by Debra Kayn
She repeated Tiff's words in her head until she was confident she heard her right.
"Understand this is a one-chance deal. You bring attention to the activities inside this building, and you'll wish you never came here." Tiff pursed her lips. "And, no sex with Bear while you're under a contract with me."
Madison nodded.
"Do not let the other ladies know you are spending time with him. I can't lose control over my employees." Tiff grabbed Madison's upper arms and her gaze intensified. "There are other lives at stake, and yours is the least of my concern at this moment."
"Why?" she mouthed. "I don't understand."
Tiff frowned. Madison grabbed Tiff's hand, held her palm up, and traced a W, H, Y.
"Because there are reasons you will never know about, and I cannot say no to a Moroad Motorcycle Club member, " whispered Tiff. "Now, the other ladies are up on the roof. There's a sunshade you can pull down on your balcony. It rotates overhead or to the sides. Please put it down to the side, so if the ladies walk out on their balcony later, they can't see what you are doing and who you're talking to."
Madison wrote another note. "I'm so sorry."
"Don't disappoint me, Madison."
Unable to do anything but agree, she nodded.
Tiff inhaled deeply, gave her a stern look, and left the room. Madison doubled over and sucked in air. The change in rules, rules only for her, because of something Bear held over Tiff, the close call to losing her job was too much.
She'd missed the obvious signs. Of course, Tiff knew Bear came to see her. Jeremy and Bear belonged to the same club. They all were able to talk outside of the building and away from Red Light. She squeezed her eyes closed against the onslaught of pain. They all talked.
She talked to no one.
Her guilt silenced, whether she wanted to apologize or not. She'd broken the rule that kept her secluded and safe, putting everyone involved with Red Light at risk.
Chapter Nine
Madison refused to stand still on the small balcony, ricocheting off the privacy screen at the end and coming back to Bear. He leaned against the railing, arms crossed, and tried to understand Madison's anger.
Her fingers and hands cut the air in front of her. Every few seconds, she glared at him, then walked away.
"What?" He repeated his question again for the fifth time.
Madison's arm swung out, and she pointed her finger at him, shaking her head, a deep frown on her face. The space between them exploded with hand signs as her gorgeous lips worked around the silent words going through her head.
"Okay, I get it, sweetheart. You're pissed," he said.
She threw her hands up in the air and turned around and gave him her back. He chuckled. She'd learn he could make anything possible. Rules meant nothing to him. Laws were meant to be broken, and when it came to Madison, he would get his way.
It only took him fifteen minutes to convince Tiff to give Madison special privileges after explaining he wouldn't put Red Light at risk. In the end, Tiff understood he would never do anything to jeopardize anyone. He was a Moroad.
"Why don't you take your phone out and tell me why we're standing out here ignoring each other, wasting the night away, when we could do something else." Bear scooted back on the railing and leaned against the brick wall.
Madison threw him a glare over her shoulder and pulled her phone out of her pocket. She stayed in the corner of the balcony, her fingers flying fast over the keyboard on the screen.
Several minutes passed without her looking up from the phone. He dug the heel of his boot against the balcony. He could count on one hand how many women he'd angered in his life. A gym teacher who had a lesson to learn about ridiculing an asthmatic student Bear hadn't even known when she demanded the kid climb the rope. Miss Mahinde apparently hated when the biggest kid in eight grade challenged her to climb the fucking rope herself. He received a week-long suspension and enjoyed every moment of his time out of school.
Then, after his first stint in prison, Chrissy Klein got upset when he returned and had no desire to continue seeing her. She went psycho on him until his MC brother Jacko stepped in and diffused the situation.
The last woman he'd angered was his mom as she lay in a hospice bed and begged him to leave Moroad MC. Young and stupid, he'd refused. Proud of wearing the patch and giving up his life for his club, he wanted his mom to respect his choices. She died angry at him, and he should've lied and given her the peace she sought upon her death.
He gave up on women after his last mistake. Women came and went, showing him a good time. He had no desire to settle down and get to know one.
Until he spotted Madison for the first time and caught her smile, he'd lived his daily life using his common sense and surrounded himself with men who'd watch his back.
Now, every day he woke up with Madison in his head and trying to answer questions he had no answers to or how to fix. How could he get her away from prostitution? How could the thought of Madison selling her body bother him and yet there were Moroad women he respected who let members fuck them every night in exchange for protection and support.
Madison being mute only made him work harder at figuring her out. He wanted to know how to succeed with her where others had failed to hear what she needed. Her anger tonight only made his desire to stay with her more apparent.
She was a beautiful woman.
The passion she showed while communicating with him told him more than any words. Indifference from her would've sent him riding without even trying. She fought hard to push him away, and he was fucked up enough to believe once he ripped away her defenses, she'd finally see how good they'd be together.
Madison turned around and pointed at him and then her phone. He pulled his cell out of his vest pocket and read.
"You've jeopardized my job. What gives you the right to come here and order my boss to treat me differently?"
He raised his head. "Because I can."
Madison shook her head. He lowered his gaze back to the phone and continued reading.
"I need this job."
Now it was his turn to shake his head. "You're not going to lose your job. I wouldn't do that to you."
She pointed at his phone and crossed her arms. In her way, she ordered him to keep reading.
He leaned his elbows against the railing and continued.
"There are few jobs I qualify for if I want to live an independent life. Equality laws for those who have disabilities are a joke. Employers don't want a liability, and they have no patience to write instructions down. Working in the service department means no tips, no extra work, and being put in the kitchen or they need to cut a few people, but yet I'm the only one who loses her job. If I don't work for the Network, I'll find myself working one part-time job to the next part-time job and living in a pay-weekly motel room, because I can't afford an apartment, even in the worst part of town."
He slipped the phone into his vest pocket. "Madison, there's things you don't know about or understand how things are done around here."
She lifted her hand, urging him on.
He patted his chest. "Moroad protects Red Light and Silver Girls. My president owns Tiff and that makes you my responsibility. You're looking at me as if I'm a threat to you. You can stop worrying. I'm not the enemy. Tiff will let me see you, and I'll make sure the other ladies know nothing about how you're getting special treatment."
Madison gawked. He walked over and picked up her hand not letting her pull away from him. Her slim, soft fingers a contrast to his rough, clumsy ones. You're going to have to trust me, and the best way to do that is to relax, enjoy tonight, and enjoy yourself. Can you do that?"
She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and shook her head. He chuckled. "In that case, how about you forget everything and concentrate on learning to whistle."
She stared wide-eyed up at him. He hooked his finger under her chin and closed her mouth. "The most important part of whistling is how you hold your lips. You w
ant to pucker like you're getting ready to kiss."
Madison pulled back out of his touch. He stepped closer and lowered his voice. "Sweetheart, you want to whistle, don't you?"
Her gaze intensified. His balls tightened, and his gut warmed. Several seconds passed, and he found himself holding his breath. He could practically taste how much she wanted to learn how to whistle.
Slowly, she nodded, moistening her full lips. Then she puckered.
He groaned in pleasure. "Right. Okay. Now relax your lips."
Her gaze lowered to his lips. He lifted her hand and put her finger on his lips, making a small opening and blowing air out onto the tip of her finger.
She grinned and flicked her gaze up to his eyes before looking again at his mouth. His cock twinged in pleasure, and he shifted his stance. He left her finger on him and said, "You don't use your tongue to make a sound. Most people think they need to place their tongue a certain way, but you don't use your tongue. Just relax and concentrate on the placement of your lips and making a narrow hole for the air to go through."
She licked her lips and nodded.
"Sweetheart, that's not helping," he muttered, lust filling him.
She tilted her head in question.
"Nevermind." He held her finger two inches from his mouth and whistled, long and steady. "Blow softly at first until you find out the right position for your lips. Inhale, and exhale slowly. You don't have to blow hard."
She ducked her chin, hiding her face. Her hand in his grasp shook, and soon her shoulders rounded and trembled. He hooked her chin lifting her face and found her silently laughing. He observed her amusement when he let out a bark of laughter realizing his instructions came too close to instructing her on how to give a blowjob.
The uncertainty of diffusing the situation gone, he shared a smile with her that settled deep in his chest. He guided her into the chair and squatted down in front of her to keep his hands to himself when all he wanted to do was put the instructions they were both thinking about to the test. And, his lessons had nothing to do with whistling.
Chapter Ten
Bear's laughter cleansed Madison's guilt over meeting with him tonight. She held on to his hand, caught in the pleasure that rapidly engulfed her. His attention focused on her. She gazed up at him aware of the flirting going on by both of them.
His laughter held her captive. Deep, confident, and freely given.
The sound of his enjoyment wrapped around her tighter and more comfortable than her beat-up leather jacket, and that realization both excited and frightened her.
Bear held two fingers up in front of her mouth. "Sweetheart, blow softly."
Her chest fluttered at the closeness. She blew air out between her lips.
Nothing.
"Drop your chin a little and widen the space between your top teeth and your bottom¸" said Bear in a deep voice. "And, relax your lips a little more."
She swallowed and followed his directions, and blew.
"Softer..."
She slowed down her exhale.
"That's it." Bear whistled low for her. "Start over and match your breathing to my whistle. Let's draw it out. While you're exhaling, move your lips and play around with the small circle you're forming."
She nodded, staring at his lips. He had full lips. Normally she'd never notice how perfectly shaped they were with his wild and long beard he kept. Though he trimmed his mustache, which fascinated her. She ran her tongue over her upper lip, imagining what it'd feel like to feel the whiskers on her mouth. While she'd had sex with bearded men before, she'd never paid attention to their face.
She appreciated not having to cater to kisses. Men preferred keeping sex to a greedy action set for instant gratification. Kissing would require an emotional attachment she'd find hard to fake.
"Madison?"
She jerked her gaze up to Bear's eyes. Warmth flooded her face, knowing her thoughts had gone in a direction she wanted to keep hidden. He'd never want to kiss a woman who used her mouth at work, regardless of the protection she required her customers to wear.
Her vision blurred, and she inhaled deeply to stop the onslaught of disappointment getting the best of her. She needed to focus.
She puckered, ready to go on and learn from Bear.
"On the count of three," whispered Bear. "One, two, three..."
He whistled. She blew.
Her gaze locked onto his eyes as he kept the sound going. She leaned forward wanting to feel the sound coming out of her mouth, the vibration of her lips as they formed a noise. The words she'd lost as a child hovered close to the surface, deep in her mind. She understood how to talk. She even dreamed of talking.
And yet, nothing came out. Not even a sputter from her lips. Only the low whoosh of air fleeing her body.
"Almost." Bear moistened his lips. "You're getting there. Now you need to play around with how you blow, how you form your lips, and how much air to push out. Once you make a whistle, you'll know to stick with that position."
She shook her head and touched her lips. How could he tell she formed her mouth right when no sound came out? Maybe she'd guessed wrong and to make the noise, she'd need her vocal box to work. Maybe her hope to learn how to whistle would be physically impossible.
Determined to at least try, she pursed her lips and tried again.
Bear stood and stretched his back. She followed him over to the railing, still attempting to whistle. Aware of Bear studying her, she tried desperately to make any sound through her lips and prove her worth. He'd taken time out of his life to teach her how to whistle. She wanted him to know how much that meant to her.
He slipped his hand into hers. She gulped, and held her breath.
"You're going to get lightheaded if you don't take a break," whispered Bear, turning her toward him until they were face to face.
She pointed at her mouth, shrugged, and added a frown to drive her point home. Bear taught her what to do. Her stupid mouth wouldn't allow her to whistle.
"It took me weeks before I learned to whistle." Bear smoothed the hair back from Madison's face. "I was ten years old. My two buddies who lived down the street thought we'd spend the summer hanging outside the swimming pool in town. Johnson and Ring were older than me by a few years and thought their entertainment came from whistling at the girls who strutted around in their bikinis. I'd go home every evening and practice, thinking if I learned, those girls would pay attention to me, too."
She smiled, unable to imagine Bear a soft-cheeked young boy needing the attention of the girls. Holding up her finger for him to wait, she removed her phone out of her pocket and typed. "Did they finally pay attention to you?"
He chuckled. "Yeah, but it wasn't my whistling they were interested in."
"Oh?" She held the phone up for him to read.
"They were more interested in the pot Johnson let them smoke." He winked.
She raised her brows and nodded. Teenagers were all the same, no matter what town.
"Where did you grow up?" he asked.
She typed out her response. "Moses Lake."
"Damn. You're only a three hours' drive from your home."
She shook her head and tapped on the phone. "No home to go to anymore. Besides, I move every three months. Traveling to different cities and states lets me search for the perfect place. One day, I'll pick which state I like best and call it home."
Bear looked over the rail. Out of his view, she puckered her lips and tried to whistle again. Nothing, but air.
Frustrated, she let her head fall back and gazed at the night sky. The lack of noise coming from Silver Girls on their night off compressed down on her. She wanted to give Bear conversation and laughter. Instead, all he received was silence from her.
She wrote out another message, tapped Bear on the arm, and held up her phone.
"Thank you for the lesson. I'll keep practicing. I want to apologize for getting mad earlier too. I'll trust you know Tiff better than I do. I was scared about losing my job.
"
"Are you still scared?" he asked, turning to her.
She shook her head, stopped, and shrugged. Many things frightened her. Losing her place in the Network only one of them.
He lifted her hand and linked her fingers with his much larger ones. "Will you be scared if I kiss you?"
She tugged her hand to type her answer out on her phone, and he refused to let go.
He pulled her closer until she put her other hand on his chest. "It's a simple question, sweetheart. You can shake your head if you want me to leave without kissing you or you can nod and accept what we've both been wanting to do all night."
God, she couldn't breathe. She had to tell him about her life and how kissing or intimacy wasn't a part of her job description. Unless he'd used a prostitute before and understood the rules, how could she get him to understand what he asked of her was as foreign to her as someone asking her on a date.
Shit. He had asked her out on a date, gaining Tiff's permission before he arrived. He'd planned the whole evening and stayed here with her.
"Sweetheart, it shouldn't take you that long to think about kissing. If you—"
She laid her finger over his lips, tracing the fullness of his lower lip, and nodded slowly. Bear made her feel brave, daring, curious. It was only a kiss, not sex.
"Damn, woman," he whispered as he lowered his head.
She stretched to her toes, leaning against his barreled chest, except he stopped lowering his head to meet her halfway. Her body froze, and then he picked her up and set her on the railing, holding her securely in his embrace.
Eye to eye, perched on the balcony's edge, she thrilled at the danger of him being responsible for her safety. Glad to count on Bear, she wondered how she came to the conclusion she wanted him here in her life, turning her world upside down, and wanting to kiss her after knowing what she'd done for four hours before she'd stepped out onto the balcony.
He leaned forward hovering in front of her lips, giving her a soft, whisper of a touch. Her nipples peaked at the brush of his beard against her face.