Chapter 21
Poppy
Weight Of Your World by Chris Stapleton
After we get back from The Black Dog, Owen’s asleep upstairs and the apartment is quiet in that late-night way that makes everything feel closer.
I’m downstairs in my office, finishing the last of the paperwork I couldn’t leave undone, when I look up.
Ollie leans against the doorway, watching me like he’s been there a while.
He’s wearing a T-shirt and gray sweatpants that hang low on his hips.
Merry Christmas to me.
My pulse stutters. “You gonna keep staring,” I say lightly, “or are you gonna come say hi?”
His eyes darken as he steps inside, slow and deliberate, and says casually, “You know I’ve always wanted to fuck you on this desk.”
Okay, I really like dirty Ollie. Like, really like him.
Who knew that underneath that golden retriever-ness was a dirty man who does dirty things? I’m not complaining at all.
Heat floods me instantly, sharp and delicious. I lean back in my chair, tilting my head. “That’s funny,” I say. “Because I’ve always wanted you to fuck me on my desk.”
Something flashes across his face. Want, but underneath it, something deeper.
“You really scared me the other night,” he says, low and honest. “I feel like I just got everything good with us. We’re together, married, and Owen is safe with us. We don’t need chaos.”
The room shifts. I stand and close the space between us. “I know,” I whisper. “I’m sorry. I was trying to eliminate chaos, not make more.”
“Don’t do it again,” he says as he comes closer and pulls me up against him, my chest slamming into his, my nipples immediately pebbling at his proximity. He smells good like pine and sandalwood from his shower.
His hand comes down on my ass, firm and possessive, not playful at all. My golden retriever just turned into a guard dog, and holy fuck it’s hot.
“I’m gonna remind you,” he murmurs, mouth close to my ear, voice rough and controlled, “that you don’t ever do that again.”
My knees threaten to give out. God, I love dirty-talking Ollie. Love the way he sounds when he’s all promise and restraint.
He leans in closer, his breath warm against my skin. “I protect my family,” he whispers. “Not bikers. Me.”
My hands curl into his shirt. “Okay.”
He pulls back just enough to meet my eyes. “Say it, Poppy.”
“You protect me,” I breathe. “You protect us, Ollie.”
That’s all it takes.
He kisses me deep and sure, like he’s staking a claim he’s had for years, and when he lifts me onto the desk, the paperwork scatters, and I don’t care. His hands are everywhere I need them, grounding me, reminding me exactly who I belong to and who belongs to me.
He reaches down and pulls my shirt up, revealing a hot pink lace bra that he has gone in seconds. He palms my breasts and leans his head back and groans. “I love these.”
He reaches down and slides my jeans and hot pink panties down. I kick off my shoes, pants, and am fully naked in front of him. He groans when he looks down at the panties.
“Knowing you’re wearing those bra and panties drives me crazy, Poppy.”
“Oh, yeah? What are you going to do about it?” I tease.
He looks down and back up at me. “I’m going to worship this body. This body is mine.”
Holy shit. I used to be so self-conscious of my body with Ollie. But he makes me feel so sexy.
He reaches down and runs his fingers through my pussy. “You’re so wet and ready for me, baby.”
I moan as he kisses me, not giving me a chance to respond as his hand works my clit in fast circles, making me work up faster and faster as I clutch his T-shirt and moan softly into his mouth.
He pauses. “You’re going to come on my hand, and then you’re going to come on my cock. I’m going to fuck you on your desk, baby. I’m gonna ruin that pussy right here.”
“Yes,” I pant as he moves his fingers over my clit faster and faster, and my head rolls back. He watches me, and when I come apart, he slides his sweatpants down, revealing his big cock ready for me. I want it so bad.
He slams into me and holds me in place as he slams into me, and my breath hitches, and I work up fast, him pounding me hard until I’m close. He pulls out, flips me around, and takes me from behind. He goes hard and fast, and it’s the best feeling and the best fucking I’ve ever been given.
“Ollie!” I yell as he is deep inside of me. “More!” I bite my lip as he somehow goes deeper, making me clench up and come, and it feels so good. So good. He goes harder and longer, and moments later I’m coming again.
I moan and clutch the edge of my desk, and he finally pulses into me, coming hard.
“Poppy,” he says softly, panting over me.
“Why haven’t we been doing this more?” I pant.
I wrap myself around him, heart pounding, body humming, and the world narrows to heat and trust and the way he stays.
And when everything finally fades, I know this isn’t just what I want anymore. This is what I need. I needed him.
With him, I’m home. He’s my safe place and my everything.
The next morning, Ollie is up and at the station before my alarm goes off. I wake up and turn it off, sad that his side of the bed is cold. We no longer have a pillow wall, thank God. It’s like a sex marathon over here now, and Ollie’s the best.
I pad to the kitchen to start the coffee, only to find it’s already made. There’s a fresh pot on.
I am still sore from last night, but damn if I don’t want him again. And again. I’ll never look at my desk the same.
I carry a mug of coffee back to bed and sit for a minute before I have to get ready for school and get Owen up.
My phone gets a new text:
Ollie: Hey, Wife. Good morning.
I smile and text him back.
Me: Morning, Husband. Thanks for the coffee.
Ollie: I wish I didn’t have to be on shift today. I didn’t want to leave you.
Me: Me, too. I want you so bad.
Ollie: You get me tonight.
Me: Can’t wait. Love you, have a good day.
Ollie: Love you, too. Have a good day, baby.
I smile, get ready for school, and wake Owen up, making us quick bagel sandwiches to go. It’s going to be a great day.
Owen and I pull up to the apartment after school.
I’m in desperate need of a snack, a shower, and a nap before I figure out what we’re scrounging up for dinner when I notice three bikes parked out front.
My stomach sinks until I see Grave standing by the front door, his hands in his pockets, dark sunglasses on, watching us, his arms crossed.
Owen freezes. “Is Dad here?”
I shake my head. “Dad can’t come around anymore, buddy. And he’s not affiliated with these guys anymore. These guys are going to make sure of that.”
I hope, I think to myself. Grave said I owed him, and now I wonder if he’s coming to collect.
We get out, and I throw my bag over my shoulder. We walk up, and Grave nods at us.
“Hi,” I say quietly.
He nods to me, and I notice the other bikers that I don’t know. I look at their patches, and their names are Bear and Axel. I nod to them. Relieved to see the pint isn’t with them. I hate that guy.
“Owen, go ahead and get started on your homework. I’ll be up in a minute,” I tell him quietly.
He looks at me reluctantly and heads up the stairs. Ollie’s going to hate that they’re here.
“What’s up?” I ask them as they follow me into the bay.
“Sully been around?” Grave asks.
I shake my head. “No.”
He nods thoughtfully. “Good.” He looks around the shop, then back at me. “We have a proposition.”
I close my eyes. Here it comes. They want me to do something illegal. “What’s that?”
“We need a good mechanic we can trust to work on club vehicles and bikes,” he says.
Relief fills me. “That’s your favor?” I ask, hesitantly. “But I thought your club was a garage.”
He nods. “It was, but we’re not equipped, and we want somebody good.”
“How do you know I’m good?” I ask with a laugh.
He cocks his head. “You know you’re good.”
“What’s the catch?” I ask, setting my bag down on the tool bench.
“No catch. We drop our stuff off, you tell us how much, and we pay and pick it up when it’s done.”
I bite my lip. “Okay, I could do that.”
He nods. “We have a bike we need to leave here.”
I glance around and notice the bike out in front. “Okay.”
Grave looks up and nods. One of them opens the bay, and a bike rolls in and parks, making a noise I recognize instantly.
“How do you want me to get ahold of you when it’s done?” I ask.
“We’ll be around,” Grave says as he turns and leaves, shutting the door behind him. I guess we’re done.
Okay, that was weird.
The bay door rattles shut as they pull out, engines roaring to life before the sound fades down the road. Two bikes. One truck is following close behind. I watch until they disappear, then turn back to the shop.
The bike they left behind sits quietly and innocently, like it didn’t just arrive with a whole lot of baggage. I jot down the part I’ll need to order and add it to my list, then wipe my hands on a rag and head upstairs.
Owen’s at the table with a bowl of cereal and his math spread out like it personally offended him.
“What did they want?” he asks, spoon hovering midair.
“They dropped off a bike to get fixed,” I say, grabbing a bowl and pouring myself cereal—dinner of champions. I sit across from him and eat while I watch him stare at his worksheet.
He chews, thinking hard. “Not all bikers are bad.”
I take a bite. “No, probably not. These guys don’t like Sully and are going to make sure he leaves us alone.”
He nods, satisfied, then squints at the paper. “But some of them definitely look like they’d punch a guy for looking at them wrong.”
“That’s fair,” I say. “That’s a solid observation.”
He sighs dramatically and pushes his bowl aside. “Can you help me with number seven? I don’t get why there are letters in math anyway. That feels like a trap.”
I lean over and glance at it. “It’s not a trap. It’s just algebra.”
He groans. “See. That’s exactly what a trap would say.”
I laugh, nudging his knee with mine. “You’ll survive. I promise.”
He eyes me over his cereal spoon. “You always say that.”
“Because it’s always true.”
He goes back to his math, muttering under his breath, and I sit there with him, spoon clinking against the bowl, thinking how moments like this feel normal in the best way. He shouldn’t be worried about our safety. He should be worried about algebra.
The shop door rattles open, and I don’t even have to look up to know it’s Ollie. I feel him the second he steps inside, that shift in the air that always happens when he’s near. I wipe my hands on a rag and turn just in time to see his eyes lock on the bike sitting in the bay.
The temperature in the room drops.
“What’s that?” he asks, already sounding pissed.
I walk toward him, keeping my voice calm. “They dropped it off this afternoon. Said they needed some work done. Just business.”
His jaw tightens as he looks back at the bike, then at me. “Poppy, we live here.”
“I know.”
“I don’t want them coming where we live,” he says, stepping closer now. “With Owen here.”
“I trust them,” I say, softer but firm. “They’re bringing me business. They’re keeping us safe.”
He lets out a sharp breath. “At what price?”
I open my mouth, but he keeps going, voice low and intense. “The guy goes by the name Grave. He literally isn’t afraid to put people in the grave, Poppy. And that’s who you chose to bring around here and do business with?”
My chest tightens. I hate that I hear fear under the anger. “I didn’t choose him,” I say. “I chose not to let Sully scare us anymore.”
We’re both quiet for a second, the bike looming between us like a third person in the argument.
Then Owen appears at the top of the stairs, cereal bowl in hand, eyebrows knit together. “Are you guys fighting?”
Ollie and I both freeze.
“No,” I say at the same time Ollie clips, “We’re talking.”
Owen squints. “You sound like you’re fighting.”
Ollie rubs a hand over his face and exhales. “We’re not fighting, buddy. We’re just… being loud adults.”
Owen nods slowly. “Okay. If you are fighting, can you not break up? I like our family.”
I bite back a laugh. Ollie snorts despite himself.
“We’re not breaking up,” he says. “Families have disagreements.”
Owen looks between us, then back at Ollie. “Also, we need to leave soon for my basketball game.”
“Yep, let’s get ready,” Ollie says, finally smiling as he pulls him into a side hug. “You’re going to do great. I’ve seen how much you’ve been practicing.”
The tension eases just enough for me to breathe again. Ollie looks back at me, concern still there, but softer now.
“We’ll talk about this later,” he says quietly. “Together.”
I nod.
Owen calls back to us. “Can we order pizza later?”
Ollie chuckles. “Yeah, kid. We can order pizza.”
I sigh with relief. Because he’s right. Families have disagreements. I don’t want Ollie or Owen to think I’m like Sully bringing bikers around. I’m not here to BBQ with them and sing Kumbaya. I like Sully gone, and I wouldn’t mind a little business. I do like working on bikes.