by J. M. Walker
The man chuckled. “Yeah. I can see why he likes you.”
“Why do you have my phone, fucker?” Tray’s voice sounded in the background.
My skin heated. “Please let me talk to him.”
“Who is it?” Tray asked his friend. “Hello?”
“Hey,” I said softly.
“Zillah,” he greeted, the annoyance in his voice no longer there. “What’s wrong?”
My stomach flipped. He knew, without me saying anything, that something was wrong. Was it possible to learn that about someone so fast?
“You still there, Beauty?”
“Yeah.” I gripped the phone tight in my hand and walked up the steps to his porch before sitting on the patio couch. “I’m sorry for calling. You’re busy. I’ll let you go.” And do what, I wasn’t sure.
“Don’t you dare hang up on me. What’s wrong?” he repeated, his voice firmer that time.
“Nothing.” I sighed. “Everything.”
“Where are you?”
“I-I’m at your home,” I murmured.
“I’m on my way.” A click sounded in my ear.
Throwing the phone down beside me, I scrubbed my hands down my face and let out a harsh sigh. What the hell was I doing? I was sleeping with a man who clearly had secrets but I didn’t care and wanted him just the same. It didn’t make sense. Not one bit. I should have been pissed that he never told me he was a biker. Should I have questioned his sexuality before sleeping with him? Was that how it worked? God, I was so naïve.
Needing to do something other than just sitting there like a lump while I waited for Tray to show up, I left the porch. He had some flowers in the front garden. Red roses. Yellow tulips. And other flowers I didn’t recognize but they were still beautiful. Images of Tray kneeling out there, removing the weeds and making sure the flowers were taken care of, brought a smile to my face. Was it him who had a green thumb? Or was it an ex? Did he even have an ex?
“No. I don’t.”
I jumped, spinning on my heel and found Tray standing a few feet away. God, he was beautiful. Much like the old car I had been fixing up. Lister. I decided then that would be the beast’s name.
I swallowed hard as Tray took a step toward me. “I didn’t hear you pull up.”
“You were in your head.” He nodded toward the flowers. “I take care of these myself if that’s what you’re wondering. My housekeeper waters them whenever she can. And the grounds crew will do the same. But if I’m home, I do it all.”
When he took another step in my direction, that was when I saw the leather cut. It had ‘Nomad’ written on the left breast and other patches I didn’t recognize but it screamed biker. Why didn’t he tell me?
I looked away, glancing back at the flowers.
“Don’t.”
I met Tray’s gaze that time, his hard voice washing over me.
“Don’t look away from me, Zillah.”
My heart raced. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
He took that moment to close the distance between us. Cupping my chin, he tilted my head back. “I wanted you to know me. Not the biker. I can only assume it was your dad who told you so you would know as well that I’m not part of a club. As much as I’ve been asked.”
“Why not?” I asked, trailing a finger down the soft black leather. I had always been partial to the sweet smell. It was home for me.
“I’m not used to being wanted.”
My eyes snapped up at his confession.
Tray gave me crooked smirk, his cheeks becoming rosy. “Like I told you. My mom died over ten years ago from cancer. My father died a couple of years before that. He was an asshole but he loved my mother something fierce. I was thankful that he took his anger out on me and not her.”
“Tray …” I paused. “I’m sorry.”
He grabbed my hand, pulling me to the porch, and sat me on the couch beside him. “Listen, whatever your dad said—”
“It’s not just what he said.” I turned to him and pulled the photo of him out of my bag. “He showed me this.”
Tray frowned, unfolding the picture, and barked a laugh. “Fuck me.”
“Tell me what I’m looking at. My dad put thoughts in my head and I need you to help me understand what’s going on in that photo.”
“Zillah.” Tray tossed the picture aside and grabbed my hands. “Listen to me when I tell you, whatever you think you see in that picture, it’s over. I promise you that.”
“Are you into men?” I whispered, staring into the dark eyes of the man I had been spending all of my time talking and texting with. After weeks, he consumed my every thought.
Tray rubbed the back of his neck. “No. Not in the way you’re thinking. The past few months have been hard. We lost a close friend and her husband left because of it. It’s been rough. The guy in that picture is my best friend. We used each other. Or …” He cleared his throat. “I used him. Fuck, that makes me sound like such an asshole right now.”
I touched his arm. “No. I get it. Was that who I talked to on the phone?”
“Yeah.”
“Does he know about me?”
Tray turned his body toward me and cupped my cheek. “He does. They all do. Greyson, the president of Hell’s Harlem, ripped me a new asshole because of it.”
“Because of who my father is,” I added.
“Yeah.” Tray glanced down at my mouth. “It’s not his fault. We’ve been through a lot of shit lately and he doesn’t trust many people. Probably only his wife and that’s it.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry I never told you about being a biker.”
“I get it.” I covered his hand and leaned into his palm.
“I wanted you to want me because of who I am. Not because of what I am.”
“Did you think I would only want you because you’re a biker and I’ve grown up in that life?” When he didn’t say anything, I let out a heavy sigh. “That hurts but I understand. I may be naïve when it comes to a lot of things but I know the feelings I have for you. Is it fast? Sure. Do I have any damn clue what the hell I’m doing? Not at all but it’s exciting. This …” I brushed my fingers over a tattoo peeking out from the collar of his white t-shirt. “It’s exciting.”
He swallowed hard, the cords of his neck muscles straining with the movement.
“I like you,” I continued. “I like you a lot. I always thought something was wrong with me because I wasn’t attracted to anyone. Ever. And then I bump into you and I wanted to climb you like a tree that first day.”
Tray chuckled, the rough sound vibrating into the pit of my belly. “I like you too, Zillah. A whole hell of a lot. I like the way you touch me. The way you’re not embarrassed about needing everything you know I can give you. You’re passionate. Kind. So fucking kind. You’re damn pure and innocent.”
“I’m not that innocent or pure,” I said, running my fingers to the back of his neck.
“You are.” He kissed my forehead, letting his lips linger. “I haven’t fucked your ass yet.”
“Oh,” I breathed, my body heating at the idea of him being inside of me everywhere.
“That’ll happen only whenever you’re ready.” Tray leaned his forehead against mine. “What else did your dad say?”
“Just that you were using me to get to him.” I pulled back. “I told him he was lying.”
Tray shook his head. “I’ve done a lot of shit in my life but using women has never been one of them. If I wanted to get to your father, I would just go to the source. I’m not a pussy, Zillah. And I know he’s your dad but he’s a fucking asshole. He’s lucky he’s not standing in front of me right now for upsetting his daughter.”
I shrugged. “It’s no big deal.”
“Baby.” Tray pulled me onto his lap and wrapped his arms around my waist. “Yeah. It kind of is.”
“I’ve never seen him like that.” I picked at an invisible fuzz on Tray’s shirt. “Not like that anyway. Not with me. Maybe I was due for it.”
“He’s tryin
g to protect you, but he needs to realize that I’ll burn this fucking world down to keep you safe. Do I know what tomorrow will bring? Do I know if we’re going to be together in a week, a month, ten years from now? No. But like you said, it’s exciting. I don’t want anyone else. I want you and only you. That’s it. Do I regret what I did with my best friend? Yes. Because I hurt him. I hurt him a lot but he needs to realize as well that he could do so much better.”
“Are you saying that I could do better too?”
Tray looked away.
“Don’t.” I cupped his jaw, forcing him to look at me. His cock twitched beneath my ass at the firm tone of my voice but I ignored it. “Don’t look away from me,” I said, using his own words on him. “Tell me. Tell me I don’t deserve you.”
“Zillah,” he warned.
“Tell me, Tray. Tell me that what we have isn’t enough. Tell me that I’m not enough. Tell me that you are not enough.”
His jaw clenched, his hold on my waist tightening as the seconds ticked by.
“Tell me.” I inched my hands into his cut. “Tell me I’m not enough for you. Tell me I’m not worth fighting for.”
“Fuck, of course you are. You are the first person who looked at me for me and not because I’m a biker. Most women see bikers and think we’re just bad boys with tattoos so they want to fuck us and that’s it. But you.” Tray cupped my nape, sliding his fingers into my hair and held my head still. “You see me.”
“Of course I see you.” My body flushed at being restrained by him. No matter how heavy the subject was, one touch from him and I was done. I was submissive to his power. To his wrath. To his lethal passion.
“Zillah.” Tray kissed my chin. “You need to stop looking at me like that. We’re having a serious conversation. I can’t talk to you when your eyes are begging for me to fuck you.”
“I can’t help it,” I whined, circling my hips against him.
“Stop.” He shivered against me. “Fuck me,” he growled.
“It’s been too long.” Had it really, though?
“Shit, Beauty. You’re hungry for it. Aren’t you?”
“Yes.” I reached for his belt when he stopped me.
“No. Not out here.”
“I don’t care where we are,” I told him, trying to get access to his belt.
“Zillah.” He grabbed my hands and brought them up to his mouth. “Someone already took a picture of me. I don’t know what that means or who it was, but I can’t handle having you in those photos.”
“Take me inside.” I rose from the spot on his lap, a sense of pride washing over me at the large bulge in his pants. I caused that. I made him feel good and I made him want more.
“Zillah.” He shook his head, a slight smirk spreading on his face. “You’re a dirty girl.”
“You taught me well.” I stood on tiptoes and kissed his cheek.
He chuckled, pulling me to his side, and keeping me close by. He unlocked the door to his house and stepped aside. “After you.”
“Thank you.” I stepped into his home and a sense of warmth washed over me. This was where I was meant to be. Where I needed to be. No matter what my dad said, I knew Tray wasn’t using me. And if Tray was into men or even just one man before me, I didn’t care. I didn’t judge. Hell, even I thought some women were hot and would totally go lesbian for them. As long as Tray was good to me and treated me well, that was all I cared about.
WHEN ZILLAH DIDN’T leave after finding out about Catch, or even after finding out that I hid I was a biker from her, I knew she wasn’t like other women.
Later that evening, we were watching some old horror movie. I couldn’t even remember what it was. All I could focus on was the woman leaning against me. We hadn’t talked for about an hour but instead, sat in each other’s quiet company. I wasn’t used to just hanging out with a woman. It always ended up in sex. With no conversation. None of this learning about each other shit. It wasn’t normal for me, but I found that I liked this more.
Brushing my fingers up and down Zillah’s bare arm, I reveled in the way her skin puckered with goosebumps.
She didn’t talk about her father again. The fucking bastard should have kept his thoughts to himself instead of putting lies in my girl’s mind, but unlucky for him, she had a strong head on her shoulders.
“Stop stewing,” she said, breaking the silence.
“I’m not stewing.”
“You are. You’re all growly. I can hear it in your chest.”
“I didn’t even say anything.” I kissed her head.
“You didn’t have to. You growled.” Zillah kissed my cheek and adjusted her position on my lap, straddling me backwards. “Don’t worry about my dad. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.”
“You needed me.” I kissed her exposed throat.
“I did.” She pushed her ass into me. “And I still do.”
“Tell me why.” I cupped her jaw, holding her head back against my shoulder, and nipping at the side of her throat. Inhaling deep, the scent of sweet apple pie wafted into my nose.
“You make me feel good. You make me forget. You make me feel like a woman when half the time, I still feel like a little girl. I’m not experienced but I want to be.” She looked up at me then. “For you.”
“I told you in the beginning.” I kissed her nose. “I’ll teach you everything.”
“And we can learn together if needed,” she added.
“Exactly.” I smiled down at her.
She sighed.
“What is it?” As much as I wanted to bury myself balls deep inside her, something was still wrong.
“I don’t know.” She chewed her bottom lip.
“Zillah,” I growled. “Stop biting your damn lip.”
Her cheeks reddened. “Sorry.”
“Baby, stop that. Stop apologizing. Stop saying you’re sorry for being you and for having your little quirks. I only told you to stop biting your lip because it turns me on. And I don’t want to take advantage of you because I know something is still wrong.”
Zillah sat forward and dropped her head in her hands. “I feel like the other woman.”
“Don’t.” I pulled her back against me but she only shoved out of my grip. “What is this? What are you doing?”
“Tray.” She rose from the couch. “As much as I want you, as much as I like you, I can’t be the one who broke up your relationship—”
“Don’t you dare finish that fucking sentence.” I jumped from the couch and closed the distance between us. With my hands in her hair, I crushed my mouth to hers.
She moaned, snaking her arms around my neck. “Tray.”
“Shut up. I don’t want to hear that shit. Ever. You got me?”
“But you hurt him and that makes me feel guilty.”
“Fuck.” She was too damn heartfelt. “Zillah.” I cupped her face when she didn’t look at me. “Hey, listen to me.”
She met my gaze, her chocolate brown eyes shining with unshed tears.
“What I had with Catch is over. He knows that. Is it awkward? I’m not going to lie and say it isn’t. But that’s on me. That has nothing to do with us. Do you understand me?”
“But—”
“I asked you a question,” I said, my voice coming out rougher than I expected. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”
She shivered. “Yes. I understand, Tray.”
“Good.” I kissed the top of her head. “Now let’s finish this movie.”
(Zillah)
As much as I wanted us to take it further, it was nice spending the rest of the evening in each other’s arms. So many truths had been said tonight and while I was still pissed at my dad, talking to Tray made me feel better. But it still wasn’t enough. I wanted it to be. Could someone have too much sex? Was that even a thing?
Tray wrapped his arm around my middle, holding me against him while we watched another horror movie. It was a black and white film that neither of us had seen before. While it was good and had everythi
ng we enjoyed in a horror movie, all I could focus on was the man sitting behind me with a semi hard-on for the past couple of hours.
I was no longer sure what the movie was about because while it had all the blood and guts we liked, I couldn’t concentrate on anything other than the man inching his hand beneath the hem of my shirt. Or when his fingers brushed lightly over my flat stomach. Or when he cupped my breast.
“So fucking beautiful,” was all Tray said, his deep voice rumbling through me.
He lifted me further onto his lap, sliding his hand back down my stomach until the tips of his fingers brushed over the waistband of my leggings.
I licked my parched lips, silently begging for him to take it further. My eyes fluttered closed. My ass pushed into his waist. He felt good. So damn good beneath me.
Cupping my jaw with his other hand, he held my head still, his hot breath fanning the side of my face while his other hand delved into my leggings.
“Look at me,” he demanded, his voice guttural.
I met his gaze, staring at him while his fingers delved even deeper.
When they reached my center, he grinned. “Fucking soaked.”
I whimpered but made sure to keep my gaze locked with his. “Tray,” I whispered, rocking my hips back and forth against him.
“Shhh.” He kissed my forehead. “Just feel me, babe.”
I pulled my leggings and panties down to my ankles, spreading my legs even wider for him.
His eyes darkened, turning to the point of black.
As much as I wanted him to kiss me, I couldn’t help but stare into the deep depths of his lust-filled gaze.
“Open yourself for me.”
I wasn’t sure exactly what that meant so I cupped my inner thighs first, then slowly brushed them down to my center.
“Open,” he demanded, running a finger over my opening.
When my hands reached the soft spot between my thighs and sex, I pulled gently when he thrust two fingers inside of me. I moaned hard, releasing my lower body.
“No.” He pulled his fingers roughly from my body, giving my pussy a light slap.
I yelped.
“Open.”
A breath escaped me, and I did as I was told once again.