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Without acknowledging her, I grab her wrist and drag her down the hall, towards my bedroom. Cat calls and whistles hit my ears until I close them off by the slam of my door. Kimmie knows the routine, she knows what I need, and she knows how to give it. I stalk over to my nightstand and yank open a drawer, pulling out a foil wrapper. I may need to fuck her to get my release, but I’m not going to be dumb about it.

When I turn back around, she’s already naked, on her knees on the floor near the foot of my bed. She holds her hands behind her back, making her tits push out. Her ribs are on full displaying, a tell-tale sign that she’s probably using and not eating. As long as her lack of eating doesn’t affect her gag reflex, I’ll be fine.

With a pull of my belt, and an unbuttoning of my jeans, my cock springs free of the fabric. Her green eyes dilate as she licks her lips and I smirk, knowing she’s going to give me what I want. She doesn’t run from me, and she sure as shit doesn’t hide. Not like Tessa. And because Kimmie is here, willing, I’m going to give it to her. Every single last drop.

“You know the rules, right?” I ask as I step forward, jacking my cock, getting it ready for her to take down her throat.

She licks her lips again, her stare trained on my dick. “Of course, no touching.”

“Not unless I say, right?”

“Right.” She gives me a curt nod.

“Open up then.”

She complies, and I don’t waste a second. Pushing my tip into her mouth, I take another step forward until I feel her nose hitting my pelvis. My stomach muscles tighten as her tongue does her thing, and my head falls back as I push on the back of her head. Sin may think these ladies have nothing but worn out snatches, but fuck, their mouths are always warm, wet, and ready for action.

The constriction of her throat as she swallows my dick down almost has me blowing my load. She knows how I like it. Looking down at her as my cock slides in and out of her mouth makes me smirk. Her eyes brighten because she knows she’s doing good. She hums, the vibrations traveling up my shaft hitting my spine causes my legs to tighten.

“Up you go, baby.” I pull her by the hair, making my dick slip from her wet mouth. “Turn,” I command as I grab the foil packet.

“You know you don’t—”

“Don’t even fucking say it, Kimmie.” I cut her off–not needing to hear the words. I know this is more than sex for her. I’m not fucking stupid. It’s my job in the MC to read people, I’ve always held that talent, and if she thinks I don’t have her number, she’s mistaken. She looks at me just like Kara looks at Sin, and nothing good can come from that shit.

With my dick fully sheathed, I press my hand to her back, signaling for her to bend over and show me her ass. She complies and gives me a little shake, enticing me, and I can’t help but laugh. Grabbing my dick, I run the head over her wet slit before pushing into her. Her moans turn into a yelp as I slam into her body. I’m done being gentle. This isn’t about lovemaking, this is about fucking. I grip her hair, I twist it around my fist and go to town. Pounding, thrusting, building up my orgasm so I can find my release. This is sex. Pure and simple.

And it’s high time she fucking knows.

Tessa

Two weeks since Hawk left.

He hasn’t been back.

Maybe he won’t ever come back, and I’m trying to make peace with that. He told me to contact him if his mom turned coherent and she is, five days now she’s been up, the nurses wheeling her into the common room with the other patients and yet, I haven’t made an attempt to reach out. I’m not sure I can do it. If he’s here, then he’s going to want answers. He’s the doorway to my past, and that’s something I want to keep closed.

Martha’s words from this morning resonate with me. She tells me that I’m strong-willed. I’m a fighter, I’m someone who comes out on top, but I’m not sure she’s right. I’m tired. I’m so tired from fighting to keep my life happy, to keep my boy safe, but there’s nothing I can do to change any of it. I have to keep going. There’s no way around it. For me, for Sam, I have to continue to find my strength.

I peek my head into Rose’s room. She sits in her wheelchair with her back towards the door, facing the window. Her brown hair, with strands of gray, is placed in a loose bun, fastened with bobby pins. She’s wearing a pink terry cloth robe that hung in her closet while she slept. Now that she’s up, she’s no longer on the catheter or I.V.’s.

“Mrs. Calhoon,” I call her quietly. I shouldn’t be in here. I should be cleaning and making my rounds, but I haven’t had a chance to talk with her, and I can’t wait any longer.

I take more tentative steps into her room until I’m standing next to her and place my hand on her shoulder. She looks up at me but doesn’t smile before she turns her gaze back to the window. Her view isn’t spectacular by any means, it’s the parking lot. Not much to look at but the dirt of the cars.

“How are you doing today?” I ask. I’d like to know her story, the reason why she’s here. How she ended up an alcoholic, on the brink of poisoning herself. Why her daughters are nearly nonexistent. How I haven’t seen her husband. But by the look on her face, she’s not ready to divulge the information that I’m seeking.

“Mom.”

I turn my head and see Rhea standing there. The door closes behind her and a soft click making her jump. She has a slight sway to her, and her footing stumbles a bit. She physically straightens her shirt and smoothes out her hair before approaching us.

When she gets close enough, she looks at me. She’s glassy-eyed, her pupils constricted even with the lack of light filtering in from the morning haze. Another step in our direction I catch a whiff. There’s no mistaking that smell. I work in a bar, and I can smell stale alcohol from a mile away. Rhea is drunk.

“Hey.” I stop her from getting any closer to her mother. “Can we step outside and talk for a minute?”

Her eyes fall to her mother who hasn’t acknowledged her presence and back to me. She takes a deep breath before giving me a slight jerk of her head. Once we're outside the room, I take the lead and hope that she follows me into a little alcove. I turn around, and I address her.

“Where have you been?” I snap.