Farrah

 

I was at my computer, taking sips from a glass of wine and trying to distract myself with work when a sudden slamming of my door made me jump about six feet in the air.

 

“What the—”

 

I whirled around just in time to see Connor bursting in. I guess I must have forgotten to lock it.

 

“Farrah!” he exclaimed. Then he took three great strides over to me, scooped me up into his arms, and laid an enormous kiss right down on my lips.

 

“Connor!” I gasped, blushing. “I thought you were angry with me!”

 

“How on earth could I be angry with you?” He laughed, then set me down. He noticed the documents up on my computer and asked, “So what are you working on?”

 

I smiled. “Actually, it’s a whole new system of bookkeeping for the MC chop shop. And if you look here, there’s a method for Joey to start working in his classic car restoration. He told me about it at the casino, and I think it could be a solid money making venture, if done right.”

 

Connor stared at my work, a huge grin on his face. I had hoped he would be impressed, but now, he looked positively jubilant.

 

“That’s fucking awesome, Farrah,” he said. “You really are a Devil’s Daughter!”

 

I nodded. “As crazy as all this has been,” I admitted quietly. “I’ve really enjoyed working with the club, and … I’d like to keep working for it, if you’ll have me.”

 

I didn’t look him in the eye as I said that. I knew how motorcycle clubs felt about female members. But I needn’t have been afraid. He touched my chin with his finger, then tilted my head upward until our eyes met.

 

“There’s nothing more I would like in this world,” he said, and then kissed me again, long, fully, and deeply.

 

“Farrah,” he said, as he pulled away, leaving me blushing and dizzy. “Farrah, dear, would you like to go to the bedroom with me?”

 

He extended his hand, eager, welcoming, and yet totally accepting of my answer, whatever it was. I was Princess to him no longer, but Farrah Michaels, the Devil’s Daughter.

 

“Yes,” I said. “I would.”

 

# # #

 

We made love about twelve times that day, then six the next, and then only four the third day, as our bodies were getting sore. We gave ourselves a day off, and then returned to the wild abandon of our lovemaking. Because that was what it was. Lovemaking. We would, of course, fuck, too, but I sensed the difference. It was in his kisses, and the way our eyes met as our bodies posed above one another.

 

After about a week of that, Joey turned up at the apartment to request, as he grinned broadly, that we turn up at the motorcycle club for a bit, as there was some important business to be getting on with. We laughed, clumsily slipping into our clothes as if we were drunk. I rode on the back of Connor’s bike to the compound, feeling so proud now to be a real Devil’s Daughter, and resolving to get a bike of my own as soon as all the money started rolling in.

 

A month later, however, something happened that made me realize that that would have to wait.

 

“Connor,” I whispered, waking him up one morning as I wore my fluffy white bathrobe. “Connor, I’m pregnant.”

 

“What?” he gasped. “Oh, Farrah, that’s wonderful!”

 

Then we made love again, just in case.

 

That night, as we were sitting on my porch, looking up at the stars, Connor asked me to marry him.

 

A warm blush filled me up, and I threw myself upon him and buried him in kisses. “I will, Connor! I will!”

 

And as I held him close, I realized that, even after everything I’d been through, I was the luckiest girl in the world.

 

THE END

 

***

 

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