Still, instead of arguing my point which might lead to more alienation or outright hostility, both things I don’t want, especially standing at biker ground zero, I push that away for now.
“No, I’m not,” I say. “And I’ve had a lot on my mind. Even living in a big city, I’ve never actually been around a motorcycle club before. Seems there’s a lot to learn. Good thing Mark is patient.”
“You’re inexperience is the only reason we didn’t beat the shit outta your man for bringing your trouble into our club.”
“You’d really do that? Beat the shit out of him because of me?”
“Actions have consequences,” Mark says to me. And he shrugs as if completely unbothered by the idea.
“He claimed you as his woman.” Duke attempts to explain. “We don’t hit women. So by claiming you, he claimed your punishment.”
“But that seems so unfair.”
“You rather take a hit? He takes the punishment here, then it’s up to him to decide how to punish you. But that’s between the two ‘a you in the privacy of your home.”
“I mean no disrespect, but this whole concept of punishment seems…barbaric. We’re all adults here. Why can’t we talk it out?”
“It’s our way.”
And I know that’s all the answer I’m going to get. If I decide to keep Mark in my life, I’m going to have to get used to these archaic rules.
“Where are all the women?” I chose to change subjects.
“At home or working.” Chaos offers. “Old ladies don’t usually hang around the clubhouse. Mostly for family days or parties. When we throw parties, pieces come around, too.”
“Pieces?”
“Of ass.”
“Ah…” Do not judge. Do not judge. Do not judge. “Is that the only time pieces come around?”
“Nah.” Another man, Carver, joins us. “Pieces come around at night or earlier on the weekend whenever they feel like a little action. Most of the men are down to fuck.” He shrugs. “Available pussy’s available pussy, right?”
“But they aren’t girlfriends?”
“They’ll take whoever’s here.”
I whip my head to look at Mark. Pieces will take whoever? Is that what I can expect when I’m back home in Chicago? I’m not judging, but I’m not an open relationship kind of girl. If I don’t sleep with other men, it’s not a stretch to expect the same courtesy extended to me.
“Don’t look at me like that, darlin’. You really think I’d risk us for a piece of ass? I got the woman I want, and I’m not willin’ to share. Since you got the man you want, I have to assume the same.”
“Mark.” I tell it to him straight. “This club life has me so…so… twisted up, I’m not sure if I want to kiss you, kick you in the balls or take you into a coat closet and screw your brains out.”
The men around us chuckle and, or, low whistle. “Don’t have a coat closet, but I got a bed in back.”
“You do?”
“All patched-in members do. A place to crash after a party. Keep the men from drinkin’ and drivin’.”
“Or getting caught by their old ladies while they’re screwing their pieces,” I add.
“That too.”
This is all so much to take in. I kind of forget myself when the first few pieces trickle in. “Honestly Mark, how are we going to make long distance work when you’ve got all these available women shaking their tits in your face every night? How long are you going to be able to resist?” I know there have to be better old lady candidates for him. More roll with the punches, what happens in the clubhouse stays in the clubhouse. That’s not me.
“Excuse us, gentlemen.” Mark grabs my hand pulling me along behind him. He sets our empty bottles on the bar and says in response to us leaving. “I have to explain some things to Elise.”
“Looks like she’s about to get accustomed,” Chaos calls out.
And then he’s leading me down that back hallway, a hallway I can’t even chance a look at because my eyes stay glued to my feet making sure they hit every step so I don’t stumble from the way he’s hurrying. And then we’re in his club space. I expect, I don’t know what I expect. A personal man cave, maybe. His room, though, is just that, a room. A bed. No window. A closet. Even somewhat…tidy. Queen size bed. Not the king he has back at his place. Still, it takes up almost the entirety of the room. Night stands on both side of the bed and one long six drawer dresser across from the bed appear to be the only furniture. Then there’s a thin hollow wooden door, and I know it’s hollow because of the hole in the center of it just big enough to match a burly man’s fist.
“Closet,” he says in response to me eyeing the door. Then he tips his chin toward the only other door aside from the one we just came through. “Bathroom.” Good to know he’s got his own bathroom, because I wouldn’t even want to consider stepping foot in a public toilet in a motorcycle compound. Eww… Gives me the willies just thinking about it.
But discussing public MC toilets is not why we came in here and he’s being patient. I’ve noticed over the past few days Mark’s patience runs dry pretty quickly.
I look at him, leaning his backside against the edge of the dresser, his feet crossed at the ankles and his arms crossed over his chest. Whelp, time to do this. “Did I embarrass you again out there?” I ask, trying to avoid direct eye contact without looking like I’m avoiding direct eye contact. “Because I really didn’t mean to. That’s actually the last thing I want.”
“No. You didn’t embarrass me.” His voice gets soft as he snags my shirt with a hooked finger, bringing me to stand toe to toe in front of him. In this awkward stance my knees have nowhere to go except pressed against his thighs. And I fall forward, my cheek to his chest, my arms wrap around his waist to pad the fall. “But what do you want?” he asks me in the sexiest voice I’ve ever heard come from a man aimed at me. Movie star sexy. Smooth and rich as melted chocolate, there’s no other way to describe how it sounds, coating my body in delicious decadence.
Despite his coated in melted chocolate come hither tone, it’s in this moment, while we’re standing pressed together, my cheek resting against the name patch on his cut. Breathing in the smell of worn leather, his arms holding me like I matter. It’s this moment when I’m able to listen to that flutter in my chest reminding me why after knowing each other for such a short amount of time, why I want to try. “For you to be happy, that’s what I want. But there are so many rules that I’m just not use to or necessarily comfortable with. Maybe your kind of happy and my kind of happy, aren’t the same happy.”
“Darlin’,” There it is, that voice again. “You’re the only one. And you don’t have to learn it all in one day. And you don’t have to accept them all either. We’ll go over them as they come up. You’ll tell me the ones you can live with and the ones you absolutely can’t. Not won’t, though. Can’t. Got me?”
My arms around his waist turn from holding me in place to a full-blown hug. Yes, I hug him and not in a sexy way, either. We’ll deal with his melted chocolate in a minute, after I kiss my maybe onto his cheek.
“What about when we’re apart? I don’t like to share. That’s a can’t. I’m serious.”
Mark holds my stare as he gently strokes his finger along my collarbone. He muddles my mind when he touches me like that. Which, I’m sure is his goal.
Minute’s up. But he’s apparently not up for talking. If I thought the finger strokes were good, that’s nothing compared to the other stuff he unleashes next.
Time for melty chocolate again. And let me say, Mark’s melty chocolate other stuff is what my father should have warned me about as a teenager. Of course Logan was still pretty much a boy so it’s not really fair to compare, but his stuff can’t hold a candle to the other stuff Mark lavishes on me.
Um…wow.
I’ve never been with a man with a beard before him. Mark’s the first, and I have to say, I love it. The hair, although coarser than on his head, is still soft and tickles everywhere i
t touches my skin. The fact that he has my skin so heated elevates, intensifies each sensation, keeping that chocolate melty. I bite down gently on the bulging vein running down the length of his neck, the one bulging because he’s so turned on right now, too.
We’re not even in the bed, but he shifted to pin me up against the wall next to the dresser. Yet another first, as I’ve never been taken against a wall before. I’m aching for him, and at the same time not sure my legs will hold me.
He touches, caresses. He rubs and grinds.
I prickle, pins and needles.
Mark just keeps upping his game. I thought what we’d done this morning after George and Margo left was extraterrestrial. The shower, cosmic. But as his kisses intensify, I can’t imagine anything better in existence. I can’t remember wanting anything more than to feel him inside me again. I think he’s about to give it to me. And I’m so ready. The grinding. Oh lord, the grinding. We’re both still mostly clothed. Only our shirts gone, all other sensations coming from those miracle-making fingers. And it’s so intense to feel him everywhere, expanding my universe. Until I don’t.
Mark quits kissing me. “I can’t do this,” he says with his lips still pressing against mine.
I’m shocked, aching for this to happen. “Did I do something wrong?” I panic.
“No. No baby girl. I just can’t do it here. Not with my brothers in the other room.”
“I need you.” I whine and pant all in one breath.
“That’s good to know, darlin’. But I can’t bed you in the same bed I’ve had piece. This room was single me gettin’ off when you were still gone in Chicago.”
“But you’ve already had me.”
“In my bed, in my home.”
I don’t understand what he’s saying. He must sense it. “Baby girl, you’re the only woman ever shared that bed.”
My eyes, they close while I try to tamp down the ache of need still pulsating through my expanding universe, but the more I replay those words the easier it becomes to extinguish that ache. Or at least to dull and push it into the background as some other sensation, something I’m not ready to fully name pulses to the foreground.
But I certainly can admit. “You really do care for me.”
“Been tellin’ you this whole time.”
“I thought it was just something you said…I didn’t…Then take me to your home, Mark.”
“No. I can’t take you to my home. It ain’t mine anymore, darlin’. It’s ours. I’ll take you to our home. But you gotta say it first. Out loud, as a promise. I take you there, you never leavin’ me. We’re Elise and…”
“Mark,” I finish for him.
“Right. We’re Elise and Mark.”
Though I can’t make that promise, because Elise is still heading home to Chicago after the funeral.
8.
Mark
Did she agree? She smiled and pressed her lips to mine. But I got so caught up with her lovin’ on me that I didn’t follow through. I never actually made her say the words. Yet that kiss, it has to mean yes, don’t it? I’m goin’ with yeah because she feels me. She feels me. And it’s the real me. Even if she hasn’t seen me yet, she knows I’m in here. In the room. In her heart. Nothing else to matter.
I keep her pinned against the wall where I can really hold her. Elise. My woman. How it should’ve always been. Without that hiccup of Logan keepin’ us apart. Seven years ago when we met her. Then five, when she left us.
Ever since she stepped back into my life we’ve been playin’ this game. I tell her she is my woman, she don’t deny it but then some bullshit thing happens and she does, pullin’ away, distancing herself from me and everyone else who could be real family to her if she’d let us in.
But she came to apologize to my brothers on her own, and she did admit out loud she needs me. She’s with me.
Hurdle one successfully jumped. Now for hurdle number two.
She has to hear the truth.
Leaving it out has been hard, but I stand by it was the best decision for the both of us. Slowly… slowly, I’ll introduce her to all the truths until we have no more secrets between us.
“You’re amazing,” she says softly, her voice shaking. And it’s all she says. My mouth slides into a stupid, large grin. It’s the only movement aside from my rapidly beating heart, which I have no control of, as I just continue to take in all of Elise. Like her smell, it engulfs me. This delicate combination of rose perfume and hints of almond and vanilla body wash, mixed with the Tide she clearly washes her clothes in. She’s more than that though, she’s more than what I can smell or touch or see or hear. There’s so much in this moment for my head to wrap around. For now though, our closeness seems to be enough for her, too.
We’ve stayed in the room long enough for my brothers to think I’ve taken her at least a couple of times. I don’t care if they know or don’t know but I realize she’s done it for me. “Okay, Mark. I think it’s safe. We can go now.”
“I’ve loved every minute of holdin’ you. But darlin’, we could’ve left any time you wanted.”
She smiles again. “I know. And I love that about you. But these are still bikers, and you might not have totally lost face in their eyes, you’ve misplaced enough of it because of me. If I can help get it back for you, I want to.”
“You said you love me.”
“No, I said I loved something about you. There’s a difference.”
“Whatever you need to get you through the day, baby girl.” I bend over snatching her blouse from the floor and then plant a long, wet kiss on her open mouth while shoving the shirt in her hands resting at my stomach.
I really wish she didn’t have to be exposed to this side of the club. I’m not embarrassed by my brothers, but havin’ her witness this scene as we leave the privacy of my room, it’s too soon. The pieces have all arrived for the afternoon.
She stops walking to take it all in. Duke’s on one of the sofas, arms spread wide across the back, his Levi’s undone, eyes closed and contented smile on his face as his regular piece sucks him off. While my woman stands on.
Elise, she looks pained and uncomfortable, not so much judgmental this time. And I want to know what’s going through that pretty little head of hers. So I grab hold of her hand pullin’ her out of eyesight of what comes down to a typical Saturday night with us.
Unfortunately I can’t get her out fast enough. We see Chaos in the corner, a relatively new piece—I don’t even know her name—stripped buck naked, ridin’ his cock hard in a reverse cowgirl. Her tits bouncing while he pulls a handful of auburn hair to tilt her head back and bites down on the exposed skin like a vampire with his prey.
Chaos catches her staring and winks—the bastard. Although I see her eyes glisten from unshed tears, she don’t hightail it like I thought she would but holds her head up higher and flips him a double bird as she struts slowly, confidently out of the club. She keeps up the façade until we reach the truck, and I catch the lip tremble as I help her up and shut the door.
I slide in next to her. “Okay. Out with it. What’s goin’ on, darlin’?”
“That was you?”
Not going to lie to her. “It was.”
“Those women are so beautiful. I doubt any one of them would take ‘no I have an old lady’ for an answer.”
“So what’re you sayin’?”
“I can’t be that woman. You’re talking rings and babies. All I’m picturing is my man off at the club, screwing some other woman’s brains out.”
“Do you trust me?”
Elise’s face goes cold, expressionless, and she turns away, wrapping her arms protectively around her middle as she watches out her window. “There’s a lot of temptation.”
“Not what I asked. Do you trust me?” I turn down the radio, then tug on her elbow to get her to respond to me. What she says next is vital to our future together.
“I want to,” she says, though she says it to the window.
“That’s not an an
swer. You’re gonna have to figure this out, because baby girl, I already promised you that wouldn’t be me. You’ll see shit at the club you may not like. That’s the life. I thought comin’ here today we’d be past all the bullshit judgement.”
That got her attention. She whips her head around, face hard, set and ready to fight. “It’s not judgement.” Her words come at me harsh. “Those women look made for sex.” Then, boom! The hardness melts in front of my eyes, leavin’ pain in its wake. “How do I compete with that? I’ve been with exactly two men and you’re one of them.”
Insecurity? It’s hard to imagine this beautiful, smart woman feelin’ the pressure from club pieces. “Darlin’, Elise, you got it backward. You’re the threat to them, not the other way around. Any man in that club would give his left nut to have a woman like you. I’ve been informed by a few of the brothers that if I don’t want you anymore to send you along their way.”
“Do you think that will be an issue?”
“What?” I furrow my brow trying to figure her out.
“That you won’t want me anymore.” She replies.
“I’ve wanted you for seven years and you weren’t even around for five of ‘em. So what do you think?”
“I think you’re a good man, Mark…you know? I don’t even know your last name. You’re talking about me marriage and families, and I don’t even know how my hypothetical children’s teachers will address me. Ms. Manning?”
“Fuck no. You and the kids will have my last name. One of the rules.”
“Not arguing. I would just like to know. What if your last name is, I don’t know, Galise? My name would be Elise Galise. Or worse, what if your name is Mark Ahome? Then I’d be Elise Ahome.”
That’s probably one of the dumbest, cutest, funniest things to come out of her luscious mouth so I can’t help the laugh which bursts from mine. And I lean over to kiss her good and deep.
“That’s not even a real name,” I tell her, still sputtering.
“It could be.”
“Well it’s not mine, and it won’t be yours.”
Lady Sings the Blues Page 8