Polly #2
I felt chills run up and down my arms, goosebumps prickling my skin.
There was something about the tone in Abraham’s voice . . . I think it was then that I realized how dangerous he truly was, how I hadn’t even seen a fraction of his power.
My heart was in my throat, corn silk all over the front of my jeans.
Two split seconds of silence passed as Perry sputtered with rage.
“I’m just telling it like it is!”
Abraham blew one last ring of smoke right in Perry’s face, then put out his cigarette squarely in the middle of my ex’s forehead.
Perry squawked in pain and stumbled backwards.
“What the fuck, dude?”
Perry attempted to put his fists up like a boxer, but Abraham brushed past his wobbly tiny biceps, and the Prez’ blow landed squarely on my ex’s nose with a crack.
Holy shit. I was already on my feet, my heartbeat pounding in my ears, but Abraham had one hand around Perry’s throat and was dragging him across the gravel drive and hoisting him up in the air.
Bridget shrieked as Perry’s feet dangled ridiculously, his loafers bicycling in panic.
He looked like a child, or like a tiny mouse that a mountain lion had decided to play with.
“You come on this property, you will respect my old lady. I take it as you begging to get the shit beaten out of you if you insult her. Got that?”
When Perry didn’t answer right away, Abraham shook him sharply.
“Now where’s her goddamn apology?”
“All right, all right, sorry, Polly, sorry.”
Perry’s glasses were cracked, ash dribbling down the wreckage of his broken nose.
Abraham dropped him on the ground.
“Now get the hell out of here.”
I’m just the freeuse girl, I tried to remind myself. I should not have enjoyed that so much.
Bridget was whimpering as she helped a moaning Perry back to their car.
“Thanks for visiting,” Fizz hollered, finally turning up his hearing aids. “Come again anytime.”
As they spun out of the driveway, the MC Prez turned to my son.
“I’m sorry you had to see that,” Abraham gritted out, and there was a muscle throbbing in his jaw. “I can’t let anyone disrespect your mom, though.”
“It’s OK,” Laurie said, and he looked somewhat awestruck.
I wanted to simultaneously laugh and cry.
“I’m getting another cigarette,” Abraham said.
He didn’t look at me as he strode inside.
“I hope you aren’t upset,” I said to Laurie, stumbling over my words. “Abraham, he’s—he’s not usually like that. I promise.”
“Mom,” Laurie said gently. “It’s OK. It’s about time someone stood up for you. It didn’t permanently hurt anything but Dad’s pride. Maybe next time he won’t be so rude. And damn, it was funny to see the look on Bridget’s face when Abraham mogged him.”
“When he did what—“ I asked, but Laurie was already going, waving goodbye with his crooked little smile.
“I’ll meet up with them down the street. Pretty sure Dad’s going to be way too scared to give you any shit in the future.”
He grinned at me and jogged away, while I was left out of breath and gasping. And then I heard the flick of a lighter.
Abraham walked over and stood in front of me with his arms crossed.
Uh-oh.
“What the hell is wrong with your ex-husband?” he asked sternly.
“How about a blowjob?” I countered.
It was truly too embarrassing to talk about my marriage with Perry.
But Abraham was looking particularly grim. “Pollyanna Jean. Don’t try to distract me right now. Tell me why this man thinks he can get away with disrespecting you.”
“I’m a club bunny. I need to get back to my job,” I parried.
“Polly. I don’t care what I said originally. You live here with Legends MC. If you didn’t fuck me at all, I would still want you here gardening.”
I felt an unfamiliar flush of warmth through me.
What was that supposed to mean? That he actually wanted me beyond just my club girl duties?
He had agreed to treat me with respect when I first moved in and he was living up to every damn moment of that.
After that bombshell, talking about my ex truly did feel less awkward.
“We got divorced last year. He’s kind of a douchey asshole, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“And who is that fuckin brainless idiot he had with him?”
“His new wife,” I said, secretly liking that Abraham seemed to regard her with revulsion.
I had always assumed Bridget was just more beautiful than me.
“What happened with the divorce? Where does he live now?”
“In—in our old house.”
“Did he buy you out of it?”
“. . . no,” I whispered, feeling ashamed of myself and miserable.
I should have been stronger. I should have fought harder. But at the time I didn’t even know I could. And I had just wanted to be done with him.
If Abraham said any of those things, I was going to cry.
But instead he just grunted noncommittally. Didn’t judge the shitty deal I had negotiated in my divorce.
“Well? Why aren’t you heading inside? Where’s my damn blowjob?”
I could have leaped into his arms and kissed him, but instead I turned and walked inside, hearing his heavy tread behind me, that warm glow of knowing he was right behind me, and protecting me.
It was soothing to sink to my knees (on a pillow, of course) and suck his dick. I could feel my damn cortisol levels sinking with each lick, looking up through my lashes as I took his thick, salty-sweet length into my mouth.
Right where I wanted to be.