JAX: MC Biker Romance (New Adult Contemporary Bad Boy Romance) (30 page)

“Ok,” she nodded. “You can see him.”

*****

After picking up Ricky from the next door neighbor, she brought him home. Rex was smitten the moment he held the boy in his arms.

"You're the cutest kid I've ever seen," he kissed him on the cheek and felt overcome with emotion.

Looking to Brandy, he explained:

"I know this ain't gonna mean much now, but... when I was inside, all I thought about was you two. I've been waiting for this day for as long as I can remember."

Brandy could see the tenderness in the way he held his son, and could clearly see the love in his eyes. Could he maybe deserve a second chance? Just maybe? Neil was definitely out her life now, so perhaps things worked out the way they should... but still... that ridiculous story about committing robbery to pay for her and the baby? There was no way that was true... was it?

She watched the two of them play together on the floor, grappling each other and pretending they were wrestlers. Ricky was giggling and squealing while his father looked as though he was having more fun than the baby. She felt herself soften to his company once again, but tried to reign in her feelings. Remember what he's like, she reminded herself. He's an ex-con, a biker.

But, the more she watched him and Ricky together, the more she considered that prison had changed him.

"Hey..." she called out.

Both Rex and Ricky looked up as though caught in the act of making mischief. Brandy couldn't help but laugh.

"Er... Rex... Can I have a word with you a moment?"

"Sure," he got up off the floor.

"Erm... I mean upstairs."

"Oh!"

As they entered the bedroom, she closed the door behind her.

"We shouldn't leave him alone downstairs, should we?" Rex, trying to be the responsible father, panicked.

"He'll be fine. The TV's on. He won't go anywhere, I promise."

"So... What's up?"

"I was thinking…"

This is madness, she thought. I shouldn't be doing this.

"I was thinking maybe... er..., if you're not mad at me for running off with Neil, that...," she was stumbling over her words, not quite sure what she was feeling or trying to say.

"Maybe we could try again," she blurted out. "I mean... You're a madman Rex, but that's why I fell in love with you in the first place."

He smiled and cupped her face gently in his hands.

"I'm willing to let bygons be bygons and start again if you are," he whispered as he brought his lips close to hers.

"I am," she closed her eyes and let him kiss her.

He was gentler than she remembered; more caring and soft in the way he held her. All those feelings she had for him now resurfaced, and she wanted him more than ever.

Reaching down and unzipping his jeans, she was desperate to feel him. It was the first time Rex had been touched in two years, and he felt wild and out of control as her fingers wrapped around his girth.

"Oh God, Brandy I've missed you so much!"

He picked her up with one hand and flung her onto the bed. Pulling himself out, he stroked his length as he watched her undress.

"You're even more perfect than I remember."

His eyes were all over her body, then so were his hands. He was on top of her, his enormous frame pushing down into her frail body. They were kissing hard, eager to feel every part of one another's body.

"I can't stop myself. I gotta have you." He grabbed hold of her breasts and sucked on her nipples.

"I want you so much," Brandy opened her legs wide to reveal the moistness between her legs.

He pushed himself inside her roughly and listened to her scream. Pressing his hand over her mouth, he spoke gruffly.

"We can't let the baby hear us," he grunted, as he pushed into her over and over again.

She bit into his hand, but he relished the pain as a welcomed distraction from ejaculating too soon. But, it wasn't long until he couldn't hold it much longer.

"I'm coming," he whispered. "Oh fuck!"

And, his legs began to shake as he reached climax, every muscle in his body convulsed with the ecstasy of orgasm.

After he was spent, he lay by her side and kissed her cheek. Holding her close, he looked into her eyes.

“You're so beautiful. I'm sorry for everything.”

“I'm sorry too,” she kissed him. "But, I've got to ask you something?"

"Anything," he smiled.

"Can we do it again?”

The End

A Billionaires Heart

“I just don’t understand why you won’t ever go out!” Stanley’s angry voice rattled against the ivory colored walls surrounding them. Her nose shot up from the book she was reading to look at him fully. She scrunched her face and focused on his sweaty, unsteady form; her expression revealing exactly what she was feeling: annoyance… pure annoyance.

He had just gotten home from another long night out with God-knows-who, doing God-knows-what, and he was in full-on asshole mode; just like he generally is when coming home from the bar. When her eyes had last fallen on him, just after he’d stumbled through the front door of their shared home, he was combing his fingers through his hair in the hallway mirror. He always did that after a long night of booze hounding, as well.
Just another childish tradition
, she thought, bitterly. His cockiness oozed out of every pore and orifice of his entire body… and then some.

It was as if he was checking over his outfit and hair — and face and probably everything else for that matter — for imperfections, hoping that he didn’t see any. However, by the night’s end, there were always
a lot
of imperfections. A sober Michelle could definitely see them… from a mile away.

The top of his hair was always askew and covered with sweat
,
sticking straight up rather than back and to the side like he normally wore it. His clothes were also wrinkled
,
and he smelled of cigarette smoke. He was a mess, as far as she was concerned, but a drunken man, fueled with an ego bigger than the size of the sun never could see those sorts of imperfections. To him, he still looked like the hottest of hot studs.

“Calm down, Stanley…” she groaned, noticing that he was still staring in the mirror at himself. If she was being honest with herself, she was getting sick of the constant bickering, and she knew that it was about to turn into just that. Every time he came home, there was some sort of stupid tantrum, and it was starting to get on her last nerve. It was always the same thing… every single Friday night
,
and every Thursday and Saturday night too for that matter.

“I’m not going to calm down!” he shot, tossing his arms up in the air. “It’s like you always have a stick up your ass, Michelle!”

She rolled her eyes. It wasn’t so much she had a stick up her ass, as it was that she was actually starting to get out of the whole party-scene.

“I told you why, Stanley…”, she mumbled under her breath before glancing back down at her book.

“Yeah, yeah…” he growled. She could feel his head whirl away from the TV and his eyes fall on her. “Clinicals... fucking clinicals; you’re always all work and no play and I’m getting sick of the excuses!”

It wasn’t an excuse though. It was her fucking reality. Welcome to the world of Michelle, she thought, almost bitterly.

She really was busy all the time
,
and she knew that it bothered him. She knew that he was frustrated
,
but what he never could grasp was that she was frustrated too.

It wasn’t just the fact that she didn’t like always being the stick in the mud, always trapped behind a book, studying or busy with clinicals. It was also the fact that he never seemed to just grow up.

The fights had been going on for months now, and they were getting worse and worse by the day. It seemed like their relationship was on a downward slide, and she couldn’t help but wonder if it was even worth staying in anymore.

She wondered if she’d changed too much or if he hadn’t changed
enough
. It was as if he was exactly still where he was when they first started dating.

She glanced at the clock just over his shoulder. It was late; really late just like it normally was when he finally found his way back home after a night of drinking
,
but this was earlier than usual.

It was only 1:30 A.M.

He hadn’t gone out until 10:30 P.M., so to Michelle, him only being out for three hours was a miracle. He usually didn’t roll in until it was almost time for her to wake up, and that was the biggest thing.

It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy fun. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to cut loose every now and again — not as much as Stanley wanted to cut loose — but it was almost her bed time when he wanted to leave and she had to get up at the ass crack of dawn the next day to start her day.

She sighed a deep and exasperated sigh and slid off the couch, her book in tow. “I’m going to bed. I have to get up early in the morning.”

“You didn’t have to wait up for me!” he snapped. “I mean you’re an old grandma, so go to bed!”

She rolled her eyes and looked passed him. She was afraid if she did, she might say something she would regret, and truthfully, she didn’t want to start another fight. It was already pretty easy to tell that drunken Stanley wanted nothing more than for that to happen and she wasn’t going to give him what he wanted; not this late at night, not now.

“Good night, babe…”, she sighed, still not looking at him. Part of her code as a human being was never go to bed on a bad last word and, as much as he drove her insane, she did care about him… for some reason.

With one more sigh, she tucked her book beneath her arm and turned around to the couch to gather up her laptop, which had been sitting beside her like the trusty sidekick it was.

The aluminum back of her Mac was cool to the touch, as she grabbed it and pulled it up and beneath her armpit to meet the book she’d been reading.

“Good-fucking-night,” he growled, after a longer pause than she had expected. She honestly thought he was going to remain silent in her descent toward the bedroom. She hoped for it; at least, but of course, his drunken tongue wouldn’t allow it.

She rolled her eyes and whirled around
,
and when she did, she met his gaze; his deep, angered gaze. So angry that she couldn’t help but to look, actually look at him this time and follow his stare, which was deep into her eyes.

It would have been sweet
,
had the expression on his face been kind and compassionate; the way he used to look at her. But
,
the look in the depths of his eyes as they looked into hers was not a look of serenity. Not even a little.

It was a chilling stare; cold
,
heartless.

“Jesus, what is wrong with you?” She couldn’t help but to whimper. It almost made her sick how upset she sounded over the situation, especially because she knew that was exactly what he wanted.

“I’m sick of telling you what’s wrong with me. It’s always the same shit!” That was all he said before turning on his heel and storming off in a heated march down the hall, away from the living room.

She didn’t know what he was doing. If she was being honest with herself, she really didn’t want to pay attention to what he was doing because whatever it was, it was drunken douchebag Stanley — someone she had seen far too much of recently — doing it.

“Jesus Christ…” she moaned before tossing her head back dramatically and walking slowly, cautiously even, toward the bedroom.

She heard him in the bathroom, just through their bedroom as she approached the threshold, and didn’t even bother announcing her presence. She was ready to go to bed.

Without any sort of delay
,
she placed her laptop and book on the bed and pulled back the covers. She wasn’t even going to bother with brushing his teeth, not if he was in the bathroom.

A sigh of contentment expelled from her lips
,
as she sat down on the bed. Her body ached from the day, and her head was still pounding from all the hours of reading. She was more than ready to lie down.

Reaching her hand to her shoulder, she gave a nice, firm squeeze and craned her neck to the side. “Ugh….” she grumbled, tugging and massaging as she rolled her shoulders; anything to remove just
some
of the kinks that had formed throughout the grueling day.

She exhaled, letting the thoughts of the day leave her — even the rattling sound coming from the bathroom just next to her — and leaned back, letting her body become surrounded by the fluffiness of their pillow
-
top mattress, covered in Egyptian Cotton sheets. She hadn’t even changed out of her scrubs from her clinicals earlier that day, but she didn’t care. They were comfortable enough to be pajamas anyway.