“You don’t know that, Grace.” He whispered.
“Believe me, I do.”
He couldn’t look at me as he pushed down his jeans, followed by his boxer briefs, allowing himself to spring to life. It was fascinating, and I’m sure my eyes looked as though they were bulging out of their sockets. I had done that. The thought of me had made his body react in that way. I knew it wasn’t that big of a deal, but in that moment, it made me feel so sexy.
Ryan took two steps toward the bed and grabbed the sides of my panties, tearing them from my body. I saw his chest rise, as his obvious excitement pushed on, despite his disapproval of my situation. He wanted me. I just needed him to stop acting as if this was a chore.
“Stop.”
“Shit, Grace. What are you trying to do to me?”
“Come here.” I was stern, unwavering.
“Don’t tell me what to do.”
“Ryan, get the fuck over here.”
He straightened at my demand, and inched his way closer to the bed, curious of my intentions. I sat up to my knees and grabbed his powerful shoulders in my delicate hands. I may not be strong, but I have control. I used all the force I could muster to twist his body and push him down onto the bed. His abdominals tensed, attempting to recoil from my attack, but I used my knee to hold down his chest. He tried to hide it, but I saw a smile flash across his face. I grabbed him in my hand, feeling his thickness, and imagining what it would feel like filling me. I squeezed. This was fun, arousing. I could be good at this. I lowered my mouth to him, aiming to make our next venture easier to slide into. He gasped as my mouth hit his erection, but I wasn’t stopping to make sure that he was all right. I had taken control of this night. Sorry, Ryan.
I swirled my tongue, allowing the cooling air to counteract my hot breath. My hand softly twisted and pulled as I came up for breath. His chest was rising quite shallow under the weight of my knee, and I knew I was affecting him. Little me, untrained Grace Brennan, was performing magic.
I released him from my hold, and swung my other leg over, straddling my victory. I continued to hold him in my hand, readying myself. Ryan opened his eyes, realizing what was about to happen. Our sights connected, and I panicked. I had no idea what I was doing. Was this going to hurt? What if I couldn’t move?
“Grace.”
“No. I got this.”
“Grace.”
“Stop saying my name, dammit!”
Ryan laughed, and sat up, meeting my line of sight. “Let me.”
What did that mean? Oh my God, what did that mean?
In an instant, he had flipped me on my back, and was hovering over me. He lightly kissed my lips, lingering longer than he meant to. His hands grazed my arms, sending chills up my spine. His fingers trailed down my stomach, and I sucked in. He chuckled as the tips of his fingers pressed into my lower abdomen.
“Does this feel okay?”
“Yes?” I had no idea what he was doing.
He replaced his fingertips with the heel of his hand and pressed down even harder, tipping my pelvis toward him.
“How about this?”
It was an interesting sensation. Not bad, not what I had expected, but startling.
“It’s fine.”
“Good. We’ll save that for later.”
What? What was I missing?
He held his finger up in suggestion. “Have you ever?”
Well this was even more embarrassing. I shook my head, my innocent, overwhelmed mind preparing itself for what was about to happen.
“Shit Grace, where have you been?”
He dropped his hand out of view and his fingers danced lower, teasing me with each passing hint of ecstasy. I felt open, comfortable. Then my thoughts were thrown as he instantly found my warmth. I couldn’t help the noise that sprang from my mouth, and Ryan smiled in reply. He slowly slid his finger up and down, making his way deeper with each push. The sensation turned from anxiety to pleasure and I met each push with a thrust of my own. He leaned further over me, begging for our eyes to meet. He continued to nod, offering an out if I needed so. I didn’t. This feeling was excruciating and exhilarating all at the same time. My breaths became moans and welcomed the expansion of another digit. I smiled at him, and his returned pleasure reminded me that he was a man. He was a man, and I was a woman, and this was what we were meant to do.
“You ready?”
Was I? I wasn’t about to have him storming off again, nor did I want this ecstasy to end. “Yes.”
I was.
He pulled his fingers to freedom, leaving me wanting, and repositioned directly on top of me. His knees spread mine, and our lips met before he pushed into me.
I screamed. I couldn’t help it. I could never have imagined such a rush of emotions mixed with such physical pleasure. He was slow at first, his face seeming pained with his need to take more. But little by little, he took as much as he had wanted. He took it all. He gave his weight to one arm, and placed the heel of his hand at the top of my pelvis. It must have been ‘later’. He thrust his body into me as he pushed his weight into my stomach. My moans became audible, as this was a brand new feeling. There was something hidden inside that he had found. And he continued to find it. I wanted more. How could I get more? What more was there to be had?
Moans became screams as he rose to his knees, bringing my hips along for the ride. He grabbed hold of my hips and pushed, his face finding both pleasure and power. He released his one hand and spread it across my belly, finding my apex with his thumb. He nudged it slightly, teasing with each thrust. Then, with a smile on his face, he pressed down, forcing me to bite the pillow next to me. He didn’t let go. Three more hard drives, and my body became limp. He collapsed on top of me, stealing quick kisses. And I gladly gave them to him. In that moment, I wanted to give him everything.
Ryan
I make it a point to not get emotionally attached to a woman. I saw how my mother leaving affected my Pops. I see the guys when we’re out on the road. They check in with their ol’ ladies. They wish their kids goodnight. But how good can you be at your job when you’re worried that any mistake could leave your children fatherless?
Plus, women talk. They talk, and they are constantly touching you; they worry, and they expect you to worry. I don’t need that shit in my life. I look out for me. I don’t need to be worrying that I can’t always be around to protect someone else. God, it’s like a fucking fairy tale. I’m no knight in shining armor. How can someone expect that from another person?
And now I will always be Grace’s first. She won’t forget that. I took away her purity. What the hell is wrong with me? And why do I care so much? Why couldn’t I take a step down that staircase earlier? Why was I drawn back in to finish what we had started, and now why can’t I leave her while she’s sleeping? I wanted to punch something. Why did everything in this apartment look like it was so damn breakable?
I sat up, preparing myself to find my way out. I peeked down, hoping she hadn’t stirred. Her soft skin glowed in the moonlight. She was so peaceful. No wonder I thought she looked untouched, she truly was. But not anymore—I had touched her. I had touched her, and now I was about to leave her. I wasn’t planning on asking for her phone number, or even giving her mine. I wasn’t planning on it, but I wanted to. I wanted her to want to see me again. I wanted to be desired by her. My hand grazed her back, shooting needles up my arm. I wanted to be inside of her again. It was unlike anything I had ever imagined.
The desire I felt for her in that instant was mirrored by the frustration she caused me. I was angry with Grace. I didn’t want to be her first. I have never wanted that responsibility. Even my first, at thirteen, was a broad my Pops hired to ‘get it over with’. Since then, it’s been nothing but recycled girls just holding out for one more day with the club. Yet, I couldn’t walk away. I had hidden behind a bush and chased her into a bar. How was I supposed to walk away from that?
Her innocence was enlightening, and I found myself wanti
ng to be better, to be more. I wanted to be more than her lover. I wanted her to be proud of me. What kind of a crock of shit is that? And for that, I knew I couldn’t see her anymore. Yet, I wanted to say goodbye. I wanted her to tell me not to go. I didn’t realize how fucked up I was until now.
I rolled out of the bed, hoping not to disturb her, but honestly wanting her to wake up at my absence. Nothing. I found my jeans, and slid them over my bare legs. I figured I’d leave my boxers; give her a little memento of our time together. I made my way to the door when I heard her speak.
“Hey.” She whispered. Her eyes were only half open, but her peaceful smile called to me.
I couldn’t control myself. I sprang back to her side, pushing soft wisps of red hair behind her ears and gently kissing her lips.
“Hey, I was just…”
“Leaving forever?”
It was so matter of fact that it was painful.
“I was going to leave a number.”
“Don’t lie to me, Ryan.” She was dazed and half asleep, but she saw right through me. I couldn’t reply. “Well, maybe I’ll run into you again. Do you live in the neighborhood?”
I shook my head. “No. I live in Southwest Philly.”
She giggled, probably out of delirium. “I’m not allowed there, so,” her hand cradled my cheek, “I guess this is it.”
What the hell was wrong with her? Be a fucking girl. Cry a little. Beg me to call you.
“Not allowed?”
“Father’s orders.”
“Fuck him. It’s not that bad.”
“For me it is.”
Why was I fighting her? This should have been what I wanted: a clean break.
I traced the outline of her cheek with my finger. “Okay, one day when you’re not so delirious, you’ll have to explain all this to me.”
“But we’re not seeing each other anymore. Did you miss that whole part?”
I stood up. She was pissing me off. “Shit Grace, stop being so okay with this. Just give me your number.”
“No. I’m not going to give you my number so you can pretend you’re going to call me.”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
“I’m being practical.”
“So you’re not giving me your number?”
“No.”
“Fine.” I wanted to stop there. I wanted to move on with my life, but my blood was boiling. “Then I’ll find you.”
I grabbed her face between my hands and forcefully kissed her. I wanted her to know I was not done. I wanted her to know that I was claiming her, that she was now mine. I wouldn’t let her high and mighty feminist shit get in the way of what I wanted.
I pushed off of the bed and fled to the door.
“Ryan…”
I wanted to ignore her, but her voice pulled me back.
“What?”
“Thank you.”
I shook my head and left her apartment. And that’s why I make it a point to not get emotionally attached to a woman. I needed that ten-mile walk after my night with Grace.
Grace
Of course I wanted him to stay. Of course I wanted to give him my number. I wanted to see him today, tomorrow, and everyday thereafter. Something changed within me as we became one. I have never let myself be that vulnerable, but I will never be the same. I truly do thank him for that.
But I care for him, and because I care for him, I can never get that close. As soon as my father was to find out there was a man in my life, that I had given myself to him, I could not protect him anymore. Patrick Brennan was grooming men within his club to be a husband for me. He didn’t think I knew that, but I wasn’t blind. I see everything he does, and I know what he would do to Ryan. No amount of possible love could be worth the pain Patrick “Bowie” Brennan could cause.
No. Our night of passion would have to be it. I could live with that, and I knew the likelihood of running into him was next to nothing. I wasn’t lying. I couldn’t be seen in Southwest Philly. I had never met one of The Blood of Cupids, but I couldn’t take the chance of one of them recognizing me. If they were to see me in their territory, all hell would break loose between the two clubs. At least in Old City, I was tucked away with the upper middle class everyday folk. Here, I’m indistinguishable in the crowd. There, I’d be a walking target.
Those would have to be the last words I would say to Ryan. Ryan. I repeated his name over and over again, until I drifted to sleep. Ryan.
* * *
She was calling my name, but I was staring at myself in the mirror. I liked pink. And yellow. Yellow was a great bright color. I loved my yellow backpack and my pink jacket. I looked cool, and I was ready to go.
“Coming Mom!”
I got to the top of the stairs, sat down, and slid the rest of the way on my bottom. It was bouncy. And it was fun. She met me at the bottom of the stairs. My Mom was really pretty. She was wearing a flower dress. I would wear flower dresses when I grew up.
“Are you ready to go?” She asked.
“Yes I am. Where is Daddy?”
“Daddy’s not coming this time, Baby. This is just going to be you and me.”
“Okay.” I nodded. Daddy went away a lot, so I wasn’t surprised he wouldn’t be coming with us.
“I am just waiting for a friend. Why don’t you go in your playroom, and I’ll come get you when I’m ready.”
“Sounds good, Mom!”
She laughed as I rounded into the kitchen and disappeared into my playroom. It was time for dolls.
I heard a car pull up into the driveway. It must have been Mommy’s friend. I was nosy, so I listened really hard.
“Thanks for coming.” I hear my mother say.
“You know I can’t be seen here.” I hear a man’s voice.
“I know, but this is the last time.”
“So you guys are finally ending this?”
“I’m taking Gracie and getting out of here. It’s all in this note. Can you just make sure he gets it?”
“And what is he supposed to do after he reads it?”
“It’s all in there.”
“You fucking cunt, you want him to run away with you.”
“How dare you speak to me that way?”
“And you expect me to be okay with this? I stuck my neck out for him. The only reason he joined the fucking club was for you. Do you know what will happen when they find out he’s leaving? They’re going to kill him, and me for that matter.”
“We won’t let that happen.”
The man sounded very angry. He started yelling.
“The hell you won’t! You rewrite this letter, and say that you will never see him again.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Yes you can. You are ending this.”
“I love him.”
“I don’t give a shit. Rewrite the letter.”
“No.”
I heard a slap, and my mom screamed. I wanted to run out, but I was scared.
“Or do you need some incentive?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Where’s your little daughter? How about I take her upstairs and teach her a lesson her mom should’ve learned a long time ago.”
“No. Stop. Please stop.” She sounded worried. Was she crying?
“You want to take him? Well I’ll take her. Get out of my way.”
“She’s only four!” They sounded closer now. I think they were in the kitchen.
“Even better.”
I heard another loud bang, and my mom rushed into the room.
“Baby, listen to me.” She pushed a plant out of the way and opened a small door behind it that I had never seen before. “You have to stay in here, and you have to be very quiet. Okay?”
“Why Mommy?”
“It’s a game, okay? I’ll explain it to you later. Please, just do as Mommy says.”
“Okay. It will be fun.”
“Yes it will, Baby.” She started to cry. She definitely didn’t think this game was fun.
I crawled into the wall and curled up. Mommy closed the little door and pushed the plant back in front of it. It was very dark, but there was a tiny hole I could see through.
I heard Mommy dial the phone, but then she stopped. The man was back.
“Did you just try to knock me out with a frying pan?”
“Please. Please don’t. Listen. Okay. Okay. I’ll rewrite the letter.”
“Too late, bitch.”
I saw Mommy fall to the floor and the man crawled on top of her. I couldn’t see what he looked like, but he seemed scary. Mommy started screaming, but he put his hand over her mouth.
“Is she watching? Tell me where she is, and she won’t have to see this.”
“Never!” She tried to talk under his hand.
“You asked for this.”
He pulled her dress up, and she was screaming and kicking. Was this part of the game? I didn’t like this game at all. Then he took his shirt off and unbuckled his belt. Mommy kept screaming. Was I really supposed to stay in the wall?
“Where the fuck is she, Emily?”
Now they were both yelling, and he was jumping up and down on top of her. He reached over and grabbed something. He put it against my Mommy’s head.
“Tell me where she is!”
Mommy kept yelling. She just kept yelling, and I didn’t know what to do.
“You can keep your letter.”
Then there was the loudest bang of them all. Mommy stopped screaming. The man kept bouncing on her. He laid flat on top of her, still jumping up and down. I squinted really hard and saw that there was something on the man’s side. It was a funny drawing. There were big angel wings, and a pointy thing sticking through them.
* * *
I shot up out of my dream, cringing at the reliving of that memory. I collected my thoughts, my realizations, praying that I was making something up. Could it really be true? It wasn’t just a dream; I had seen the tattoo before: the wings and the arrow. I had seen the tattoo on the man who killed my mother, and Ryan had the same wings and the same arrow in the exact same place.
Ryan was a member of The Blood of Cupids MC. What the hell did I just do?
Blood of Cupids Page 4