We’re still bonded as he grunts over and over again, emptying himself onto Parker. His movements are erratic, and as soon as I slide out of him, I already miss the feel of him. But Grinder’s not done. Quick as a whip, he pulls out of Parker, and with one hand on his cock, faces me. Jet after beautiful jet of cum spurts onto my chest and abs because Grinder is always thinking of the both of us. And if Parker gets his cum, so do I.
Like I said…together, we are perfect.
Unfortunately, the minute we walk out of the aquarium, our happy bubble is destroyed.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Parker
My dad’s crew were tight. They looked out for each other and they looked out for me—to some extent. But with the exception of The Butcher and those closest to him, none of them would lay down their life for another.
I figured that was normal. We all had our part to play, our jobs to do, then we got paid. End of.
Being here, with this gang of bikers and their motley crew of friends, I realize the closeness I’ve been craving, the family I came to America to find—and had every intention of forcing my love upon—has been here the whole time. They didn’t even require any force because I’ve been welcomed with open arms.
I have been shown more love and affection in these past four months than my whole life. From my brother, his friends, all the way to my pod. They are each a part of my soul that I didn’t even know was missing. But now I have them, my heart could literally burst.
The problem with loving people this hard, though, is that you feel it more when they’re hurting. And when there’s nobody to kill to make them feel better, I’m kind of at a loss.
Well, Iwasat a loss. Maybe still am…we’ll see how this goes.
In reality, it should take a couple of years to be a truly skilled tattooist. And I’m certainly not skilled, but I have spent every second of every day practicing, learning, honing the craft. Obviously, I’ve eaten and fucked and even passed my motorcycle test super quickly, thanks to Mac’s instruction—and ADHD. It’s a superpower until it isn’t.
Shade has trusted me to do some of my designs on actual people over the last few months, under supervision of course, and I’m hoping that I’m not about to cross the line with my suggestion.
Clearing my throat, I approach Mac in the kitchen of the clubhouse.
“Mac?”
She ices the final cupcake on her tray and slowly turns to face me, her eyes red-rimmed and puffy.
“Hey, Parker.” She blinks a few times, as if gathering her thoughts, then takes a deep breath in through her nose, out through her mouth. “Could you take these down to the bar room, please, ready for when Church lets out.” Her voice is so quiet, so unlike her usual self. I can practically feel the pain radiating from her.
“Do you want a hug?” I wouldn’t say I’m the best person to be around when others are sad, hugs and alcohol are my usual offering.
Fuck, if she starts crying, I won’t be able to help myself.
With a barely perceptible nod, her bottom lip begins to wobble and I immediately step forward, wrapping my arms around her shoulders and holding tight. It’s quiet, but I can hear her gentle sobs as she accepts my comfort.
I don’t say anything because the whole, “it’ll be alright,” “they’re in a better place,” bullshit is exactly that. Bullshit. We all know these phrases, they’ve been engrained into us, we don’tneed to hear them every time we lose a life. There’s nothing wrong with feeling the pain. Letting the sorrow overtake you so much that you can barely function. As long as, eventually, you allow someone to pull you back up again.
So that’s what I’m doing. I’m being here for my friend as a support, a crutch, until she’s ready to do it by herself. I’ve been doing it for Grinder since the early hours of this morning, when the group text was sent out by Psycho.
“Sorry.” Pulling away, Mac wipes at her eyes and nose. “How’re your dolphins?” I love that she’s taken to using our name for ourselves. She’s Spenny’s best friend in the world and she simply accepted it when he told her. Psycho, not so much. He’s more into taking the piss and calling us fish, but Mac is all aboard.
“Spenny’s making sure Gryffin is settled with his nanna in the lady house out back, totally ready to get fucked up with you tonight. And Grinder had an idea that I’ve been working on. Which is why I came to find you, actually.” Holding up the drawing tablet, I show her my design and wait for the reaction.
She sharply inhales a deep breath and covers her mouth with her hands.
“Ohmygod, Parker.” She looks from me to the picture, back to me again, back to the picture. “It’s fudging beautiful. It looks so much like him, I…” Her voice cracks and fat tears slide down her cheeks as she looks back to me. “Thank you.” Her words are wobbly, quiet, and I can’t help my own eyes watering.
“Grinder gave me a photo of him to use, and I didn’t know if I could do him justice, and I was thinking, well, Grinder was thinking that the club could all have a new little tattoo and—”
Mac chuckles, the saddest chuckle there ever was. “I truly love it. So will Aleko. And I guarantee there’ll be no arm twisting for tattoos.” She sniffles and gives me a wobbly smile.
“A little birdy tells me two of my favorite women are in here.” Spencer rounds the corner and pauses at the door, sighing and giving his sad you-need-a-hug eyes before he opens up his arms.
Sorry, Mac, but you gots to share him now.