I don’t know why, but I’m nervous as hell right now. She’s seen my good, she’s seen my darkest, but taking her out to the farmhouse is like showing her my soul.

It’s just a house. It started as a renovation project to keep my mind off of law school, keep me on the straight and narrow, pay my grandfather a little respect, but every wall I knocked down, every window I hung, every board I sanded brought me closer and closer to what I ultimately want for my life.

A home, some quiet from the chaos, a woman, a family. I feel like if she sees the place and hates it, it will probably be a deal breaker. It means she hates me too.

The way she has her arms wrapped around me, her cheek pressed into my shoulders as I slowly weave my way up the dirt road, trying to avoid low-hanging branches, it’s cute. It’s light. It’s nothing like last night. It’s like dark and dirty Gavin is out of my system.

Well, maybe dark.

Dirty is a different story.

Knowing her legs are spread around me, those perfect breasts resting on my back, it’s hard to contain the pressure in my pants. Fortunately we don’t have much further to go.

The gravel driveway leads right to the old farmhouse. I can’t believe how far it’s come since I started working on it, but it’s taking forever to get it in perfect living condition.

I park my bike and she hops off, ditching her helmet and shaking out her long brown hair. She’s so perfect, so sexy, and the way she’s pacing down the driveway, looking all around in amazement, has me feeling all warm inside.

“This place is beautiful,” she says. “Who lives here?”

“Nobody right now.” I stand behind her, wrapping my arms around her shoulders, hugging her close. “Me, soon, though.”

Me and you, I want to tell her.

I probably could be living here already if I really wanted to. I just have a little more flooring to lay, and then appliances and odds and ends, but for some reason it hasn’t felt right. Like there’s one critical piece missing to this place being my home.

“It used to be my grandfather’s house way back when. The clubhouse too. This is where it all started.”

“It’s so you,” she says. “I mean, your apartment is nice, but I just can’t picture you living underground in a glorified frat house bunker. No offense at all. It just seems like it doesn’t fit with the whole vibe of the club. You have this amazing mountain to yourselves. Why are you guys holed up like that?”

She gets it. She’s a complete outsider and even she can see my grandfather’s vision.

“It’s mostly my old man’s paranoia. He likes to know what everyone’s doing at all times. He says it’s his way of keeping the club “safe” but it’s more a control thing. I never had to live in the mansion, but it was just convenient. You saw yesterday how things can go to shit real quick.”

“I didn’t see anything yesterday, Gavin, I swear,” she says, her voice timid and low. I turn her around to face me. I hadn’t really thought about what she must be feeling.

“You don’t have to say that. I’m sorry for what you saw yesterday, and I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you to talk about it. It’s just some shit I have to work on.”

She’s running her hands on my face, smiling up at me.

“Don’t be sorry.” She traces her fingers to my lips and I take them in my mouth, swirling them with my tongue until I notice that little arch in her back, the catch in her breath.

“Come on,” I say, taking her hand in mine. “I’ll give you the grand tour.”

“You’re sadistic.” She pouts.

“Maybe a little bit.” We walk up the steps to the giant front porch and I unlock the front door while she looks around wide-eyed, soaking it all in. As we step into the A-frame, the smell of cedar fills the air.

“Wow,” she whispers. “You did all this?”

“I had a lot of help.”

We couldn’t salvage most of the interior walls or flooring, so we took the wood, dried it, planed it, and used it on the exterior walls. The whole place is open concept now, with giant bay windows everywhere you look for a constant view of the woods that surround it.

“This is insane,” she says. She’s wandering around, touching everything, looking out every window.

“Still working on some of the flooring, and the bathroom is a little primitive yet. I need furniture too. And a woman’s touch to pull it all together.”

She laughs at me, shaking her head.

“So that’s why you brought me out here. For some free interior decorating advice? Joke’s on you, Gavin. I will touch you any way you want me to, but I don’t know anything about this kind of stuff.”

“What about your apartment now? How did you decorate that?”

“Oh trust me, there’s not enough decorating in the world that could salvage that slum house. As long as I have a place to lay my head at the end of the day and neighbors with Wi-Fi I can steal, I’m pretty ok for the time being.”

“Well what do you think this place needs?”

“I dunno,” she says, running her hands over the granite countertops in the kitchen. “A dog?”

This woman. She makes me smile. For a girl who literally knows how to perform complex surgeries on a human body, she’s just so simple. And I like it. As far as I know, she likes dogs, eating food, fucking, and me. It’s every man’s dream.

“I do like dogs.”

“Good, cuz that’s a deal breaker in my book,” she says. “I think I’d also like to have a garden.”

“Oh would you?” I say, wrapping my arms around her waist. I can’t keep my hands off her, no matter how hard I try. The rough denim covering her skin isn’t going to last much longer.

“I mean, hypothetically,” she stutters. “If I were you, I mean…”

“Oh sure, yeah. I know what you mean. What else do you think? If you were me, I mean.”

“Hmmm. Bearskin rugs? An outdoor bathtub and shower? A king-size four-poster bed with sheer curtains?”

“What are you trying to do? Turn my grandpa’s house into some kind of fuck palace?” I toy with the zipper that runs down the front of her dress, pulling it down lower and lower, exposing her perfect round globes. She’s not wearing a bra and I go from zero to maximum overboner the second I notice.

“I mean with all the ladies you have to entertain, might as well set the tone right out of the gate.”

“I’m only trying to entertain one lady right now,” I whisper in her ear.

“Then keep going with that zipper, Gavin,” she pleads.

“You’re such a good girl, Sloan. Always ready for me,” I say, slowly pulling the zipper further and further down until her dress is hanging there open. “I love the way your panties match your bra.” I eye her exposed pussy, the tops of her thighs already slick with her juices. I’m glad I’m just noticing this no-underwear thing now, because otherwise it would’ve taken everything in me not to bend her over a long time ago.

“Oh that?” She blushes. “It was kind of a matter of just not having any.”

“Well I think,” I say, sliding her dress the rest of the way off, letting it fall to the floor, “maybe you should start doing that all the time for me.” I cup my hand around the outside of her mound and give it a few teasing slaps, forcing her to spread her legs just a little wider. Her soft breathy moan lets me know I have her exactly where I want her. Nude, spread, and ready to beg for my cock.

“You think you could do that for me?” I ask, tapping on her swollen clit with my middle finger. She’s soaking wet, her lips moving, no words coming out, just breathy sighs. “No panties, little skirt, ready for me to bend you over and take you anytime and anywhere I want?”

I slide my finger inside her slick core and her eyes close. “Please,” she says.

“Is that what you want, Sloan? You want me to use that needy pussy of yours any time I feel like it? You want to walk around full of my cum all day like my good little slut?”

“Yes,” she whines. “Please, Gavin. Fill my pussy.” I slide another finger inside her, working her harder, bringing her that much closer to the edge while she grinds into me, her moans intensifying.

“You love being nasty for me, don’t you?” I slap her ass cheek firmly, her tender flesh jiggling in my hand.

“Oh my God, Gavin,” she wails. “You’re gonna make me cum!”

She’s writhing, shuddering, as I give her another slap, her firm skin reddening under my palm.

“Cum for me, babe,” I growl. “Let it all out for me.”

He’s making me crazy. Batshit nuts. All the sensations ripping through my body right now, his words, his fingers twisting inside of me.

It feels so dirty, so wrong, and yet, somehow, I feel empowered.

As I let myself climax hard on his hand, completely fucking losing it, the way he’s looking at me isn’t like some back-alley whore, but a work of art. He brings his mouth to my pebbled nipple, taking it in, intensifying the waves of pleasure rolling through me, but all I want to do is get on the floor and make him feel just as good as he does for me.

I pull away, kneeling in front of him, anxious fingers tugging at his belt, pulling on his zipper, yanking down his jeans and boxers in one fell swoop so that I am face-to-face with his glorious erection. He looks down at me with a knowing smile, and I palm his hard shaft in my hand, pumping it up and down, a bead of precum forming at the tip. I lick my lips and begin to take him into my mouth.

His taste overwhelms me. Spicy and manly, I swirl my tongue as I try to take in his girth.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he moans. “You look so pretty with my dick in your mouth.”

I guide his hand to the back of my head, showing him that I trust him, letting him take the lead, letting him use me however he wants to.

“Such a good girl,” he growls. “You think you can take it all?”

I blink up at him with watery eyes, smiling, relaxing my lips around his pulsing cock, taking it as deep as I can.

He cradles my head and begins to thrust slowly in and out, long strokes, going a little deeper each time. He loses himself in his thrusts, grinding into my face, and I am loving every minute of it, gripping the back of his rock-hard thighs tight in my fingers, running my fingers down the striations in his muscles.

He grabs onto my hair without warning, wrenching me up off the floor, shoving his tongue in my mouth before turning me over on the countertop.

As he pounds his hard cock into my still sopping pussy, I squeal, my muscles contracting around him, milking him, squeezing him hard.

“Cum with me, babe,” he whispers in my ear. “I want to feel you explode on my dick.”

He doesn’t have to ask twice.

He strums my clit and I don’t even fight it, just let the feelings tear through me as he holds me onto him, filling me with everything he has. That throbbing twitch that I’m growing to love, our juices combining, he hugs me tight, gasping for air as he moans in my ear.

“You’re fucking amazing, Sloan.”

I lean my head back, resting it on his chest, and for some reason all I can do is laugh. I don’t know what it is about him, about this. It’s so different than anything I’ve ever felt before.

“You’re fucking amazing. It’s like you know every button to push without even asking,” I say.

“It’s you. You make me this way.” He slides out of me, turning me around to look me in the eye. “Everything about you, Sloan.”

There’s so much he doesn’t know about me, but right now I feel like that’s ok. Maybe we can just exist in the present. Maybe he’s just what I need to let my past go. Why dredge up something potentially hurtful, potentially painful? Why put myself through reliving that nightmare again. I wouldn’t ask him about all his past relationships. It would just be torture.

Maybe he can just like me for who I am right now. A doctor, a student, a lover, a woman who has learned more about herself in the past few days than she has in the past twelve years.

I know I accept him for who he is right now. Even if he does live by his own moral code out here in the wild with his family, he is a good man. He makes me feel safe. He would never intentionally hurt me.

It’s so much more than I can say about Arthur. So much so, I don’t think I’ll ever speak his name again. I’m free. It’s over. I’m reborn thanks to motorcycles, rough sex, and the man who is currently wiping the tears out of my eyes.

“Does this happen often?” he asks.

“What? Crying? No, actually. Never.”

“You sure?” I realize that that’s twice now he’s seen me cry. Maybe even three times if he caught me on the bike ride to the bar. I have never been a crier, but something about him just draws it out of me. But it’s not sad. It feels good.

“You’re just that good, Gavin,” I laugh. “You fuck the tears right out of me.”

“I thought you were crying because you reality hit you that you’re falling for a basement dwelling biker and your parents are gonna be so mad.”

“Well first of all, my parents are both dead. Second of all, I thought the basement thing was temporary?” I cringe at how vulgar that comes out, but he doesn’t even seem to notice.

“What about the falling for me part?”

“I’m sorry,” I say, hanging my head. “That happened when you fucked me senseless and gave me lasagna. What can I say? I’m fairly easy.”

He pulls my mouth to his, parting my lips for a long hard kiss.

“I don’t have lasagna, I’m sorry. But I do have cheeseburgers. Will that do?”

“Oh yeah, that’s perfect. You know what goes great with cheeseburgers?”

“What’s that?”

“Chocolate ice cream.”

He shakes his head at me. “You better run, girl.” He tosses me my dress from the floor and gives me a loving little pat on the ass. “Master bathroom is upstairs to the left. Meet me outside?”

With every step, I fall more and more in love with this house. The stairs lead to a giant loft. It’s separated into a few rooms, the only closed walls in the old A-frame. I can’t help but peek around.

I love the way the cedar wood smells. Rugged and warm like him. There are two small bedrooms side by side and to me it looks like he constructed this place with a family in mind. It makes my heart flutter. I’d never really put much thought into kids, never been in a situation where I thought it would be something I’d want to do, but his presence makes my ovaries scream. Slow down, sister, I think. I still have a little school left to go, and I definitely want to at least establish my career before I think about the maternity thing.

The master bedroom is huge, open, with floor to ceiling windows and its very own fireplace. The only furniture is a king-size mattress and box spring and a nightstand. Laying on the floor is a worn t-shirt of his. I don’t know what’s gotten into me, this strange primal addiction to everything about him, but I can’t resist just picking it up and smelling it. Leather, lemons, dirt from the earth, everything about his musk makes me insane.

Instead of changing back into my dress, I decide to slide on the t-shirt. It just feels right. I wander into the master bathroom and smile at what I’m seeing in the mirror. The new Sloan. The happy Sloan.