Wild Side

by Cynthia Ayman

  I bend my knees, resting my feet against the back of his thighs as he settles between my legs. His eyes never leave me when he enters me. He is slow, slipping inside as if he has all the time in the world, but I know he is savoring the act, savoring the very first time he gets to feel everything. It’s intimate, a precious moment just between the two of us. He pauses when he is deep inside, a heavy sigh of pleasure escaping him.

  “Abby, you feel incredible,” he murmurs as his eyes drop closed and he rests his forehead against mine.

  I don’t know if it’s in my head, but it feels different to me too. So, so good. The slow drag of his hard length as he pulls out, then the way he thrusts back inside, his piercing rubbing all the right spots… it won’t take long before I come. My hands flat on his back, I let him find his pace, knowing that everything he does to me always feels good. He is thick, hard, perfect inside of me, his hips already gaining the steady rhythm that I like best, the hard pumping that lets me feel all his length. Knowing he is bare hikes up my arousal, and I’m already climbing the wave he is creating with each and every single stroke, the first moans spilling from my lips. His breathing is heavy, dragging, his forehead now cushioned against my shoulder, his mouth crashing at the base of my throat.

  “You’re so wet. So tight. So fucking hot around me.” He is panting, almost as if he can’t believe it, as if it’s too unreal. “We’re never using condoms again.”

  I huff out a laugh then because I love the way he is losing control, fast, much faster than usual. I am doing that to him. My body is doing that to him. It’s exhilarating, like nothing else I’ve ever felt before. And it gets me there faster too. His arousal, the heavy slur of his voice as if he is drunk with pleasure, the vivid proof that I am giving him something he never had before is turning me on and sending sparks of pleasure where our bodies join.

  “Aaron, I’m close,” I gasp, because he likes it when I tell him he is making me feel good.

  “Yes?”

  “Yes,” I reply in a strangled voice as my muscles start tightening. My toes are curling, a clear sign, as if the tension between my thighs wasn’t enough.

  “Abby, I’m going to come. I’m going to come so fucking hard,” he groans as he starts pumping faster. It’s what I need too, because the pressure grows as his piercing rubs, and rubs, and rubs again right where I want it. “Inside you. I’m going to come inside you.”

  It’s my undoing. My mouth open but my throat constricts and only a small whimpering cry escapes me as the orgasm crashes through me.

  “Fuck. Yes. Yes, baby, like that.” Aaron gives me two more thrusts, and then I feel it, deep inside, his pleasure filling me as he growls, his entire body rigid, his ass clenching as if he is trying to climb higher inside of me. It makes my own orgasm rage again, this sensation I never felt before, the intimacy we never shared with anybody else.

  It takes me a while to get back to earth. My skin is damp with sweat, and I shiver a little. Aaron is still above me, still inside me, his head nestled in the crook of my neck as I grab the duvet next to me and throw it above us. The warmth that cocoons us makes me hum low in my throat as my fingers gently lace through his hair. Eventually, his lips press against my collarbone, and he lifts his head to meet my eyes.

  I grin, and he grins back. I notice the corners of his eyes are a little damp, and my fingers brush what looks like a tear or two. “Did you just cry?” I ask in disbelief.

  He looks offended. Well, kind of. He also is post-coitus, so he mostly looks thoroughly satisfied. “Fuck no, I did not cry. I might have shed one or two manly tears because babe, that was the best orgasm of my entire existence, but that was absolutely not crying.”

  I laugh again, then quickly drop a peck on his lips. “It was great, right?”

  “It was out of this world, you mean. And I was serious, by the way. We’re never using condoms again.” He gives me a content, sated kiss as he moans low in his throat. “I don’t want to move,” he whispers when we part.

  I feel a little smug at that. I blew my man’s mind.

  My fingers are stroking his jaw, then tracing the thin scar on his forehead, and he is smiling at me lazily. I can’t resist, I brush his lips next, and he bites the tip of my finger and nibbles on it playfully before letting it go. He kisses the tip of my nose before letting out a sigh and rolling so we’re both on our sides. He cradles me close, my head in the crook of his shoulder as his hand starts traveling down my spine.

  “I love you,” he whispers softly, and I honestly don’t think I have ever been this happy in my entire life. We drift off, the sound of everyone leaving for work not enough to keep us from falling into a deep sleep.

  We just finished showering when a thought suddenly strikes as I remember my very first time in his bathroom and what we now call the Showergate.

  “Apa?” I ask as he is brushing his teeth.

  “Mmh?”

  “Is there any other Pinkie out there I should be worried about?” I know the club has other chapters, so maybe he has another go-to club girl there, too. I’m not looking forward to that. After a lot of consideration, I’ve decided that one kidnapping in a lifetime is enough.

  He spits and rinses his mouth. “What do you mean?” he asks hesitantly and oh boy, I don’t like that hesitation in his voice.

  “Is there a girl somewhere who thinks the two of you shared a special bond? And who might not appreciate the fact that I’m now your old lady?”

  I manage to keep my squealing to myself but unfortunately can’t hold my little victory dance as I say the words out loud for the first time. By that, I mean it’s the first time I’ve stated out loud that I am his old lady. I pump my fists in the air three times as I celebrate the occasion, and Apa rolls his eyes. Too late. I’m claimed, and you better deal with it.

  “No, babe. I don’t think so.”

  “Good.”

  “Does it bother you?”

  “That you don’t have another psycho ex out there? No, I think I actually quite like it.”

  He gives me a one-sided grin as he puts some roll-on deo on. “Smartass. I mean the other girls. I’m not a cheater but you’ll see girls I’ve had a sexual relationship with on the regular. That’s not something I can really keep you away from.”

  I worry my lower lip as I take the time to think about it. I don’t like it. I really, really don’t like it, and I’m pretty sure that, if things were reversed, he’d have a hard time dealing with it too. But, as he said, there isn’t much we can do about it. Not to mention, even if by some miracle all the girls he’s been intimate with walked away from the club, there is still one who isn’t part of this life and who, unfortunately, will always be a part of mine. “I think I can live with it as long as they don’t rub it in.”

  “They won’t. If they ever do, you pull grade.”

  “Pull grade?”

  “You’re an old lady. You can really make their life miserable if you want to. If they cause too much trouble, you can ask the club to kick them out. No guarantee it will be accepted, but they should know better than to take the risk.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yes. Oh. So… we’re good? With my past, with the club girls and… you know.”

  “With Cassie,” I finish for him. It’s really hard for me to accept that he had sex with my - distant but still - cousin. It’s also really hard for me to see all the girls around us and know, without a doubt, that he had sex with them. I’ll probably always feel a little something uncomfortable inside. Not just jealousy. The knowledge that they shared something intimate with him and have known him that way too. I can work through it, though. He’s worth it. We’re worth it.

  “You know,” I say with a smile as I suddenly understand something that puts things into perspective. “Cassie had Aaron for a few weeks. The girls had Apa for a few years. I have both. And I plan on keeping them for a few decades at least. So, yeah… we’re good.”

  Epilogue

  Abby

  “I thin
k we’re set, right?” Apa asks as I put the last box in the fridge. “Everything looks perfect to me.”

  I beam because yes, it is perfect. My brand-new bakery is everything I could ever dream of and more. It’s in an old building in the center of Edmond, with bricks, beams on the ceiling, and dark wood floors. It has an old-fashioned vibe that I absolutely adore, and it fits the small town.

  To no one’s surprise, I never went back to Huntington. Apa and I made a few trips to get the rest of my things and my cat. Except Doodle had fallen in love with Daisy, the neighbor’s lady cat, and I didn’t have the heart to break them apart. So, Doodle now lives happily with Val and has playdates with his girlfriend twice a week. We’re expecting a wedding announcement by Valentine’s day because they really seem serious about each other. They even started to share the same litter box, which is a big step for cats.

  It was hard to convince my mom that I hadn’t been brainwashed by a dangerous gang, but my dad was sold as soon as he saw the bikes. Easy Rider has always been his favorite movie.

  Aaron eventually won her over. It probably has a lot to do with the fact that he makes me happier than I have ever been. He had money saved to buy a house, but instead picked a building that could be transformed into a bakery for me, saying that as long as I was happy, he didn’t care if we lived in an apartment or a four-bedroom house with a fenced yard. I paid for most of the renovations for the bakery, and I forced him to make a lease. He didn’t like it, but I didn’t like the idea of him paying for our home and my working place, so I didn’t give him a choice. The club let me use their kitchen until the past week or so, and I already built up quite a clientele.

  We focused on our apartment first. Apa really wanted us to live together, like a real couple, as soon as possible. Not that I was hard to convince. Our place is nothing special, but it’s ours. It has two bedrooms, a large open space for our kitchen and living room. We plan on maybe renting it out in a few years and buying a house when we want to start a family. We’re not there, yet. I have a lot of hopes and dreams, and right now they mostly involve a catering service, not diapers.

  It took a few months of renovations to get the bakery ready after we had moved in. It’s opening tomorrow, and my cakes are ready, my cupcakes are cooling off, waiting to be frosted, and my dough for the cinnamon rolls is waiting in the fridge. Mom and Val came to help me several times, but the girls at the club really came through as well. It’s still weird for me sometimes, but even though there are a few I’ll never be friends with, most of them are really nice once you get to know them. I just try not to think too much about the fact that they shared an intimate relationship with my man.

  Apa kept his room at the club, because we like going there for parties and such. I won’t lie, it was hard for me to get used to the parties, but I kinda like them now.

  Apparently, I like to watch. Oops.

  I lift my arms in the air and stretch, knowing I will only have to deal with a few details when I wake up tomorrow morning. Early, because that is the price to pay when you’re a baker and do everything from scratch.

  Strong arms slip around my waist, and I smile as I lean back against Apa. He rests his head against mine as I look around the small café area, where the customers will be able to sit down with a pastry and a cup of coffee. It’s beautiful. The walls are a pale, buttery yellow, which complements the bricks of the small fireplace very nicely. The tables are a soft green and there are touches of grey on the walls. It’s similar to the one I had in Huntington, with a few differences. I also live in the apartment on top of it, but I share it with the man I love. Pale yellow and soft green are still my main colors, but this time it’s a bunch of big badass bikers who painted the walls and helped me decorate. Cinnamon rolls will now be on the menu every Friday, the day I met Apa.

  “I think we deserve a break,” he whispers. “Come on. Let’s go grab something to eat.”

  I’m expecting him to take me to the diner, which is literally down the street, but he guides me to his truck.

  Well, our truck, technically. He taught me how to drive it a couple months ago because I wasn’t comfortable at first. I always had small cars, so it took a few lessons before I was confident enough to drive it and, more importantly, park it. I still own Bertha but only use it sporadically now. She will soon retire, though. It’s time. Apa stopped nagging me about my attachment to the car when I pointed out that if she hadn’t been an old piece of crap, as he likes to call her, I would have never ended up in that bar. Sure, we would have probably crossed paths at the wedding, but the rest of our story might have been completely different.

  I expect him to take me to Fresno, but he pulls over into a parking lot I know well.

  “Oh, no,” I say, shaking my head. “No. No. No.”

  I haven’t stepped a foot back inside The Hoose ever since that day. Obviously, things turned out alright for me, but I’ve never been able to forget the disbelief in the barman’s eyes, as well as the way the few patrons had stared at me when I grabbed my purse, knocked my glass over, and tripped over the stool in my rushed exit. I saw it in their eyes: they thought I was a little bit nutty.

  It doesn’t change anything that I probably met these people again in town sometime in the past year. In my head, The Hoose is the field of my humiliation and the place where people witnessed the crazy inside my brain.

  Aaron doesn’t even try to convince me. He’s out of the truck and opening my door, unbuckling my seatbelt before I even have the time to jump over the console and take the wheel myself.

  “Apa, don’t you dare,” I screech as he pulls me out of the car.

  “It’s time, babe.”

  “No.”

  It looks like I’m getting kidnapped, but in reverse, with me desperately trying to get inside the car and Aaron pulling me away from it.

  “Abby, it’s been more than a year. People forgot. Those who didn’t obviously know we’re together now anyway.”

  He is holding me against him, my back against his chest, carrying me across the parking lot. I spot a couple heading our way, their steps slowing as if they’re not sure what they’re stepping into.

  “Apa, I flashed them my butt!” I hiss, my face heating up as I remember how two older men, who were on my side of the bar, had quite a view when my skirt flipped over my ass when I fell over the stool. It was only them, because the bar itself protected me from everybody else, but still. They saw my underwear.

  “I’m sure they still remember it fondly. You have a great ass.”

  “I swear to God, if you don’t take me back to the truck, you’re not getting a blow job for at least a month!”

  “You love giving me blow jobs.”

  I do. It gets me super horny and then he takes care of me. I love it when Aaron takes care of me. He’s very thorough. “Fine,” I snap. “No titty-fuck, then.”

  Aaron pauses. Just a second, but it’s enough to let me know I’m on the right path. “And I changed my mind about the butt play. I don’t want to try it anymore.”

  “Abigail…”

  Oh, we’re using my full name now. Good. That means it’s working. I lay it on thick. “And maybe we should reconsider the whole no condom thing, too.”

  Apa puts me down and turns me around. I’m smirking. I know it’s low, because the guy loves skin-to-skin. We had to go back to condoms for a couple weeks a few months ago when I had to take antibiotics for a sinus infection, and I swear he almost cried. So, I’m not surprised the argument is enough to make him see sense.

  Or not, since before I even have the time to take a step back toward the truck, he is pulling me close to him, his lips hard against mine. It’s probably the caveman inside of him trying to show me who is the boss. A futile attempt, since we both know it’s really me. He might seem to be the dominant one, and let’s be honest, he kinda is in the bedroom. But at the end of the day, I’m the one who sets the limits. I say no to something, and it’s game over. I like putting my trust in him, and he likes
it too. He likes it so much that he will never do anything to make me regret it. So my limits? They mean something to him. My no means something to him.

  Except when it’s about dragging me into a bar, obviously.

  His hands are on my ass, squeezing tight, his tongue in my mouth and playing with mine. God, I love his kisses. They’re sometimes sweet, sometimes hard, but they always leave me breathless. My man is a good kisser.

  Lucky me.

  “Baby…” he whispers against my lips, before dropping a few more kisses.

  I’m a little distracted because he is now brushing his nose against mine, and I literally melt when he does that. It’s so sweet and tender, coming from my badass biker, and knowing he only does that with me, because he loves me, it makes my stomach turn into a pile of gooey, melting marshmallows.

  “Yeah?” I murmur back as I pull his head back to me. One more kiss, and then I go back to being pissed at him.

  “We’re inside.”

  “Mmhmm,” I hum as our lips connect, a soft touch that allows me to breathe him in. God, he smells so good.

  “No, really, babe, we’re inside the bar,” he insists, the amusement obvious in his voice. He doesn’t pull away, though, so it’s not easy for me to really register his words.

  They eventually do when I hear a few loud whistles behind me. I drop back on the balls of my feet and glare at him. The asshole carried me inside while kissing me.

  He gives me one of his usual dimpled smiles and, just like his kisses, they have the same effect on me they did some fourteen months ago.

  I hold strong, though. I’m still grumbling when he pulls me after him, and we join the big table at the back where I’m surprised to see my parents and my friends from Huntington. Val and my parents came last weekend to help me, but it’s the first time Joan and Elise have made the trip. They had promised to come tomorrow for the opening, but I had no idea they were already here.