Josh comes around the side, let's the bottle of beer to his lips and knocks it back. He gives a disapproving shake of his head and walks away. Though Grady doesn't seem to be mad at me for showing up here, I'm guessing with this Rig guy just getting into town, the boys want to party, and even I can admit to any time a woman says she wants to talk, it's almost never a good thing.
Without another word, Grady leads me through the crowded, smoke-filled room, and down a long hallway. Double wooden doors with a fine inlay are at the very end of the hall. I've only heard a little bit about how the club works because I don't really ask many questions, but whatever is beyond those doors must be important. All of the other doors for hallway are basic would without any frills. The way I figure it is that what I need to know Grady will tell me and then everything else is not my business. I didn't get with Grady because of the bike he rides, or the leather on his shoulders – if anything, I got with him in spite of those things. Maybe one day I will be more interested in the way the club works, but for now I'm just trying to figure out how Grady works. Still, there are a few things I would like answers to. And I know I need to ask, even if I'm terrified of the answer.
Grady holds the door open for me. I step into the room and immediately feel unsettled. There's a queen-size bed in the corner of the room with two wooden chairs and a table on the other side. On top of the table is Grady's aftershave and deodorant. I recognize that they are the same brands and scents from his bathroom at home, so I can only assume they belong to him. As the Sergeant of Arms, I’m guessing this room is his. Why he would need a room here, I don’t even want to imagine. But I can’t help thinking about it. Wives and girlfriends don’t belong here. This place is only for the whores.
The door clicks shut behind me and finally, we are alone. He closes in and grabs me by my waist. His large hands knead at my supple curves. All of the tension, frustration, and fear start to dissipate. It's always like this when he's touching me. His right hand reaches around and unbuttons my jeans. He drags the zipper down slowly and slips his pointer finger into my panties. With light pressure, he rubs my center and creates a firestorm of need almost instantly. Falling into him and his touch is almost glorious. He consumes me in ways I almost fear and have trouble reasoning, but I welcome it. I welcome the slow build of tension in my belly and thighs. I welcome the strained, panty breaths and the way my fingers twitch as he applies more pressure.
“You weren’t supposed to be here,” he says and bucks his hips into my back. He’s already hard and I know that unless I put up a big fight we’re going to end up naked and breathless and totally lost in each other’s bodies. Jeremy’s cut, blackmailing Mr. Beck, and the secret party I wasn’t supposed to know about are all reasons I shouldn’t be giving in to him. But I do. I let him greedily dip his fingers into my swelling pussy. I don’t object to the rough thrusts of his fingers as he penetrates me. My skin erupts into a million tiny bumps just seconds before my limbs lock in place and every part of me goes numb except for my core. It’s there, at my center, that I feel everything. Every drag of his finger tips along my sensitive walls. Every ragged breath on my neck. Every shaky movement of his thumb at my clit. And I know it’s only a few seconds, but it feels like forever that I’m lost in that place between being alive and dead.
I want this with him more than I want anything else. I used to want to make my parents proud, and I wanted to get my life on track. I wanted to make something of myself. But with Grady, all I want is to exist. With him, I’m okay just being; content to live in the moment and not worry about what the world thinks and whether or not anyone thinks I’m a failure. Because if this man can love me as I am, then I’m determined to love myself as I am and not as I think I should be. I want a life with him and all that means. I want the chaos and the smart mouth teenager who I adore. I want his baggage and his hopes and dreams. I want his future and I want a little person that looks just like him and has a temper to match. I want sleepless nights and that permanent connection of sharing a child. I want him— all of him— and I want to give him all of me.
When I come back down, I’m panting like I’ve just run a race. I love it when he brings me to the edge quickly. It’s like being hit by a truck at high speeds. It happens so fast I almost don’t see it coming, but then it’s on me and the world melts away. He throws me off balance in a way I’m never prepared for.
But I came here pissed off for a reason. Not being told about the party, not being told about Jeremy prospecting for the club, and what that means for us are still a problem. If he’s not telling me these things, then what else is he not telling me? I don’t want to fight and I know from experience that we can fight for days. It’s almost never-ending. So instead of pushing him off me, I turn around and take control of the situation. My hands are on his chest as I walk him back to the wall.