“Ever since we moved out here,” she replies, just as Cedric claimed.
“And how often?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe once a month?”
“Wow,” I say with a shake of my head.
“I don’t know why he didn’t want you to know. I told him you would’ve loved to see him. He was your only friend for years…”
“I know, but I’m married now,” I remind her. “You cannot mention his name in front of Lowell. Ever.”
“Well, why not?”
“Because he’ll think something is going on when there’s not.” Of course, that’s a humungous lie. Something just went on…I kissed Cedric and he went down on me, and it felt so good I don’t know if my limbs will ever recover.
“I always thought you and Cedric would end up together,” my mother tells me as I drive.
“We were just friends.”
“So you said, but I saw the way he looked at you. That boy loves you to the moon and back.”
Loves. She said loves, not loved in the past tense. She thinks he still feels the same way, which is mind blowing. I thought that by now Cedric would’ve fallen in love with someone he met at college and forgotten all about me.
Apparently, I was wrong.
And for the first time in years, there’s an emotion that wells up in my chest, one I wasn’t sure I would ever feel again.
Hope.
The past few weeks since seeing Cedric at the doctor’s office have been horrible. It’s taken twice the number of pills to get me through each day because I can’t stop thinking about him.
Not that I ever really did, but it was easier when the memory of his face and his steel-blue eyes weren’t fresh in my mind. The way he touched me and kissed me was intense and amazing, leaving me impatient for more.
And his promise that he would see me again soon isn’t helping.
I want to know how soon is a few months. Two? Three? Four? Normally, none of those would be a large amount of time; but lately, days feel like years as I wait with no way of getting in touch with Cedric. Well, unless I want to track down the Savage Kings. I refuse to do that, not with how closely Lowell keeps an eye on the searches I make on my laptop and my phone. He even looks through the history of shows I’ve streamed. I have no clue what he’s looking for, and he’s never told me I can’t watch any particular show. Still, he treats me like a child, and I hate it. I hate him, more so with every second I’ve had to spend with him after seeing Cedric.
Lowell has noticed too, because I’ve been unable to completely hide my feelings. I’ve been more disobedient than before, less inclined to put up with his shit.
Like this morning when Lowell woke me up by climbing on top of me, pulled my panties to the side and thrusted in deep without any foreplay or lube.
He’s such a selfish asshole. While his behavior is nothing new, and he paid a lot of money for me to be his on-demand whore, today I just can’t let it slide. One time with Cedric and I’m spoiled to the way he made me feel good without asking for anything in return.
“God, Lowell,” I groan as I turn my face to the side. “Couldn’t you at least try to get me wet first? And a little toothpaste goes a long way first thing in the morning.”
“Feel plenty wet to me,” he says. “You’re always dripping wet lately. Can’t get enough, can you?”
That’s solely because of Cedric.
I kept the memories of being with him fresh for weeks after our night together. That’s what helped me get through the first few months married to Lowell.
But eventually, they began to fade away until his face became blurry and I couldn’t remember how his touch made me feel.
Now, after the day in the doctor’s office, I’m not sure I could ever forget how damn good Cedric looked or his devouring kisses again. He’s right. He’s not the same boy I left behind. In fact, he’s tougher, stronger, and I enjoy the thought that one day he may very well kick Lowell’s ass.
Cedric
The grand opening of the new and improved Avalon is a huge production. Savage Kings from all over the country come in to support the venture, much like they did when Savage Ink reopened.
And while I can certainly appreciate the amazing bodies of the naked women on stage, I’m here drinking with the guys and celebrating for a different reason.
The reopening of Avalon means that, in just a few weeks, the members will each reap the rewards of a very lucrative business. Not to mention all the additional money pouring in from up on the second floor where we’re now live streaming six different girls all day long.
The women get to live in the apartments for free and earn a commission of the profits that come in; and, of course, they can turn off their web camera any time they want for a little privacy, but the Kings are the ones raking in the big bucks on subscriptions.
“How’s it going, kid?” Roman, the president of the Myrtle Beach Savage Kings, asks when he comes over with a bottle of beer in his hand and takes the empty seat at the table I’m sharing with Ian and Maddox. “No permanent scarring from our kidnapping and assault?”
“Only emotional scars,” I joke with him, banging my fist against the left side of my chest. His men roughed me up a little and tried to scare the shit out of me, but all I left with were a couple of aches and bruises, along with a beautiful black and chrome 1200 Custom Harley. Totally worth it.
“Glad to hear that,” Roman replies with a chuckle. “This is a damn nice setup you guys have got here. I bought all of my men yearly subscriptions to the shows upstairs as an early Christmas present.”
“Thanks, man. We appreciate your support,” Ian says, raising his beer to cling it against Roman’s.
Seeing Roman and the Myrtle Beach charter suddenly gives me an idea about how to earn even more money for Rita.
“How hard is it to organize a charity ride?” I ask the three men at the table.
“No clue,” Ian says. “You guys have them all the time, don’t you, Roman?”
“Yeah, not much to it really,” he explains. “You pick a good cause, set a date, and then spread the word with the other Savage Kings charters and even all the other MCs in the area. As long as you offer free food and booze afterward, you’ll rake in plenty of dough for the charity.”
“Why do you ask?” Maddox questions me.
“I think I’d like to organize a ride for someone. She’s been struggling with kidney failure for years and is waiting for a transplant, all without insurance. Her dialysis and prescriptions aren’t cheap, not to mention doctor visits and all. Think we could do something for her?”
“I don’t see why not,” Ian responds. “Bring it to the table during our next meeting and get a vote for it.”
“Okay, I will,” I agree. With the money I bring in from my shares of the Kings’ businesses and a charity ride, I may finally have enough cash to take care of Rita and get Evelyn away from Lowell by the first of the year.
“Business is even better than before, and our quarterly payouts should be ready next month,” Torin tells the group as we all sit at the Savage Kings table in the chapel. It’s only my fifth meeting, and I still haven’t gotten used to having an actual seat with these guys. The seat is Gabriel’s, but we’ll add another once he gets out of prison. Still, when Torin asks if there’s any other business, I don’t hesitate to speak up.