Brute: The Valves MC (7 page)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Sunday morning I woke up earlier and went to put a load of laundry. Thinking it was time to wash the linens in the guest room, too, I stripped the bed and left the comforter folded neatly on top.

Back at the washing machine, I filled it, then poured some detergent in and pushed the button to start it. I had left some delicates on the floor so I bent to pick them up. A firm body pushed against my ass and startled me. I shot up and started a scream, but a familiar hand covered my mouth gently. Dawson.

I turned, my heart still beating fast, and was welcomed by the most passionate kiss. I lost myself into it, breathing in his scent and noticing how much I have missed it.

He broke the kiss to officially tell me good morning.

“Good morning,” I smiled, still clinging to his neck. “How come you’re done so early?”

“I’m not. I snuck out so I can make up for Friday night.”

“Oh?”

I liked him making efforts but I still felt saddened by having to part with him again soon. He didn’t give me time to think too much. Kissing my neck, he pulled me close, running his hands all over my body. I shivered and held him like I never wanted to lose him, relishing in the heat emanated from his body.

He proceeded to unbutton my pajama shirt and I would’ve let him do whatever he wanted, but I remembered Ginger and I held his hands in place.

“We can’t do it here. Ginger is sleeping across the hallway.”

He pulled back and nodded. “We can go into your guest room, right?”

I shook my head. “I have no linens there. I just loaded them into the washer. Can’t we go to your place?”

His expression changed and he pulled back more.

“What is it?” I asked, worried.

“I…No, we can’t. Not now.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” I felt the same dreadful doubt creeping back up and I was trying in vain to dispel it.

“It’s…complicated.”

“How come?” I demanded, more firmly than I intended to.

He looked troubled, like he was trying to figure something out. This was not the expression of a man holding out for his own interest, but I couldn’t comprehend why he was being this way.

So I pushed more. “I would like to know why. It’s not like we’re living so far apart that it’ll be unfeasible to change places when hook up, once in awhile. Scheduled weekends aren’t much for entertainment, are they?”

“Is that what we’re doing?” he asked, and I felt a sharp pain in my heart watching his face melt into a sad expression.

“No. I don’t think so. At least, not from my part,” I said, more quietly.

He pulled me to his chest and whispered into my ear, “Not from my part either. You have no idea…” He left the rest hanging in the air and kissed my hair.

I hugged him, struggling not to cry for my stupidity. We swiftly shifted from comforting caresses to heated touches and slowly moved towards my bare guest room. We undressed each other en-route. Once there, he gently lifted by naked body onto the cold mattress and lay protectively on top. His weight, although pressing hard on my front, comforted me and I searched for his mouth, eager to show my appreciation.

He offered himself, never stopping his hands from caressing my skin in the most gentle and romantic way I ever dreamed of. I tasted him with all I got, grateful for the hurt in his eyes when I hinted towards meaningless sex. I wasn’t happy for his pain but I felt more in love than ever, knowing he was as serious as me. I was sure I could do anything for him and I would give him everything.

As if feeling my thoughts, he kissed me deeper, cupping my ass. I lifted my legs around his hips to welcome him. He felt my rhythm again and paced himself to it. Leaving his usual aggressiveness behind, he found my entrance and gently entered, inch by inch, careful not to hurt me in any way.

He might’ve thought this as less erotic, but I certainly was feeling every part of him and the slow pace made everything else slow down, as well. I was becoming wetter by the moment, accommodating him better. This beautiful languidness let my senses relish into his, experiencing everything he meant while offering him everything I meant.

I opened my eyes and saw him watching me, his expression what I could only describe as blissful possession. The look in his eyes stirred the butterflies in my stomach in a violent twirl, my core following suit, prepared to give into the pleasure of being his.

He picked up his pace in time, unseemingly thrusting into me harder and harder. I had promised myself to keep quiet but the pleasure building inside me with every one of his thrusts was stronger than myself. I began moaning and he covered my mouth with his, in a delicate kiss meant to absorb the results of his passionate labour. I accepted him fully and moaned silently into our kiss, ripples of bliss becoming stronger and stronger.

To balance my tempered moans, I dug my nails into his back, unable to control much of my body. He thrust harder, being pushed by my hands into a delirious new rhythm that finally launched me into release. I opened my eyes and looked at him. We locked gazes while I came, my pussy squeezing him closer to climax, too.

My core hadn’t settled fully when I felt his orgasm. His body contracted, muscles holding me close, as he released his cum inside me yet again. I welcomed it with more pulsations of my core, while we were still holding each other’s gaze.

When he relaxed, I realized I was still holding him with my nails deeply thrust in his skin. I retracted my hands and he kissed me.

With my eyes still closed from our kiss, I felt him stand. I knew he had to go; he had skipped work only for my benefit. Warm swirls traced themselves into my core, prompted by my gratitude towards him being mine. I opened my eyes, in my mind still screaming my possession of him. I saw he was glad of my smile as he put his shirt on.

“The guest bathroom is right next to this room,” I said, although still unwilling to let him go.

He nodded grateful and gathered his clothes. He bent to kiss me and whispered, “I will leave directly. Don’t want to make you feel bad having to say goodbye.”

I expended my arms and hugged him tightly, locking his face in another kiss. I wanted to give him a piece of me until we would see each other again. He patiently took everything, accepting my terms of release. With a big smile that seemed strange to me, he blew me the cutest kiss and walked backwards out the door.

He seemed sad, even after our passionate meeting. His smile, although genuine, seemed to be framed by blues. His happiness was tinted somehow and, by the proxy that couples shared, mine was, too.

Lost in thought, I waited until I heard the front door close and I got out of bed. I used the same guest bathroom to clean up, then I proceeded to make breakfast for me and Ginger. I would be waking her up soon and I felt in the mood to surprise her. I decided we’d do a picnic today. With lots of tea, as Ginger seemed to love drinking so much.

Scrambled eggs and pancakes ready, I set the table in a hurry and went for Ginger. It was getting rather late and I was surprised she didn’t get up by herself by now. I found the bedroom door open and, looking in, I saw the bed empty, comforter thrown as if someone had just left. I smiled, walking towards the bathroom.

“Honey? Are you up already?” I called, knocking gently on the door. When I didn't get a response, I started to feel my body tensing. I knocked again, calling her name louder. “Are you in here, baby?”

Finally, I pushed the door open and found no one. At this time, panic ensued and I started searching for her in a frenzy. Where has she disappeared? Did she leave by her own accord to her place? I was sure the house was locked anyway.

I went through every room, starting back from the kitchen, afraid something bad might’ve happened. I pushed the guest room’s door open and didn’t see anything, at first. I was too panicked to see straight but something in the corner of my eye made me look again.

And there she was, cuddled up under the unfolded comforter, sleeping like a little angel. I started crying and ran to her, hugging her tiny body tightly.

“Oh, baby. You scared me so much! I thought I’d lost you, baby, I did. I couldn’t bear it…” I mumbled, choked with tears.

Ginger stirred from her sleep and rubbed her eyes, confused. “It smells like daddy. I wanted to sleep here,” she said and my mind stopped to a halt.

I pulled back a bit, unsure if I understood what she was saying. I didn’t want to. I couldn’t manage such a situation.

“Did daddy sleep here last night? He should’ve kissed me goodnight,” she followed, visibly upset by the possibility.

“No, baby, he didn’t sleep here last night. He would’ve hugged you if he did, I’m sure of it,” I tried to comfort her.

“But it smells like daddy. He was here. I know it. And he didn’t hug me. Was I a bad girl? I shouldn’t have had so much ice cream in the evening; Daddy doesn't like it.”

She was crying now and I felt broken inside. How could I tell her the truth? And even disclosing it wouldn’t make her happier, as he father did avoid seeing her this morning. But how could I explain to her that it was precisely because he loved her that he had to keep our relationship in the dark; because he loved me, we had to hide until something come of our future.

What would be our future?

The realization made brought tears to my eyes and I sat close to her, cuddling her tiny body into mine, crying together. I felt her stir after some time and I knew she was looking at me.

“Why are you crying, Mommy?”

The shock of her words, the sight of her puffy face and the sound of sadness in her voice rendered me unable to do anything but cry harder. I pulled her even closer and tried to whisper, “It’s not your fault, baby. It’s not your fault.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

“This is delicious!” Dawson exclaimed, mouth full of shrimp creole.

I smiled, chewing my own food. I was proud of my cooking talent and I never took a compliment too modestly. It was, after all, a good skill to have. “I’m glad you like it,” I said, shoving some more shrimp into my mouth.

We had just made love and he stayed for dinner. He said he was willing to help out and I was pleasantly surprised to find out his daughter didn’t get her cooking interest out of nowhere but her skilled father.

It was late, later than I usually ate and I told him so.

“Yeah, sorry for that,” he sheepishly replied, visibly apologetic. He pushed his empty plate to the side and sat up. We had forgotten to bring water at the table and he took this task upon himself now.

“If we were at your place, maybe we won’t need to be so late. I mean…” I started, but he interrupted.

“No. I understand this must be hard, but I cannot…Not at this time, I…”

His strong position surprised me greatly. “What do you mean?” I mouthed, barely above a whisper.

He didn’t reply immediately. Fiddling with his glass, he kept looking down and I could see he was uncomfortable talking about this. But so was I, always having to guess and compromise on things a normal couple wouldn’t require compromise on.

“What’s the matter?” I repeated. “Do you have someone else?”

“No,” was his short answer.

I knew as much. “Then? If you are as serious as you say you are, Ginger will have to find out eventually.” My appetite was gone, so I rose and placed my plate onto the counter.

“It’s not that either. It’s…more complicate. Hard to understand, hard to explain…”

“She called me Mommy this weekend,” I cut in, unsure if I should’ve said anything.

He was silent for a moment and I turned to look at him. His lips were parted, eyes noticeably shocked. He seemed unable to speak. I continued.

“If this was the issue, than I am pretty sure it’s not an issue. She needs a mother and she got used to me. She called me Mommy and she didn’t want to take it back. We’re already close and she might be already suspecting something…”

“It’s not that. I’m glad, really, I am, that she called you that. You’re the best for her. But I just can’t right now. There are things I need to take care before…”

“Before what?” I asked, feeling my knees weak and the commencement of a migraine getting stronger by the minute.

“Before I can think of myself,” he whispered, as he sat up. “Look, I know this is an upsetting talk and I think it’s better I left. It’s late anyway and I need to check up on Ginger.”

“Upsetting? Is that all?” I couldn’t believe my ears. “I…I don’t know what to say to that.”

I was intent on clarifying the situation, but I felt I didn’t have the means to do it. I resigned myself to waiting, to thinking and considering. My body seemed to agree with me, as it weakened suddenly and I felt the need to sit down. I didn’t, however. I didn’t want to show him how pathetic I felt. I fell silent, as he watched me for a few long minutes, unsure of what to do, then finally deciding on grabbing his jacket and leaving quietly.

I don’t know how I got to a chair, as tears were streaming down my face, blinding me with heartache.

When I came to my senses, I felt drained and I wanted to sleep. I slugged along to put the dishes away and the leftovers in the fridge, then, as I was about to turn the lights off, I heard a motorcycle closing in. Dawson was already home and there weren’t many riders living in this neighborhood so who could it be?

I looked out the large front windows and saw a man dressed in leather riding gear walking up Dawson’s lawn. He didn’t knock, just entered like it was his own place.
Strange
, I thought, and a vague uneasiness made its presence at the back of my mind.

I waited patiently, straining to look for anything out of the ordinary. I didn’t know how much time must’ve passed, but it couldn’t have been long since the sprinklers on my lawn hadn’t activated yet when Dawson’s front door opened and he stepped out, followed by the stranger.

Dawson looked angry, but holding back. He pointed a finger at the other man’s chest and seemed to threaten him. The other one smiled and removed himself from Dawson, walking towards his motorcycle without a word. He didn’t seem afraid, but amused. And that made me feel uncomfortable. This whole thing didn’t look like casual conversation and I feared to acknowledge more.

Before turning back to my business, I saw the stranger ride away, shortly followed by a dark sedan that had been parked on the other side of the street for a while. “I’ve seen that car before!” I exclaimed, trying to remember where and when.

If I recalled correctly, this car had picked Dawson up for work a couple of times, usually arriving much earlier and waiting suspiciously in the same spot. It was suspicious now, in hindsight, as, at the time, I didn’t think much of it.

Dawson followed the two vehicles with a stern expression on his face. I guessed he knew the kind of bad news they appeared to bring and I didn’t like the look in his eyes. He seemed concerned and constrained. The uneasiness crawled on my skin and I felt suddenly cold. Something wasn’t right and the only thing I could think of was if Ginger would be fine.