by A. J. Downey
I groaned and started to lean forward.
The other direction would be falling off the mattress onto the loft floor. She caught my shaft and as I pitched forward, I plunged back inside her.
It was like finding that Heaven had another place that it considered Heaven and then burying myself in it.
I shuddered and was still.
Raven held me, and we kissed a few more times, but we were both breathless and sweaty.
“My God.” I laughed, when after a few minutes I felt myself finally slide out of her.
“Yes,” she purred. “You are.” Then she laughed, and it was the freest I’d ever heard her.
18
Raven…
“Tell me something no one else knows,” he murmured, and I laughed a little. I bit my bottom lip, looking away, hoping it appeared coy to him and not like I was afraid he would glimpse my secrets in my eyes – which is what I was absurdly afraid of.
He didn’t let me get away with it. Instead, he touched my face lightly, a gentle stroke along my cheek, threatening to tip my chin. I looked up, tracing patterns against his chest in the dark, a swath of bright moonlight cutting across us from the window over the mattress we used as the bed. The sleeping bags we had tucked over and around us did a good job of keeping out the cold, but I was beginning to miss the amenities of my apartment.
“Babe,” he murmured, and his voice was edged in humor, slightly chiding.
“I’m thinking…” and it was true, I was. He’d sort of caught me off guard with that one. It wasn’t that I didn’t hold any secrets, if anything I held too many, but like with most things the second he asked, I just sort of blanked and couldn’t think of a single one off the top of my head.
I laughed nervously and tried to explain my predicament and he smiled down at me and said, “I got all night, baby, but I want to know something.”
“What?” I asked stupidly.
He grinned. “Anything. Just something you’ve never told anyone else.”
“Oh.” I squeezed my eyes shut and laid my head back down. He placed his hand over mine, pressing the palm of my hand to his chest, ceasing the nervous patterns I had been thoughtlessly tracing over the same spot. I sighed and settled in, closing my eyes, and tried to think. When the answer came to me, it was a bittersweet one.
“Not to sound like a total whore,” I said, nervousness creeping into my voice, “but of any man I’ve ever been with I…” I faltered and he was still, and though I didn’t look at him, I knew he hung on my every word. “I’ve never felt the way that I do when I’m with you and I know, it sounds cliché—”
“Don’t worry about any of that, it’s just window dressing,” he soothed. “Tell me how you feel.”
“Loved,” I said quickly, rushing it out before I lost my nerve, swallowing hard right on the heels of that one little word, tears threatening to spring to my eyes. “I’ve never felt that before, from anyone, until you,” I said, looking up into his eyes, startled to realize they were smiling.
“Good,” he said evenly and nodded slowly and slightly awkwardly. I kind of froze, blushing, glad for the dark and that it likely hid the color in my cheeks.
Did he just—? Did he just agree with me? Was he saying he loved me?
Holy shit.
My eyes did well then and his smile which had been small, grew just a little and he twisted his head on his neck and pressed his lips squarely to my forehead. I melted from that touch. That gesture that made me feel so small and so safe and so… loved. If only he knew what it did to me. That every time he did it, I lost just that little bit more of my heart to his capable hands.
“You make me so weak,” I confessed softly, and he chuckled.
“Impossible,” he whispered. “You’re incredibly strong, one of the strongest people I think I’ve ever known.”
I shook my head against him, and he laughed outright at that and said, “Going to have to agree to disagree on that one, darlin’.” He cuddled me just a little bit tighter.
We lay in silence for a time and the burning urgency of just needing to know, of wanting to hear it but also being terrified to hear the answer might be no was just ravaging me, forcing me to look up at him, prompting him to look down at me.
“What?” he asked, and a lump formed in my throat.
“Do you?” I squeaked, so afraid the answer would be ‘no’ and yet not knowing what to do if the answer was ‘yes.’
“Love you?” he asked me evenly, and his face was steely, unreadable. I couldn’t trust my voice and simply nodded dumbly.
“Not sure how you couldn’t know by now, but yes. I love you. I wouldn’t do half the things I’ve done for and with someone I didn’t.” He rolled, half taking me with him and I went with it, giving no resistance when he nudged my knees apart with one of his own as he held himself over me; pressing down on top of me. It wasn’t oppressive, the way he held himself above me. It was wonderful. Safe, sweet, and protective.
I stared up at him in wonder as he stroked the side of my face, his other arm buried behind me, holding me lovingly as he looked over my face.
“Just look at you,” he murmured softly and the wonder in his eyes. Gods above and below, I felt so beautiful with the way he looked at me. This man, he looked at me with the reverence you reserved for such works of art as the Mona Lisa. Not for some poor as fuck Burner chick from the fringe.
Of course, maybe that’s why we fit. Broken in some similar ways, both of us from the fringe; from the outskirts of a society that didn’t care, that overlooked us until we were a problem, that thought nothing of us unless we were squarely in their way.
“I love you, too,” I whispered, emotion welling hot and fresh, overwhelmingly so. I put my arms around him, and he crushed my mouth with his. Hungry, as though he were devouring my words, swallowing my love whole, and he acted as though it would be enough to sustain him for the centuries to come.
I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him down even closer. He folded elegantly, like an origami crane, all sharp points and angles, perched above me protectively, ready to slash with sharp wit any and all who came near wishing any sort of harm.
I don’t think I had ever had any occasion to feel so safe and at once so afraid. I knew Mace could be a dangerous man, and it was like I lay here, maybe not with a paper crane but rather a paper tiger or some other big cat in my lap, softly purring in that big cat way that was difficult to differentiate whether it was indeed a purr or a growl… but it didn’t matter. He wouldn’t hurt me.
No, the predatory sheen that cloaked him, rippling through his musculature beneath my palms had nothing to do with harm. His hunger was carnal in nature, sure, but it was an appetite for pleasure and he wasn’t so much about his own as he was mine. He’d proven that time and time again, and though I was positively exhausted, there was no way I could resist. I wanted, needed him inside of me just as much as he wanted and needed to be there.
He was slow, the connection between us fathoms deeper than anything I had ever known with anyone else as he slid his hard length against me looking for purchase. We both threw our heads back and sighed, shuddering in sweet surrender and tandem as he slipped inside of me, filling me gently, pressing out against my walls which ached to have him there, trembling finely around him and through me at his presence as though he was coming home, even though we’d just been doing this very same thing less than an hour before.
This was different. The connection raw and unveiled, like each of us were a live wire, touching, sparking fire, the heat building to a rosy glow between us. A glow that felt and for the longest time was sustainable with no end in sight.
His deep brown eyes looked deep into mine, soul deep and even deeper still to the fragment of stardust at the center of my being that I felt we were all made of imbuing it and me with the magic that only truth and love possessed.
I had no doubt in my mind, heart, or soul that Mace spoke his heart and it was something I needed so badly, so desperately t
o heal the cracks and fissures in mine.
I pulled his mouth to mine and poured everything that I was and everything that I wished I could be into the kiss that I gave him. He made it taste like anything was possible and for more than a brief shining moment it was and a moment after that, I knew that it was everything I had ever wanted. For the first time in my life, rather than resist it, I melded into the moment and allowed it to happen and I trusted with my everything in what could be.
I loved him so much for the gift he bestowed on me… the gift of him loving me.
19
Mace…
Getting out of Rat City for a while seemed like a really good idea. Taking Raven somewhere on my bike seemed like an even better one. There wasn’t anything good for her in Rat City, and she needed to have a smile on her face for something better than a societal outcast, a dirty biker if you will, saying that he loved her.
She deserved better than that.
There were plenty of places to go, I just didn’t know where would be a good start. I mean, the ride was gonna be cold as fuck since it was damn near the dead of winter. It would be a couple three weeks yet before spring would appear and that was only if this wasn’t going to be a year where we had a fuckin’ June-uary. That’s when the Pacific Northwest’s winter weather – cold and wet – literally dragged on through June and sometimes into July.
I sighed and waited for her to come back out into the kitchen from the bathroom where the shower had quit what felt like forever ago. I wanted to take her for a ride, let my elemental woman really feel what wind felt like as we took some of the sweeping curves around here. I also wanted to take her to breakfast. It was an easy decision when I put just an ounce of brain power into it. The Black Diamond Bakery and Café was a local spot that was almost a hidden gem – touristy to an extent, and old as fuck.
It haled back to when Black Diamond, Washington was a coal mining town and first opened up in like, 1902. The place made legendary fresh baked bread and over the years, a café serving a mighty fine breakfast had gone in next to the bakery with a real country diner kind of vibe. The kind of place that a lot of local church-going folks hit up right after service on Sunday.
In other words, it would be busy, but she would be with me and that meant anyone that could or would try to give her shit, would have to go through me first so it would be alright. She would be just fine.
“So,” she started, sliding onto the kitchen stool beside mine, leaning her arms against the counter and stretching like a cat. I admired the smooth, lean, lengthening of her muscles underneath her skintight olive-and-charcoal post-apocalyptic fashion choice for the day and put my hand on her back. I couldn’t help but touch her. I could never get enough of touching her.
“What’s the plan?” she asked, smiling over at me and I felt a slow grin overtake my lips.
“How about breakfast?” I asked.
“Oh, God, yeah. I’m starving!” she nodded emphatically, and I laughed.
“Cool, let’s take a ride.”
She perked up a bit. “What, like on your bike?” she asked.
I nodded. “Figured I’d introduce you to the wind.”
She smiled at that and some of her apprehension sloughed off.
“I hadn’t thought of it like that,” she murmured.
“Scared?” I asked.
“A little,” she confessed, then laughed at the look on my face and asked, “What, is that stupid?”
“No.” I shook my head. “I would never say that about you,” I said, and it was true. “It’s just, I guess I’m confused. You swing things around that are on fire and you’re afraid of riding on a motorcycle?”
“Hey, to be fair, I’m in control of the fire as much as is possible when it comes to fire.”
I grinned and gently teased her, “You saying you don’t trust me to keep you safe?”
“No!” she cried. “I would never say that about you.” Her voice gentled, and she sounded vaguely hurt. I pulled her into my arms and held her tight.
“Relax, baby. I’m just teasing,” I said. She looked at me, searched my face for a second and nodded, deciding I was telling the truth.
I loved that about her – she was in a lot of ways tough as nails and capable but that didn’t negate the fact that she was a soft thing, sensitive and caring. It was an interesting dichotomy. One I didn’t think I would ever get tired of.
“So where are we going?” she asked, and I smiled. Watching her resolve galvanize real time was a treat.
“Ever been to the Black Diamond Bakery?” I asked her. She shook her head. “Then it’s my treat.”
I loaned her an old jacket of mine that was way too big on her but would protect her well enough. She looked trepidatious as we approached the bike, and I had to smirk.
“What’s the matter?” I asked. “Scared?”
Bold as brass and honest as fuck, she answered, “Yes.”
I laughed a little, my plan out the window. I was hoping by challenging her on it that she would buck up a little in denial. I guess we were well past the phase where she would feel the need to.
“Look,” I said. “Is it dangerous? Sure. But is it any more dangerous than you spinning fire around you?”
“It’s not that,” she protested, shaking her head.
I eased up and searched her face. “It’s that you have to trust me, isn’t it?” I asked.
She bit her lips together and nodded, and had the grace to look borderline ashamed, but there wasn’t a need. I got it. She’d been handed an awful lot of raw deals over her lifetime. It left a mark. Trust was hard to come by in that instance and that was something I for sure understood. I think all of us in the club did.
“C’mere.” I drew her into my arms and wound hers around my waist, gathering her face between my hands and pressing my lips to her forehead. I felt the tension ease out of her.
“I’ve got you,” I promised, looking her in the eyes. “I won’t let anything bad happen to you. Look me in the eye and tell me if I’m lying.”
Her steel blues searched my face right back, and she shook her head slightly. “No, I know you won’t,” she breathed.
I smiled and nodded. “Okay, this is all I need you to do…” I murmured and told her all the things I wanted and needed from a passenger. By the time I’d finished, she looked less spooked, a little more grounded, and all around curious.
We got on the bike and she snugged herself close up against my back and God, that felt good.
“Stick your hands in my pockets if they get cold,” I told her, and she nodded. “Hang on,” I reminded her and fired my bike up. She jumped at the growl and held on a little tighter and I smiled.
“And away we go,” I called, and put us in motion. She looked around as we headed through the trees and I thought to myself, the hardest part of the ride was going to be keeping my eyes on the road ahead and off her lovely face in the rearview mirror.
20
Raven…
The rush of the pavement beneath me was almost as intoxicating as the wind in my face. I know it was stupid, but I almost wished I could take off the helmet to feel it in my hair. I held onto Mace’s lean, hard form through his leather jacket and after a few minutes and one or two sweeping curves took his invitation and stuffed my frozen hands into his pockets.
He called back to me once or twice, slowing to check on me and I grinned and hugged him a little tighter and he would accelerate. I lost myself in the exhilaration of the ride all over again.
How I could have ever been afraid of this was beyond me! This? This was wonderful. I didn’t even know how to explain it. It was like… like being part of the world in a bigger sense. When he carefully pulled us up over the scattered gravel in the street outside the bakery, I was almost sad it was over.
“So, what ‘cha think?” he asked when we got off the bike. I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him soundly as he made this chuckling purr of happy satisfaction into my mouth.
“That…
that was…”
He laughed. “A lot different living the scenery versus just watching it go by in a cage, huh?
“Yes,” I agreed. And that was exactly it. It was the difference between watching a movie and being a part of the production.
He held out his hand to me and I grasped it. We went inside to put our names on the waiting list.
I closed my eyes and breathed in the scent of freshly baking things at the bakery counter, of flour and yeast, and from the café side of things, rich maple syrup and frying bacon, and over and under it all, the decadent and robust scent of coffee. It was an assault on the senses in here, loud, the burble of countless conversations reverberating off of the old wooden walls. The crowd, while it could have been overwhelming, it wasn’t. Instead, it was… cozy.
Mace hooked his arm over my shoulders as we perused the bakery menu and leaned in, his lips soft against my temple, his breath warm against my ear as he murmured, “Get whatever you want for the week, babe. My treat.”
“I don’t know what’s good,” I mused, and I could hear his smile. My gaze wandered the hand-drawn lettering on the chalkboard menu over the shelves of bread. There were already several empty slots among the shelves and things crossed out on the board. One or two shelves only held one or two loaves.
“The Crystal Mountain Loaf is always good,” he said, pointing.
“Is there enough room, being on the bike and all?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Be amazed at how much fits in the saddlebags, and I’ve got a backpack in one of them. You could buy one of everything and it’d be a challenge, but we’d make it,” he said. I giggled.
“I doubt I need that many carbs in my life,” I said.
“But they’re so good,” he said, and I laughed.
“It’s true. I think I’ll go for one of those Crystal Mountain loaves and one of those giant cinnamon rolls for tomorrow night when I get up.”