Chapter 4 #2
And because I was a fucking bastard, my brain immediately went somewhere dirty with that answer. Thankfully, she kept talking and explained what she meant, but that did not keep my cock from twitching in my pants.
“I’m a beekeeper. Normally, I just distribute honey to my neighbors and sell at farmer’s markets, but I recently got my commercial license.
And I made a website,” she added, her eyes going wide.
“Just before you got here, I got my first bulk order. I thought it was a mistake. Thinking he meant to order five and not fifty, but it was real!” Her hips started to swivel again, rocking back and forth in quick movements.
“I got my first bulk order!” she repeated, throwing her arms up in the air again.
I had to lock my knees to keep myself from going to her, from taking her in my arms and spinning her around as she clung to me. Bringing me into her world and excitement.
“Congratulations.” The word seemed so bland, not historic enough, but I still meant it. Not only was she building something new with this store but she was expanding her business. “I didn’t realize you were a beekeeper, too.”
She nodded, practically bouncing on her toes.
“I’ve been doing it since I was a teen. Local farms call on me to bring them my bees to help pollinate their crops, and people call me when they need a hive moved.
Bees are misunderstood creatures, and so many people don’t realize how vital they are to our ecosystem. ”
I had a feeling they weren’t the only misunderstood creature in town. “Oh, I know. I actually have a tattoo of a honeycomb.”
Calliope tilted her head and her cheeks flamed. Her eyes looked anywhere other than at me as she asked, “You, uh, you do?”
Her attempt at nonchalance failed, and I wondered if she already knew about my tattoo. It was one of many on my body, but it had always been one of my favorites. Did she psychically know about my tattoo, or perhaps, had she seen it in person? Had she seen my videos?
Not wanting to lose… whatever this was, I slowly started to take off my cut.
I’d done a number of stripteases on my channel.
This wasn’t meant to be a tease though. I kept my cut hanging off my left shoulder and lifted my shirt off my right side.
I brought it over my head, keeping my left sleeve on.
I wasn’t ashamed of my body in the slightest, but I also didn’t want to risk embarrassing her by removing it fully. This seemed slightly more modest.
Down my right side were the Chinese symbols for hope, strength, love, bravery, and perseverance in black ink.
The way my shirt was lifted revealed boldly lettered SACRIFICE above my belly button.
Part of my lion tattoo showed but was mostly still covered.
On my upper chest were a skull, eagle, and stars of my Marine Raider tattoo.
Going from my right shoulder down to my elbow were the hexagonal cells with black ink and red background.
Calliope took a step forward, her eyes fixated on my right bicep. I added a little flex for her benefit. Hesitantly, she reached up, placing her small hand on my skin. Our eyes met, and fuck me, because for a moment I forgot how to breathe.
Fucking moron. That was exactly what I was. This woman couldn’t be plain if she tried.
“Why did you get it?”
It took me far too long to remember what the fuck we were talking about. Right, my tattoo. Jesus Christ, I could drown in her eyes. I wanted to. Wanted to see them light up with excitement, with arousal. Wanted to see her hair splayed out across my pillow as I brought her to the highest of heights.
I didn’t talk about my past often, but there was no way to answer her question without broaching that subject.
“My dad was a piece of work. Drunk, violent, and mean. The triad of great parenting,” I scoffed.
“My mom abandoned us when I was five-ish. I had my suspicions that he’d killed her and hid her body, but then she tracked me down asking for money some years ago.
Turned out, she wasn’t winning any parenting awards either.
“Anyway, I was thirteen when I ran away. Hit the streets. Because as dangerous as they were, they were still safer than staying at home. I was lucky, though. I didn’t end up turning tricks or becoming one of the many casualties of the streets.
I met up with a group of kids, and we banded together to create our own little community.
We watched out for each other, kept everyone fed, in school, and safe.
” Her thumb started to make circles on my bicep, over the thick vein that bulged there.
I swore it had a direct route to my dick.
I fought to keep my voice even. “Those kids became my family, my hive. We’re all grown now and we all made something of ourselves.
Once a year, we meet back up, and we keep in contact almost daily. ”
Her eyes were so wide, so trusting. Did she have any idea just how expressive they were? “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
Her voice was breathless as she spoke, but I found her words peculiar. She didn’t know? What should she have known that she felt the need to apologize now for not knowing? She was so genuine, and I knew in that moment she truly did hurt for me, for my past.
I needed to take that pain away.
“I got that tattoo to remember my family, my community.” I hated breaking contact with her hand, but I needed to show her the rest. Turning, I revealed my back to her.
Along my lower back was a replica of my red and black Harley-Davidson Breakout on a water colored road.
Above it was a list of names, starting at my left shoulder blade.
The list formed three columns, though only the first was completed.
The second and third still had room to fill.
I felt her fingers trace down my spine. “There’s so many,” she commented.
“Family used to mean nothing to me,” I explained.
“Now it means everything. Every one of those names is someone important to me, someone I would die for. Starting with my friends growing up, to my fellow Raiders I served with, and now my club brothers and their families. Each time one of them gets married or decides to add to the population, I have Angel add their name.”
I felt her fingers move, going first to the left, then once in the middle, and once on the right. I didn’t need her to voice the question to know what she was asking.
“Those I’ve lost,” I said softly. “The black ribbons by their names are the ones I’ve lost.” Thank God I hadn’t gotten around to having Angel add one by Scar’s name before we found out he actually wasn’t dead. That would have been awkward.
“I’m sorry.” I felt her breath on my skin, and fuck if my entire body didn’t stiffen at the contact.
Begrudgingly, I stepped away. I hastily put my shirt and cut back on before I did something stupid. Like tackle her down to the floor and fuck her against the unfinished shelves.
Calliope’s eyes went comically wide and she emitted a rough gasp. Her face flushed, brighter than I’d ever seen it, as her eyes landed on the two unbuilt units still on the floor next to us. When I saw her nipples pucker under her loose shirt, I realized what emotion she was displaying: arousal.
Holy fucking shit. If I didn’t know any better… But no, she couldn’t have… That wasn’t possible. Right?
I hooked my thumbs into the front pockets of my jeans. I was going for a casual pose, when in reality, I was just trying to give my dick some wiggle room without openly adjusting myself. “Did you just read my mind?”
She swallowed hard. “No.”
I raised a skeptical eyebrow.
She dropped her face into her hands. “Yes!” Her admission was muffled by her palms. “I didn’t mean to, but you were practically shouting at me.”
I wasn’t embarrassed. If anything, I was relieved. “So is this like an Edward thing where you can read my thoughts all the time or…?”
Calliope’s head popped up. “Did you just reference Twilight?”
I shrugged. “Wasn’t sure you’d know who Charles Xavier was and hedged my bets that you’d know who Edward Cullen was.”
“I do. I mean, I know who both are.” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Why do you know who Edward Cullen is?”
“Would you believe me if I told you I was a fan?” I made a heart shape with my hands. “Team Edward all the way.”
Calliope snorted. It was fucking adorable. “Definitely not.”
I dropped my hands. “I know someone who was an extra in the movies,” I said easily. “I was forced to sit through all of them. Now answer my question.”
She scrunched her nose sheepishly. “No, it’s not like reading your every thought. I read intentions, not words.”
“And you picked up on my intention just now?”
“Yes.” She licked her lips, starting to fold in on herself again.
“Don’t do that,” I snapped, harsher than I intended. When she jumped, clearly confused, I elaborated, “Don’t hide like that. I don’t care if you hide from the rest of the world, though I wish you wouldn’t, but don’t hide from me.”
“From…” Her eyes glanced around, like she was searching for someone else in the room before they landed back on me. “From you?”
I nodded, closing the distance between us. She, though, took a large step back. I froze, because I certainly didn’t want to push myself on her.
Something occurred to me then that I hadn’t considered before. “Do you have a boyfriend?”
A giggle-snort escaped her. She quickly covered her mouth, muffling the noise. It took her a second to compose herself. She shook her head as she lowered her hand. “No. No, I’m as single as a dollar bill.”
I tipped my head, studying her. “Why?”
“Why?” Calliope’s eyebrows flew up to nearly meet her hairline. Like she couldn’t understand why I would even ask such a question—or care.
I held my ground. “Yes, why are you as single as a dollar bill?”