Chapter 38 – Christopher #3
“Ima tell Megan,” Christopher said. “Not to shame you, but for Kendall. I left a message for her earlier, but she hasn’t called back. Howfuckinever, if I talk to her, it might make shit worse and send her into a tailspin. Megan’ll listen to whatever she need to talk about.”
“Okay, Prez. You think Johnnie finally straightening up?”
“Fuck no. About the only fuckin’ thing that would work is a bullet to the head that erase all his fuckin’ memories and reset his goddamn brain.”
Mort snickered. “I can do that job.”
“Not with those big ass bullets. He won’t have a fuckin’ brain left.”
“I suppose you right,” Mort said, sighing, still not touching his vodka. “I think I’m going to get going. I need to call Harley. She asked if I wanted her to come back home.”
“Get your head on straight. She fine at Zoann’s for another couple days. Or if you don’t want her there, ask Roxanne to take her.”
“I’ll see, Outlaw. How Meggie?” Mort asked, signaling he needed to figure shit out without any more interference.
Christopher leaned back in his chair. “Megan not really happy. I know my wife. The shit she doin’ now is just for me. She ain’t really feelin’ the club no more.”
“Talk to your woman, Prez. Listen to her instead of reacting to what you think she feeling right now. Meggie always adapt. Maybe it don’t have nothing to do with the club.
Maybe it’s something else. Rebel, for instance.
Or her new bedroom. Or leaving Axel on his birthday.
Or Jo coming home. The woman got a lot on her plate. ”
“I don’t want her to feel guilty about what the fuck I do.”
“The new and improved Meggie won’t give a fuck and think she has to say what you want to hear.”
“Sometimes, it still hard for me to accept her scorched earth policy. Willing to have motherfuckers killed. Willing to leave. Willing to divorce me. She say she gotta set boundaries. To protect herself.”
“She probably do, but that woman worship you. She has since the day she met you and that never changed. She your ride-or-die, forever and always. What you and Meggie have so fucking special. Rare. Remember that, Prez, and just continue to be her rock.”
Walking around the old bedroom suite, a towel wrapped around his waist, Christopher thought about his conversation with Mortician and felt a little guilty about springing the surprise move on her.
Their new room was okay, but it was small.
The bed took up half the space. Most of her clothes were across the hallway in an entirely different room and unconnected to the bathroom.
That was partially her fault because the nursery was supposed to be where the closet was, then Megan decided she wanted Jo and Gunner closer rather than across the hall.
He knew she was in their new bedroom, waiting for him. She’d been through a lot these past few days and she was turning to him instead of running to LA. Christopher considered that progress.
He glanced around one last time, pleased with himself.
He’d made a love pallet on the floor, stacking comforters, pillows, and blankets, so she’d be comfortable.
He’d gone to her rose garden and got as many roses as possible.
Hopefully, he hadn’t fucked up the blooming process since it was early in the growing season.
But he hadn’t thought about rose petals until he was in the fucking shower.
Her nightlamp was already downstairs, so the candles around the room had to suffice.
Before coming to the third floor, he went to their stockroom and grabbed a bottle of champagne and an ice bucket.
Megan only drank when they were on their own or on special occasions such as their birthdays and wedding anniversaries.
Everything was in place. He just needed her.
Baby, come to our bedroom on the third floor.
Five minutes later, she opened the door and halted. Her short robe revealed her toned legs, her skin golden in the candlelight. He wondered what she wore underneath.
“Christopher,” she whispered.
Discarding his cigarette in a nearby ashtray, he stood from the sofa and went to her. “You like it, baby?”
She stepped into his arms and laid her head against his chest. “I love it. You’re so romantic.”
If she said so. He only did what she’d taught him.
“I shoulda asked if you was ready to leave this room, Megan. When I found you in the shower yesterday mornin’ and you was so upset…”
“It’s okay, Christopher. I agreed to the move. I just needed familiarity, so I came in here.”
“We can always stay here until the fourth floor is finished. We move upstairs and let them gut the third floor. I just wanted it done quickly.” He was paying a pretty penny for a huge construction crew. “It’s up to you, baby.”
“I would love to say ‘yes’, but Riley has spent hours checking everyone’s backgrounds. I want the job done and our lives back to normal as soon as possible.”
“Sleep on it, baby. Once they start knockin’ shit down, we can’t undo it. We gonna have to fuckin’ wait ‘til they finish.”
Megan nodded. Still hugging him. Still needing him and loving him.
He had so fucking much to tell her, but right now he wanted inside her.
Dropping the towel from around his waist and taking her hand, he led her to their love pallet and dropped onto it.
He laid back and pulled her on top of him, his cock already ready to fuck her.
His hands roamed down her back to the hem of her short robe.
The feel of silk shorts disappointed him.
Instead of voicing it, he caressed her, kissing her as he did so, wishing she hadn’t braided her hair yet.
She did that a lot lately and it worried him that she was tired of its length.
Settling her legs on each side of him, she got to her feet, removed the robe, and then shimmied out of her little shorts, revealing her lush, neat pussy bush that he loved to sniff and lick as much as he enjoyed sucking her clit.
“Leave your top on, Megan.”
Nodding, she met his gaze. He was so fucking glad she didn’t like the dark.
He wouldn’t have lit as many candles. Her smile was slow and sexy as she began unbraiding her hair, then combed her fingers through the heavy mass.
Her nipples beaded against the silk top.
He sat up, pulled her closer, and buried his nose against her mound.
Her pubic hair tickled his nostrils and they flared, inhaling her scent. Cherry blossom and woman.
She loved him to lick her pussy. Right now, though…
“It’s okay, Christopher,” she said softly, kneeling in front of him and caressing his jaw before kissing him. “I’m fine. Our children are fine.”
Mort and Val urged him to talk to Megan. He couldn’t bring himself to do it. She’d sacrificed enough for him. With his sweet angel re-emerging—kinda—she might overlook her disillusionment on his behalf.