"I don't do casual," I say. Even now, in this moment, I try not to forget all the strides I've made the last few years in order to get myself back on track. Step four. The moral inventory. I've never done casual sex very well. Being with somebody intimately always leaves me expecting more, and there was a time when I took whatever they were willing to give. But I can't be that person anymore, and damn the stupid steps because they make me say and do things I would rather not– honest things. I never should have let Mindy convince me to do them with her.
"I can't do casual," he says. "My life, the club, Chey… everything. We are either strangers who fuck or you are my woman. There is no in between bullshit about dating multiple people, seeing if it's a good fit, and all that stupid yuppie shit." His words take me by surprise. A man like him, I expected some criticism for my position. I've been on an emotional cliff all night, in danger of falling into an abyss of feelings I'm not ready for. And like everything in life, I see it coming. I'm losing my footing and then before I know it, I've fallen so hard that I don't think I'll ever recover. Lust, love. Whatever you call it, I don't care anymore. This is like falling into the best thing you didn't even know existed until you almost passed it by.
"Being your woman, is that what you call being your Old Lady?"
"Not exactly. I tell my brothers that you're with me and they will treat you like family. But, being an Old Lady only happens if the club unanimously votes you in. We won't even consider taking a vote until a brother has been with his bitch for at least 18 months. It's an honor to be voted in." I don't ask what the point of being voted in is because I'm totally distracted by his use of the word bitch. I really hate that word. As scary and foreign as all of this is, it's my life for the foreseeable future. I'll brush up on motorcycle club lingo at a later date.
“I don’t like that word,” I say. He tenses behind me, but says nothing.
“It’s the way I talk. It’s just a word,” he says lowly. But it’s not just a word to me and it grates on my damn nerves every single times he uses it.
“You’re asking me to accept so much about your world, plus the danger I’ve already been dragged into. Why can’t you just honor this one request?”
“I’m not used to the give and take of relationships, but I’ll try,” he says.
“Fair enough,” I say, giving in.
Taking my hand, he leads me out of the kitchen and through the living room, then down a flight of stairs. We move slowly in absolutely no rush. My body buzzes in nervous anticipation the further we get into the house. At the bottom of the stairs is a rec room on the left, surrounded by large single-pane windows. On the right is a short hall with two doors. We walk through the first door and step into a dark, masculine room. Grady flips one of the four switches on the wall and soft lights illuminate the room in a warm glow. The walls are gray and the carpet is a worn Berber. The furniture is mismatched and aged, though sturdy to the eye.
He shuts the door behind us and moves to place his hands on my hips. My breath hitches as he runs his hands under my shirt and drags it upward. We undress one another slowly, taking our time. First it’s his cut and then his shirt. My pants and bra follow along with his jeans and socks. Soon, we’re in nothing but our underwear.
He reaches out and cups my face in his hands then kisses me deeply. He slips in between my lips and massages my tongue with his own. His hands knead at my breasts and then my ass. He dips his hands into my boy-cut briefs and slides them off. I do the same with his red boxers and let them hit the floor.
Hooking my leg up over his hip, I wrap my arms around his neck and lift myself into his arms. He helps support me with both his hands on my ass. I push my damp pussy into the shaft of his straining cock. He moans soft, but deep at the contact.
“You on the pill?” he asks. I rub my core against him again and shiver in response.
“Yes,” I admit. I have been for years, but I leave that part off.
“Do you trust me?” he asks. Looking into his eyes, I realize that yes, I do trust him. I capture his lips with my own as we devour one another. With a steady grip, he rocks me into his large cock. I swivel my hips until a steady build begins in my core.
Lifting myself in his arms, he gets the hint and uses one hand to guide himself to my entrance. He parts my folds and spreads me wide as he enters my wet center. I lower myself slowly so as not to hurt either of us and to savor the moment. He groans as he buries himself to the hilt. It’s an incredible feeling, having him so deep as he claims me.
Soon, he’s laying me on the bed. We’re still connected, but the moment I’m safely on the mattress, he rears back and then slams into me. I gasp for breath and have to bite my lip as he brings me nearer and nearer to the edge.
Wanting to be with Grady is one thing, but having actually been with Grady is a whole different ball game. I thought I had it bad before, but now it’s a hundred times worse.
Chapter 22