“What will you get when you’re making your own money and have more to spend?”
“I’ll probably keep the Crosstrek so I’ll have something with cargo space, but my dream car is a Maserati GranTurismo. I doubt I’ll ever be able to afford a new one, but based on what I should make once I’m full time at Drake Security, I might be able to swing a used one.” She sighed. “I had access to one when I was with Able. I miss it. I also enjoyed driving the Jaguar F-Type, and the Lamborghini, but the Maserati was my favorite.”
No way in hell could I compete with her ex. I’m not hurting for cash, but shit. I didn’t even want to have a garage filled with more than a million dollars’ worth of cars.
“I have four Harleys and a Ford Super-Duty F250.” It seemed important she know who I am. My vehicles don’t necessarily define me, but they’re a mirror of my personality. Sort of.
“Why four bikes?”
“One’s for long road trips, one’s for playing on curvy mountain roads, one’s just for riding around town. The last is a classic machine from the sixties. I rebuilt it myself with a little help from a brother to get the engine put back together right. I put it in shows every once in a while, and I ride it when the mood strikes me.”
“Is it okay for me to ask you to take me for a ride? I seem to recall there being biker etiquette, different from the rest of society, and it means you don’t ask?”
“If Mad Dog rode another woman on the back of his bike, his ol’lady would have his balls. To her, that’s tantamount to him having sex with someone else. Single guys all have their own rules about who they’ll ride. So, yeah, there’s protocol, but you can ask me anything you want. I’d love to ride you on the back of any of my bikes.”
We both watched for signs of being followed, and she didn’t take a direct route home. She talked to Mac through the camera system at the outer gate, and still needed a palmprint and passcode to get through the inner gate.
“Do you resent the heavy security when you host people for Aaron?”
“Nope. I enjoy making scared people feel safe. Turns out, it’s kind of a calling for me, I think.”
“Do you have to fuck someone different every time Aaron sends a client?” Again, it sounded more like an accusation than a question. I was going to have to do better.
“You’re the first, and I didn’t have to fuck you. I wanted to.” She sighed. “Pretty sure Aaron knew I would. I’m also pretty sure he was making a point. He’s been amused by what he calls the pretty boys I’ve been playing with, but he never took any of them seriously.”
I wasn’t pleased by this. Aaron had used me to make a point. And yet, if he hadn’t, I might never have met this perfect little swan shifter.
“Am I going to be invited upstairs or sent to my room?”
She pulled into the garage and turned off the ignition. I noted the door closed behind us a second after we came to a complete stop. Interesting.
“I’m exhausted,” she said. “I need sleep. I have a Krav Maga class at ten in the morning. You’re welcome to get some condoms from downstairs and meet me upstairs, but it needs to be quickie sex and then sleep, please.”
“I hope we have an opportunity for a two or three hour playtime when you can go to sleep and crash afterwards. I took it easy on you, but if I’d known exactly what was involved in a derby match, I might’ve cut it a little shorter.”
“I’m glad you didn’t. It was perfect and I was fine for the match. I hope we can find time for a longer session as well, but it isn’t going to be tonight.”
She finally opened the door to get out, and I followed suit. I listened for activity in the house, but didn’t hear anything.
Once we were on the main level I started to get a little worried. Even if they were asleep, I should’ve heard their heartbeats.
“Soundproof,” Ember told me. “You’ll hear them once you’re on their level. I’m gonna fix some chocolate milk before bed. Do you want anything?”
I shook my head. I’d had plenty to eat while we were out. “No. Should I shower downstairs? Or bring clothes up and shower in your bathroom?”
“Clothes and condoms. Don’t forget the condoms.”
Dementor
I had bacon, steak, and eggs for breakfast. She had steak, bacon, and a stack of waffles dripping with real maple syrup. I quizzed the beautiful little swan about her favorite desserts while we ate. She couldn’t list just one, but she likes anything that combines chocolate, caramel, and sea salt. She’s a huge fan of chocolate, and she listed a million ways she loved it. I also noted sweets involving cream cheese frequently came up, but the single biggest ingredient after chocolate seemed to be ice cream.
I wasn’t in the mood to be rushed, so I’d fucked her face until I got off, and then I’d jammed four fingers in her cunt and pummeled her until she came so hard her eyeballs rolled back in her head.
The first time I wet my dick in her pussy, I needed time.
We left for Ember’s Krav Maga class around nine thirty, and I sat in the SUV so she wouldn’t have to explain who I was and why I was watching. While I waited, I hit the internet for recipes. I found one that called for pouring half the brownie batter in the pan, lining it with caramel candies, and then pouring the other half in. This would give them a caramel center. While it baked you melted caramel in heavy cream, and then you iced the brownie with it once it was out of the oven. And then, finally, you sprinkled chunky sea salt crystals over the top. I considered putting ice cream on top of it, but I thought that would interfere with the salty/sweetness she apparently liked so much.
Next, she had time scheduled at the range, and I went in with her for this. I should’ve been at church, the MC’s weekly meeting, but I’d given my vote to Mad Dog for the things he knew were coming up. Aaron wanted me with Ember to make sure she was safe from the people after Tess. Since I was here for the club, missing wouldn’t count against me.
Ember had packed four weapons in the back of the Crosstrek, but I only had my forty-five caliber Sig P220 Legion stowed handily in the holster on my hip. I carried her shotgun and rifle in, and she carried her backpack with ammo and pistols. She surprised me by opening a safe under the steering wheel I hadn’t noticed. She added the gun from the safe into her backpack, which had another six weapons in individual compartments.
“I take it you don’t carry every day?” I asked her.
“I can’t carry on campus, or while taking a martial arts class. I can’t have it during a match. Pretty much everywhere I go, I have to leave it in the car, and this Sig stays in the car all the time anyway. If I need to carry, I’ve practiced drawing from a bellyband and it’s easy enough to conceal a subcompact.”
It turns out, she has five nine-millimeter Sig P938s — in her car, beside her bed, in her bathroom, in her kitchen, and in the great room on the main floor. Each with a different colored handle so she knows which she was shooting and where it should be returned after target practice.
“Do you shoot all five every week?” I asked.
“First Saturday of every month. The rifle also stays close to my bed, and the shotgun’s on the main floor. No matter where I am on the top two levels, I can reach a gun within seconds.”