She’s quiet for a moment, head tilted down until I lift her chin with my finger. Still bent at the waist, I feel the tension in my neck and back almost as much as I feel it in my balls. Already aching for release inside her. Being this close after the ride home, it feels like a crime to just walk away. Leaving so many things unsaid.
So many things undone.
Like me taking her until she calls my name, creaming all over my fat, hot dick.
I’m staggered at the thoughts I’m having.
The words that come to mind, but that’s what she does to me. Intense doesn’t even begin to describe it, and passion is nowhere near strong enough a term.
“Happy birthday, Slade,” she whispers, and I feel the swift press of her lips on my cheek.
A peck that has her turn redder than I thought possible, and hurriedly making an excuse to leave.
And then she’s gone.
Inside and with the door locked in less time than it takes for me to even try to figure out what just happened.
Technically it was a kiss.
But not the kind of kiss I was thinking about.
I stand outside her house, next to my bike, my fingers resting where she kissed me.
Time passes, but it could be minutes. It could be hours.
By the time I regain my composure all I know is that it’s just as well.
Because when I kiss Abby for real. When I stake my claim on her, I won’t be able to stop.
And there will be no more guessing about who feels what, only who gets what first. I know it’ll be her getting what I know she needs as well as wants from me.
Every inch, inside and out.
But I can’t just get on my bike and ride away either.
That doesn’t make any sense to me, to go home and most likely find the guys still there, helping themselves to my refrigerator by now most likely.
Even though I did tell them the party was over. They have a poor track record for doing as they’re told, I guess we all do.
It’s what makes us who we are as a club and as riders in the first place.
I start my bike and get a couple of blocks before turning back, idling into a neat park that hides me from view with some shrubs and a tree, but affords me a perfect view of Abby’s house.
If I have to wait to see her again, I’ll do it from here.
I’ve spent more hours hunched over bodies, my hands numb from fatigue as I do my work.
A couple of hours outdoors, with my bike breaking down as my excuse in case anyone asks what the fuck I’m doing here is no great effort.
Not compared to the thought of leaving without her, without Abby.
My Abby.
There’s nothing left to do but watch and wait.
And wait.
And wait some more.
A car pulls up in front of Abby's place, and three kids pile out.
Even from this distance, they look old enough to be sitters themselves, but things were different in my time.
A couple of people happen by, asking if I need help. But I tell them I have a tow truck on the way, and I’m left pretty much alone.
For a six-foot-eight biker parked in the suburbs late in the afternoon, I’m blending right in.
The late afternoon turns to evening and before long it's dark out.
Lights come on in Abby’s place, and I figure this could be an all-nighter that I haven’t thought through at all. But I know even If I tried to go home and eat then sleep, I wouldn’t be able to.
The familiar rumble of the Camaro I rebuilt pricks my ears, and I move closer to the house once I see Tasha pull up, alone.
As a parent, my heart is often in my throat, when I think about her and what she might be doing, or what might have already happened.
But I know when my daughter’s hurt. When she’s upset. And she’s hurting right now, not even closing her car door properly before rushing for Abby’s front door.
I move closer, then figure I’ve come this far I may as well go full peeping tom. I sprint into Abby’s yard, crouching behind a large bush.
“Men are fucking pigs, Abs… Pigs!” Tasha bawls, as Abby consoles her, sounding like she was expecting her friend.
“…They’ll be in bed soon.” That is all I catch from Abby before she closes the door.
I’m suddenly torn.
My daughter is in there, crying and hurting. And I don’t need a degree in rocket science to figure out what or who has upset her either.
It’ll be that fuck stick, Brad.
But on the other hand, I need to see Abby. Just these few hours without her and I can already feel an ache in my chest.
I don’t feel hungry like I normally do at this time, and apart from it being nighttime, the world just seems so dark again without seeing her in it.