BABY GIRL II For the Ones We Love, Page 2

  Bite.

  I clenched my teeth and bit the inside of my lip. My pussy began to contract as he slid in and out. I clenched my jaw and exhaled.

  And came, and came.

  I raised my hips…

  And an orgasm filled me. I relaxed. And. I. Came.

  And as he slowly fucked me I collapsed on the floor, unable to hold my butt off of the floor.

  He lowered his face to mine and kissed me softly.

  And he laid his head on my chest. His breathing slowed and he remained still. I reached around his back and held him until his cock became flaccid.

  He twitched.

  I may or may not have fallen asleep.

  And slowly, he raised his body from mine, and opened the closet door.

  The light in the room was blinding. I blinked and looked into the room. Erik ducked under the clothes, and stepped into the room. Standing naked, he held his arm out toward me. I reached out and grabbed his fingers with my hand, and he helped me to my feet.

  Okay, that closet thing started out really, really weird, but it got extremely sexy real quick.

  “Grab your stuff. Your pajamas, baby girl,” he said as he pointed to the closet floor.

  He pulled on his jeans, buckled his belt, and inhaled. He looked up at the ceiling and exhaled.

  As he pulled his shirt over his head, he took another quick breath.

  “Things may be kind of crazy here for a few days. There’s some stuff going on with the club. Don’t worry. It’ll all work out, but I may be busy, and I could be in some strange moods here for a few days, we’ll see,” he reached for his boots.

  After he laced up his boots, he picked up his holster and held it in his hand.

  “Kiss me, baby girl,” he said.

  We kissed. He hugged me. As he pulled himself away, he spoke.

  “Lock the door behind me, baby girl, okay,” he said over his shoulder.

  I nodded.

  “Yes sir.”

  And he left.

  I stepped over the shoes that littered the floor and flipped the light switch.

  I pulled the blankets up to my chin and stared at the ceiling, smiling.

  I had no idea what was going on, but that was not about him, it was about me.

  Exhausted, and with a clear head, I closed my eyes.

  And fell asleep.

  ERIK. Trust. You may not always be able to trust the person that you love, but you can always love the person that you trust.

  Love at first sight. Love that just is. That would mean trust at first sight. Trust that just is. The thought of that, to me, was foolish.

  Trust, for me, has always been a difficult thing. I have lived a life where I never really exposed myself to many people who I had to trust. With me, trust was something that had to be earned, and I made it difficult for a person to earn my trust. I typically tested them, giving them opportunities to make mistakes or fail me. In time, it seemed that most eventually did. The few that remained were my brothers, and I held them close to my heart.

  So far Kelli had made no mistakes.

  This wasn’t any form of indication that she was infallible, none of us are. But for me, everything was indicating that she was perfect - perfect for me. I found this to be comforting and disturbing both. Trusting that a person is and will always be as they seem was becoming increasingly difficult. If Kelli stayed the way that she was now, I could see myself being with her forever and being happy. Loving her, however, was something I wasn’t sure I could ever do.

  Trust had to come first.

  I walked into the bathroom to brush my teeth. I looked in the mirror and inspected myself for faults. This had become somewhat of a ritual after my exercise. Not so much an inspection for reasons of admiration, but an assessment to be critical of myself, to attempt to find faults, and make corrections. Some men exercise in an effort to grow bigger, get stronger, and become more buff. I exercised to stay the same. I wanted the same appearance and size - always. Strength, to me, didn’t really matter. The amount of weight that I could bench, curl, or deadlift was never important to me, my appearance was. On this day, I found no faults in my physical appearance.

  Turning in the mirror, I studied the tattoo on my back. Temptation in the form of a tattoo. I knew the club would be tempted to act on the theft of Nacho’s bike. I would be tempted to act either in support of the club, or as an individual. Accepting the temptation as being just that was often difficult. As I pulled my toothbrush from the holder, I closed my eyes and quickly prayed the decision the club made regarding the crime would be what was best for all parties involved.

  These last few days had been, and continued to be - a lesson in trust. Trusting in a person that came into the motorcycle club at the invitation of another member proved to be a bad decision. He had stolen a member’s bike, and made copies of keys to many of the member’s homes. One of the member’s homes had already been broken into by this individual. Now, the character of the member that vouched this person into the club was in question. Trust in the particular person that ended up being a thief was gone entirely. I had to try to trust the club to make a good decision, and trust that law enforcement would handle their end of the responsibility.

  As I studied my reflection, I began to make a mental list of all of the people I had allowed into my life, and whether or not I felt I could trust them. As ridiculous as this was, I stood and struggled with almost everyone. Could I truly trust Kelli would always be there for me? Could I trust she would never have major changes in who she was? My phone ringing brought me to reality.

  “Hello?” I asked into the phone as I answered.

  “Doc, I talked to Bone,” Teddy rasped.

  “And?” I responded.

  “He wants you to go talk to King. You know why. Bone says you can keep him grounded. You alright with that?” Teddy asked.

  “Consider it done. I’ll head out there as soon as I shower,” I responded.

  “Lemme know what happens, Doc - before you talk to Bone. We’re gonna meet at the shop at seven o’clock to talk about it.”

  “I’ll call you when I’m done,” I said as I walked to the bathroom.

  Teddy was the world’s worst about just hanging up on the phone. When he was done talking, he just hung up. No goodbye, no see ya later, nothing. Just click. Over the years, I had become used to it, somewhat. I still found it to be somewhat rude and a little unnerving, but it was Teddy – and I accepted Teddy for being Teddy.

  I took a quick shower and got dressed for the trip to King’s office. King had built quite a business over the years, but never really strayed from his roots. King was part Asian, part black, part Hispanic, and part white. He could fit in wherever he wanted to. He was a thug as a child, and remained a thug until he was a young adult – selling drugs and pimping women. He left the city for about ten years, and spent most of that time in prison. He learned during his time in prison how to be a thug and get away with it. He, for what everyone could see on the surface, was now a business man. Inside, he was still a thug. People rarely change.

  I rode my bike into the parking lot of King’s office, and didn’t immediately see any parking spots. A quick circle of the lot produced nothing. I maneuvered through the handicap parking and onto the sidewalk. I rolled to the edge of the sidewalk, and pulled the kickstand down, leaving room for a pedestrian to walk into the office.

  I walked through the front door and up to the receptionist’s desk. A young blonde dressed in business attire greeted me as I approached the desk.

  “How can I help you?” she asked, exposing whitest teeth I’ve ever seen.

  “Well, I need to see Mr. King,” I responded.

  “I’m sorry. Mr. King is in meetings all day. He’s asked that I hold all calls and turn away visitors. I’m sorry, but I can take your name and have him call you,” she offered.

  “If you would, just let him know Doc is here to see him. I’ll wait over there,” I said as I pointed to the waiting area.

&nb
sp; “Doctor….?” she asked, her voice trailing as if she needed more.

  “Just Doc,” I said as I turned toward the waiting area.

  She picked up her phone as I walked toward the seats that were arranged in a circle around a glass table. The table was covered with magazines, many of them motorcycle magazines. I chose one of the current magazines and began to flip through the pages, looking at the photos. As I studied a photo of a new modified Harley Davidson, I heard a familiar voice call my name.

  “Doc Ead, to what do I owe this visit?”

  I turned and looked in the direction of the voice. Dressed in navy slacks, a light blue shirt, and a navy blazer King stood to my left, his hand extended. I stood and reached for his hand. A firm handshake turned into a hug. As I patted him on the back, it was apparent he still worked out more than he actually worked.

  “The club stumbled onto some things and your name came up. Can we talk?” I asked.

  “Interesting. Come in my office, Doc. We can talk there,” he said as he turned and walked toward his office.

  King, by nature, was intimidating to most people. At just short of six feet tall, close to 200 pounds, with a shaved head, goatee, and covered in tattoos - he certainly wasn’t an invitation for a conversation about religion or politics. Dressed in his business clothes, he looked like a boxer that was headed for a press conference. He closed the office door behind us, and sat in a chair beside me.

  “So, what’s going on, Doc?’ he asked over his shoulder.

  “I’m going to make this quick, King. Quick and simple,” I studied his face. His attempts to hide his worry were unsuccessful.

  He nodded slowly.

  “One of the hang arounds in our club was about to prospect, he’d been around for about a year. To cut to the chase, he was a thief. Stole a bike from Nacho’s garage, and broke into Shakey’s place and stole firearms and some other valuable stuff that was accessible,” I took a breath and exhaled.

  “Last night, Bear and I acquired access to a warehouse that the thief owns. He sub-leases it from another shit-head in this town. Most people don’t know he even has this place. We found out he had it, broke in, got some files, and a lot of information about previous thefts and stuff he’s selling on the internet. We found some information on his computer. Looks like he stole some stuff from you too,” as I was speaking, King stood up and removed his jacket.

  “Who?” he asked as he tossed his jacket onto his desk.

  “King, that’s why I am here,” I said as I stood from the chair.

  “Who the fuck is it?” he asked again.

  “King, we want to handle this. What happened to the club is club business. What happened to you is your business, but we don’t want to muddy this up. I’m here as a matter of respect to let you know what we found,” I turned and walked toward him.

  He turned and looked me in the eye. His anger was apparent. Like the rest of us, I was certain he felt violated, used, and lied to. I waited for him to speak. He rubbed his hands together and did just that.

  “So, you going to tell me?” he asked as he walked away from me toward his desk.

  “Went by Slick, King. His name was…”

  “Dave fucking Daniels?” he growled from behind his desk.

  I nodded.

  “Son of a goddamned bitch. I let that mother fucker into my home. I loaned that little prick money when he was broke, I…” he turned to me, his right fist clenched, rubbing it into the palm of his left hand.

  “Here’s the thing,” I reached into my rear pocket of my jeans.

  I unfolded the two sheets of paper and handed them to King. He looked at the first sheet, studied it, and looked at the second sheet. He turned to me, his mouth open, but didn’t immediately speak.

  “It looks like he has the stuff at another warehouse. We don’t know where for sure, but he still has it. It’s listed ‘for sale’ right now,” I offered, standing on the other side of his desk.

  “These mine?” he asked, shaking the papers I handed him.

  “They can be. But, you can’t have them, technically. We didn’t go about it legally,” I responded, arms extended, my palms facing up.

  King raised one eyebrow, opened a desk drawer, and placed the paperwork inside.

  “So, where are we on this?” he asked as he walked around the corner of the desk.

  “Well, we want to get your shit back to you. We want Shakey’s shit too. But we want to handle this. If you handle it, it may be a problem for the club. People will assume whatever you do to this guy came from the club. We don’t need that attention,” I responded, waiting for an answer.

  “God damn, Doc. He stole from me. You know what we did to a thief in prison?” he responded, shaking his head back and forth.

  “He stole from all of us, King. I’m here out of respect, I didn’t have to come here, we both know that,” I said as I gestured toward him with my open hands.

  “I hate people on the outside - you never know who you can trust. Hell, in prison, I could leave my shit out in the cell block, and people would leave it sit for a month. Hell they’d never touch it. You know why? Because it wasn’t theirs,” he complained, rubbing his hands together again.

  “Well, you aren’t in the joint anymore, King. You’ve been out for a while. What, five or six years, huh?”

  “That’s not the point, Doc. My point is that there’s no room in my world for a thief, liar, child molester or rapist,” he stood with his hands at his sides, fists clenched.

  “Let’s reach an agreement. The club will decide tonight how we’re going to handle this. Out of respect to you, we brought you this information. Out of respect to the club, we ask that you support our decision. That’s why I’m here. We need you to support the decision we make,” I said, hoping he would consider honoring the decision of the club.

  “Tell you what, Doc. I’ll do it. I’ll keep my mouth shut - for the club. I have this guy beaten, and the cops are going to come to you, you’re right. I wouldn’t want that either. But I ask this of you. You come to me and let me know what the decision is. Where is this little prick now?” he said as he walked toward me, his right arm extended.

  “He’s in jail awaiting arraignment. They’ll set bail, he’ll bond out. He’ll probably be out tomorrow,” I said as I extended my hand and shook his hand.

  As we shook hands, he pulled me close to him and hugged me. When he did, he growled a whisper toward my ear.

  “Get my shit back, Doc.”

  “I’ll do my best, King,” I assured him as we separated.

  “Hell Doc, who can we trust? I don’t feel like I can trust anyone anymore,” King said as I walked toward his office door.

  “Hell, I’m beginning to wonder,” I pulled at the door handle and held the door open.

  “Let me know what you decide,” he patted me on the shoulder.

  I turned to him and nodded my head in affirmation. As I walked out to my bike, I mentally restated the obvious.

  Who can we trust?

  KELLI. The night I skinned my knees at the parking garage Erik stayed over and slept with me. That night, something changed. Something in me changed, and I believe something in him changed too. I felt that we came together that night – we became a little closer. Maybe we made a step in the direction of progress. I told myself in the beginning that I wanted to get from him what I could - for the summer. After a few months, I came to the realization that I was really truly enjoying my time with him. Now, it had become difficult for me to imagine not being with him.

  People aren’t all attracted to the same things. We drive different cars, wear different clothes, and have different tastes in what we find to be valuable or attractive. What I like may not be what everyone else likes, but I like it. Erik had proven to me through his way of acting and his way of treating me that he was what I wanted in a man. Erik was, for what I desired in a man, perfect.

  Now, it was up to me to convince him that I was perfect for him. No one else could satisfy him
the way I could. I had tried to prove to him I would do anything he asked of me, and I planned on continuing for as long as we were together. Satisfying Erik satisfied me. My satisfaction made me eager to continue to satisfy him.

  I feel like our relationship feeds itself. If Erik is satisfied, I am satisfied. If I am satisfied, I am content. The feeling of being content, of being whole, and of providing Erik with a level of satisfaction no one else could provide him with endorsed the fact that I was valuable. Feeling valuable caused me to want to eagerly continue the process.

  I was, for the first time in my life, a part of something greater than myself. I was not alone, and I did not feel alone. The only other relationship I had, if you could call it one, would have been with my father. I felt, growing up with him, that I was his daughter and he was my father. I never felt like we were a family. I felt like he was required to be with me, because he was my father. He wasn’t with me because of who I was or what I provided. He was with me because he had no choice.

  Erik chose me.

  Every day Erik was with me meant I was more valuable than anyone else he could choose to be with.

  I don’t ever want to disappoint him.

  Pulling into the parking lot at the strip mall both excited me and made me uneasy. Heather had chosen the restaurant, and I agreed. Il Vicino, to me, was where Erik and I started. I looked at it as if it was our restaurant. I felt like I was cheating if I went there without him. Heather stood inside the front door. As soon as I parked the car and got out, she walked out the front door and toward the car.

  “What took you so long? I’ve been waiting ten minutes, and I was ten minutes late,” she complained as she walked toward me.

  “I was tied up at work. I got out of there late, just busy,” I said.

  As we walked up to the restaurant, I looked at Heather. She appeared as if she was proud of herself. She looked content. Happy. Satisfied. Other than when she won a volleyball game, I had never seen her look this way.

  “You look so happy,” I said as we walked through the door.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever been happier, this is so crazy,” she responded as she turned my direction.