Page 50 of Marx

“Pres.”

Seven sets of eyes glare at me before Blanche steps up into my space, a little too close. “If you eventhinkof hurting my little sister’s feelings with your bullshittery and dumb words I swear what we did to Joseph would look like child’s play. Got it?”

“Go Blanche,” Mira whispers, then grunts when Vi elbows her in the ribs.

“I promise that I only want good things for your sister, and your friend,” I add, looking all the women in the eye one by one. “I don’t deserve her, but I’m willing to try my fucking hardest to earn her.”

“Good enough for me. Let’s go, we got stuff to plan.” I raise a brow at Chewy. She gives me that wide-eyed stare she does when she’s trying to be charming and throw us off the scent. “Girl stuff to plan. There’s eight fertile aged women in the club and our bodies will synchronize. That’s eight menstrual cycles. The average cycle expels 3 ounces of blood. Times that by eightand, well, you can do the math.” She stares at me while I stare speechlessly back at her.

“You’ve broken him nice and good now Chewy.” Remy pats Chewy on the back.

“Lovely! We’re leaving now. Wait five seconds and then get your beautiful behind out here!” Mira yells.

“Yeah, you have a jackass waiting for you!” Ana adds on, snorting.

The women all file past, mean mugging me on the way out. I’d be intimidated if more of them were taller than 5’5”. Mira is around 5’8”, but she walks past with a huge smile and a wink. That woman loves love too much to stand in my way.

As soon as the door closes behind the last Ol Lady, I take a deep breath, close my eyes and count to five. As soon as the number five leaves my lips I open my eyes slowly, to be met with the vision in front of me.

“Holy fucking shitballs.”

Chapter 17

Lovely

“Holy fucking shitballs.” Marx stares at me, wide-eyed and mouth gaping.

I glance down at my body, checking to make sure everything is where it should be. I don’t usually wear things like this, but when the Girl Gang all arrived with around eight wardrobes’ worth of belongings, I knew this would be the perfect time to try something new. I’ve never been on a date before, but I knew from watching the movies Tav recommended that the best way to make an impression is to pretty much dress not like yourself. Which is a little opposite to the advice the women gave me, which was to be myself, but dress in a way that would make Marx swallow his tongue. I have a feeling that the red and white polka dot, sweetheart neckline dress that flares out above the knee and shows a decent amount of cleavage is doing the trick.

Marx remains silent so I take him in, his neatly trimmed beard, his tousled longer length hair at the top and short sides, his button up and dark jeans without rips or stains. He still has biker boots and his cut on, and much like me, he looks like him, the him I know and I’m pretty sure I love, but a much morerefined version. One that I hope to see again, but not all the time. The Pres needs to be thinking of what’s important to the wellbeing of the club, not what his beard is doing.

“You look very handsome, Marx,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

His heated gaze snaps to mine, as if he forgot we should be talking to each other. “Fuck, Lovely,” he gulps, then takes a deep breath in, letting it out slowly. “You look absolutely breathtaking. If I thought you were stunning before, I was mistaken.” He steps up to me, gently brushing his thumb across my cheek, then presses a gentle kiss to the corner of my mouth, so gentle that it almost feels as though I imagined it. “These are for you,” he holds a small bouquet of wildflowers up, along with a small container of something. “Pops said to tell you I picked them and baked the cookies, but that would be a lie, and I’m not starting this date on a lie.”

I huff out a laugh, taking the flowers from Marx’s large hand. Our fingers brush and it sends a flutter from my belly to lower down, heat pooling below. I turn to move toward the kitchen, needing a vase for the flowers. “I’m glad you came clean. I already knew it was Pops. I saw him when Bee and I went for a walk earlier.”

Marx grins, shaking his head. “Oh, and Lovely? Call me Johnny.”

Placing the flowers in the vase, and moving them to the center of the island, I raise my brows, “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he clears his throat. “Yeah, I want to hear my name from your lips, my real name.”

A little smile plays on my lips. “As you wish.”

Marx, I mean, Johnny, gives me a mock frown, “That’s my line!” he growls, causing a giggle to escape me. “Now, if the sweet lady would please accompany me to our ride for the evening?”

He holds out his elbow and I slip my hand through, resting it on his forearm. Johnny’s other hand comes to a rest on top of mine, grounding me from floating away on a cloud of fizzy happiness. My very first date with a man that I’ve had feelings for for some time. Sure we had a couple of blips there, but don’t all relationships? I move in sync with Johnny, laughing when I come face to face with Pops in the driver’s seat of the ATV, the back decked out with cushions and flowers and twinkly lights.

“He insisted on being our chauffeur to dinner. We’re on our own after that.” Johnny’s lips brush my ear as his warm breath sends shivers through me.

As a woman who was married for ten years, this feeling, these feelings, are all brand new to me. Not the arousal, I’ve had that and have become quite adept at pleasuring myself since I escaped. It was one of the first things Blanche gifted me. She told me that now that I was free I needed to love myself, in all the ways. One of those ways was to spend time with romance novels and the Satisfier Pro. I would get Bee to bed nice and early and relax with a nice book and my new toy. Being able to pleasure myself was a huge moment for me. To feel what I should feel when with a man was shocking. Never once when I was with Royal did it feel anywhere near what it felt like with my hand or my toy. Now, here with Johnny, his scent, his touch; it’s igniting something in me that I thought only existed in books. The heat in me swirls and builds, pooling in the space between my thighs. I feel needy, empty and yet as much as I would like to feel Johnny’s weight on me, hands and mouth on me, I also feel a terror that it will be like all those other times, the times it hurt and felt dirty and shameful.

“You OK, babe?” Johnny’s hand cups my face, the thumb under my chin tipping it up until all I can see is him.

“Yeah,” comes out on a harsh whisper. “Sorry, away with the fairies.”

His smile is one of understanding. “We don’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with. Tonight is a night to just be ourselves, no pressure, no end goal other than for you to be you and me to be me and there’s nowhere and nothing we need to be other than together.”

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