My stomach drops over the ominous tone, but I nod my head to give him permission to possibly hurt me further.
"I am beyond fucked up in the head when it comes to fucking and intimacy," he says in a flat voice. "They are two entirely different things to me. One I crave... that's the fucking... and one I cannot stand... that's the intimacy. Coming inside of a woman--inside her mouth, her pussy, her ass--it's just too much for me. I can't do it."
"Can't or won't?" I ask, because I get the sneaking suspicion this may be a cop out.
"Won't," he admits with a hard glint in his eye. "Not ever again."
"That's... that's... ridiculous," I sputter. "Every man who has sex will eventually come inside of a woman--or a man as the case may be."
Bridger's hands release mine as he steps back. "Well, I don't. I don't like it, and I never will."
"So you've done it before... orgasmed inside of a woman?" I press, because we're clearly getting to the root of the issue.
Finally, he looks away from me, searching the floor for his clothing. I can see an invisible wall being raised between us, and I feel like I'm losing him. I can't for the life of me figure out what happened to this beautifully fucked-up man to make him feel that way, but it breaks my heart in two.
I lunge forward, taking his forearm just as he starts to bend over for his jeans. "Wait."
He goes still, straightens, and turns to me, a look of wariness on his face.
"Was this a one-time only thing between us?"
Bridger's entire body locks tight and his lips flatten out. "That was the plan. I can't give you what you want."
"Maybe I'm willing to accept only what you can give me," I counter, stepping in closer to him, desperately offering myself in the only way I can apparently be united with this man. "We're going to be stuck with each other a little bit longer. What if I'm okay with how things just played out? I mean... you do give good orgasms, and I know what to expect now."
He cocks a skeptical eyebrow at me. "Mags... come on. You're an incredibly warm and open person. You don't want what I can offer."
My lips tingle with the out-and-out lie I tell him. "You're wrong. I'm okay with some raunchy, impersonal sex if that's all this is. Truth be told... even you pulling out and coming on my back was a lot better than what I've had in my life. I've lived in a world where men just use women for their own pleasure."
"Isn't that what I just did to you?" he replies sardonically.
"No," I say matter of factly. "You had me ride your face and gave me three massive orgasms. Doesn't sound like you were using me at all."
Bridger remains unconvinced, still staring down at me with a healthy dose of reluctance on his face. "I'll use you up and spit you out when I'm done, Mags."
His warning holds no punch, because he made the mistake of calling me Mags, which he uses like a term of endearment every time he says it.
"I can accept that," I tell him with my chin lifted.
But I won't.
I will not ever accept that from you, Bridger, and I'm going to make you see that there's more to sex than your narrow little world defines for you.
"I'll hurt you," he says as a last-ditch effort to put me off.
I give him a sensual smile, step in closer to his body, and drop my hand down to grasp his cock. It's still quite large even in its softened state, and my heart leaps with satisfactions as it starts to swell in my grasp. "Maybe I'll be the one who hurts you," I whisper to him. "Do you want me to hurt you, Bridger?"
He takes in a ragged breath, flexing his hips so my hand moves against him. "Yes," he growls, and I can't tell if he's talking about right now in this moment, perhaps some pain the way he likes to dole it out to other women, or if perhaps he's secretly hoping I can hurt him on a deeper level to prove to him that he's not as insulated as he likes to believe.
Chapter 13
Bridger
Maggie is almost bouncing with anticipation as I pull into Gayle's driveway and she sees her sedan under the carport. This is a change from the mellow and relaxed Maggie I had dealt with this morning when we rolled out of bed.
It wasn't my intent to sleep with her all night, and in fact, I had told myself I was going to kick her out after we'd had sex for the third time. But I was exhausted after having blown three successive nuts and given her twice as many orgasms while we frantically fucked all through the night. There would have been a fourth time, but I didn't have any more condoms on me. I thought perhaps I'd just fuck her without one because I knew she was clean. Jared had run a full blood panel on her when he first examined her, and I had him include an STD test in the workup. Not because I was thinking about fucking her then, because no... that was nowhere on my mind, but she had been held hostage in a biker compound and I knew those guys didn't take safe sex seriously. I figured she'd want to know if she was carrying anything, but apparently, she wasn't. I suspect that's because Zeke was the only one who touched her, and I knew he always wrapped up when he fucked pussy that wasn't Kayla's.
But after that third time, we'd both collapsed on the bed side by side, Maggie clearly not caring I'd come all over her stomach that time. I had also proved to myself that I could fuck her face to face with no impunity.
Well, that's not quite right. I was completely affected by kissing her the entire time and watching her face as she came with my cock wedged in deep, and I was barely able to pull out in time to avoid the dreaded "coming inside of a woman". But I'll never admit to myself that I kept wondering... what if I tried it just once to see what would happen?
Regardless, I didn't give in to that insane curiosity and we both fell asleep on top of the wrinkled bedspread and stayed that way until the light peeked in through the curtained windows. I found Maggie curled into my side, sleeping like the dead, and a not exactly unpleasant feeling of belonging pulsed within me as I took stock of her warm skin pressed against mine and the way her breath feathered over my chest. I relished it for a moment, completely accepting that this was an intimate moment, but not being entirely too wigged out by it. I was way too sated and mellow from great, all-night sex, which is something I've never had because I've never stuck around that long to go more than once.
"God, I think I'm going to pee my pants," Maggie says in an almost whispered squeal, and I can't help but laugh. I also can't help but be a little envious as she bounces up and down on the passenger seat, her tits jiggling, and I wonder if I could handle her riding my cock. I don't ever let a woman on top because bad memories and all that, but for some reason, I'm very curious as to what it would be like to have Maggie riding stick and letting me palm those beauties at the same time.
Shaking my head, I bring the SUV to a stop and put it in park. The front door opens and a little girl comes flying out, followed by an older woman who is rail thin but carries her posture in a way you know there's strength--both physical and mental--within. She stands on the porch with her iron-gray hair in a bun and watches with a smile as Belle jets down the front steps. Maggie's out the car door in a flash, and my throat turns dry as I watch her fall to her knees on the ground just as Belle slams into her, screaming, "Mommy."
My hand involuntarily rises, and I rub my knuckles across the ache right in the middle of my breastbone. I don't have much experience with moms and little kids. None of my friends have children, and my only experience is what I've seen on TV or in the movies. But I can tell you... I never had a reaction to a moment of parental bonding like I'm having right now. I remember those stretch marks on Maggie's stomach, and I look at the way she buries her face in Belle's neck. For the first time in my life, I have a true glimpse of what being a mother is all about. This is shocking to my senses because to me, mothers sexually abuse their boys and brainwash them into thinking beatings and pain enhance the sexual experience. I mean, my stepmom didn't bake me cookies but she got me off regularly, and that was something, right?
I feel a dark bitterness start to overtake my senses, and I force myself to push those thoughts aside as I step
out of the SUV and onto the driveway. Glancing up at Gayle, I see she gives me a little wave of her hand to join her in the house while Maggie plops her butt on the browning front yard grass and pulls Belle onto her lap without even looking at me once.
I smile and walk past them, following Gayle into the tiny brown house and into the little kitchen decorated with cheery yellow curtains over the windows and the faint odor of lemon cleaner and fresh-brewed coffee.
She turns her head and smiles at me over her shoulder, pouring a cup of coffee from a half-empty pot. "I'm Gayle, Maggie's great aunt, and you must be the man that my Randall held a gun on yesterday afternoon."
I chuckle as I accept the cup from her. "Yes, ma'am. Bridger's the name."
"Well, welcome to my home, Bridger," she says with a grin and I find myself instantly connecting to this little spitfire of a woman. She's wearing faded jeans, a pair of worn crocs on her feet with white socks underneath, and a plaid, button-down flannel about three sizes too big for her.
Gayle pours herself a cup of coffee and then heads to the small, round table that takes up at least half of the tiny kitchen space. She inclines her head and I follow suit, taking the chair opposite her. "So, what type of trouble is Maggie in now?"
Her voice is not judgmental or admonishing, more worried than anything, and that puts me at ease. I would not take kindly to anyone placing any blame on her shoulders at this point of Maggie's torturous journey out of captivity.
And that's so weird... this all-encompassing protective instinct I have where she's concerned.
I take sip of coffee, put it down on the table, and tell her the truth. "Belle's father, Zeke, captured Maggie after she brought Belle to you."
"Oh, my God," she gasps, bringing her hand over her mouth. "What did that animal do to her?"
I decline to tell her the truth, because I don't want to cause any anxiety or stress on this woman. So I merely say, "She's fine. She was able to escape with the help of a friend, and I've been keeping her safe."
Gayle narrows her eyes at me and her voice is pure forged steel when she says, "Now you listen here, young man... don't you sugarcoat things with me. I want to know what happened to my Maggie."
Her ferocity is adorable and equally respectable, and I see a strong backbone and fortitude emanating from this woman. So I give her the truth. "He beat her. Tried to get her to tell him where Belle is."
Gayle swallows hard, but otherwise doesn't flinch.
"Then he left, and his old lady, Kayla, tortured Maggie," I continue, because for some reason, I just know this woman needs to be fully apprised of the situation so she can give the proper guidance and support to her great niece. "It was bad, Gayle. I mean, really bad."
"But she's okay now?" she asks fearfully, and I'm grateful she doesn't want more details than what I just gave her.
"Yes," I tell her with a reassuring smile. "She's fine, strong, and now very happy to have Belle back."
Another delicious squeeze of joy deep within my chest as I recall Belle flying into Maggie's arms.
"So everything's all settled?" Gayle inquires. "Zeke's not a threat anymore?"
"No, he's a very big threat," I tell her bluntly. "He's doubling up his efforts to find them both, and we're afraid he might start targeting her family. I've talked to her parents... they're going to leave town for a bit."
"Oh, dear," she murmurs, her eyes sliding to the front door where Maggie and Belle are reuniting on the other side. "Should she be here?"
"I think it's best she come back to Jackson with me," I tell her bluntly.
"But that's where Zeke is."
"And it's the last place he'd think they'd be. I can keep her safe until he can be taken down."
"And just who is supposed to do that?" she asks skeptically.
"There's a guy who's undercover ATF. Been inside the club for three years. He's the one who rescued Maggie and got her out of there. Brought her to me. I think a huge bust is going to be going down very soon from what I've been told. Once that happens, they'll both be safe."
Gayle nods, instantly looking relieved. She stands up from the chair and heads to the refrigerator. "I'm going to make breakfast for everyone so you can have full bellies for the trip back."
I watch in silence as she pulls eggs and bacon from the refrigerator, and then a bag of frozen hash browns from the freezer. She gets out an electric griddle and loads it up with the bacon, takes another skillet from a cupboard, and heats oil in it on the stove. As she moves efficiently around her kitchen, she says, "Maggie's a good girl."
Oh, Gayle... if you knew the things she's let me do to her, you wouldn't say that.
"Yeah... she is," I agree softly, a secret smile hidden deep within me.
"Her parents are too tough on her. They never understood that children could be stubborn, rebellious, and willful, and that they just sometimes need to find their own way. She made a few mistakes, and they've pretty much written her off... made it impossible for her to return home, so she really didn't have a home. That's never a good situation to be in."
"But she kept returning to you," I point out. "You were her home."
Gayle nods as she takes a fork and starts flipping the bacon. "That child knows she's always welcome here for as long as she wants. I tried to get her to stay when she brought me Belle a few weeks ago, but she didn't want me in danger. I assured her Randall's gun was plenty of protection."
"I don't think Zeke could find you if he can't get to her parents, but maybe you should go stay with Randall just in case," I suggest.
Gayle snorts. "That randy old toad would love to hear you say that. He'd tie me to his bed if he got the opportunity."
Wincing, I try to mentally scrub out my ears. I don't want to know these things about dear Great Aunt Gayle.
She spins on me, holding a fork up as she stabs it in my direction. "You promise me you'll protect them with your life if it's necessary."
"It won't be," I assure her, because I'm pretty confident Zeke has no clue I'm helping her and that he's going to jail soon anyway. "But I promise... he's not getting anywhere near Maggie and Belle."
She stares at me a hard moment, either trying to determine if she believes me or she's trying to convey some brutal message that she'll castrate me if I let her down. Finally, she gives me a smile and says, "You're a good man, I can tell. Strong and with character."
I drop my gaze from her so she doesn't see the cowardice within. That I'm not strong or else I wouldn't let the ghosts of my past dictate how I treat Maggie. I have no character because I'm unwilling to trust that Maggie just might be different. I'm definitely not good, having done things in my life that would turn her gray hair pure white if she knew.
The front door swings open with a resounding bang. Gayle jumps about a foot high, and then brings her free hand to her chest as if she's staving off a heart attack. She glares at Belle, who comes flying into the kitchen. "Aunt Gayle... Mommy says I go with her. Go with Mommy. Go with Mommy. Go with Mommy."
The little girl, who is the spitting image of Maggie, runs straight into Gayle's legs and wraps her arms around them before lifting her face and beaming her happiness upward. Gayle's weathered hand goes to Belle's fine, blonde hair that sits just below her shoulders. It's pinned back from her face with a pink bow, and Gayle strokes the top. "Gonna miss you, child."
"Miss you," Belle says with a grin on her face, but you can tell she doesn't really know what that means and is more parroting her aunt.
I feel Maggie's presence behind me before I see her, and then feel her hand come to my shoulder where she squeezes me briefly before walking past. She leans down, picks up Belle, and turns to face me. "Bridger... this is Belle. Belle... this is my friend, Bridger."
Belle puts her hand in her mouth and lowers her face shyly without looking at me.
"Belle," Maggie says softly, tickling at her ribs a bit. "Can you say hi to Bridger?"
She finally looks up at me. I get an up-close look at the same fern-colo
red eyes as Maggie's.
"Hi, Bwidg-uh," she says, and I actually feel my insides go a bit gooey. I think this may be the first conversation I've ever had with a two-year-old, and she's fucking cute as all get out.
"Hi, Belle," I say as I reach out and hold my hand up in front of her. "Got a high five in there for me?"
She looks at me in confusion before looking to her mom, and then back to me. I lean forward in my chair, take her hand, and gently flattening it out before I slightly smack it to mine. "See... that's a high five."
I let her hand go, and she automatically slaps it to mine again. "High five," she says with a laugh.
"Or," I say as I curl my hand into a fist, taking hers to do the same. I then bump my knuckles against hers. "You can do a fist bump."
I let her go, and she knocks her fist against mine on her own. "Fist bump."
Laughing, I look to Maggie and say, "Smart kid."
"Gets that from her mommy," she replies tartly.
My phone chimes with an incoming text. Maggie sets Belle down so she can pour a cup of coffee for herself. The little girl immediately scrambles up on one of the kitchen chairs beside me where I feel the weight of her stare. I give her a smile as I pull my phone out, and then glance down at the text.
It's from Cal. We are flying in tomorrow. Already booked room at Wort. Like to do club Sunday night.
"Fist bump," I hear Belle say and I look up to see her little hand hovering in midair. I make a fist and knock it to hers. She giggles, and I can't help but laugh.
There's a smile lingering on my face as I bend over my phone and shoot a quick response back to Cal. Sounds good. Let's do dinner first.
"Fist bump," Belle says, and I look back up. She's looking at me expectantly, fist hovering in the air. I touch my knuckles to hers, and she starts giggling uncontrollably.
"You've created a monster," Maggie says, and my gaze slides to hers. But she's not looking at me. She's looking at Belle with such uncontrolled love in her eyes that it makes me want to start crying for some reason.
"Fist bump," Belle says, and I give it to her again.
She laughs and laughs, and that makes Maggie laugh, and I realize I'm feeling something I've never felt in my entire life.
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