Indulge

by C. D. Breadner

  Buck locked the door behind him and Gertie turned in the centre of the living room. Other than the new furniture, it looked like nothing had been changed since the house was built, sometime around 1974. The funky half-wall separating the living room from the entry had more iron work extending to the ceiling with book shelves underneath in a standard, medium-brown varnished wood. The curtains were full-length shears made of some kind of pilly fabric in an oatmeal color. The wallpaper was muted mushroom with dark brown florals. The shag carpet matched like chocolate-swirl ice cream. The kitchen cabinets were featureless like the built-in shelf.

  She loved it.

  “Other than your furniture,” she was saying, completing her turn to look at him again, “I feel like I’m in a time capsule.” That’s all he let her say, because he was scooping her up in his arms and carrying her down the hallway.

  Her stomach flipped as he did it, and she gave a giggle, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Who lived here?” she asked.

  “Don’t know, but he died in the kitchen.”

  Gertie was muted by that revelation. “What?”

  He chuckled, carrying her into a room with a bed styled in the new modern take of craftsman, dropping her on the plain mocha bedspread. “You wanna talk about the former owner,” he offered, dropping to his knees to pull her boots off. “Or you want to relieve me of the hard-on I’ve had since kissing you in your office?”

  Gertie blushed, letting him remove her boots and socks before going for the fly of her jeans. “I’d hate to leave you in pain,” was her answer, which made him chuckle as he was pulling her pants over her hips and then off her legs.

  “Good choice,” he mumbled, placing a kiss on the inside of her knee. She paused to let the sensation wash through her, then she was struggling out of her jacket and he was pulling the bedspread out of the way. She was trying to tug off her thermal as he yanked her hips to the edge of the mattress, throwing her ankles over his shoulders.

  “Oh God,” she mumbled, stopping her struggles as his mouth met her most yearning flesh. Two weeks of physical exploration and he knew her body inside and out, so in control of her it could have been embarrassing … if it wasn’t so damn pleasurable.

  She loved how he did it. His mouth closed on her clit entirely, and the gentle sucking made the soft strokes of his tongue about ten times more intense. When he added his fingers, like he did now, she lost control of herself. Her hips moved with him of their own accord and the noises she made were obscene and desperate.

  She could have been mortified by this, but as the climax broke and she was squealing loudly while her entire body twitched and she just couldn’t find the strength to worry about how under his control she was. All she knew was she didn’t want it to stop.

  “Damn,” she whispered, on her back and limp as he stood and pulled off his kutte, laying it out on the dresser with the same reverence he always showed for it. Then the T-shirt was dropped and she could only stare at the muscles of his arms and chest as he worked his belt open. His eyes were on her, too, and when he broke into a smile she had to smile back.

  “Take off that top, Gertie. I wanna see all of you.”

  With a shudder she sat up, yanked the thermal off over her head, sprung her bra open and threw it across the room then flopped to her back again. He watched her breasts, predictably, then he was dropping his jeans and she all but moaned at the sight of him.

  Gorgeous and perfect, every inch.

  When he slid into her she did groan out loud, her legs tightening around his lower back. He leveraged up on his arms, eyes fixed on hers. For the time being anyway. He rocked into her then out again, slowly but deeply. She gave a sleepy smile at that. He was starting gentle, and she really loved that.

  Every push and pull built a heat deep inside, and she enjoyed the gathering tension as much as everything else. She let her hands flop overhead, knowing that it pulled her breasts upward in a way he liked. Sure enough, his eyes fell to them, his smile growing wider. That too added to her arousal.

  He stopped to take a nipple in his mouth, his tongue and teeth teasing her. She grabbed him by the hair, using her hands on his scalp and her legs around his waist to pull him downward so his weight fell onto her. He continued the motion of his hips, not missing a stroke, his body brushing against her clit like this.

  “Oh, Buck,” she gasped, her breathing becoming harder as it happened again and again.

  “Tell me, gorgeous,” he mumbled, mouth still around her nipple.

  “So good,” she breathed. “So fucking good.”

  “How good?” he asked, teeth pinching her nipple in a delicious way.

  It was enough, it sent her over the edge into orgasm, her arms and legs clenching as tight as her body clenched around him, inside of her. Amazing, mind-numbing. And he was still hard.

  “Damn Gertie,” he groaned, stretching up along her body to smother her with all his heady, masculine weight.

  “Buck,” she moaned in return, her body still quivering.

  “What do you want me to do next?”

  She quivered again. She loved it when he asked her that. “Hard. From behind.”

  Without hesitation he pulled free and flipped her over, pulling her knees to the edge of the bed. She felt his weight leave the mattress, and her body was quaking with anticipation. They hadn’t tried it like this yet.

  “This ass is so gorgeous,” he growled, hands kneading her backside roughly. “I dream about this ass, you know that?”

  She did. He woke up hard and told her why he was that way. It always led to morning sex. “I know,” she whimpered, easing herself back towards him.

  “Wait,” he instructed, and she froze. His hands ran along her back and sides softly, almost tickling as they went. Her skin went electric, and she was likely goose-pimpled everywhere. That couldn’t possibly be attractive. “Goddamn,” he mumbled and thrust into her, roughly, hitting the end of her before repeating the motion.

  Gertie moaned, low and loud, face to the side, pushing against his hold on her hips. Slow again, so painfully slow, but she rode out each entry with great anticipation. She loved the nudge against her cervix, loved feeling that he was using every part of her to pleasure the both of them.

  “Harder,” she begged, from time to time, her body shaking as he chuckled in response to that. She knew he was staring at where their bodies joined. She could see him over her shoulder, his face almost enraptured. Jesus, that look.

  “Buck,” she was moaning, “please, harder. Take me there. Please.”

  When he’d decided she’d had enough he did as asked, thankfully. With brutal force he slammed his hips against the backs of her thighs and ass, pulling her back onto him as he thrust inside. She let him move her back and forth, the orgasm building fast and aggressively. It took her over in a hot rush, she had to squeeze her eyes shut and fist the sheets with both hands. She hollered, bellowed, out his name, feeling his fingers bite into her hips as he gave one last shove and held her in place, giving a loud, fantastically male groan himself.

  Gertie fought to catch her breath, whimpering as he pulled out and left the bedroom. She flopped to her side, one arm flung over her eyes, her panting breath loud in this stuffy, sun-muted room. The curtains were pumpkin orange which made the whole room feel like the inside of a tent. But it was nice. Secluded.

  She didn’t know if they were staying here tonight, or if he wanted to stop strictly to have sex. That was certainly a flutter-inducing thought. She heard his footsteps and turned her head to the door, smiling as he approached and slid into bed next to her. Much more softly he ran his hands over her skin, pressing a sweet kiss to her lips.

  “I didn’t know you owned a house,” she said, sleepy and happy-sounding.

  “I haven’t officially moved in yet,” he replied, transferring a kiss to her arm.

  “Why not?”

  He shrugged. “Long story.”

  “Are we staying here tonight?”

  “I’d plan
ned on it.”

  “Then you have time to tell me the story.”

  He chuckled, rolling onto his back. She moved to her side, resting her head on her arm, staring at his profile. For a while she thought he didn’t want to talk, which was disappointing, but then he opened up. “Got possession of this place just over six months ago. Arranged to have furniture and shit delivered the same day. But that was not a good day.”

  “How come?” she asked softly when he paused.

  “Ambush. Mad Gypsys ambushed us on a delivery run.”

  Gertie fell very still. This was where her conversation with Maggie came back to haunt her. But somehow she felt she shouldn’t ask, just take in what he felt like telling her.

  “Skip Gordon was the Sergeant-At-Arms at the time. The Gypsys opened up on the roadhouse we were meeting at, just walked in the door and started shooting. We took cover, returned fire. But Jayce was out in the open, trying to get to a safe spot. Skip stepped in front of him, took three slugs to his chest.”

  Gertie’s body tightened up. He was talking about shootings and gunfire like most people talked about gridlock and Starbucks. This was answering the questions she didn’t want to have to ask, and now she was kinda wishing they could go back to before she knew all this.

  “Jayce made me Sergeant-At-Arms right before Skip’s funeral,” he went on, rubbing a hand over his face. “And that’s the day ownership of this place transferred to me.”

  Gertie slid closer, placing her hand in the centre of his chest. “I’m so sorry about your friend.” It sounded lame and not important enough but there it was.

  “Thanks,” he replied, eyes on the ceiling again. There was a long pause while he covered her hand with his. Then he looked back to her. “I want to stay here tonight,” he repeated. “Is that okay with you?”

  Gertie smiled. “Sure.”

  “I haven’t slept here yet,” he shared, like he was worried that might make him strange.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. Stayed close to the clubhouse, then I was Sergeant and wanted to be where Jayce could get to me. But even he’s been staying at his own house. So … it’s just time to be an adult. A little bit.”

  Gertie’s grin widened. “Makes sense. And really, we’re not too far from the clubhouse, right? In case they ever need you you’re still close by.”

  He nodded, bringing her hand to his mouth. He kissed her palm. When he did that something deep in her belly tugged, and even though it had been a conversation held after sex – amazing, fantastic sex, just to clarify – she felt as though some ambiguous line in the sand had been crossed. She’d told him plenty about her personal gong show past, but this was as private as he’d been about himself. This was beyond the conversations of a booty call.

  “I got no food here. I’ll take you for breakfast in the morning before our ride.”

  “Where are we going?” she repeated for what felt like the hundredth time.

  He laughed too, kissing her hand again. “It’s all about the ride, not the destination, honey.”

  Chapter Thirty

  It was the next morning, watching Gertie brush her hair in his attached bathroom wearing only her panties, that Buck decided that this woman was, indeed, someone he could get serious about. Without knowing anything about his life she seemed to get it; understood him needing to be close to his brothers but also wanting a space of his own. And while the sex was fantastic he was realistic; physical chemistry was good but it could change with time. He didn’t accept that it could disappear; he just believed people should work harder to keep it interesting.

  Jayce and Trinny were a bad example. It’d only been a few years and Jayce was old enough to be her father; he’d likely always be as appreciative as hell of her. But Mickey Grainger was a good example. The club secretary was a long-time member, and he’d been married for fifteen years to his high school sweetheart. They loved each other a lot, and did everything they could to keep the other happy. Make the other feel like the center of the universe. It was nauseating on some levels, but Jolene Grainger damn near worshipped her man and he felt the same.

  If he was being honest, that was what Buck wanted for himself.

  It wasn’t an overwhelming attraction that had him intent on Gertie in the grand scheme of his life. Yes, he was attracted to her, obsessively so. But there was also the comfort of just being with her when they weren’t fucking. She was easy-going, funny, and it made him feel good having her around. She cared about him. Asked him about his day, how he felt about shit. Even if it didn’t really matter, she liked hearing what his thoughts were.

  The light flicked off and she approached the bed, smiling when she noticed him watching her. She looked a bit embarrassed, but it made him smile back at her.

  “You got a girl-brushing-her-hair fetish?” she teased with her wry humor.

  “Yeah, I do,” he admitted, reaching for her hand and pulling her back into bed.

  “I’m hungry,” she protested, shutting up as he yanked her onto his body, blanketing himself with her sweet-smelling curves, warm and still moist from the shower.

  “We’re going,” he promised as he ran his hands over her back. “I’m gonna ask you something. Don’t make it a big deal.”

  Her eyebrows rose. “You better not be proposing.”

  He laughed, head back, full-throated. “No, sorry. Not a proposal.”

  “Okay, good.”

  He ran one hand into her hair. “I want your help making this place nice. Not to do the work, just help me pick shit out. Please?”

  “Why me?”

  He shrugged one shoulder. “You’re a girl. You have that chromosome.”

  “Do I?”

  “Your place is nice. Your furniture looks good in it. And I like the artwork.”

  She grinned now, looking so pleased. “I made that.”

  He smiled back. “You did?”

  She nodded. “In college. I’m glad you liked it.”

  Struck by a sudden idea, he placed a kiss on her lips then said, “Make me one.”

  “What?”

  “Paint me something for this place. The bedroom or the living room or something. Could you do that?”

  Gertie’s face was blank and she was silent for a moment. Buck thought he might have to check her batteries.

  “Or, you don’t have to. It’s a lot of work, I know that -”

  She cut him off by lunging upwards, her mouth meeting his hard enough their teeth collided, but it didn’t matter. Instinctively his arms wrapped her up tight, holding her in place.

  “Okay,” she whispered, parting their mouths. “I’ll paint you a picture.”

  “Good,” he replied, biting at her lip. “Thank you.”

  Gertie shrugged then sat up, straddling him. “You can owe me. Now are we going for breakfast or what?”

  -oOo-

  Buck had never gone on a road trip with a woman before, and Gertie was not used to long stretches on the bike. He made sure to stop every couple hours but he could tell she was getting stiff. Not whining though, which he took as s good sign.

  Every place they stopped she had to eat something or get a drink. That might have been the only way she was high-maintenance. It was refreshing, however. The woman actually ate when she wanted to. He watched her pack away breakfast, a fruit smoothie thing, pizza for lunch, a 7-Eleven corn dog and Doritos. By the time they stopped at a motel he had in mind for the journey it was late evening thanks to all of her snacking.

  The motel was on the beach; a run-down white and blue double-decker a lot like the club dorms. All the rooms were ocean-front, even though this part of the beach wasn’t particularly cared for and visited by the tourists. There were no resorts or malls around, this was literally a road stop with a diner attached, but Buck had always liked it for the views.

  When they climbed off the bike and stowed their helmets he noticed Gertie was moving a little slowly. He took her bag and her hand to lead her up the stairway. “You okay?” he asked
, amused by how stiff her legs were.

  “I don’t know how you can be fine. My back is killing me and my legs are so sore.”

  He pulled her under his arm, chuckling. “I’m sorry. You’re pretty tough, though. I was expecting you to be bitching and moaning after the first half hour.”

  She snorted at that. “Why would I do that? So you can kick me off the bike and leave me to walk home?”

  Buck booked them a room for the night on the second level and started up the stairs. On the first step she moaned and whimpered that her legs were too stiff to climb any stairs. He handed her back her bag and then tossed her over his shoulder, eliciting a squeal that was both surprised and, he suspected, a little thrilled.

  He set her down to unlock their room and shoved the door open then playfully pushed her inside. The room had seen better days but he knew they kept the place tidy; you could still smell the cleaner they’d used in the air. He shut them in and flipped on the lamp on the dresser which was closest to the door as Gertie passed through the room to the patio doors, pushing them open. Immediately the pine-tree smell housekeeping had left behind was gone, the scent of the ocean washing it away with a warm gust of wind. She immediately stepped out onto the deck so he followed, trapping her against the white iron railing with one hand to each side of her, his front pressed to her back. She rested her head on his chest and he caught a whiff of her hair.

  “This is why you wanted to stay here,” she guessed, taking his hands off the rail and wrapping them across her stomach.

  “Yep,” he admitted, eyes casting outwards to the sun which was just starting to set. The air had cooled a bit in the last couple of hours, but with her huddled into him he didn’t feel it at all. “You like it?”

  “I do,” she replied, tilting her head up and to the side to look up at him. “Was I annoying today?”

  He burst out laughing, lowering his head to kiss her quickly. “What? Why would you ask that?”

  “Something tells me if you were on your own you wouldn’t have had to stop once.”