by Ashley, Ava
I'm lying there, still basking in the afterglow of the most amazing night of my life thus far, when I get a bad feeling. Something is wrong. I don't want to let myself think it, but it's too late and I can't take back the terrible thought. I can't un-think the thought that the mattress feels oddly light. I can't un-realize that there's no body of heat warming me from the side.
I can't look, but I also can't take not knowing, so I take a deep breath and open my eyes.
Just like that, any good feelings from the moment prior instantly evaporate. Instead, there's a pit with the density of a collapsed star in my stomach, nauseating me. Taunting me for being such a gullible idiot.
What did I think? That I was special? Ha. This man is a well-known Casanova, almost as well-known for his rabid female fan base as for his top-ranked fighting skills. I fucking met the man when he was escorting some underdressed, sexed-up hussy out of here.
Of course I was just a challenge. Of course I was just another notch on his well-etched bedpost. All the jogs with Maxie, the shared meals and laughs, the conversations, and the MMA matches where he acted like having me there cheering him on meant something—he was just playing the long game. And now he got what he wanted.
And then, in my misery, another blow hits me. If I were standing, I would stagger. Chills run down my back as I roll over to look at the sheets below me.
There's a stain.
The room is spinning around me. I bled. That's it. After all my years of purity, I bled and I can't take it back. I can't rebuild my hymen by wanting it back badly enough. I can't take back my deflowering and be pure again.
I can't go back.
My stomach clenches. Until now, as much trouble as I would have been in for running away, I would have still been taken back. But now it's too late. If I went back, I would either have to admit impurity or my impurity would become obvious at the latest by my wedding night. When the goons come the next morning to check the sheets, there will be no blood and thus they will know.
There is no undoing the damage now. The MC wars will wage again and I will be disgraced, disowned, and exiled. If I dare to show my face as their fallen, sullied princess, I will only regret it. All will mock my failings and how far I have fallen. The tears start to stream down my cheeks.
I just threw away all of my options for a return to my former identity and life, and I did it all for a one-night stand with a man who may or may not even remember my name in a few months' time.
I am the world's biggest idiot.
I am on my own again, and more than ever, after being teased with a brief glimpse of what being part of a unit could be like. But there's no point in lying here and wallowing. I'm not going to be one of those pitiful girls who cries and begs a man to love her, to no avail. Either you're loved or you're not and I am not going to add insult to my own injury due to not being loved by demeaning myself further.
I wipe the tears from my face and force myself to stop sobbing. I gather the sheets around me as I sit up, as though I have anything left to protect, and scan the room for my clothes. I see a few pieces flung around the room from the night before, but my bra and my shirt came off in the living room and aren't in here.
Damn.
Then the bedroom door handle turns and the door swings open.
Chapter Thirty-One
Cooper
I can't remember the last time I got breakfast for a girl the morning after, but this isn't just a girl. It's Savannah. Being with her was well worth the wait. She's a woman worth wooing and worth caring for. It was still quite difficult to pull myself away from her this morning to run out for bagels and coffee. She sleeps like an angel, her sweetly innocent face relaxed in her sleep as she's curled up against her.
Cute as she looked lying there, however, it didn't change that she was still a very sexy woman who I very much wanted to take again. To keep from waking her up with a jab in the back from my morning wood, I finally dragged myself out of bed, threw on some clothes and headed out.
When I get back with a bag of warm, mixed bagels and a tray of two coffees, I open the door quietly. I'm not sure if she's awake yet and don't want to wake her if she isn't. I break into an instinctive smile when I see her sitting up in my bed, so beautiful that it almost hurts to look at her, but then I realize that her face is streaked with tears.
I drop the food on the dresser by the door and am by her in three bounds.
"Babe, what's wrong?" I take her in my arms, rubbing her back and giving her comforting kisses on her forehead.
It takes her a minute to respond. She looks like she wants to say something, or rather lots of things, but she settles on, "I screwed up your sheets." I can tell that's not what she really wants to say. But I'm not going to push her when she's struggling, so I go along with it.
"Babe, I don't care about the sheets," I say. "I care about you. Are you okay?"
"They're ruined," she sobs.
"Babe, you know I don't care," I say. "You're what matters to me. It's okay. It's all going to be okay."
"How do you know?" She's not crying anymore, but there are still tears welled up in her beautiful, brown eyes when she looks up at me.
"I know because I'm going to make it okay," I say. I say it confidently, because I sure as hell will make everything okay for my girl. "I don't know what you're running from—"
"I'm not," she protests, cutting in.
"I don't know what you're running from," I repeat, "but I do know that if anyone ever tries to hurt you, I am going to make them wish they were never born."
She smiles weakly, but then she shakes her head. "You don't know what you're up against. My demons are numerous, huge, trained to kill, and armed to the teeth with the best that street money can buy."
No joke? She looks dead serious. What is this girl's story?
Suddenly, I realize that I don't care anymore. I'm not curious, because it doesn't matter.
"All I can tell you now is that you are worth well more to me than any amount of bedding. And maybe you don’t believe me yet, but in a year, or two years, or ten years, you will." I kiss her forehead and hug her head to my chest. "I will fight anyone, and anything, to keep you safe. I mean that."
"Years?" she asks, the tears finally drying up.
"Savannah, I want to be with you," I say. “Not just for the night or the weekend. I don’t know where we’ll be a few years from now, but I really think that wherever we’ll be, we’ll be there together.” I do.
She smiles at me, that beautiful smile that brightens her stunning face right up and makes every other beautiful thing—the Grand Canyon, Caribbean beaches, Niagara Falls—pale in comparison. "I would like that, very much."
She hugs me back hard, resting her face on my chest, and I'm finally completely content.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Savannah
We have sex again.
I figure that there’s no undoing the damage that has been done, so I may as well indulge my cravings for this man and enjoy the amazing things that he makes my body feel. That, and the fact that I cannot resist him even when I try, as last night proved.
Besides, he came back. I thought he left me and that I was just another one-night stand. I thought he was off to do his own thing, without so much as a good morning kiss, and would come back at night with a casual ‘sup’ and act like we never were anything. I thought that maybe I was the only one who felt what we felt—but I was wrong. We really connected, in a way that I never had with anyone else and it was beautiful.
There are some cold, hard facts here. First, that I am irreversibly no longer a virgin. I can be as chaste as a nun for the rest of my life and that will not change the fact that I have been deflowered. My cherry has been popped, a serpent has been in the cave—whatever you want to call it, it means the same thing. I cannot go back or a fate worse than death awaits me. Second, the fact that I cannot go back means that there may be terrible repercussions for everyone in the motorcycle clubs. There’s so much money from
the businesses they own, and even more under-the-table money from drugs, protection fees, and prostitution rings, that they’re armed better than the military forces of some small governments.
But they are grown men and I’m a grown woman and there is no reason on God’s green Earth why what I do with my genitals, and what I do want to do with my romance life, should decide such major matters as a bloody war. For goodness sake, this is the twenty-first century and it’s not like they don’t have minds of their own and the free license to change their minds. The joining of the families is just a stupid agreement that they made over a decade ago and they’ve had an uneasy peace since then, even though we weren’t yet united. Maybe they can decide to continue that and give it a break. Maybe they can decide that the formality of me marrying Nate is unnecessary.
It’s been over a month since I ran away and nothing has happened yet, so maybe they already have decided to get over themselves. After all, they’re well-enough armed and thoroughly trained to go to battle at any moment, so it’s not like they need anything close to this long to mobilize their men and start the bloodbath. They could do it overnight, if they wanted. But they haven’t, or the deaths and increased inner city violence would have been all over the news. It would be way too massive to fly under the radar. That there hasn’t been any such news, and I’ve been reading the paper daily since I ran away, at least the front page, is a decidedly good sign.
Cooper left for training with Vlad after we had sex and breakfast. He offered to cancel, but I told him to go ahead and go. I know that he has a big tournament coming up and the qualifying matches are already beginning. This is huge for him and I don’t want to mess with his dreams as I reevaluate my life and consider the possibility of realizing my dreams. Besides, this time, standing in the shower with the hot water running through my hair and the steam enveloping me in a safe blanket of warm, damp haze, is great for thinking. And I sure have a lot to think about. But standing here, in a state of perfect physical well-being and basking in the leftover endorphins from this morning’s romp in the sheets with Cooper, things are looking more positive than when I first woke up.
It’s too late for me to go back and fix things by giving up my life to Nate, even if I wanted to. I’ve been on the run for over a month, and settled in here for several weeks, and no one has found me. Aside from the close call with Lily at Bennie’s Pizza, and she didn’t even seem to be looking for me, I have been flying totally under the radar here. Who says I couldn’t do it for longer?
Cooper hasn’t pushed about where I’m from and what my story and my past are. In fact, he has insisted that he doesn’t care and that all that matters to him is who I am now. Maybe we can leave the past in the past and move on to build a new future together. We can stay here until we’ve saved up enough for a house, then move to another state, or even country, far out of the reach of the motorcycle clubs. I can start my own little tattoo parlor and Cooper can keep fighting, or set up a fighting school or something, and maybe we’ll get married and have beautiful little children and a shaggy-haired dog to run around in the yard of our house, all framed by a cute suburban fence all around it.
I know, I know. I’m getting so far ahead of myself that I sound like a tween with a crush. But is it really that impossible? Maybe, just maybe, things can be perfect.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Savannah
I sketch tattoo designs for the next few hours, pausing to have a bowl of cereal midway through. I had breakfast with Cooper earlier, but I’m absolutely ravenous and have a banana and a protein bar, too. We certainly like our physical activities and round two this morning was fairly gymnastic. I smile remembering it, but then make myself focus on my sketches. I’m determined to put together both a strong portfolio of professional work, of which Cooper’s shoulder blade piece is clearly already going to be my crown jewel, and a book full of sketches for first-time clients and people who just aren’t quite sure what they want yet. I thought I would be too distracted to be productive today, but it’s quite the opposite.
I feel so free. I am filled with happiness because what was the end of the world just hours earlier, the loss of my virginity, is now the agent of my freedom. Because I cannot be Savannah Santos anymore, even if I wanted to go back to my old life, I can fully be just Savannah. I am not second-guessing my choice to run away from home. I am not constantly having to decide again and again to stay away. When I bled, I finalized my decision and, since it’s finally decided, I no longer have to wonder about it and constantly ask myself if I’m doing the right thing. I had a guidance counselor back in school who used to say that there are many different paths in life and the most important thing isn’t which of the paths you choose, but that you’re fully committed to the path that you do choose and that you make the best of it. She was talking about college choices, of course, and not making the choice to get married to a total douchebag or run away and potentially start a major gang war, the likes of which the streets haven’t seen in a long time, but the general idea carries over to my unique circumstances, as well.
I’m finally able to invest myself fully in my sketching and pursuing the dream future that I’ve built in my castles in the clouds since I was a little girl. Because my dream future can be my reality now, or very soon, I have the energy and motivation and inspiration to do all within my power to realize it.
I’m so wrapped up in my sketching that I don’t even hear the door open a while later. I don’t notice that Cooper is back from the gym until he has me wrapped in his arms.
“Hi there, sexy,” he greets me, leaning around to kiss my neck, just under my right ear. “How’s my girl been?”
“Hi, baby,” I reply, spinning around to face him. “I’ve just been sketching. It’s been great.”
“Mmm, you’re so talented,” Cooper says, between kisses all over my face. He’s sweaty and getting it all over me, but I couldn’t care less. The smell is surprisingly not at all off-putting—it’s even a little bit appealing. I always complained when Nate tried to hug me after playing soccer, just to get on my nerves, or when Wolf hung around downstairs for ages after working out, emptying the fridge and simultaneously stinking up the entire living area, but Cooper’s smell is attractive. His sweat smells like unadulterated man, and breathing in the smell of pure masculinity has the opposite of an off-putting effect on me.
I close my eyes and enjoy it, nuzzling his neck. Before I realize what I’m doing, I’ve started grinding on him and I’m starting to breathe heavier.
“Let’s take this to the shower, babe.” Cooper doesn’t wait for a response, he just picks me up and carries me over to the bathroom, where he turns on the water with one hand and slides his other hand into my underwear. “You’re wet for me.”
“Take me,” I breathe, pulling my top over my head. Cooper is already shirtless, his perfect body glistening with sweat, and I lean forward to pull his gym shorts down. Without the extra layer of clothing, his erect member strains against the thin fabric of his shorts.
“You’re hard for me,” I say, glancing up at him. “I like it.”
I pull down his boxers and take his hard member in my hand, stroking it up and down with my fingers, before taking him deep in my mouth and starting to suck. I swirl my tongue around his cock, tasting him, and resist the urge to give in to my own appetites and beg him to fuck me now. Instead, I enjoy the moment and the knowledge that he is stiff like this for me. No one else, just me.
He pulls me up to my feet after a few more moments and enters the shower, pulling me in after him. He slams the door shut and immediately presses me up against the inside wall of the shower, one hand on the glass beside my face and the other on my left breast, fingers teasing my nipple as he takes my mouth in his own.
I give control of my body over to him, to do with as he will. He pulls one leg up to his hip and I wrap it around his waist, his erect member now poised at my entrance. He directs me away from the stream of the water as he reaches out of the showe
r and grabs a condom. He puts it on expertly, then returns his attention to me.
He looks me in my eyes. “I’m going to make you come for me,” he says. Then he mounts me, exciting every cell in my body with each of his thrusts. Each one takes him in deeper until Cooper is all the way in me, our bodies moving in an ancient rhythm of synchronized desire. He brings me to the brink of climax, each move increasing my mounting pleasure and longing for the ultimate release. I suck on his bottom lip and pull him to me, even though we really can’t get any closer. I want him so badly and the passion of our embrace is deliciously irresistible.
He takes my face in his hands and makes me look him straight in the eyes as he continues to thrust. We go over the brink together, looking into each other’s eyes, as we climax together and his hot seed spurts into me, filling me up with a satisfying warmth from deep within.
I rest my head against his chest and can hear the thump of his heart, beating nearly as quickly as my own. I give in to the satisfied warmth that spreads throughout my body, leaving me weak but completely satiated and in bliss.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Savannah
We finally get clean and dried off, but by then we’re starving again.
“Let’s get some pizza,” Cooper suggests, as we lie on his bed, his arm around me and my head on his chest.
“Bennie’s?” I ask, cautiously. Pizza does sound really good right now and I haven’t had a decent slice since I saw Lily there. I’ve avoided the place like the plague since then. It’s certainly about as dangerous as the black plague was!
“Yeah, it’s the best pizza place on this side of town,” Cooper says matter-of-factly.
“I’m not really feeling pizza right now,” I lie. “Besides, then we have to get dressed. Wouldn’t you rather stay like this?” He’s wearing a sexy pair of light blue, silk boxers and I’m wearing a matching bra and panty set in black lace.