“Oh, Lionheart.” She mewed. “You’re not going to keep me waiting are you.”
He grabbed her by the hair and pushed her against the edge of the tub. The way she gasped made his prick grow just a bit harder. She wriggled her ass—wet and soapy—against him and he let out a low groan that told her she had him exactly where she want him.
“You like that, Lionheart?” She wriggled her ass again against his hard cock, teasing out a drop of precome.
He tightened his grip on her hair. “I’m warning you. Call me that again.”
“Or what.” She turned around and for a split second the only thing in his vision were her startling green eyes. She was inching closer. His fingers danced their way between her legs and found the warm wetness that hungered for something to fill it. When he found her throbbing clit, he brushed it with the edge of his finger and listened with satisfaction as she finally shut up.
He brushed it again. “Do you really want to find out?”
She shivered and nodded, unable to say a word.
He splayed her lips and drew tiny circles around the clit. Her knees were shaking as he held her closer. Nobody called him Lionheart without permission. Nobody. Her face—red hot—pressed against his as she took a deep shuddering breath, whispering “Yes… yes…” as he continued to play with her.
When she came, she came hard.
The water crashed all around them as she trembled and moaned against him. But he refused to let her go. His fingers continued to tease her, to please her, to send her higher and higher until there was nowhere else but to come crashing down.
When she collapsed against the edge of the tub, limbs twitching from the aftershocks; that was when he entered her.
He grunted at how wet she was. He was only a few thrusts in when he felt her come against his cock. He grabbed her by the waist, refusing to let her fall, daring her to keep up. That goddamn vodka. He could feel his cock starting to soften. He grabbed a fistful of her hair, pulled her head back towards him and rode her as hard as he could, as fast as he could until with one loud gasp, he came.
Pulling out, Leo collapsed into the water. His cock was already softening and for the moment, he was glad the bubbles hid it.
“I’m going to get dressed,” She whispered it softly over the hum of the jets, “Do you mind?”
“Do whatever you need to do and then go.” Leo had lost interest in her already. This girl with her pin straight hair and her fake tan was just another one for the night. He didn’t even trouble himself to watch her head back into the bedroom to rustle through the clothing piles on the floor.
After a few minutes, she called back to him, “Leo! Can you help me? I can't find my watch…” He could see her as she bent over a pile, her purse draped around her arm and a black cell phone in her hand. He had no idea where a watch could be, yet he still obliged her request.
CHAPTER TWO
Bailey found her grandmother on a Tuesday morning. Her body lay cold in the bed she had slept in every night for the last forty years—the same bed in which her husband had passed a decade ago. If you looked closely, you could even see the indent of where he slept, his warm body facing hers eye to eye as if he never wished to look away.
On the day her grandmother died, Bailey noticed the purple blooms of the alstroemeria beginning to blossom from their tiny buds. They were her favorites, a sign that spring had officially begun. They brought back memories of her grandmother ankle deep in dirt as she tore up renegade weeds with her bare hands. She knew that despite Josephine feeling a bit under the weather and her recent inability to tend to the soil herself, she would want nothing more than to see the progress Bailey had made. Bailey tiptoed into the main house to retrieve a vase. It was just about 7am, time for her grandmother to start her morning routine of a big breakfast and a long hot shower.
But the house was empty, cold, quiet. A soft wind blew through an open window in the living room next to the chair her grandfather occupied while he was still living. Bailey set down the flowers on the mantle of the family fireplace and closed the white wooden window closed. It made a small crashing sound as she gritted her teeth. No way she was surprising her grandmother after that giveaway.
“Nan!” Bailey called upstairs to her grandmother’s room. “C’mon, wake up. You won’t believe the blooms outside!” Bailey charged up the stairs, taking two at a time just as she did when she was a child living under the roof of her grandparents. She’d expected to see Josephine and her kind, wrinkled face greet her, or at least call back at her from wherever she was. But this Tuesday was different. Instead of an excited laughter or a hearty hello, there was silence in every nook and cranny of the old Victorian. Only the sound of the creaky floorboards and Bailey’s singsong voice echoed off the yellow and white walls.
Bailey looked into the room where she had stayed when she was a girl. It was still a pale pink with white lace curtains Josephine had sewn herself. Once Bailey had moved out and gotten married, Josephine turned half the room into a private reading area complete with oak bookshelves and an old reading light. The rest of the room was still filled with girl’s toys and clothing, though the items were new to Bailey.
Bailey skipped past the next bedroom. The second room was still locked up. Bailey did not bother trying. Her grandfather had permanently sealed it shut the day Bailey’s father died in a motorcycle accident. Neither Josephine or her husband could bare to see the nursery where he grew up on the remains of his life that still sat still and dusty upon the shelves.
The last room was Josephine’s. Bailey studied the art deco, gold door knob. An ominous, weighted feeling pushed down on her as she placed her hand on the cold surface and lifted her other fist to knock upon the heavy wood. Every bit of her screamed to run, to flee. Nothing good was to come. Nothing was going to make the next part of this easy. She was not supposed to knock.
But she did it anyways. The door rattled a bit from her tap. She swallowed hard as she whispered into the grain, “Nan? It’s me, Bailey. I just wanted to show you…” Bailey forced herself to open the door quickly, like pulling a bandaid.
“...the flowers.” Bailey could hardly get out a word. Her chest filled with air as she sunk to the parquet floors just behind the open door. She forced herself to crawl towards the bed, where she took hold of one of the posts. She wrapped herself around it, remembering how she did this as a child when a storm would roll in, but she would be too afraid to wake her grandparents for comfort. They would find her there the next morning, still holding on to the large white post with all of her strength.
But today, she had to let go—to pick herself up and face what was before her—to say goodbye one last time. Bailey walked slowly towards the empty side of the bed, the place her grandfather had drawn his last breath as well and laid down across from her grandmother. She counted the wrinkles in the corners of her eyes, the ones Josephine attributed to years of laughter. She smoothed the unruly gray hair that still had a tint of brown.
And she squeezed the cold hand as she said the last words to her grandmother, “Thank you Nan. Thank you for everything. I won’t forget you. I won’t let you down. I'll make you proud of me. I promise you. I promise.” She planted a kiss on her soft forehead as she scooted herself off of the bed and walked towards the door. As she shut it, she turned back and whispered, “I love you.”
Bailey Reed had lost the last pillar remaining in her life. Her world would never be the same again.
***
“Josephine was a good woman. A stron’ one. She knew how to raise good, healthy kids. She made a great apple pie too. She was everythin’ a ‘merican woman oughta be. Bold and brave. I don’t know how she did it. And I'll always admire her for it.” Catherine’s Southern twang rang through the congregation hall area of the Smith Family Funeral Home. She looked towards the closed ebony casket as it rested in the middle of the room and then back to the small crowd of people come to say their respects.
“Josephine, we’ll always be famil
y. No matter what happens, we’ll be family.” She looked pointedly into the faces that were cast downward, each reflecting on her words. The only eyes she could meet were that of Bailey’s piercing blue eyes. Catherine stiffened as she gripped the wooden podium with her hands. She cleared her throat, and then quickly closed her eulogy with a simple, “I love ya, sister.”
The hall echoed with the sound of Catherine’s heels as the clomped on the gray stone tile. She took her place next to Bailey who had been watching her with longing, thoughtful eyes. Instead of acknowledgment, Catherine turned her body away from her great niece and picked up the small program to her face.
The ceremony concluded soon after as the room slowly emptied. In the end, only Bailey and Catherine remained, neither saying a word to one another. Bailey stood at the head of the casket, looking longingly at where her grandmother’s final resting place was to be while Catherine paced up and down the foyer, picking up discarded prayer cards and programs.
As she made her way to the front, she began to speak rapidly, her hands twisted the garbage until they became discolored and tattered. “Bailey, we need to talk about the estate.”
“Oh, okay.” Bailey had thought this was coming. She knew that her Grandmother didn’t have much money, but there had been enough for the funeral costs and to pay off some of the bills that were coming in.
“I need you out in two weeks.” Catherine said it forcefully, loudly. Her command bounced off the tall windows and echoed through the empty space.
Bailey’s eyes opened wide, her heart sank as the panic set in. “What do you mean? Nan’s place is my home. It’s where I’ve been living since the divorce went through. She would never want me out…” Bailey looked back down at the casket wondering what Nan had done, or didn’t do.
“I understand that Bailey, but the home is mine. And I plan on giving it to Rebecca and Dennis. They have been looking for a place for awhile now and Josephine’s place is perfect for them and their family.” Catherine smiled to herself as she thought about her own granddaughter and her new baby.
“I – I don’t understand. Nan would've wanted me—”
Catherine raised her hand to stop Bailey mid-sentence, “She didn't leave the house to you. She left it to me. It’s mine to do as I see best. And I want that home to go to someone with a family, with the ability to take care of it.”
Her words stun. Bailey stepped towards the front pew and fell forward, her back towards where Catherine had stood in place looking down at her. “But, that’s my home. My dad’s home.”
“It’s not your home. Josephine coddled you and spoiled you. She would've wanted you to go make it on your own. Now here’s your chance. Think of it as a, uh, gift. It’s your Nan’s way of saying that it’s time.”
Bailey had no words for the woman. She’d never liked Catherine, not since her dad’s funeral in which Bailey overheard her talking to a bunch of church women about how he would still be alive if Bailey hadn't been there. From then on, she had refused to talk to her, refused to even acknowledge her existence. Her grandmother had been their only connection. But now, with Josephine’s passing, there was nothing linking the women—except for the old Victorian home with the flower garden in the back and the flowers still resting on the mantle.
Catherine grew impatient with Bailey’s lack of response. Her heels clicked as she walked to the trash can to toss the waste and then back to the pew to gather her belongings. She put on her wool gray coat and pulled the greying hair loose from its bun. As she put on her leather gloves, she walked towards the casket and traced her hands upon the top. Bailey watched as she let out a deep sigh and then tapped gently on the wood.
As she spun towards the exit, she called out again towards Bailey, “Two weeks. Next Friday. Not a day more, Bailey. And please leave everything be. The estate evaluators will come by next Wednesday to begin the auction process. I already know where most of the valuables are and what should be in that home...”
“I won't be taking anything that doesn't belong to me, Aunt Catherine.” Bailey whispered through gritted teeth. Her aunt had driven daggers into her and was now twisting it with each and every word that spun out of her mouth.
Catherine’s face softened with Bailey’s promise. She lowered her voice as she struggled to say some parting words of comfort, “If you need me… well, you have my phone number, I suppose.”
Bailey was left alone again with her grandmother’s body. The grey sky had turned dark and the lights inside the space had dimmed. A half hour passed and then an hour. She could not bare to move, nor take her eyes off of the casket. The director of the funeral home stopped in as he began to remove the flowers and remove the drapes from the windows. The soft, soothing music disappeared.
A man tapped on her shoulder gently and cleared his throat. Bailey turned slowly to face him, knowing what he was about to say. “My dear, we’re closing up now. I think it’s time to say goodbye.”
She wiped away a small tear that had suddenly appeared at the corner of her eye as she asked, “Can I have five more minutes?” The man nodded in agreement, and Bailey studied him as he slowly walked away with his hands in his pockets.
Bailey counted in her head each second till she got to the five minute mark. It kept her true emotions away. As she hit her last few numbers, she stood, purse in hand, and lifted her chin to the ground. “I love you, Nan.”
She slowly walked outside. The weather was still damp and unseasonably chilly for Chicago. The air smelled of acid, the type of scent that came just before it began to downpour. She ran to her car which was parked at the end of the long driveway. She had hoped to dart through the sprinkles, but by the time she'd reached the door to her silver hatchback, it had begun to come down hard and fast. Her black dress clung to her tiny frame and her brown hair stuck to the back of her neck as she struggled to find her keys in the mess of her purse.
Driving through the storm at least gave her something to think about. She slowed as she approached the home she had called her own. The windows were dark and her grandmother’s car still sat in the driveway just as it had for the last few years.
But Bailey did not pull into the gravel entryway. Nor did she park in her usual space next to the garage. Instead, she kept on driving another fifteen minutes until she pulled up to the Lancasters. She parked her car and then quickly ran towards the door where she pounded over and over again.
A tall, lanky woman answered the door. She held on to a girl with bright blue eyes and brown hair pulled back into two tight pigtails. “Mommy!” the little girl squealed as she reached out her arms towards Bailey, “I missed you!”
“I missed you too, Lily!” Bailey plastered a smile on her wet, solemn face and crouched down to face her. She could not let her daughter see her as frightened and as tired as she was. So, instead, she smiled as widely and as brightly as she could manage, “How about you grab your things, and we’ll hit the road. I know there’s a burger at home with your name on it!”
The little girl ran off to the direction of the living room as Bailey stood. She reached into her purse and grabbed her checkbook from inside. “How much do I owe you, Liza?”
“Bailey, we talked about this. I need cash for watching Lily now. Your last three checks bounced.” Liza had always been patient and kind, but Bailey could feel her irritation seep through the stiff and awkward smile on Liza’s face.
“I know, I know. I’m sorry Liza. Rick won’t pay me until I finish the job, and I had to take off today for the funeral. Can I come by tomorrow and drop it off?” Bailey knew her bank account was empty. She hadn't even bothered to conceal it this time with a check dated for days in the future.
Liza shook her head and she looked down at her feet. “Yeah Bai,” she said, “that would be fine. But I can’t watch her anymore. I run a business here, a real daycare. I can't keep a space for Lily if you can't pay on time. I love you like a sister, I really do. And I love Lily. I’m gonna miss her. But Paul is insisting I open the space up t
o another family that can pay on time every week.”
“I understand.” Bailey was too tired to fight, too tired to care. This was just another nail to her sealing her fate. “Thank you for looking after her. I’ll come by tomorrow with the money. I promise.”
“Mommy! Look what I made! It’s us!” Bailey held up a hand painted picture of Bailey, Josephine, and Lily holding hands surrounded by huge flowers in red, blue, and purple. Seeing even a finger painted depiction of her grandmother made her heart dive back into her chest.
“That’s gorgeous, Lily! Now, let’s head—” Bailey caught herself before she could utter the word ‘home,’ “Let’s head back to the house. We’ve got a lot to get done, including some packing.” Bailey scooped her daughter into her arms and shut Liza’s door behind her.
Bailey looked into the car’s rearview mirror and brushed tears away from her eyes. She smiled as Lily buckled herself into her car seat and looked excitedly out the window. The rain began to let up a bit as the mother and daughter drove off towards an uncertain future.
Possessive_A Bad Boy Second Chance Motorcycle Club Romance Page 24