fingers, sweetness,” I murmur against her neck, tasting the skin right below her ear—her sweat soaked skin.
“It’s too much, baby,” she whines.
I lift my head and press my lips against hers before I sweep my tongue through her mouth. She sucks on my tongue, sucking her taste from me, and it makes my cock practically explode.
I’ve never burned so fucking hot for a woman in my entire fucking life.
I slip two fingers inside of her and curl them. She cries out into my mouth. Her pussy flutters, and I know that she’s close again. Fuck, I want her so damn bad, I feel like a horny, fuckin’ teenager.
“Come on, sweetness. Let go,” I coax.
She does a few seconds later, and I know that this one is big. Her whole body seems to shake with her climax, and her head pulls down as her eyes widen in surprise. Then she falls back, and her body relaxes. I roll her onto her stomach, spreading her legs and sliding my cock inside of her pussy.
Mary purrs like a kitten once I’m fully seated inside of her, and I decide there’s no way I can fuck her hard and without mercy. She’s too goddamn content and sated right now.
I press my chest against her back, still clothed in her soft tee, and I press my lips to her neck. I fuck her slowly. There’s no need for urgency, we’re alone in this house, and the only thing I care about is making her feel safe, secure, and desired.
“Max, god, you feel so good, baby,” she whispers.
My heart swells at the name baby, something she’s used a few times, now; something I fuckin’ love as it passes her lips when I’m inside of her.
“I’m gonna fill this tight little pussy up, sweetness. Been dreamin’ about being inside of it all fuckin’ day long. Fuck, Mary, I can’t get enough of you,” I murmur against her ear, my breath hot and heavy.
As much I want to pound her pussy with all my strength, I hold back, keeping my strokes slow and even. Mary wraps her hand around the back of my neck and holds onto me as I continue to fuck her.
One of my hands wraps around her waist, holding onto her as my hips roll. I’m so fucking close, I feel my lower back tingle and my balls tighten.
“Max, come on, baby. Come, fill me,” she urges on a whispered sigh.
“Fuck,” I rumble.
I plant myself deep inside of her before I groan with my release.
I stay inside of her for as long as I can, but I know that my body weight bearing down against hers has to be uncomfortable, so I roll off of her and press myself against her side instead.
Lifting my hand, I shift her long fall of black hair to the side and look at her. Mary’s eyes are open, just small slits, and she’s gazing at me.
“This isn’t just something, is it?” she asks.
“No, sweetness, it’s not,” I finally admit.
“It’s all happened so quickly. I’m afraid it’s all going to fall apart,” she whispers. It makes my heart ache.
“Know a good thing when I see it, Mary, which means I’m going to hold onto you with both hands, sweetness,” I murmur.
They’re words I’ve said before, advice I’ve given my own son about his wife. I’d be a fool to only give advice and not take it myself. I plan on taking it, too.
Mary is special, and I’m going to feed what we have going on here. I’m going to hold onto her and make her happy. Honest to fuck, I don’t know if this is going to work, but I’m not going to sit with my thumb up my ass and wonder.
“Are you okay?” my brother asks before I can even greet him.
“I’m fine,” I say with a nod, as though he can see me.
“What the fuck, Mary-Anne? Why didn’t you tell me about Kyle?” he barks.
I don’t know what to say. Bates has obviously discovered that Kyle’s dead, but I’m not exactly sure what to tell him. I feel badly that a life has been lost, but I’m not feeling guilty, or even sad that it was Kyle’s. Maybe there’s something really wrong with me. Maybe there’s more of my father flowing through my veins than even
I realize.
“He’s dead,” I murmur as I kick a pile of dirt.
I came outside to talk on the phone. It’s too loud inside. The men are installing the new hardwood flooring, and if Bates even heard them in the background I’m sure he would recognize at least one of them, and then he’d know where I’m at. I’m not ready for that yet. I will tell him about me and Max—one day.
“Fuck yeah, he’s dead. What the hell, Mary?” Bates practically roars at me.
“His father called me when it happened. He explained to me that it was someone who was convicted. He killed Kyle in retaliation after he got out of jail, and then he killed himself,” I calmly explain.
“How can you be so calm about this?” he asks, his voice dropping a bit deeper.
“I’m clam because, although I was very shaken when it happened, it’s over with, Bates. Maybe my sympathies are less because my breakup with Kyle wasn’t really all that great. He ended up being an asshole.”
“Like how?” he asks.
I can practically hear the wheels turning in his head.
I decide to tell him some of the truth. He needs to know, and now him getting in trouble for hurting Kyle isn’t really an option. Maybe then I won’t sound so cruel to him. When he discovers the truth.
“He started hitting me,” I admit quietly.
“You better be fucking kidding me right now.”
“I didn’t want anybody to know. I was embarrassed, because here I went from dad to him, and I just, I was ashamed that I let it happen for as long as I did,” I admit. Every single thing I’ve said is the absolute truth.
“You should have come to me,” he grinds out.
“I probably should have, but it’s over with now.”
“There’s more to this, and I’m going to find out, Mary. Mark my fuckin’ words,” he says on a shout.
He hangs up on me and I can’t help but feel guilt roll through me as he does. A pair of strong, tanned arms wrap around my waist, and I feel a scruffy beard against my cheek before soft lips press against me.
“Sniper?” Max asks against my ear.
“Yeah. He heard about Kyle. I told him a little about the abuse, trying to explain why I’m not as upset about his death as I should be. Bates got pretty pissed,” I explain with a slight shrug.
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