Erica
That night, with a man who’d been shot by a gun in one room, and a man who’d probably shot a dozen others in another room, was, strangely, one of the safest and most restful nights I’d ever had. Dominic’s body was warm and comfortable, despite the rough hardness of his muscles, and we slept, enveloped in another, until early morning.
Just as the first rays of the sun were creeping through my bedroom window, I stirred.
“Huh?”
The bed was empty.
Suddenly, my heart thundered. I was not surprised when Dominic snuck out and left to wake up alone. But this time…I don’t know, I guess I’d imagined something was different. That whatever flickering of a connection we’d felt that first night together had cemented into something real.
I fought panic. “Calm down, Erica,” I told myself. “He’s just some biker guy. You knew that. There’s nothing surprising or new here for you to be upset about –”
The shower!
I’d heard it, just as I was ruminating on these horrible thoughts. When I focused on it, I could even sense the warm, steamy air flowing in.
“Dominic?” I called, half-afraid and half-hoping.
“Shh,” he muttered, emerging from the bathroom and looking absolutely adorable with a towel wrapped around his head. Then, my eyes traveled down the rest of his naked body, and all semblance of cuteness dissolved as I took in his manly chest and the solid outline of his cock. Hell, it was impressive even when soft. Dominic seemed to notice my fascination with it, for he gave himself a wiggle, waved, and drew my attention back to his face. He said, “Thunder’s still sleeping. But it’s about time for him to get up anyway. Want to wake him?”
As he spoke, he began gathering his clothes around him to get dressed. As I watched, my initial panic faded, only to be replaced with sadness. And not just because that magnificent body was being covered up.
“You’re leaving already?” I asked petulantly. “I was hoping we could go for round two.”
Subtle, I know, but I really wanted to make him stay.
He gazed back at me with something close to pity.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “But it’s important that Thunder and I get out of here, now, before it gets too light out. The cops are going to be all over this area, and men in black leather are the first people they stop. Me? I could probably outrun them. But Thunder…”
He paused, and gestured to the guestroom.
“Thunder’s injured, and he’s not as fast as me on the best of days. It’s for him, you know?”
I sighed, wanting to be annoyed, but he looked so caring and tender about his friend that I could not help but relent.
“Here,” he said, after a moment. “This time, I’ll give you my number. That way, you can call if anything suspicious happens, or…you know, if you just want to say hello.”
I smiled, and handed him a pen and paper so he could write it down. Though that moment might have seemed insignificant to the average person, I know that to Dominic, it was a very big deal.
As Dominic wrote, I did his bidding and went to awaken Thunder. The man jumped about a mile, his hand plunging beneath the sheets for a gun that was not there before he finally recognized me and relaxed.
“Good morning,” I said gently. “How are you feeling?”
He groaned, and rose to a sitting position. His bandage was stained with small petals of red, but it was not soaking. I took this a good sign.
“Eh, I’ve had hangovers worse than this. Now, where is my jacket?”
I helped him get into it, feeling both very motherly, and strange for feeling motherly when this man could obviously throw me five ways to Sunday in his peak condition. Still, he was very pliable and accepting.
“Dominic’s retiring, you know,” he said out of nowhere.
“Oh?” I made sure to keep my face impassive.
“Yup. He’s been doing this for years. The Broken Spires, and all this mess. He deserves a nice, leisurely retirement.”
“You don’t say.” I had a hard time imagining Dominic ever being nice and leisurely.
“Yeah,” Thunder continued, as I helped him to his feet. “I worry about him, though. It can be hard, after the brotherhood of a motorcycle club, for someone to leave it. He has no family but us, you know.”
“Huh,” I responded noncommittally, double checking his bandages now that he was upright. I was not sure where he was going with this.
“All I’m saying is, I hope he finds somebody nice to spend his time with. Thanks again for all your help.”
And with that, he pulled his hood up over his head, tipped it the way one would tip a hat, and ambled from the bedroom, leaving me gaping after him, both blushing and flustered.
Eventually, I caught up with the pair of them at my door. Dominic looked at me, and then at Thunder, who said, “Right-o. I’ll meet ya outside. Goodbye, Ms. Carter.”
And he left.
Dominic and I looked at each other awkwardly.
“Thanks again,” he said.
“You’re welcome,” I replied. “Hopefully, one day you can come over without getting blood all over my house.”
He chuckled, then pulled me against him. For a while, we simply stayed like that, hugging, breathing in each other’s scents.
“I will see you again, right?” I asked at last, desperate for his answer.
He hesitated. “I can’t make that promise, Erica,” he said, and I felt my heart break. “But not for the reasons you think. As you know by now, I live a very dangerous lifestyle. I could be dead tomorrow for all I know. That’s why it’s important to enjoy yourself when you can, and never make promises you can’t keep.”
That hadn’t occurred to me, that he could very well die. Even when he was injured, he’d always seemed so virile, so massively and indubitably alive that the notion of him ever being defeated seemed ridiculous.
“Even a bullet fired by a weak man can kill,” he murmured, kissing my hair.
I inhaled deeply, breathing him in, then exhaled before pulling away.
“Well, if you don’t die, you better come back, okay?”
He smiled. “Yes, ma’am. I would like that very much.”
He kissed me one final time, then turned away. He left through my front door, rejoined Thunder, and less than a minute later they were gone, slipping in among the shadows. Minutes later, I heard the roaring of two motorcycles, and I imagined it was them.
# # #
I stayed at my door, gazing dreamily out at the early morning streets for what seemed an hour before I remembered that I had to go to work that morning. Feeling flustered, I rushed back into the house, wrestled awhile with the laundry––for some reason, so many of my towels kept getting ruined!––and hopped into the shower.
I stood in it so long, thinking of the streams flowing over Dominic’s naked body, that my hot water ran out and I had to leap, shivering, from the blasted thing and flee straight to my bathrobe to keep warm. Then, I received a shock as I looked into the mirror:
Soft bruises, up and down my neck and peppering all the way across my tits.
“Goddamn it, Dominic!” I complained, but secretly, I was pleased. “It’s about time people knew that I am capable of having fun,” I thought. Therefore, I only lightly made them up, making sure they were still visible, and deliberately chose a low-cut shirt to show off the kiss marks on my breasts.
“Let’s see what you make of that, Mr. Blade,” I muttered, settling myself into a push-up bra. Despite my slightly sore pussy and my mussed hair, I felt spectacular––more beautiful, in fact, than I ever had felt. I almost wished Blade would come after me again, so I could kick him in the groin and tell him exactly who he was messing with.
Silly, childish fantasies. I knew it. But that did not stop me from enjoying them.
Slipping on an actual pair of high heels, I hiked up my breasts, spun my car keys around my fingers, and jaunted into my car for work.
Just as fate would have it, there was no traffic that morning, and I got there precisely on time. I was feeling pretty damn good as I marched right up to the door, barged in, and made right for my desk, fearless and confident. “Mess with me now,” my eyes challenged the men in the room. “Let’s see you try.”
I felt powerful, unstoppable. It’s amazing how nice a secret dose of cum inside you can make you feel.
I slammed down into my seat, booted up my computer, inhaled deeply, and began facing my daily tasks.
And got absolutely nothing done.
Have you ever had one of those days at work, where you’re stuck in a dark and dreary office while outside the sun shines, the birds sing, and there are the sounds of children playing? And though you try to focus, all you can do is gaze dreamily out the window, buzzing with impatience and thinking, Out! Out! Out!
That was exactly how I was feeling, except that, instead of lovely weather drawing my attention, it was Dominic. Every time I closed my eyes to try to focus, an image of him would materialize before me. His serious, piercing eyes. His lithe, muscular body. The glistening of black leather as he mounted his bike.
Mr. Blade entered. I could feel it in a stiffening of everyone in the room. Everyone scooched their chairs closer to their desks, clicked harder, typed faster. I, however, leaned back and smiled.
Blade met my eyes, and seemed puzzled by my brazen audacity in staring right back at him. Then, his slimy gaze traveled over my neck and tits, and suddenly he smiled, too. Without a word, he swept right past me and into his office.
Man, it felt good not to be manipulated or intimidated. Yeah, he leered at me, but so what? He knows he cannot have it. That’s why he retreated right into his office––in defeat.
By this point, I was feeling pretty brazen. To reward myself, I minimized the tab for my day’s work, pulled up a search engine, and entered Dominic’s name.
My first thoughts were simultaneous: Holy shit, and Oh, yeah.
There was Dominic, his face and name on a hundred newspapers. Rewards for organizing motorcycle club charity events. Accusations of terrible crimes, for which he was never convicted. This in and of itself turned me on, and not because it made me believe he was innocent––I was sure he was guilty of at least half the crimes of which he stood accused––but because he was clever and cunning enough to never get into trouble. He was a man who knew how to navigate every danger, whether it came from the gun of another motorcyclist, or the incessant meddling of the police.
And while the contents of the articles filled me with warmth, and, one more than one occasion, made me full-out wet, it was the pictures I enjoyed the most:
Him on his motorcycle. Him at a podium. Him at the head of a hundred other bikers, the alpha lion among a pride. I leaned back in my chair, grinning to myself and shifting the muscles of my thighs so that they squeezed upon my pussy. I was just reaching down between my legs with a finger, lifting up my skirt when –
“Terrible criminals, really, those motorcyclists.”
The slimy, slithering voice of Mr. Blade cut through my fantasies, as disturbing waking to find a poisonous serpent in your bed. He grinned, and pointed at my computer screen, which was littered with articles about Dominic.
“That’s Dominic Molina, you know,” he said, his voice very strange. “Head of the terrible Broken Spires. He’s killed a fair number of people, I’d imagine. Do you know him?” As he asked, his eyes shifted over the markings on my neck and chest.
Suddenly, I had a very bad feeling.
“Uh, no sir,” I stammered, my composure lost.
“Then why were you looking him up then?”
I swear, the tongue that poked out to lick his lips was forked.
“I heard some people at a bar talking about him, and was curious,” I lied.
“Hmm,” he replied. I wasn’t sure if he bought it. “Well, you’d best be careful what you get curious about, especially in the office. Now, will you please get back to work?”
I nodded, feeling both stupid and chastised. I closed the window where all the articles about Dominic had been, and reopened the one on which I should have been working.
“Good girl,” simpered Mr. Blade, his voice like syrup. “Good girl.”
After that, he disappeared into his office, and I did not see him for the rest of the day.
The whole encounter was––especially after the good feelings of the morning––very unsettling to me, and not for any reason I could put my finger on. I kept one eye on his door the entire time, expecting him to emerge, demanding more information, perhaps mocking me for the hickeys on my neck, and launching into a propriety-at-the-office lecture, with his eyes all the while glued to my cleavage. But…nothing.
As the afternoon wore on, and my restlessness increased, I even thought of calling Dominic and reporting my suspicions. But what, exactly, would I say? “Hi, Dominic…Listen, I was stupid enough to look up sexy pictures of you at the office, and my boss knew who you were. I think he suspects that we might know each other…”
The obvious retort to that would be, of course, “So what?” Why did it matter that I knew Dominic? Why did it matter to anyone else that I was, for the first time in my life, being soundly screwed? I couldn’t see why it would matter to my boss, other than to be jealous or even nervous around me. And yet, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen.
“Get over it, Erica,” I told myself. “You’re just being silly. Come on. Dominic is finally taking you seriously––hell, you’re finally taking yourself seriously. The last thing you want to do is fuck it up.
And so, I squashed my feelings of unease, muddled through the rest of my day’s work, and went home without giving the matter another thought.
Trust yourself. Be honest with yourself. These were the promises I had made only the night before, thinking about Dominic in the shower. Yet, once again, I found myself clamming up because of a man.
When, oh when would I learn?