"But, club's good. So that's a non-issue. Get the need for revenge, for justice, didn't think a bitch like you would have the stomach to carry it out," he continued as if Hansen hadn't almost just charged him. He didn't say anything else, merely nodded to me and walked off.
I'd been utterly shocked at that speech. One that hinted there was more to Hammer than an apparent resentment of women and temper problems. Something that caused those eyes to turn dark and empty.
That was the last the guys spoke of it. Everyone treated me as normal, apart from Jagger, who was a bit softer with me than usual, like he was expecting me to fall apart. Hansen was the same, he had spent every spare second with me. He tried to act normal, but every now and then I saw concern seep into his features.
He was the only reason I made it through. I couldn't tell Arianne. Obviously, I couldn't tell anyone apart from the handful of men who already witnessed it. So Hansen was the one who gave me strength, who held me tight when nightmares jerked me awake. Who made love to me like I was still his everything, despite my actions. I was slowly coming back to myself, with the support of my family, my man, my club. But that didn't mean I didn't have a long way to go.
I tried my best to keep to my routine, including visiting Grandma, which didn't do much for my state of mind. Robert and I had weekly coffee dates after our respective visits. I found it refreshing, talking to someone completely removed from my lifestyle. Someone who didn't know I was a murderer.
"Babe?" Hansen's voice jerked me out of the past and into the present.
I moved my head from the computer screen to fasten my eyes to his. They were brimming with concern. "How long you been sitting in front of that thing?" he asked tightly.
I stood and stretched. "Ummm... depends on how long you think I've been sitting there," I hedged.
Hansen's hungry eyes roved over my denim cut-offs and white tee that read, 'I'm not short, I'm a hobbit.' His mouth turned into a grin and he shook his head, tagging my waist so my body collided with his.
"How many of those things do you have?" he murmured against my mouth.
"I haven't got an exact number, but it's in double digits," I informed him.
He chuckled slightly.
"Never thought I'd find that geek shit as hot as I do, babe. But somehow it manages to get my cock hard as stone," he said, his whiskers tickling my cheek.
I smiled at him. "Well sir, we may just have to do something about that," I informed him in a throaty voice.
I kissed him what I intended to be lightly, but instead he clutched the back of my head and beautifully claimed my mouth. I almost forgot my mission once he'd released me, but the hard on pressing against my stomach reminded me. I winked my slightly dreamy eye, moving down his body, lovingly running my hands along his leather vest.
When I knelt to the floor and released him from his jeans, I licked my lips, moving forward to taste the pre-cum at the head of his cock.
He hissed and his hands went to lightly cradle my head. I took him fully into my mouth, loving the whispered curse of pleasure he emitted. I worked him lovingly, running my hands along his shaft as I sucked, moving slow but deep.
"Macy," he grunted, his voice rough with desire.
I kept going.
"Macy," he repeated. "Gonna cum, babe. You don't want me to fill up that sweet mouth, you stop now," he ordered.
I inwardly grinned, arousal building up in my stomach as I worked him harder and warm liquid shot into my mouth as Hansen's hands tightened on my head.
"Fuck," he half shouted.
I slowly licked him clean, and then his arms went under my armpits to lift me.
"Jesus, baby," he murmured, lifting me.
I grinned at him.
He started us toward his bedroom. "Gonna eat you till you scream, Macy. Then I'll fuck you till you forget your own name," he growled, throwing me on the bed.
And for the next two hours, he kept his promise.
It was Saturday. For some, Saturday signaled the start of a blissful, relaxing weekend. For me, it was the opposite. Even though I'd pulled up to the house of dread plastered to Hansen's back, I couldn't escape the swirling in my stomach knowing I'd have to spend an hour with her.
"Don't like you going in there, babe. Don't like that your eyes don't get their light back until at least a couple of hours after you leave her," Hansen said after I'd reluctantly peeled myself off his bike.
I smiled at him. "You're just going to have to make sure you get creative in finding ways to make my eyes bright again," I winked, trying to keep my cheery facade strong. Maybe if I acted it, I'd feel it.
His eyes turned dark. "You fuckin' bet I will, babe," he responded in a husky voice.
My stomach dropped at the erotic promise. I smacked his shoulder. "You can't get me all aroused before I go into the real life version of Night of the Living Dead," I scolded him.
He smirked. "Way I see it, the only way you'll get through that is if you're thinking of my dick. Pick you up in an hour?"
I shook my head, feeling turned on despite myself. "I'm having coffee with a friend after. So pick me up from that fancy coffee place on Wilson Street in two hours, if that's okay? Otherwise, I can get a cab," I added.
Hansen's face hardened. "You're not getting a cab. I'll be there. Now give me your mouth," he instructed.
I bent down, as he was still sitting on his bike. He tagged the back of my neck and laid one on me, hot and heavy, in the middle of the parking lot.
Once he'd released me, I stood back with a dreamy look on my face.
"That's a promise of what's to come," he murmured.
"That will definitely get me through The Night of the Living Dead," I said dreamily.
His eyes softened. "Love you, babe."
My stomach dropped like it did every time he said that. "Love you, too," I half whispered.
He gave me one more look then took off, leaving me standing there watching his bike drive away. I took a deep breath and faced the building.
I survived the visit, with only minor internal damage from the sharp points of Grandma's words. It helped I had some complicated and delicious coffee smothered in cream afterward. I was also distracted by seemingly insignificant problems when Robert opened up to me over said coffee. My heart had broken for him, yet he stayed reasonably strong until we walked outside onto the street, saying our goodbyes.
"I'm so sorry, Bob," I told him sincerely. Since we'd become friends, I took to calling Robert, Bob. Mostly because no one called him that, and he smirked every time I did it. He was so not a Bob.
He squeezed me before letting me go. "Thanks, Macy," he said, his eyes watering slightly.
Bob had told me his mother was completely gone, even the fleeting glimpses he used to get off her were snatched from the cruel disease holding her mind hostage.
"Call me if you want to talk?" I said, worried about the fact he didn't seem to have any friends he spoke of, any other family to talk to. He was a nice guy, he deserved someone.
He gave me a sad smile. "Will do, Mace. This would've been a lot harder had I not had you to help me through." He kissed me on the head lightly then turned to the parking lot.
I stood watching him for a second, then turned back to the street, about to get my phone to call Hansen. I didn't expect to see him sitting on his bike, directly across the street. He did not look happy.
"Hey honey, sorry, I hope you haven't been waiting long," I said after I made it to his bike, my body relaxing in his presence.
"Who the fuck was that?" he said in greeting, his eyes on the BMW pulling out of the parking lot.
"That's my friend, Bob," I said carefully, noting the anger in his voice.
He moved his eyes back to me. "You didn't think of telling me about your friend... Bob?" he muttered.
I put my hands on my hips. "Is this because I didn't tell you, or because Bob happens to have a penis?" I asked snippily. "I'm allowed to have male friends, Hansen."
His jaw clenched. "Yeah babe, not too keen on you hiding them from me. Nor am I too keen on the fact he wants a taste of your pussy."
Something in his words, the crassness of them maybe, or maybe it was because I was coasting on frazzled emotions, but something made me lose it.
"You think I'm going to give it to him?" I hissed. "You think once a whore always a whore?"
Hansen actually flinched and his face turned hard. "Told you not to call yourself that, Macy," he growled, moving to get off his bike.
I scuttled back onto the sidewalk. "Why not?" I half yelled. "That's what I was. What I always will be. It's never going to change. You think 'cause I've been with everyone in the club, I'll let any man who buys me an expensive latte have a piece of me?"
Hansen stalked forward. "Jesus, Macy, calm down. That's not what I fuckin' said," he thundered, his face tight.
I threw my hands out, not caring we were having this out in the middle of the street. "It's what you were thinking. I was a fool to think I could do this, be with you, transition into an Old Lady when you saw me as a club whore," I spat, my chest heaving.
I didn't know where this was coming from, this anger. I knew it was that little seed I'd nurtured through the start of our relationship, maturing, growing too big to hide anymore or to run from. I was already running from the events of a month ago. It had all finally caught me.
Hansen's face turned thunderous and he stepped forward again, clutching my hips tightly.
"I've never thought of you like that. Not once. 'Cause you never fuckin' were. You're special. Not one in a million, once in a lifetime. You are more than any label can describe, especially that fuckin' ugly one you keep spewing out," he half growled, though his eyes were soft. "You're a woman who's stronger than any man I've met. Whose smile lights up a room. You can make the hardest men I know laugh just by babbling some bullshit about fairies and wizards. Just by being you. You. Macy... my Old Lady. That's the only label you have, the only one I care about," he told me firmly, holding my eyes hostage.
Tears streamed down my face. I couldn't hold it together any longer. Everything I'd been burying inside bubbled out through my tear ducts, my body starting to shake with my sobs.
Hansen wiped them away, all trace of anger gone from his beautiful face. "Shit," he muttered. His hand cupped my jaw. "Look at me," he commanded.
I met his piercing blue eyes, my vision slightly blurry.
"You're gonna get on the back of my bike where you belong. Where you'll always belong, then we'll go home," he declared firmly.
"Ca-can we watch Lord of the Rings?" I hiccupped, needing my fantasy world now more than ever.
Hansen shook his head, a shadow of a smile on his face. "Yeah babe," he kissed my nose. "On the bike," he whispered.
I looked at him a moment, then moved to sit on the back of his beautiful Harley, where I belonged.
"You loved it, admit it," I said, once the credits on Fellowship of The Ring started rolling.
Hansen moved me so I was completely on top of him on the sofa.
"Love that it put a smile on my girl's beautiful face. Put the light back in her eyes. Would watch that every day for the rest of my life if that's what it takes," he told me, his eyes intent on me. "Want to talk about it, babe? What that shit was before?"
I looked down, my hands fiddling with the fabric on his tee. I didn't know if I did want to talk about what made me effectively have a breakdown in the middle of the street, but I knew I needed to. Otherwise, all that crap would fester, come back up again, and poison me with its negativity. I'd been bottling it up for a month, over a month, ever since Hammer's words hit home that night at the club.
Hansen's hand went to my chin. "Look at me, baby," he said softly.
I swallowed, looking into his eyes. "I'm just waiting for it to happen," I whispered softly.
His brows furrowed. "What?"
"Something... something awful. Something that shatters all of this," I explained my worst fear. "I've never been happier in my life when I'm with you. On the bike, off your bike," I said, and his arms tightened around me. "I'm not used to loving someone this much. To having everything I've always dreamed of. He came and took it away when he ended my parents' lives. Then he came back, and I'm still haunted by him. Still terrified one day you're going to realize you don't want to share your life with a reformed club girl and murderer," I said in a small voice. "I can live with my title as former club girl. I don't regret it, not for a second. It gave me family, gave me you. The murderer one? Not so much."
Hansen flipped us, in one fluid movement, and he was quickly on top of me. "Lot a shit wrong with what you just said, baby," he started in a hard tone. "Lot that makes my fuckin' heart break, knowing that it's been stewing in that beautiful head of yours for a long time," he stroked my head. "Knew that shit a month ago would haunt you. Your soul is good, down to the core, not an ounce of black in it." He looked at me, his eyes searching mine. "You're not a fuckin' murderer. You're a survivor, a fuckin' miracle, one I thank God or whoever's controlling the strings up there for," he said firmly. "Your past with the club? It's never gonna get to me, babe. Get that through your head. I love you. Every inch of you. I'll never resent you, or think of you differently 'cause you were a club girl." He stroked my face. "'Cause if you weren't, I'd never would've met you. Something that doesn't even bear thinking of... a life without you in it. I'll love you till the moment the reaper claims me, even after that, too. I plan on planting a baby in you, making a family with you, forever," he declared. "I'll do whatever it takes, remind you every day of what a fuckin' magnificent creature you are, to make sure you don't ever think ugly thoughts about yourself again."
I sucked in a breath. Everything he said made my heart pound, made it feel like it might explode. A baby? It should have freaked me out. I was too young. I was recovering from shooting my parents' killer in front of my old man and his brothers, but yet, the thought calmed me. Made me smile on the inside. No, beam on the inside.
I had it. Family. Forever.
"Breathe," I whispered to my reflection.
I sucked in a huge breath, trying to use the air as an instrument to quell the butterflies fluttering in my stomach.
"You can do this," I told my reflection again. My reflection, that didn't even look like me. Well, I guess it did. My pixie cut had grown out a bit but I had kept it short and choppy. Most of the time it was artfully mussed in the 'I just got out of bed look,' mostly because I didn't do it when I got out of bed. Lately, my thoughts were not of taming my hair, I was mostly skipping around the house in a post orgasmic glow-Hansen, a firm believer in morning sex and it was safe to say I was a convert.
But now, my usually messed hair was curled into soft curls while a daisy crown graced my head, in my true flower child style. My makeup was subtle though I was wearing false eyelashes because a girl always needed a hint of glam. It was the dress that did it. The pure white, long sleeved, vintage lace gown and it was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. The v-neck hinted at cleavage while still being demure, the soft lace hugged my body until it met my waist, tulle replacing the lace and flowing down in a soft waterfall. It was almost completely backless. It was my dream dress. I was getting married to my dream man. The past year had been a blissful fantasy. It wasn't easy, nor was the relationship with the love of my life always smooth sailing. But it was real. Magical. Not the kind with elves and wizards, but the real life kind, the stuff I didn't even know existed.
That's why my hands were shaking. Why the butterflies were churning in my stomach. You woke up from dreams. They ended and reality came seeping back. I was terrified one person couldn't be this happy. That happiness wouldn't always follow me wherever I went, that real life would catch up and shatter it all.
"Holy fuck," I heard a masculine voice mutter from the doorway.
I whirled around and my breath left me. Hansen was standing across the room from me, in black slacks, a white shirt and his cut over the top. A single daisy poked out from the pocket. He was drool worthy.
"Didn't think you'd get any more beautiful to me, babe," he whispered, stalking toward me. "But now I know beauty is not a word that can be used to describe how you look... how you radiate. Word hasn't even been invented yet," he murmured, making it over to me. His eyes never left mine, his hands spanned my waist.
"You're not supposed to see the bride before the wedding, it's bad luck," I protested vainly, my eyes locked in his stare. My heart nearly exploding in the love in his gaze, the reverence. His eyes were softening, opening up for me and me only. The devotion in them was something I'd woken up to every day for a year. The thing I'd dreamed of when I first set foot in the club.
The hands at my waist tightened. "Think we've both had our share of bad luck, Macy," he said against my mouth. "My luck changed the moment I set foot into the club..." his finger trailed against my jaw, "...hit the fuckin' jackpot the moment I tasted those lips in the middle of the night a year later."
He pushed me back, so I hit the table in the room that was designated as my dressing room in the big lodge in the middle of nowhere, where we were getting married. Before I knew it, he had lifted me, gently pulling my dress up.
"Wha-what are you doing?" I whispered, my breath catching as his finger pushed passed my panties.
Ice blue eyes met mine. "Gonna fuck you, baby," he told me, his eyes flaring.
I let out a little squeak as his finger pushed into me. "But we're about to get married," I protested weakly.
"Yeah babe and this memory is going down as the best day of my life. Wanna be standing up there, tying myself to you forever, knowing the flush on your face is from me fuckin' you senseless," he half growled, pushing his pants down and positioning himself at my entrance.
No way in hell I could argue with that.
He paused, one hand on my neck. "This ain't ever gonna go bad, Mace. This... us... it's always gonna be solid. I'm always gonna love you with every inch of my soul. Nothing will change that," he promised fiercely.
"I love you, too, forever," I whispered back, with tears in my eyes.