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“I, uh, I just need more time. I forgive you, know if you ever talk to me like that again, I will hurt you.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I say because I know she means it. “Let’s get out of here. There is something I want to do with you tonight,” I pull my wallet out and leave more than enough money to cover the food and leave a generous tip. I help her out of her seat, but before we leave, Praise is back over to us, giving us hugs goodbye as we tell her how fabulous the food was. We get the car and head back to the house. I reach out to see if she will let me hold her thigh like I always do. As soon as I rest my hand on her thigh, she covers my hand with hers, and I relax a little bit. Things are awkward between us, and there is a tension that we never had between us before, and I don’t like it one bit. I pull up in front of the house and turn the car off.
“I’ll meet you back down here in twenty minutes. Put some pants on and a light jacket,” I advise as I open the door.
“Okay, twenty minutes,” she agrees, heading to the pool house as I head upstairs to get changed.
CHAPTER8
Brooklyn
I’m a fucking coward, a big, scared coward.He gave me the perfect opportunity to tell him how I felt and what I needed, and I couldn’t do it. I don’t know who this version of me is. I have always been able to speak my mind. Hell, I had to be the head of a gang and the woman of a gang leader, but Aryan makes me feel like a scared kid. The only thing I have stayed true to was not moving back into the house with him. I slid on a pair of jeans, a tank top, a short leather jacket, and booties. When I make it to the front door of the main house and open it, I halt in my tracks at the sight before me. There was Aryan in jeans, a leather jacket, and boots sitting on a motorcycle, holding a helmet for me. I have seen motorcycles in the garage, but I have never seen the brothers ride one.
“Don’t be scared, Brooklyn, I’ll take care of you,” he says, but I was never worried about that. I walk over, take the helmet from his outstretched hand, and place it on my head. He helps me onto the back of the motorcycle before putting his helmet on and starting the beast up. It roars to life between my legs, and I quickly fall in love with this motorcycle. I hear his voice in my ear and realize it is Bluetooth-equipped.
“Hold on,” he says in my ear, and I do, and not a moment too soon when he speeds off with me, screaming out my surprise. I grip him tighter around the waist, burying my head into his back as he takes the corners at the speed of light. Soon, I relax and begin to enjoy the ride. I hear Skip Marley and Her singingSlow Downin the helmet as we tear down the road. I haven’t felt this free in years, and I am considering buying a motorcycle for myself. After about thirty minutes, we stop by the water. There is nothing near us. The moon reflecting off of the water with the stars twinkling in the sky is a beautiful sight. I hang the helmet on the handlebars as I soak up the peace and the adrenaline of the ride. When his hands slide across my stomach as he moves behind me, I take a deep breath in resignation because I know where this is leading, and I am more than okay and ready for it. He holds me to him, resting his chin on the top of my head. I cover his hand with mine, letting him know I am all in with him, but I guess he won’t be rushed. But I am impatient. I move my head from under his and turn back to look at him when his eyes lock with mine. I am not sure who moves first, but the kiss we are engaged in is hot enough to set the water on fire.
“I need you,” I practically beg.
“Let me get you home, Brooklyn, and I’ll take care of every need you have,” he says, and I am frustrated because I want him as out of control as I am. But I get back on the bike like, but I have a plan. About five minutes into our ride back home, I drop my hand from his waist to his dick hidden behind his denim. With deft fingers, I unbutton his jeans and work his zipper down enough to be able to reach in and pull his heavy dick out, “Brooklyn,” he warns. I ignore that warning and begin jacking his dick as he takes the road with the precision of a driver who knows what he is doing. I flip the visor up to lick my palm before I grip him again, sliding my hand up and down his thick hardness. “You’re playing with fire, Brooklyn,” he warns again.
“Promise?” I ask, bold and needy. This time, I spit in my hand before jacking him off again. I rub my thumb over the mushroom head before sliding down to the case and sliding back up to rub the head again. Suddenly, I feel him jerk the motorcycle to the side of the road, “Get off!” and I scramble to obey. “Take your jeans off.” He is sitting on the motorcycle watching me, and I toe off my boots, undo my jeans, and shimmy out of them, standing in front of him wearing black thongs, a tank top, and a leather jacket. “Put your boots back on, Brooklyn,” I do and wait for the next instruction. “Come here,” and I do, instantly without a second thought. He takes off my jacket, reaches behind me to unhook my bra, and pulls it off, and he throws the coat on the seat in front of him as he scoots back, his hard dick still hanging out of his jeans, “Get on my dick,” he commands, and my pussy clenches in anticipation. I swing my leg over the bike and lift up with his help, push my panties to the side, and slide down on his dick. He pushes forward a bit, putting my clit in contact with the bike. He pushes up from underneath me as he revs the engine causing the vibrations to travel directly to my clit, flinging me right to the edge of my orgasm. “Ride me, Dior,” he says as he pulls back out on the road driving us home as I fuck him out in the open. I don’t even think about it. Bracing my hands on the bike I use it as leverage to back up on him and slide to the tip to do it all over again. My clit is rubbing up and down on the seat with the vibrations steadily stimulating me, I have never been so stimulated in my life, and I am struggling to not cum all over his bike. “Hmm, this pussy was needy I see. You’re sloppy wet, Brooklyn. Your cum is dripping down the side of my seat. Are you holding back from cumming, baby? Is my dick in this tight hole not enough for you? Did you need me to fuck this tight ass tonight? Hmm, is that what you need? To have this fat ass fucked. Oh yeah, this sloppy pussy is sucking on my dick, don’t worry, baby, I’ll take care of you when we get back to the house.” A car is coming, and he pulls us off the road behind the tree line waiting for them to pass, but he takes advantage of the time by reaching under my shirt and pulling and plucking my nipples with one hand while holding my hips with the other driving into me so hard my teeth are clattering.
“Fuck Aryan,” I scream, scratching at the motorcycle in a futile attempt to ground myself in the storm barreling down on me.
“Cum baby, drown this dick in your hot cum,” he says while pinching my nipple, and I detonate, wetting him, me, and the motorcycle.
“Hmm, that’s what I’m talking about. I may never wash my seat off. Every time I ride I wanna be able to smell this juicy pussy,” he says, pulling back out on the road. I am exhausted, but the slap to my ass galvanizes me into action. “Oh no, we’re not close to being done yet. Keep riding,” he orders. We finally get close to the compound, and he manages to get his coat off to cover me as he drives around to the back of the house. He parks the motorcycle behind the pool house and carries me in through the back door and straight to the bedroom to finish what I started.
Five MonthsLater
Brooklyn
“Brooklyn, we need to talk,” Lennox says from the doorway of my office.
“That doesn’t sound good,” I say, freezing in the middle of my pen stroke.
“It’s not. It looks like Dr. Dalton will become the new chief of staff when I retire. Brooklyn, he is going to make your life hell here. I need you to start looking into starting your own family practice seriously because I will not be here to keep his ignorant ass in check,” she tells me, and I am heading back to Alabama to take care of some business at the clinic and want you to come along,” she dumps all that information on me and my head is spinning.
“Um, wow.”
“I know.”
“When are you going?”
“In a week,”
“Yeah, I’ll go,” I say on autopilot. She says some other stuff, but I hear none of it. All the years of school, the hustle, the stress, and the work, and one sorry-ass man are going to change the trajectory of my life. This week is my long week, so I am going to be working eighteen-plus days every day up until I leave with Lennox for Alabama. I must have responded when I was supposed to whatever Lennox said, and soon, she was leaving my office.
It's been a hell of a week, and I am dragging my ass. I fall face-first on the bed as soon as I cross the threshold. Aryan must be in his workshop because I didn’t see him when I walked in. I moved back in the house about a week after the motorcycle night, and I still haven’t brought myself to have the conversation that I desperately need to have with him, but I am not ready to break the illusion.
“Brooklyn baby, are you okay?” I hear Aryan’s voice intruding into my sleep. “Brooklyn,” he shakes me, and I can hear the concern in his voice, causing me to fight my way out of my sleep stupor to respond.
“Aryan? What’s wrong?” I say into the pillow, hoping he heard me because I am too tired to lift my head.
“You are half off the bed. You are not okay,” I am too tired even to respond or move. The next time I wake up I am in one of Aryan’s tee shirt, wrapped in his arms.
“What time is it?” I ask. When he tells me I have been asleep for over thirty six hours I try jumping out of the bed. “I’m late I was supposed to meet Lennox to go to Alabama with her,” he holds me in place.
