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This went on for the entire time that he was moving. I sat there, and I watched him. His door was open, and I could see him perfectly lying on his floor under a desk. I watched as his body twisted, and my eyes zeroed in on his perfect ass when he got on his knees. I reached down and put pressure on my cock. Every move of his I couldn’t get enough of. When he finally came out, I could tell that he could sense me. I knew that he could because he would randomly stop and rub the back of his neck. Occasionally he would look back at my door, and it felt like he was looking into my soul. He was tearing me apart, and he had no idea. He could have anything he wanted from me, ask me to do anything, and I would oblige.What’s happening to me?
The day after he moved in, I waited for him to leave the house before I left. I wanted to follow him and see where he went and what he did, but when he got onto his bike, I could only assume that he was going to the club, and that wasn’t somewhere that I wanted to head to. So I veered toward the store that was my original destination. I couldn’t follow him anymore today. It wasn’t safe. Add in the fact that I was already so madly in love with him, and it had to stay a secret.
This wasn’t your typical love. I knew that. This was an obsession. But no matter how much I told myself it was wrong, I couldn’t stop. I wanted to know him. I wanted to claim him, breed him, love him, and have him love me back. But to do that, I needed to know him. I needed to make myself known, but I was worried. I wasn’t optimistic he would accept me—that he would feel the way I do.
I grabbed the doorbell camera off the shelf and headed home. This was one more way for me to watch him and to hear him speak when I wasn’t there.
It wasn’t what I really wanted, but it would have to do—for now.
“Knuckles! Come on, man. I need you to open the damn door.”
It had been a couple of days since the camera was set up, and unfortunately, in the same amount of time, I hadn’t seen Knuckles. His friends showing up and yelling out for him is the only reason why I now know what his name is. I can’t help but wonder why they call him that. What is it about his life that makes that name something that fits?
I ponder, do I keep looking through the peephole for a live view or stay in my spot and watch from my phone? The banging and calling out got more frantic, and panic started to set in my gut. I launched myself from the cheap recliner to the front door. Without thinking, I whip my door open at the same time as Knuckles.
When his eyes meet mine, my breath leaves my body, and my whole sense of reality fades away. My soul is screaming ‘MINE.’ I barely stop myself from taking a step forward.
“I got this, buddy. You can go back inside.” His friend’s voice cuts through the fog, and I shake my head, breaking the trance Knuckles and I are still in.
Did he feel this pull too?
“You okay?” I had to ask, making it seem like I didn’t see this man coming and going from his place before.
“Ya, I’m peachy,” Knuckles responded, seeming almost breathless. His friend shoves him back into his place and slams the door behind them.
I don’t know what the hell just happened, but I am determined to get it back.
CHAPTER ONE
“You know, you could come help me empty out the truck before starting to set all of this up.” My club brother and best friend Zombie bitches in his thick, Boston accent as he drops two boxes into my small apartment. I will admit he has been doing most of the heavy lifting because as soon as I had all the cords and monitors I needed inside, I started to set up my station. I needed my desk in order. It’s the only damn thing I truly care about. Plus, everything that was left in the truck was all of the heavy shit that I didn’t want to lift. I’m not buff, but I’m not super skinny, either. What I am is what someone would call ‘normal.’ So the idea of lifting the heavy stuff doesn’t appeal to me. If I had Cowboy and Rambo here, they could do it with their pinky fingers. All I can do now is attempt to get out of it.
“Let’s face it. I don’t need a bed. I will constantly be camped out in front of these screens. It’s why my chair is so comfortable and costs so damn much. Besides, I need to get this all set up so I can get back to monitoring the club and making sure nothing is going on. Well, even more so than what it already is. There is too much to figure out with The Company. I can’t afford to not have this setup.Wecan’t afford for me not to have this setup.”
“Man. I get that you’re watching the club and trying to figure all this shit out, but can it wait twenty fucking minutes while you help me? And…the fuck do you mean you don’t need a bed? Your ass ain’t gonna be sleeping in that chair. You don’t want the bed in your room, decent. I don’t give two flying fucks where you put the damn thing. Get it out of my truck.”
The more worked up he gets, the thicker his accent becomes, and I don’t know how I understand him. One of my favorite things to do is tease him when he lays it on thick. It’s all in good fun. He’s been my best friend for as long as I can remember, and I don’t mean anything by it.
“Chill, brother. I am almost done. Give me twenty. You go sit, grab a beer, and then I’ll help you. Plus, I need to have the cords connected so I can wrap them up. If I don’t, Bobolina will try and eat them. I don’t want to deal with that on top of everything else.” I tell him from my place under the desk. As I plug everything I can in, wrap it all in color-coded electrical tape and place it into the PVC cover.
“Okay, I cannot believe you let the kids name the cats. I mean, Bobolina? Where do they come up with these names?”
“Dude, you’re no better!”
“How do you mean?”
“You named my cat, Dawg.”
Taking the offer that I gave him so I can finish the setup for my computers, Zombie heads over to the kitchen to grab himself a beer, chuckling as I bring up the cat that he gave to me. I have this set here in the living room, and then I will have a smaller setup in my room. I can never have enough. But he is right. I do need my bed. Regardless if IthinkI’ll be sleeping in my chair.
“But, despite his name, Dawg is the best kitty I could’ve ever asked for! Also, fucker, they are my children, don’t talk about them like that.” In the best teasing voice I can muster, I say, “Uncle Zombie!”
Zombie shudders as I make fun of him for being my cat’s quote, un-quote uncle. When he has to be around them, he is great with the kids in the home. But, the thought of any child calling him uncle or, god forbid, daddy makes him break out in hives.
“You’re no better! I mean, you named one of them Phil. What kind of name is Phil for a cat? No wonder the kids took your naming rights away.” I hear him leave the apartment shortly after that comment. “I’m headin’ out to the truck. I’m tired of waiting. Get your ass down there.”
He’s called me a crazy cat lady multiple times, but I accept the fact that I am a cat dad. I’m not ashamed of it. But part of the reason why I needed to move was the fact that I now have seven of those little furballs. It wasn’t fair to them, or anyone else living at the club, for me to keep them in my room. I get it, but no one told me owning a cat would be like eating potato chips.‘Bet you can’t have just one.’
The biggest reason I had to leave is all this damn equipment. Everything that could and would implicate the club is on these computers. Everything I do that breaks the law is stored in this room. It was too much of a risk with Connard constantly attempting to find his way onto the club’s property. This ensures that if he ever is successful, our secrets will be safe.
