Black and White (Storm's Soldiers MC Book 1) (5 page)

After deciding against reporting an Ebola exposure, I dressed and ran around stuffing every loose sheet and pillow cover into the washing machine. Nothing was obviously bad, but every bit was suffuse with the smell of us.

Us. Me and him. The memory still made me feel warm and fuzzy.

The machine started to churn and rattle, and I finally allowed myself to think about that boy. God, how many times had I come last night? It just felt like a wild mess of squealing and grunting and moaning, like we were pigs rolling around in mud. That was no pig’s body up against me though. I could still sight where the lean cuts of muscle had stamped into my body as he took me deeper and deeper.

Memories ran through my mind like silk. I remembered being slammed over and over against the wall, things rattling all around us. The implications of that hit me though and panic overtook my pleasure. I ran back into Tara’s room and sure enough, the bookshelves by the bed looked like a riot, her precious little snow globes all facing every which way and even some of her thick text books shaken out of line.

Even with the sure knowledge my life would end when she returned, I had a smile on as I began putting things back as best as I could. I was going to be screwed for being screwed. Past begetting future. It only seemed fair.

Whoever that white boy was, he’d at least been courteous enough to give me what we wanted and leave. That was a sure sight better than the last man I’d been with.

Rico – the man who had beaten me up and sent me into a spiral which derailed my life. He’d been a model citizen elsewhere. How could I not have been taken back by the interest of a tall, dashing pre-med student, who supported his family and even had time to volunteer teaching kids after school? All that stress had to come out somewhere, though. That somewhere turned out to be me.

I wish he could have seen just who I’d picked to ravage me and make me forget all about him.

No
, I thought suddenly.
I wish he were in the room last night.

I would have loved to see what that dynamo of muscle would do to a coward like Rico. He would have stood for me. A man who wore his strength out in the open like that wouldn’t cotton to a coward who saved his rage for people who couldn’t fight back.

Once the sheets were in the dryer, I sloughed off the rest of the night under the shower up by my own room. The heat felt glorious on my worn muscles. I rubbed my sore legs with more and more pleasure, thinking of stronger forces that had recently been at work nearby. That boy had rattled my brain loose. I felt free.

I threw on a foolishly flamboyant red dress and practically bounced back down the stairs. The morning light trickled in through the blinds and the den glowed warm, but that wasn’t nearly enough. I danced over and tugged the shades up to ceiling so that the pure Georgia sun could start cooking me to perfection.

I checked my phone and felt punctured a little. Darryl had left me a text. Ugh, I was just lucky he hadn’t bust down the doors last night. No telling what he would have done upon seeing bare white flesh – tattooed, nonetheless - weighing down his little sister.

Well, it hadn’t happened – no need to dwell on it. I texted Marissa to see if she wanted to get lunch and waited.

A giddy energy bubbled through me, something I hadn’t felt in years. It was the crisp morning light waking me after a night well spent. It was six months of self-imposed romantic isolation lifted. It was me finally casting aside the last pieces of the cocoon I’d wrapped around myself after the horrible end to that last relationship.

I didn’t want to unleash this uncaged energy on the streets, but I knew just what could take it. I took my phone and went into dining room. The place had nothing to do with food – the only seating available was the bench for the dark teak Grand piano that sat in the center. Our landlady had left it when she moved out to a smaller place and opened the house for rent. She misted up looking at it whenever she stopped by. I’d gotten a similar feeling when I first saw it.

I’d been playing since I was young. One Christmas, long ago – back when Dad was still alive – he’d showed up with a long cardboard package that said Casio. I doubt he’d gotten ahold of it through legal means, but I was 5 then, and all I knew was that I had a keyboard. He’d managed to get a few sheet books too. We never had money for a single class, but it didn’t stop me from practicing almost every day.

It may have been the one single thing that kept me sane as that dim flicker of family life died out – first with his death, then Mom’s OD. Darryl had barely been able to keep us under a roof and get warm food in our stomachs, but he never once tried to get me to sell the keyboard. It wasn’t till I got my scholarship and started undergrad that I finally laid off practice – even though I had access to real pianos at school.

Later, after I left Rico and was looking for a new life alone in a new place, finding this had sealed the deal. The grand piano healed me just as my old keyboard had. Bit by bit, I’d learn to play it the way I never had when I was a kid.

I set the phone on the rack by the sheets of music and flipped open to a random page. The notes jumped out in my face and my hands took off along the keys. The house rumbled under the weight of my opening chords. My left hand ran off to patter an octave higher, and I missed a couple notes. This piece was way more advance than anything I’d tried but it suited me now. Perfection could always come later.

I blasted through two songs before I realized that there was vibration coming out of the phone. I finished up and saw Teresa had texted back. I pulled the fall down over the keys and headed out to meet her at the diner she’d mentioned.

She was already sitting at the back, smiling wickedly at something on her phone. I only had on some blush and lipstick, but she looked all glammed up for a night of partying.

“Is that from last night or for this one?” I asked.

She tapped out another message before noticing me. “It’s called looking good, Meagan. You gotta look good if you expect opportunity to find you.”

I shook my head, laughing. “I don’t know what you’re hoping finds you, but you look just fine as you are.”

She rolled her eyes audibly. “I’m not talking about looking fine. I’m talking about lookin’
fine
. Even Beyoncé needs a little work to get there.”

“Ok, whatever.” The sizzle of bacon and eggs had me salivating too much to talk anyway.

“Anyway,” Teresa said. “I needed to reset my look after what that Cuban boy did to me last night.”

“Cuban boy?”

The waiter popped up right then, and I treated myself to a full brunch platter. Teresa gleefully went on mapping out her night in between asking for a stack of pancakes. First it was a guide to the bars she and Kiara had visited, and then it became a very detailed depiction of the parts of her body that the guy she’d picked up had visited. I’d been itching to pour out my night to her, but she had me blushing and crouching behind the salt shakers with the force of her story.

“That sounds rough,” I said, when she finally trailed off into a dreamy look.

“Oh yeah. It was rough…”Her eyes sharpened. “Speaking of – what happened with that rough white boy you took home?”

I took a deep breath, but her eyes lit up just at that, and she clamped her hands together. “You fucked him? You finally got fucked?”

“Oh sweet Jesus, calm down.” I tried to slink down under the booth.

“What? This is fantastic. I’m so happy for you.”

“Thanks,” I mumbled. There was naked glee on her ruby lips, and, I realized, a complete lack of interest in the nearby tables. I shoved back up. She was right. It was great news. What did I have to be ashamed about? I’d only rejoined the life that every other adult here lived.

“I never been with a white boy that tough looking,” she said, amazed. “You dived straight back into the deep end.”

“He was definitely something.”

She clicked her mouth in disapproval. “Something? No, no, no, I want the details. Thrust by thrust.”

Doing my best to stay soft, I leaned in and told her how I’d been taken. I couldn’t bring myself to match her precision, but hearing even my vague suggestions at the way those cords of muscle had looked, tightening and pressing and extending into me, lit my core up. I could almost feel him inside me again, that long white length of power, plunging over and over into my aching dark folds.

“Damn,” she said. “That sounds so fucking hot. White into black. Ugh, I wish I were your color just to look down and see that happening.”

“He seemed to like the idea too.” My smiled dimmed. “Actually, yeah, he liked it, but he was weird about it too. He kept mentioning how black I was. It was hot, but it was weird.”

“If it’s hot, it’s hot. What do you want him to say when he’s fucking you anyway? How he’s lost in your eyes? How he’s trembling for your very touch? No, let that boy talk as rough as he fucking wants.”

We laughed together. I felt a new closeness to Teresa. I’d heard her stories for months now. They’d been great distractions from my own sad state, but I’d be lying if I said they didn’t make me feel jealous. Now our matching nights of lust felt like a bond.

Our food showed and we went over our beaus of the evening. We snorted up juice and syrup making up stories to fill in the vast gaps we didn’t know. One night stands were nice that way, I realized. You didn’t have all that pressure of a relationship weighing down on every word.

We took the bus and MARTA to downtown for some shopping in the afternoon. I hadn’t planned on buying anything at the boutiques but Teresa dragged us into a lingerie store and I ended up with a sunflower yellow teddie.

I almost couldn’t drag myself out of the changing room – it looked so damn good against the warm hues of my dark caramel. Heck, I might even need it too. I tried to imagine how that biker from last night would have reacted seeing me like this, and smiled at the image of that sharp jaw falling open at the sight of me. Heck, part of me wanted to call him and invite him back to take a look but that was just relationship instinct. Lucky for me, I didn’t have a single digit of his number.

We took our bags to the bar and shuffled through the night. No one caught my eye, though I could see now that a few guys were trying. Maybe they always had, but it had taken the naked interest of that crystal blue gaze to make me believe I could truly be desired. My body felt loose though and I didn’t think any of the tweedy college kids here would do more than disappoint me compared to what I’d experienced.

I returned home blissfully alone, ready for a night of Netflix and cheap wine. My lungs seized up a bit at the sight of the light on. Was Tara standing in front of her bed, just boiling over and waiting to unload? I peeled open the door and tried to creep in.

A large shadow fell out from the kitchen. Way too large.

“Tara?” I squeaked.

“She ain’t here,” a male voice boomed back. “It’s my loss, trust me on that.”

Darryl stepped out into the hallway, massive under his dark black undershirt and jeans. I whooshed out relief.

“Christ, you nearly scared me to death.”

“Do black men frighten you now?” He looked thoughtful and I had a moment of panic that he already knew somehow. He’d been an MP back in the army for a while – he could sniff out things quickly. But then he grinned and came up to give me a wrenching hug.

“There’s less of you every time we meet.” His voice rumbled through his heart and into me, as comfortable as a warm sweater.

“I guess you’ll have to find a different weight to lift.”

“We got plenty back at the gym, don’t worry.” He set me down.

“Where’d you park your motorcycle?”

“Of on the main street. I didn’t want to scare all your white neighbors.”

“You just wanted to sneak up on me.”

He shrugged. “That too.”

“So what’s going on?” I asked. “No business tonight?”

“Nothing pressing. I just thought I’d come spend the night with my baby sister. I tried to reach you last night, but I guess you were…occupied.”

His eyes dug into me, but I just nodded. “Just a crazy night after work at the bars.”

“Uh-huh,” he said, searching the room but finding no counterpoints. “Well, I’m glad I didn’t stop by then.”

“You’re here now,” I said. “We can hang out.”

“Cool. You got beer? I can go out and get a 6-pack.”

“Tara has some in the cupboard I think,” I said. “I’ll get some ice and we should be good.

He rubbed his hands together. “Alright,” he said. “We can throw on a little TBS, get our drink on and just chill. It’s been a tough week. A little family’s just the thing you need, sometimes.”

Darryl had been my rock almost as far back as I could remember. He was truly the only family I really needed.

But there were other things that I could
want.

“Yeah,” I said, doing my best to set my memories aside. “Sometimes.”

CHAPTER SIX

Vaughn

The sunlight beat down on the patio, but the table we played poker at shielded us under a ratty green umbrella. I stared in disbelief at the hand I’d just been dealt.

Asher and Thurge had been getting lucky flops since we’d started playing after lunch. Now, lady luck had seen fit to smile on me, but it was a cloying, teasing smile.