Free Holding On by A.C. Bextor

physically.  I’m fine okay?  He just took
me by surprise because I’ve never seen him that angry before.
 Please take me home.”  I run to him and jump back into
his arms without him expecting that but he catches me, both hands
on my ass this time but if it distracts him from going back and
finishing Greyson off he can have my ass in his hands.
    He keeps walking now and over his
shoulder I can see the seethe in anger rolling off of Greyson as he
stares at me and mouths the word ‘whore’.  That hurt even more
than I wanted it to and coming from him and all he had just said,
I’m surprised it still hurts.

Chapter
Four :
    “ For we have thought the longer thoughts and
gone the shorter way. And we have danced to devils' tunes,
Shivering home to pray; to serve one master in the night, another
in the day.”
    --Ernest Hemingway
    I wake to hear raised voices.  It
takes me a few minutes to register where I’m at, then I remember
the events of yesterday.  Mom is dying.  I didn’t even
tell her goodbye yesterday before I left the house.
 
    Shame had talked to Hem outside in the
yard after I insisted that I wanted to go home, all the while he
had refused to put me down, so I kept my legs wrapped around him
and my arms around his neck, holding tightly.  Hem had asked
Shame where he had left Greyson.  Shame told him he was
bloodied somewhere down near our lake so most likely Greyson was
about to get another visit from a very pissed off Biker Hem.
 
    Shame wouldn’t let me go home
afterwards.  He didn’t want me sitting there all night crying
with Sadey, he seems to think women can only eat Oreos and sit
around desperate when we are upset.  Either way, he brought me
back to the Clubhouse and took me straight to his room.
    I was hesitant to discuss sleeping
arrangements with him.  I was already emotionally drained and
didn’t want to argue with him when I told him I wanted to sleep in
bed, alone.  After a brief debate he accepted that I wasn’t
budging and said he would take in some sleep on the couch in the
common room.  I felt bad considering the action that couch has
seen, but I needed to rest.  
    Sometime in the night though, Shame
must have stopped caring so much about my request because when I
woke to feel the bed dip I knew it was him.  It’s that smell
he has, I would know it from anywhere.
    He climbed in the bed and pulled me to
him, my back to his front and held me close.  He didn’t make a
move other than to just hold me closer when he felt as though I was
trying to get away.  Not one of my muscles moved under his
hold, I was exactly where I wanted to be.  It felt like
home.
    I know I have to go back to my house
today.  I sit up taking inventory of my appearance.  I’m
in Shames shirt the he wore yesterday and my panties.  I
nabbed it from the floor after he left for the couch last night.
 I may not have wanted a bed guest but being wrapped up in his
old undershirt made me feel like I wasn’t alone.
    Finally I get up and I dart
to Shames en suite bathroom, if that’s what this qualifies to be
labeled.  At the Club, they all have their own rooms, but
these aren’t anything to write home about.  They are men, they
live like men, and definitely they definitely smell like men.  Rinsing my
mouth with wash and combing my fingers through my hair that I slept
wet on, I decide to just give up.  I’m a walking hot mess.
 I gather myself by putting my jeans from the floor even
though still feel wet from last night, then make my way to the
kitchen.  This is where all the raised voices were coming
from.  
    “ Well Princess, there you
are.”  Hem’s tone is laced with malice, for me.  Not
good.
    “ Good morning, big
brother.”  I’m testing waters in attempts to gauge on my Mace
scale just how pissed he is at me so I’m trying to act
endearing.
    “ What the fuck is this?”
 He growls out at me quickly.
    He throws me an envelope and after it
hits my chest it drops to the floor.