Chapter 13
CHAPTER
THIRTEEN
SHAWN
I’m not sure what alternate universe I’m living in, but I like it. This is one where I have a boyfriend, but can I call him that? Because he’s almost forty years old, and he’s a man’s man… nothing about him is a boy.
But he bought me a diner burger and fries along with an iced coffee after not only an amazing night together but an equally amazing quickie in my bakery. Something that I’m sure I wasn’t supposed to do, but it felt amazing while doing it.
I want to ask him what all of this means.
He mentioned something about protection, and I really liked the way he made that sound, but was that just an in-the-heat-of-the-moment thing, or was it real?
But I don’t because I don’t want him to think that I’m immature and needy, so I tamp down all my questions.
“I got some work to do down at the clubhouse this afternoon and evening. Why don’t you pack a bag? Stay with me.”
His suggestion catches me off guard, and I blink as I stare at him, unsure of what to say or do. Meanwhile, inside, I’m screaming. I’ve never done this before. Never had a real boyfriend as an adult. Never had much of one as a teenager, either.
This feels fast. But then again, I didn’t even go on a real date, and I slept with him…
more than once, even after I said that I wouldn’t, so I guess that is fast. I wonder offhandedly if that makes me a slut.
I feel like it probably does, but at the same time, it’s not like I’ve done this with anyone else before, so maybe not.
Then I decide that I don’t even care. So what if doing what I did, if being with this man, makes me that?
I like the way he makes me feel, not just physically but also on the inside—all over.
“Are you sure?” I ask.
His lips twitch into a smirk, and he clears his throat. “Babe, I wouldn’t have invited you if I didn’t want you there. I don’t just say shit to say it.”
“Are you telling me that I’ll always know where I stand with you?” I ask.
He lets out a laugh, and my own lips curve up into a grin, loving the sound of his deep, gruff laughter as it fills my little girlie bakery. “Yeah, sweetness. You’ll always know where you stand, and right now, you’re standing exactly where I want you.”
Then he slides his hand down my throat and my shoulder and wraps his arm around my back, hauling me so that my chest is smashed against his.
“Now you’re standing exactly where I want you,” he murmurs, touching his mouth to mine. “And when you’re on the back of my bike, you’ll be sitting exactly where I want you. And then, when you’re spread out naked for me in my bed, you’ll be lying exactly where I want you.”
His words make me melt into a whole pile of goo right there on the bakery floor. Sinking my teeth into my bottom lip, I shift my head backward slightly and look up into his eyes, searching them before I smile.
“Then that’s where I’ll be.”
It’s the most daring thing I think I’ve ever said, although I seem to be saying and doing many things that I wouldn’t normally do when it comes to this man. He touches his mouth to mine in a brush of a kiss, then he straightens and takes a step backward.
“You need any help closing down for the night?”
Glancing around, I shake my head. I already cleaned up everything that my mother’s chaos created. “I can be closed down and locked up in about twenty minutes.”
“I have a phone call to make. I’ll meet you right outside the door.”
It’s not a question. It’s a statement. He releases me, then turns and walks out of my bakery, his hand digging in his pocket for his phone. I watch him as he unlocks the door, then slips outside, standing on the sidewalk.
For a moment, I don’t move, listening to his deep voice outside my bakery even though I can’t make any of the words out. I don’t know why, but just hearing his voice, even muffled through the closed door, makes my entire body break out in a shiver.
My spine straightens, and I start to get to work closing everything down. I make sure that my ovens are off and that my cakes are placed in boxes. It’s kind of sad I didn’t get many finished today. Not even my snickerdoodles.
Placing all the cupcakes into boxes, I decide to take them down to the clubhouse place.
They seemed to like my baking, and it’s not like these are even going to ever be sold anyway.
When I’m finished, I look around the shop, taking everything in and checking the boxes in my head of my close-down procedure before I move toward the front door.
Opening it, I slip outside and frown at the sight of Elvis pacing. He’s moving up and down the sidewalk in front of a building that is next door. I know it’s empty, as are a lot of the places down here.
They’re trying to reinvent the downtown area, which means I got a steal on my rent, but I’m afraid that the cost is no business. This means the steal on my rent isn’t going to matter in a few weeks when I can’t afford to actually pay it.
He must sense my presence because he doesn’t say another word. Instead, he shoves his phone into his pocket, then turns to look at me. I’m standing in front of him, holding my two bakery boxes full of cupcakes and wearing a smile.
“You ready?”
Nodding, I move toward him a few steps before he closes the distance between us quickly, whisking the boxes from my hands before he walks down the street and toward my apartment. I follow him, still wanting to pinch myself to ensure that this is real. That I’m not asleep or anything.
Once we’re in front of my apartment, he tugs the door open, standing to the side to let me pass.
I can still feel the ache from him between my legs, and in some sick way, I think I want to always feel this way.
I like it. In fact, it makes me feel sexy…
or maybe that’s just the way he makes me feel.
Taking my key out, I unlock the door and push it open. Together, we make our way into the apartment, and I watch as he places the cupcakes on the kitchen counter. “You go ahead and pack your shit.”
Instead of verbally answering him, I nod my head and hurry off to the bedroom to pack my overnight duffel bag with a couple changes of clothes, something to wear to a party since I assume something will be happening tonight down there, and then my toiletries.
KING
Once Shawn has packed her small bag, we load up onto my bike, which is not really made to carry boxes of cupcakes and an overnight bag, and we head straight for the clubhouse. I’ve got a few things to take care of, and I want to make sure she’s safe and sound, maybe even tucked into my bed.
After I park the bike, I help her off and place my hand at the small of her back as we move toward the door. It’s a possessive move, but that’s who the fuck I am, and she’s mine now. I need every cock in that clubhouse to understand that.
There are quite a few bikes parked here, which isn’t unusual, but it’s a bit early for everyone to trickle in. Which means that they probably have all their deliveries done for the day. All except the ones I’m going to do later. Which include some personal deliveries. Very fucking personal ones.
“Cupcake girl, please, God, tell me that there are more treats in those fucking boxes,” a man cries out as soon as we walk into the dark bar.
Fucking Clink. All he’s done is talk about Shawn’s cupcakes since the party. I know it’s him before I even look up. I watch as he stands from his seat and makes his way over to us, his eyes focused on the boxes in my hands.
“There are a few cupcakes. I didn’t want to leave them at the bakery,” Shawn says on a laugh.
Clink doesn’t even ask. He doesn’t say a single fucking word as he reaches for the boxes, takes them from me, then turns and walks back toward a pub table. Before I can even blink, that table is surrounded by men, and they are all reaching into the boxes.
Turning my head, I dip my chin to look down at Shawn, who is staring at the entire encounter, her eyes wide and her lips parted in what I can only describe as awe. “I think they like your baking,” I point out.
Slowly, she turns her head, tipping it back as she looks up at me, her eyes still wide as they connect with mine. Then her lips curve up into a grin. “I think that maybe they do.”
Shaking my head, I turn my body to face her, keeping my hand at the small of her back as I apply more pressure so that her body is pressed against mine. “You had doubts?” I ask.
“If your bakery was failing because you couldn’t get any sales, wouldn’t you have doubts?” she asks.
I see her point, but she should never doubt her cupcakes. Those fuckers are bomb as fuck. I hum, lifting my free hand to cup her cheek. I like touching her this way. I love feeling every inch of her beneath her clothes, but I like touching her like this, too.
“You shouldn’t have a single fucking doubt, sweetness. You’re fucking amazing.”
Without another word, I release her face and turn toward the bar, still keeping my hand on the small of her back. “Let’s get you set up in my room.”
She takes a single step, then stops. Looking over my shoulder at her, I arch a brow and watch her for a moment. Confused as to why she hasn’t moved. She presses her lips together, her gaze flicking to the hallway that leads to the room before coming back to meet mine.
“What?” I ask.
“Your room is disgusting,” she whispers.
“What?” I ask again, trying to hide my laughter.
“Your room was a disaster. I’m afraid of what I could find in there.”
I shake my head, laughing as I continue walking forward, not confirming or denying that I’ve cleaned or haven’t cleaned my room. I haven’t. I’ve never had to be organized when it comes to my space. The clubwhores sometimes clean for us, but I haven’t had one in my room in a while.
Once we make it to the room, I push the door open and gently thrust her forward into the space. She lets out a heavy sigh, then drops her bag to the floor as I close and lock the door behind me.
She spins around, her eyes finding mine, her lips pressed tightly together. “It’s not clean. I’m not sleeping here.”
“Yeah, you are.”
She shakes her head slowly. “I’m not.”
It’s cute that she thinks she can tell me what she will and won’t be doing.
I understand that she doesn’t realize what she’s agreed to by accepting me into her body, by allowing me to mark her, by climbing onto the back of my bike, but she doesn’t have a fucking say about shit, and the sooner she realizes her place, the better it will be for both of us.
“You’re looking at me like you don’t give a shit what I think.”
Humming, I cross my arms over my chest and dip my chin so that I can look directly into her gaze. “I give a shit what you think, but a clean room isn’t important to me. I got a place to fuck you. That’s all I give a shit about.”
“Elvis,” she gasps.
My hands fall from my chest, and I take a step forward, then another.
I wrap my fingers around the front of her throat, covering the marks I made replacing her mother’s.
I tell myself that I’m good with the fact that my marks cover the bitch of a mother’s, but I’m not. I’m still pissed the fuck off about it.
“Just like that, sweetness. When you say my name like that, I don’t give a goddamn about clothes and shit in the room. I just want to be inside of you.”
She sucks in a breath, her eyes widening, and in the next beat, her lids lower and she looks at me through her lashes, her lips parted as she lets out a heavy breath.
“Elvis,” she repeats, breathy and sexy as fuck.
Growling, I lean forward, my hand still on her throat, and slam my lips against hers.
She gasps, opening her mouth, which gives me just enough room to slide my tongue inside of her.
Tasting her, swirling my tongue around her mouth, I swallow her whimper as I squeeze her throat a little harder before I release her there and reach around to grab a handful of her ass.
I break the kiss and shift my lips to her ear, where I let out a sigh. “Sweetness, I’m going to need to be inside of you again soon.”
Her hands tremble as she grips my biceps. Shifting backward slightly, I look into her eyes. “But I got some shit to do. You good here?”
She presses her lips together, her gaze searching mine, then she rolls them to the ceiling before she speaks. “I guess I’ll be cleaning.”
I let out a laugh, my head falling back slightly before I straighten it. “Go down in the bar and drink. Find something to eat. Whatever the fuck you want. Don’t give a shit. Just stay in the building.”
“Why?”
Humming, I slide my tongue along my bottom lip, my gaze flicking to her throat for a beat before I answer her. “Make me feel better. I’ll know where you are.”
“Okay.”
Her voice is barely above a whisper. She knows what I’m referencing, and then she reaches out and wraps her hand around my forearm.
Her eyes find mine, and I wasn’t lying when I said that I wanted to fuck her again.
I do, right goddamn now. My balls are empty as fuck, but I still want inside of her.
Never before have I felt this way. I’m not sure if I like it or hate it, but I’m going to just go with it because it feels too good to try and deny.