Sweet Submission (Devil's Sons Motorcycle Club Book 3) (2 page)

She put her elbows on the table and covered her face with her hands.  She wondered if, while she had been struggling with the unfairness of falling in love with a man she wasn’t allowed to have, she had truly neglected her brother. Bionca, her roommate and best friend, had suggested Afia get Rayan into rehab again, but Rayan had resisted. So, Afia had used the knowledge of his drinking as leverage to keep Rayan from telling her parents that she was seeing Sam.

At the rate her brother was going, his alcoholism was becoming more than just an annoyance. He was in trouble, and Afia knew it. “I should’ve worked harder to convince him to go,” she murmured to herself. She was more determined now to get her brother treated than she had been before, with or without her parents’ help or blessing. She owed it to her sibling to be there for him in his time of need.

Afia looked up at the sound of footsteps in the hall. Her eyes flew to the entrance to the kitchen where her mother steadied herself with a hand to the doorjamb, looking wan and pale. “Maman,” she whispered in concern. The last Afia had seen her an hour prior, Fatima had been visibly sickened by the knowledge Rayan was drinking again and the suspicion her daughter was leading a secular lifestyle at graduate school. Afia half-rose from the kitchen table, but Fatima gestured for her to sit. “I thought you were sleeping.” 

Fatima exhaled wearily as she sat down across from Afia. She reached for her daughter’s hands with a sad smile. “I was wrong to berate you for telling me about Rayan,” Fatima murmured.

Afia looked down, apologies rare coming from her mother. “I understood you were worried and concerned, Maman.”

Fatima nodded, rubbing Afia’s slender, soft hands with her own work-roughened fingers.  She was a wife, after all, and a mother. She had callouses from sweeping, mopping, wiping tears, wringing her hands, pacing the floor, and praying for her children. Afia thought she understood, but the young woman really didn’t, and she wouldn’t until she had children of her own.

Smiling sadly, Fatima replied, “I see things.” She held up two fingers. “I watch the both of you. Don’t think I don’t see. I’m your mother, Afia. I know that Rayan has not been himself…I was hoping he was being sincere, that he wasn’t drinking and gambling again, but I know the things you’ve told me are true. Your brother has always been…sensitive to temptations. You were always the strong one.”

Afia forced herself to keep eye contact, despite the fact that she was weak when it came to Sam, a weakness that came of love. It didn’t seem wrong to her to love him with her whole heart, no matter what anyone else believed, because he loved her too.  She swallowed thickly at the thought. She drew her attention back to the conversation at hand, inhaling and pulling her hands away.

“Look here, Maman,” Afia murmured. She used her phone to pull up the website to the rehab center Bionca had suggested. “We can get him back in a program and help Rayan get back on his feet. This place specializes in treating clients who have multiple addictions. They can take care of him for both—“

Fatima held up a hand and interrupted the hurried stream of information Afia was trying to fire her way. She shook her head resolutely. “I will deal with this myself.”

Afia’s face dropped, and she exclaimed, “Maman, this isn’t something we can wish away!”

“Shh! I said I will deal with this.” Fatima cut her eyes at Afia for raising her voice. Rashad was asleep in the bedroom down the hall. She didn’t need him waking and hearing the conversation. “Now, you go home. Rest. Your brother will be home soon. I can feel it. A mother knows.”

Afia clamped her lips shut and refrained from telling her Rayan was indeed on his way home, thanks to Sam. She sighed and stood to collect her purse and car keys. “Just promise me, Maman, that if whatever you have in mind doesn’t work, you’ll consider the rehab option. I can help you and Baba pay for it. I’ll get a job.”

“You worry about your studies,” said Fatima, following her into the living room. She stopped her at the door with a solemn look and a firm voice. “And, you stay away from anything or anyone that might lead you astray, Afia. I was your age. I know what it’s like to be young and faced with so many opportunities to do the wrong thing, each of them looking more exciting and tempting than the last.  Whatever you do, my child, don’t forget the upbringing which has been instilled within you, the Sharia and Allah’s will that you may have a long and prosperous life. If you follow the laws, you will be blessed.”

“I know, Maman,” whispered Afia. She looked away guiltily.  “I’ll see you soon. Call me, no matter how late, whenever Rayan returns.”

Fatima nodded and saw her out the door. After she heard Afia’s car crank up and saw the headlights flash through the living room as her daughter backed out of the driveway, she settled her tired bones on the edge of an armchair to wait up for her wayward son. As she sat, she prayed. As she prayed, she cried. There had to be deliverance soon. Her heart couldn’t take much more heartbreak.

CHAPTER 2

Afia had driven directly to Sam’s place after leaving her mother’s, confident that Rayan would soon be home. When Sam had come to the door, looking drowsy and sexy, she had walked into his arms and thanked him for being there for her with her touches and kisses because there weren’t words for all that she felt for him.

She didn’t know how to tell him her love was rooted in more than appreciation, how to say how much she valued him just for being the man he was, and that she couldn’t envision a future without him because any tomorrow that didn’t include him in her life wasn’t one she wanted to see. She couldn’t explain how her love was more than a feeling and not just an act, more like a state of being. It was something she couldn’t turn on or off, something that had simply happened, something mystifying and overpowering. Whatever sacrifices were required, she would make them for him.

His body was paradise. Afia gasped, as Sam rolled her beneath him and rose above her. Her thighs dropped open in welcome while her lips parted in silky moans with each plunge of his hardness into her chasm. She cried out, as Sam suckled her dusky breasts while making love to her, and he hummed lustily, as her womanhood gripped his shaft, tightly stroking along his length. Her moisture poured over him and left him awash in potent pleasure that sent thrills through his core. Her nipple pebbled in his mouth. His heavy erection grew harder, as well. There was no end to the wonder when it came to sleeping with her. Sam had goose bumps along his upper back and shoulders at the exquisite ecstasy of her embrace.

She writhed and rocked forward and back, taking all of him and begging for more. Her thighs clamped around his hips. Her nails raked down his back. She bit at his earlobe and sucked at his neck, gasping and moaning at the masterful way he thrust up and into her. Her body quivered. “I love you,” she cried out.

“I love you, too.” His lips flew to hers, as he poured his words like sweet honey into her gasping mouth. He sucked at her bottom lip, lacing his tongue around hers. Her fingers tangled in his hair, and the kiss deepened. In and out, his erection speared, taking her up and up on tides of pure bliss. The sweat that beaded along her skin was evidence of the fire between them. There was no dousing the flames. She loved him.

That love was more powerful than the will to blindly obey her brother’s orders. It was strong enough to withstand her parent’s ire, should they ever find out she was consorting with someone who wouldn’t meet their approval. As Sam’s mouth flowed from hers to her shoulder, he kissed a fiery trail back down to her breasts, and she cried out again. It didn’t matter that they weren’t supposed to be together. They were meant for each other.

Her body reveled in the feel of him, and his erection caressed her in places only he could touch. As she gripped his shoulders, she felt her legs begin to shake. The ebb and flow of the dance between them sent rhythmic shockwaves coursing along her spine, and her back arched, head lolling back. He kissed up from her breasts to the hollow of her throat, and she groaned. She kneaded his firm, taut buttocks, urging him deeper, harder.

“Yes!” she exclaimed, shaking. Her pelvis thrust forward, as waves of pleasure rippled through her. Still, he continued to plunge into her lithe body at the frantic pace she had set. Afia experienced a climax that left her breathless, and he carried on until he took her to yet another.

It was the wee hours of the morning before the lovers collapsed against each other, finally spent. Afia closed her exhausted eyes and cuddled up against Sam. “Can I keep you?” she whispered whimsically.

He chuckled and kissed her forehead, shutting his eyes. He was exhausted and wanted to enjoy the rare pleasure of sleeping next to her.   “At this point, baby, I doubt you could get rid of me.”

***

“Last night you told me you loved me for the first time,” she replied. Afia sat out on the patio that extended from the back door of Sam’s estate, letting the morning sun wake her fully. Sam was preparing breakfast on the grill, and the savory smell of grilling meat wafted over to her. He had taken the day off after their busy night, and they had slept in late.  She had awakened next to the man who made her the happiest woman in the world. She threw her head back with a smile. The sky was blue. Her heart was happy.

He chuckled and brought over a plate, depositing the grilled kabobs in front of Afia. He poured up a mimosa and handed it to her. “Damn, was it the first time? How remiss of me. I should’ve told you every day from the day I met you,” he said with a flirtatious grin. “D’ah, well, there’s always the rest of my life to get it right.” He stepped away from the table briefly, Afia giggling behind him. “Speaking of which…” Her laughter abruptly stopped when he came back with a velvet jewel case and set it next to her plate.

Sam smiled in pleasure at the look of shock on her face. She hadn’t been expecting it. Hell, he hadn’t even planned for it to go the way it was going, but after everything they had been through together, it just felt right. He got down on his knee on the sun dappled deck and gazed up at her beautiful face, hair free of her hijab and chestnut tresses floating on the summer breeze. Her hazel eyes glistened. “I want you to marry me,” he murmured sincerely.

The silence that descended was thicker than the air at the height of the heat of summer, but Sam braved it anyway, hoping against hope she didn’t come up with some excuse to say no. Even if she did, though, he didn’t care. He’d find a way to convince her to be his.

He stared into her mesmerizing eyes and poured out his heart to her in a way he had never done for any other woman.  “The day I met you,” he stated, “you were an exotic book I thought I could be content with returning to the shelf when I was done reading, but I fell in love with your story. Now I quote you in my dreams, trying to read between your lines for the page break where your story and my story can come together because you’re the prose of my redemption. Before you, I was just a man…with you, I’m a man in love. You make me more than I’ve ever been. Without you, I’m a fraction of myself.”

“That’s the most beautiful thing anyone has ever said to me.” She accepted the case, tentatively opening it with baited breath. Her eyes widened at the chocolate and canary diamonds in the pink gold engagement ring. “Oh! This is too much,” she whispered in awe. She took out the ring, but he tugged it away from her with a shake of his head.

“No, I’ll put it on you. That’s my job.” He took her slender fingers in his and slipped on the ring, admiring the colors against her honeyed skin. Nodding with satisfaction, Sam lovingly looked up again at her. “The short answer is ‘Yes.’”

“You know we can’t,” she whispered. “Not yet.”

His heart leapt at the last words, not yet. Rising to his feet, Sam sat down in the chair next to her. “Oh, I know, not yet. There’s your master’s to acquire. I mean, I wouldn’t dare encroach on you getting your degree,” he teased.

Afia tried not to smile. He was making light of the situation, but there was no way around the elephant in the middle of the room. “My parents,” she replied soberly. “Sam, I want this…I want this as much as you do, but we can’t ignore the fact that my family will be adamantly against this union.”

“At the risk of sounding insensitive, I’m not marrying them, Afia. I’m marrying you.” He clasped her hands and leaned in closer. “I never imagined we’d get this far with the odds we’ve faced in the short time we’ve known each other. But, now that we’ve made it to this point, I can’t close this chapter of my life, because my story is intertwined with yours. We are meant to be. Sweetheart, neither of us expected this. You’re looking at a guy who had no intentions of ever tying the knot. I know you made it clear that I shouldn’t expect a future with you. I accepted that in the beginning. Then, I realized how impossible it is for me to live without you.”

She touched his face. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s true,” he replied, placing his hand atop hers against his cheek. “Afia, during the time frame you and I were separated after your brother told you not to see me anymore, I tried valiantly to move on. There are some things in life you can’t move away from, good and bad things. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. I’m not capable of walking away from us. Not now, not then, not ever. Whatever I have to do to make this,” he touched her ring finger, “a reality, then I’ll do it. I’m going to talk to your parents.”

She sighed. “I have to break it to them gently first.”

“Afia.”

“Sam, I have to. This isn’t something we can just spring on them.”

“Fine, love. You talk to them first.” A slow grin split his face again. “But, I take that as a ‘yes.’”

***

“It’s too early for this, Maman.” Rayan pulled his comforter over his head and turned his back to her.

“It’s one in the afternoon. You should be up anyway, putting in applications for a job instead of lying around in this filth.” She had waited until Rashad was at work for the discussion that had to be had. “Give me back the credit card I gave you,” Fatima demanded.

She snatched away the comforter and threw it to the floor with the rest of the dirty clothes Rayan had piled beside his bed. There were takeout boxes on the nightstand. She spied a liquor bottle between a cushion of the sofa he had crammed along with his bedroom furniture into the cramped basement after losing his apartment. Rayan angrily pulled the covers back up, and she yanked them away again.

Their eyes locked, and she read the stubbornness in his, but there was a stubbornness in hers, too. She wasn’t about to be denied. “I will not fund your addiction. I will not finance your problem. Do you understand?” Fatima’s voice wavered, and her lips trembled. She swept away a tear. “Now, give me my card. I know you have no money of your own, Rayan. You’ve been using what little money of mine to get drunk. Afia told me you need rehab. I think you just need a healthy dose of reality. You want to drink? Fine. Get a job and get your own money to buy a drink.”

“You would believe Afia over me? Truly, Maman?” Rayan sounded incredulous, but Fatima held out her hand insistently. “You know nothing! You know only Afia’s lies,” he growled.

His head was throbbing, and his mouth was dry. His irritation level was at peak. If not for his hangover, he would gladly reveal to Fatima that Afia had secrets of her own, but the pounding at the base of his skull wouldn’t relent. He wanted to be clearheaded when he let that little tidbit of information slip.  He needed Fatima and Rashad’s help to secure a marriage between Afia and Jabar, which meant he had to at least pretend to play by the rules.  Glaring, Rayan yanked his wallet out of the nightstand drawer and shoved his mother’s credit card into her hands.

“For the record,” he said as he sat up, clutching his head, “Afia is misleading you. Ask yourself why she’d be trying to make you take a closer look at me. Could it be because she wants you to take your eyes off of her? Hmm?”

Fatima tucked the card into the pocket of her apron. She pointed at him and turned to the basement stairs, shuffling tiredly toward the steps. “I only want what’s best for you.”  

“I forgive you. For misjudging me. I’m going to prove to you that Afia is lying about me. You’ll see. I don’t need your credit card for alcohol, because I haven’t been drinking. I’m a changed man!” he barked.

Fatima nodded, trudging up the steps. “Yes, show me.” She knew he didn’t have the money to pay for liquor or beer. If what Afia had said was true, soon enough money would start coming up missing again. Fatima closed the basement door behind her. “Show me,” she murmured again to herself. She actually hoped he was telling the truth.

Rayan scowled at the wall after she left. She had taken his last remaining access to money. He knew there wasn’t a chance in hell he’d start working for someone else again. If Rayan couldn’t be his own boss, he wasn’t interested in slaving under someone else. Poker came naturally to him because he was a master at schooling his facial expressions and he had had a fine stream of good luck for a while. Now, it seemed his luck was running out.

Without the few hundred dollars his mother kept on the card available at his disposal, he had to resort to other means of scraping together enough cash to see if he could win some money back. “C’mon, c’mon, think!” He pounded his temples, eyes scanning the room for anything of value.  He had very little left. When Rayan had a steady job at his cousin’s shop, he hadn’t earned much, but he always had enough.  It was unfortunate that he’d been caught taking money from the cash register.  Sighing, he picked up the watch, the chains and rings he’d been wearing the night of his arrest, things he had won in various games of chance from dice to dominos. Altogether, he could probably get enough from pawning the jewels to start him off.