by Naomi West
“Don’t hang up, Felice. I just want to — Come by my hotel, without the cameras. I want to say goodbye.”
There was silence for a long time on the other end. After a million years of nothing, her voice finally came back on the phone. “Alright, Pierce. Give me the address. I will meet you in an hour.”
After they hung up, Pierce sat down on the bed in the musty old hotel room, staring at the door and waiting.
She would come soon.
Chapter Thirty-One
Felice
Felice stood in front of the hotel room number that Pierce had given her, feeling like she was tearing herself to pieces for this meeting. Her hand was poised to knock, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to do it. Seeing him one last time: is it worth the pain?
“Yes,” she realized after a moment. “I want to see him again, this once. I need to memorize the lines of his face, the sound of his voice.”
Even though it pulled at her heart to do it, Felice knocked, holding her breath as she waited for him to answer. When Pierce opened the door, she still wasn’t quite ready to see him again. It hurt to see his face, so empty and lifeless. The chiseled jaw of his was tight, his eyes void of emotion.
Pierce gestured for her to come in, closing the door behind them. Felice turned to him, but Pierce had pressed his forehead to the hotel’s door like he couldn’t stand to see her face again.
Foundations crumbling under her feet, Felice had to force herself to stand up straight, to look him right in the eye when he turned around to face her.
“I’m sorry, Felice. I’m sorry for everything. I — You were owed an apology, in person.” Pierce stepped away from the door and turned around, his eyes like ice. She swallowed hard, but managed to keep her eyes locked with his. “I never should have come home with you; I never wanted to make your life harder. I’m going to leave, go back home to the MC.”
She was quiet for a long time. When she spoke again, her voice came out ragged and unhappy. “I don’t — I mean, thank you. For the apology. I never wanted to — ” she started, then stopped, unable to keep talking. Tears overwhelmed her, cutting off her words.
“It’s okay, Felice. I’m going to find something to do with my life that will make you and our child proud, even if you don’t want me as part of both of your lives.”
Hearing him speak so nonchalantly about their child carved deep cracks into her heart, wounds that would likely never heal. “I want you part of your child’s life, Pierce, but not until you clean your act up. I can’t have a criminal around my kid that thinks nothing of starting fist fights in my living room. That’s not a role model.”
“I agree. I’m going to do whatever it takes.” Pierce stepped toward her, his hands coming to rest on either side of her face. Felice had to close her eyes as he pressed his forehead to hers, blocking the sight of him so close to her. But there wasn’t anything she could do about the scent of him, the spicy cigarette smell that permeated his skin. She inhaled deeply, trying to memorize the way he felt, the way he smelled, so close to her as he was now.
Because after this, she would most likely never see him again.
“Promise me you’ll give me a chance to prove myself,” he whispered. Before she could answer, his lips eased over hers, his fingers buried deep in her hair. She wanted to push him away, lecture him about how inappropriate this kiss was in their situation, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it.
This was the last time they would be together, and she decided to let him have her one more time.
His mouth traced every inch of her, his arms and hands wrapping close, massaging her skin. Shivering, Felice cried out his name again as they came together, bodies pressing close. Mouths pressed together not in hunger, but in quiet contemplation. There was silence between them; no words passed their lips. There was nothing that could be said to make the situation any better than it was.
Felice sat down in his lap, her naked legs wrapped close around his waist. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she held him close, feeling the head of his cock probe her willing opening. She wrapped her arms close around him, pressing her face into his muscled shoulder.
They moved together, Pierce wrapped tight around her like bonds. For the last time in her life, Felice felt whole, protected. She felt loved and cherished. Every inch of Pierce’s body seemed to worship hers, his eyes lit up with awe at her body and her soul.
Nothing was as bitterly beautiful as this moment. Never again would Felice hold him, but this was the perfect memory to carry with her for the rest of her miserable life. Felice wished he could stay, that they could build the life together she had always dreamed of. But he was a bad boy on a bike, and nothing in the world could change that. And although his rebel image lit her body on fire, bad boys made bad fathers. It was time to let him go, for good.
I love you. She tried to whisper it, but the words wouldn’t come. They hid behind her tongue as she moaned instead, feeling the length of him slide in and out of her willing body. She was hungry for him, and wanted to feel every last inch of him. She wanted to feel the hot splash of his cum inside, feel the feather-light caresses of his fingers down her back.
He gave her all of that and more. So much more…
# # #
Pierce
“I’m sorry, Felice. I’m sorry I’m not who you wanted me to be. That I’ll never be the right man for you.”
Felice was straddling his hips with her perfect legs, her face buried in the curve of his shoulder. All he could do was hold her, make love to her, and then let her go. But he wasn’t quite ready to let go yet; first, he needed to make her cry his name. No matter what, he wouldn’t leave her without pleasing her first. One last time.
He couldn’t tell her how much he cared, he couldn’t explain what was spilling through his mind, but he could show her. He kissed his message into every inch of her skin, his mouth drawing out moans and gasps of pleasure that filled him with lust, love, and something bittersweet.
I love you, Felice. I’m so sorry… He traced the words across her breasts with his mouth, caressing and teasing, making her gasp as his tongue brushed over the tips of her nipples.
Laying her down across the bed, Pierce looked down on her with a sadness that filled his chest to bursting. She lay before him, spread wide and welcoming, her pussy dripping juices onto the bed’s sheets. Her hooded eyes were glittering with pleasure. Her perfect breasts formed peaks in the cool air, her usually tidy blonde hair tangled on his pillow.
A pink blush lit up her whole body, her arousal bringing her blood to the surface of her skin. He ran his eyes over every line of her, painting the portrait of her body on his mind to pull out and admire when she was long gone from him.
Then, he leaned forward and pressed a passionate kiss to her clit, exciting a yip of pleasure from her perfect, pink, cupid’s bow lips. Her eyes closed, tears spilling from the corners, dragging her mascara down the sides of her face in two, dark lines.
She shivered with emotion as Pierce licked all the places she liked to be licked, sliding over her and inside of her until she shook with it, shouting his name with all of abandon he’d wanted to give her.
Eyes glowing with desire, Felice tackled him to the bed, throwing her legs over her hips and piercing herself, sliding his cock into her unbelievably tight womanhood. She still throbbed with the ache of her last orgasm. It was perfect.
Then she was off, riding him with fervor. She threw her head back, her hands cupping her own breasts as she cried his name. Pierce took firm hold of her undulating hips and guided her body as she pumped him furiously, her pussy clinging to him as though begging him never to leave.
When they came, they came together, the world shattering around them like a stained glass window, the pieces of the world glittering in the brilliant light of their love. They collapsed to the bed, sweat-soaked and panting. Words that couldn’t be spoken tainted their lips, and both remained silent.
When the shattered world began to put itse
lf back together again, Felice got up. Tears slid from her beautiful, green eyes as she found all of her clothing, putting each piece back on as Pierce watched from the bed.
Without a single word of goodbye, Felice walked out of the door to him hotel room forever, and Pierce could do nothing but watch. He remained silent as the door slid silently closed behind her.
All of the color seemed to fade away, leaving the ugly little hotel room even uglier than before. Pierce lit up a cigarette, blowing gray smoke into the gray room.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Pierce
Pierce stared at the wall of his office, trying not to think about anything at all. When the world was quiet like this, when everyone was out or sleeping, it was really hard to keep his mind where it was supposed to be. He was supposed to be thinking about numbers, budgets, and about keeping the MC on the right side of the law. He certainly wasn’t supposed to be thinking about Felice.
But he couldn’t keep his mind off of her for more than a few moments. Even after months of being apart with almost no communication, he still thought of her every moment of the day. It’s not like he could separate how successful and clean the Millennium Mayhem Motorcycle Club had become from Felice’s influence; it was entirely her money that had allowed them to come this far this fast. The motorcycle repair shop was up and running, and everyone here had a job and a real income. Pierce had slowly begun to learn what foreign things like tax forms and social security were; they had never had to worry about such things before all this had happened.
And most of it was Felice’s influence.
But he would try anyway, try to force thoughts of her away for a moment or two to give himself some peace.
Overall, Pierce had a pretty good life; for the first time ever, he had considerable money in the bank, a thriving repair business, and his people loyal. Most of them still lived in the old warehouse, even though they could now afford apartments in the area. That sort of loyalty to him filled him with a feeling he couldn’t describe.
“If everything is so wonderful, why can’t I get Felice out of my head?” He wondered how much longer the pain would linger, how much longer it would take him to move on.
Standing up from his desk, Pierce milled around the room, pondering over his next moves. There was quiet knock at the door, and Pierce let them in with a growl. “What is it?”
The door opened, revealing Razor. Nothing had really changed about her in the months since Pierce had come back, but there was an air of something new in her. It was like finding herself a business woman on the right side of the law had made her stand up a little straighter.
“We’re good to go on the Christmas thingy, boss. The Callie Project has agreed to work with us,” Razor said without preamble, walking into Pierce’s office with that her shoulders back and her eyes determined. “We’ll get the project off of the ground by December 1st.”
“Perfect; thanks, Razor. I owe you one for taking care of that for me.”
“Anything else I can do for you, boss?” She flipped her long, half-shaved hair out of her face with a practiced motion. There was a frown on her leathery face.
Sighing, Pierce leaned back in his chair, his eyes locking on Razor’s. “Is there something you wanna say to me?”
She made a face and shrugged. “That depends on whether you’re thinking about going to visit Nevada this holiday season or not, I guess.”
Pierce winced. “I’m not planning any trips anywhere, Razor. And it would be best if you didn’t bring it up again.” Razor shrugged, closing the office door behind herself, leaving Pierce alone with his memories again. The memories of Felice’s perfect white skin. The gentle part between her cupid’s bow lips as she moaned his name. The way her hands —
Better stop thinking like that. It was hard enough to get anything done with Felice haunting his mind all the time; remembering the times he spent warming her bed wouldn’t make anything better.
As though his thinking of her brought it on, Pierce’s phone buzzed with the sound of chiming bells. It was Felice’s unique ringtone. Sweating, Pierce reached for the phone with fingers that shook.
“First pictures of the baby; it’s a boy. :)”
And Pierces heart collapsed, turning into a black hole in his chest. The ultrasounds looked like blobs of an unfinished sculpture to Pierce’s untrained eye, but he knew there was a child in there somewhere. His child. He saved the photos in his phone without replying, returning to the lifeless, colorless world he now lived in. Before, this repair shop was everything he ever wanted. But somehow, spending a few weeks with America’s dream girl had altered him in ways he couldn’t comprehend.
But he would go on. And one day he would spend a few minutes not thinking about Felice and his unborn son. Then maybe a few hours. Then maybe a few whole days at a time. The pain of losing her wouldn’t go away, but maybe one day it would be a little more bearable.
“Felice doesn’t want me part of our kid’s life. I can’t decide if her sending me these updates is worse than nothing.” He stared down at his phone, thinking about replying to the message, but ultimately deciding against it. He should have blocked her number, but couldn't quite bring himself to do it. He should have burnt the pile of magazines that he’d bought with her photo in it, but he couldn’t seem to keep himself from buying them whenever her perfect face peeked out from the pages.
Well, at least the world loves her again. Getting back with Clay has been a huge boost to her career.
But it didn’t stop the pressure from clamping down on his heart every time her name came up in conversation. He was pretty sure that nothing would ever stop that pain.
Taking a deep breath, Pierce took his jacket, a pack of cigarettes, and a lighter. Perhaps a visit to the hills would help out his head.
# # #
Felice
Felice stared down at her phone, hoping that Pierce would reply to her text. Almost immediately, the photo was shown as “looked at,” but no reply ever came. Sighing, Felice fought back tears as she set her phone down gently on the counter next to her.
Standing on the cold, white kitchen tiles in her bare feet, Felice felt a little nauseous. She’d never thought that things like morning sickness and swollen feet would be on her list of problems to deal with, but she didn’t regret the decision to keep Pierce’s child. If nothing else, their son would be a little piece of him that she could keep.
There was a knock at the door before Clay entered, his eyes roaming the rooms until they found her. “I’m always in the kitchen, Clay,” she wanted to say. “Always. It is the only room in this house that I love. Not that you would take the time to learn anything about me. No, that would take too much effort.”
“Hello, darling,” Clay frowned, putting unnecessary emphasis on the word. It made Felice feel even more nauseous than she was before. Clay walked in and sat down across from her at the counter. He didn’t even bother trying to kiss her cheek anymore. Clay, just like Felice, was tired of pretending. It was hard enough to pretend for the cameras.
“What do you want, Clay?” Felice asked after a long deep breath. It was the only thing that kept her from snapping at him.
Clay pulled out his phone and immediately started flipping through something, his scrolling ensuring that he didn’t have to look at Felice’s face. She silently fumed. Then he made it even worse by opening his mouth. “Well, the producers want to end this season with a bang, you know? And one of the little guys who gets coffee had an idea.”
Felice frowned, pretty sure she was already going to hate this idea. Running her hands over the swelling of her belly, she stayed silent and waited for Clay to finish.
“So, they thought it would be a good idea to have a wedding for the season finale. That way your little bastard baby can grow up with a real father. Or something.” Clay waved dismissively like it didn’t matter one way or another to him. “Something about keeping it real with the conservative fans or something.”
Felice just blinked
at him, unable to summon a reaction. The world seemed to tilt a little while Clay was talking. Without meaning to, Felice went to her coffeemaker and turned it on, letting the scent and sound of the coffee spilling into the carafe soothe whatever was left of her spirit. “I should have stayed with Pierce. I should have taken the hard route.” She didn’t say anything in response, and Clay somehow took that as a sign that she also thought the idea was a good one.
“You should start picking out rings and all that nonsense; they’ll want to film the party and engagement episodes in the next few weeks. If you buy whatever ring you want, I’ll pay you back. Get it soon.” Clay stood up from the bar, his eyes still locked on his phone. “I have a date tonight, so don’t bother texting me with pictures. I’m sure whatever you pick will be fine.” Without a single word of affection or farewell, Clay was gone, his face still so buried in his phone that he couldn’t see how unhappy Felice looked.