She belonged with me, on the back of my bike, in my bed…anywhere but surrounded by a bunch of little pricks who didn’t know how to work their dicks.
I didn’t stop moving until we were outside and standing in front of my bike. I unclipped the chin strap from my helmet, turned around and handed it to her.
“Time for your first ride,” I said, urging her to take the helmet.
She cocked her head to the side, her dark eyes smiled at mine as she raised an eyebrow.
“You did that already,” she teased, taking the helmet as she chewed on her lower lip. Hesitating for a beat before reaching up on her tip toes and pressing her lips to mine.
She pulled back, pulling the helmet over her head and moved to adjust the chin strap but I stopped her, pushing her hands out of the way and did it myself.
“That was nothing, girl,” I promised.
She had no idea what she was in for and that thought alone got me rock hard. The idea of watching her face as she learned how to give and receive pleasure was enough to make me lose my mind.
I would have to muster up whatever self-control I could.
I wasn’t fucked up, the methadone was keeping me straight. I’d remember every goddamn thing about her…the way she feels, the noises she makes, and the look in her eyes when she loses control.
I pulled away from her, patted the seat on my bike with one hand and adjusted my cock with the other. Poor thing was going to suffer for a while. I straddled my bike, revved the engine and waited for her to climb on behind me. After a quick glance to make sure she had her legs positioned right and her feet firmly planted on the pegs I tightened her arms around my middle.
“Where are we going?” She questioned against my ear.
“To heaven,” I called over my shoulder, pulling away from the curb.
Strange words coming from a man who’s been to hell more times than he could count.
But that’s exactly where we were headed.
A heaven where she was mine and I was hers.
After she texted me the address where to pick her up, I excused myself from dinner, told the guys I needed to handle something and without leaving room for questions I took off. I debated for about ten seconds what I would do with Lacey once I had her…it wasn’t like I could bring her to the clubhouse and after Christine died I gave up my apartment and moved my shit into my room at the Dog Pound.
I guess back then I didn’t bank on claiming daddy’s little girl.
So, with no other option, the decision was made I’d take her back to Staten Island and pray to God, it was the right move.
On the Verrazano Bridge she rested her head on my shoulder and I took one hand off the handlebars to touch her hand pressed against my shoulder.
“You okay?” I shouted into the dark night, against the wind and the sound of traffic, unsure if she even heard me.
She squeezed my hand, didn’t even attempt to holler an answer until we were at the toll booth, then she leaned into my ear.
“I’m so much better than okay,” she said.
I paid the toll and rode the expressway, getting off at the Todt Hill exit. As I veered off I questioned my plan and why I didn’t just take her to a hotel. But I knew why...she deserved better than that. She deserved the best I could give and taking her here, opening this part of myself, this was the best I could come up with.
Five minutes later I turned onto a dead end and pulled into the driveway of the last house on the block before killing the engine. I dropped the kickstand and braced myself as I stared up at the house.
“Blackie?”
I turned my head, reaching down to take her hands in mine.
“Hmm?”
“Where are we?”
I glanced back at the house, taking in the appearance of it and how the weeds and bushes grew so out of control, nearly covering up the windows on the first floor.
“Home,” I said hoarsely, clearing my throat before snapping out of the trance I was succumbing to. “Come on,” I urged, giving her knee a squeeze.
She climbed off the bike and remained at my side as I watched her take off the helmet and uncover her hair that was a mess, trying to tame the unruly strands.
I looked at her and was granted the strength I never could find before. I dismounted my bike, took her hand and tucked her against my side as we continued the length of the walkway.
“Careful,” I warned, tipping my chin toward the third step leading to the front door that was warped.
I could feel her eyes on me as I reached into my leather jacket and pulled out the keys, spinning the ring around my finger as I roughly threaded my fingers through my hair and cupped the back of my neck.
“I know you said this was home, but home should be a place you want to go to not somewhere you dread,” she whispered.
I looked at her.
“I want to be here. I want to be here with you,” I assured her. “I never expected to want to come back here or ever bring someone here…until you.”
My eyes lingered on her face.
How could something so perfect be here with me?