MY PROTECTOR: The Valves MC Read online

  “Oh. Sorry, all right. Thanks.”

  “I’m sorry to call, I know you’re busy, but…”

  “Yes?”

  He seemed impatient. I couldn’t say anything; this wasn’t a talk to have in a hurry.

  “It’s nothing. Sorry I called. I’ll look after Ginger and we’ll talk when you’re free,” I said, instead, and hang up. I felt like crying. Straightening my posture, I opened the driver’s door and got in. “We’re going home, honey,” I said, as sweetly as I could.

  “Okay. Can we play Jenga?”

  “Sure, honey. After we wash up and eat lunch, all right?”

  “Mmhmm.”

  I drove in silence, unable to take my mind off Dawson’s attitude. I thought we were past the tiptoeing phase of the relationship. I’ll admit, we started everything backwards, but, even so, the way he spoke was, at best, rude. If not demeaning.

  Besides, what was so important in the job description of a bouncer to require complete radio silence? It wasn’t like he was a celebrity bodyguard or anything. What was going on? I kept thinking this over, and a shadow began clouding my thoughts. I didn’t want to acknowledge it. I didn’t like it.

  “What’s wrong, Miss Bennett?” Ginger’s voice snapped me back to Earth.

  And in that moment, I knew. Her interruption brought me clarity. I was in doubt. Doubting me and my feelings, doubting him and his words. The realization hit me like a sucker punch.

  “Nothing, honey,” I said with a smile, and reached to caress her hair. I would be putting her before anything else; I knew this. “And call me Mari when we’re not in school, all right?”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Placing the plates in the sink, I looked over at Ginger, who was sitting by the window, trying to see in the darkness outside.

  “What are you doing, baby?” I asked, smiling.

  “Trying to see my house. When will Daddy be home?”

  Her sad voice hurt me. Poor baby, she missed him. “It’ll be sometime, baby. But I’m here. Wanna play a game? Or watch TV?” I wrapped my arms around her, hugging her protectively.

  “Yeah, maybe some TV. But, just so I know, what games do you have? I’m bored of Jenga.”

  I laughed again, steering Ginger towards the living room. “Maybe some cards. Do you know how to play cards?”

  She scrunched her nose. “How are you a teacher and not have any games?”

  “Well, I don’t teach children at home, baby.”

  And immediately as I said that, I knew I shouldn’t have.

  Ginger looked up at me, climbing on the cream couch beside the window, with a thoughtful expression on her tiny face.

  “Shall we play Jenga, then?” I tried to change the subject.

  She wouldn’t have it. “You don’t?”

  “What, dear?”

  “Have children at home?”

  I paused for a second. What should I say? If I told her yes, she’d ask about it, and if I told her no, she’d just do the same. With a heavy sigh, I decided for the truth. “No, baby. I don’t usually have children at home.”

  The child looked at me intensely. I could almost see the little wheels turning in her head. “So, if you don’t…Why do you have me, then?” she followed, tracing an imaginary line along the edge of the couch.

  I didn’t know how to go about that. I was beginning to see that, despite working with children daily, I knew nothing about dealing with them. I cleared my throat, trying to stall, but Ginger’s interest didn’t seem to settle.

  “Okay,” I said, turning to face her. She straightened in her seat, physically prepared to listen. “Your dad and I are…very good friends. And neighbors. And what do neighbors do, honey?”

  “They are being good neighbors?” she tried, like she was answering at school.

  “Yes, they are being good neighbors. They help each other, baby. And your daddy asked for my help because he has to work. He couldn’t have left you alone on the weekends, could he?”

  “But I never was alone on the weekends, Mari. Daddy usually stays home on the weekends,” she said, scrunching her little face again.

  My doubt spiked again, but I stifled it. He could’ve changed his schedule. “Are you sure, baby? He does work odd hours and you might’ve not noticed if he changed something.”

  “Odd hours?”

  “Oh, it means that he doesn’t work the usual hours most people do. Like, during daytime.”

  “Hmm, but he does work like that. Sometimes. Sometimes he works nights, but always at home. Before we came here, he didn’t leave a lot on weekends. Maybe once or twice. Oh, one time...”

  I couldn’t listen to her any longer. Her voice trailed off in my ears, becoming just a subtle background noise while I was trying to reconcile what I had just learned with present reasoning. It was entirely possible for him to have changed his schedule after he moved here. After all, a change in location would change telecommute time and will ultimately affect working hours. Yes, there was nothing there for me to worry about.

  But what does a bouncer do working from home? I turned to ask Ginger but I stopped short, seeing her busy with a pen and my notebook. It didn’t concern her, after all. Or did it? Worry began rising in my core, bringing hints of bile in my throat. What was he really doing? My thought shifted towards his motorcycle. Was he in a riding gang? Was he one of those awful creatures that terrorized passerbys around bars?

  And what about Ginger? Poor baby, what she might’ve seen…What did she mean by working from home? Did he bring bikers home, traumatizing his own daughter? I couldn’t think straight and I had to find out more. So I sat beside Ginger, gently touching her small back. She was drawing a cat with wings. I smiled. She always used her great talent to make mysterious creations. “What is that, honey?”

  “Nothing. Just a cat. I like cats, you know…”

  “You do?”

  She nodded, adding a finishing touch to one of the wings. “How do you like it, Mari?”

  I took the drawing and looked at it like an art critic, making various faces and turning it every other way. “Hmm, yes, I see. Why does the cat have wings?”

  “I don’t know. Cats should have wings. Don’t you think?”

  “Yes. But you know they can jump and climb very well already, right?”

  She nodded. “Yeah, but wouldn’t it be super cool if they could fly, too?” Her face livened up with excitement.

  I laughed. “Sure, baby. If only we could make one such cat…”

  “Oh, we can’t, silly. You can’t make animals. Or people. People only make things. Like houses and books and ice cream.”

  I rose from the couch, knowing full well what she was about to ask next.

  “Can I have some ice cream?”

  I was already coming back with a big tub of Ben & Jerry's when she asked. I saw her smile threatening to expand beyond what her face permitted. “Cookie dough! My favorite!” I gave her a spoon and we both sat on the floor. I turned on the TV, searching for cartoons when she asked, “Why are you good friends with my daddy?”

  “I…don’t know, dear. You aren’t good friends with your daddy?”

  “No. He’s my daddy, silly. We can't be friends!”

  I nodded before her wisdom. She seemed sure of her stance. I couldn’t help it, “What kind of work does your daddy do at home?”

  “I don’t know,” she shrugged. “But I didn’t see him work at home since we moved here.”

  “Mmhmm. So, how do you know he worked from home?”

  “People used to come and go. Well, not lots of people. Just some other men. Once, there was a woman. And Daddy used to say, ‘this is business, nothing I can do’, so I asked my last neighbor what ‘business’ meant. That’s how I knew Daddy worked from home. I didn’t know it was possible for people to work from home.”

  I nodded slowly, torn between fueling my negative insecurities, or face the fact that Dawson was an unusual man and he changed jobs coming here. The only thing I was certain of was that
I needed to talk to him. We were in terrible need of a proper discussion. Where were we standing, about us? And where are we heading, more importantly?

  I looked at Ginger and smiled. She had forgotten about our talk and seemed content watching a rerun of ‘Sailor Moon’. She didn’t seem familiar with it, judging by her opening her mouth and starting a series of clear cut and detailed questions that kept going in episode as long as her young breath could allow.

  I got engaged in our anime debate. A while into it, I received a text message. I looked up and noticed it was getting late, the night already impenetrable outside. “We should get ready to sleep, baby, all right?”

  She did what she did best whenever something unpleasant was presented to her: she scrunched.

  “Oh, don’t be like that. You know as well as I that it’s getting late. And we need to sleep. After all this ice cream, we have to dream a lot of sweet dreams. We don’t want an upset tummy, do we?”

  “All right. I will go get ready.”

  The sweet dreams seemed to convince her. She got up and went into the bathroom. I gathered the ice cream paraphernalia and started the dishwasher. I knew I had to look through some paperwork for my principal, and I decided on doing it after I tucked Ginger in.

  She came back into the living room, already changed in her pajamas, ready to sleep.

  “You’re so pretty, dear,” I said, twirling her around. She giggled. “Ready for bed?”

  “Yes. I like your bed.”

  “Really? Then, we shall cuddle in it soon.”

  She was fine with that, as I lifted her on the bed, and covered her tiny body.

  “I will be right in, too. Just need to see after the dishwasher. Okay, baby?”

  She nodded, already getting into her sleepy state. I smiled and kissed her forehead. Tucking her tightly, I felt something unfamiliar taking over my insides. A certain warmth, mixed with pain was settling in and I knew it was a permanent move. I felt on the brink of tears, but I couldn’t identify if they were sad or happy. I just knew I needed to control my breath, which seemed to sting my chest, in order to keep my composure.

  Leaving the bedroom door slightly open, I was beginning to suspect I was developing deeper feelings for this little girl. And I didn't know how to deal with that.

  Back into the living room, I opened my briefcase and took out the files of paperwork. I needed a time frame for tonight’s work, or I knew I would just lose track of this unpleasant process. I checked my phone and saw the message I got earlier.

  It was from Dawson, and I felt butterflies seeing his name. “I was an ass and I apologize. Tell me anything you want and I will try to make up for my asinine behavior. Would you?”

  I smiled. Taking this as confirmation of his good nature and of my correct judgment, I wrote back that I would think about it but he better be prepared to keep his word.

  In the next hour I spent working he didn’t get back to me but I didn’t think much of it as I knew clubs could be especially noisy. When I was finally ready for sleep, I texted him ‘Goodnight xx’, then cuddled Ginger protectively.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Sunday morning I woke up earlier and went to put a load of laundry. Thinking it was time to wash the linens in the guest room, too, I stripped the bed and left the comforter folded neatly on top.

  Back at the washing machine, I filled it, then poured some detergent in and pushed the button to start it. I had left some delicates on the floor so I bent to pick them up. A firm body pushed against my ass and startled me. I shot up and started a scream, but a familiar hand covered my mouth gently. Dawson.

  I turned, my heart still beating fast, and was welcomed by the most passionate kiss. I lost myself into it, breathing in his scent and noticing how much I have missed it.

  He broke the kiss to officially tell me good morning.

  “Good morning,” I smiled, still clinging to his neck. “How come you’re done so early?”

  “I’m not. I snuck out so I can make up for Friday night.”

  “Oh?”

  I liked him making efforts but I still felt saddened by having to part with him again soon. He didn’t give me time to think too much. Kissing my neck, he pulled me close, running his hands all over my body. I shivered and held him like I never wanted to lose him, relishing in the heat emanated from his body.

  He proceeded to unbutton my pajama shirt and I would’ve let him do whatever he wanted, but I remembered Ginger and I held his hands in place.

  “We can’t do it here. Ginger is sleeping across the hallway.”

  He pulled back and nodded. “We can go into your guest room, right?”

  I shook my head. “I have no linens there. I just loaded them into the washer. Can’t we go to your place?”

  His expression changed and he pulled back more.

  “What is it?” I asked, worried.

  “I…No, we can’t. Not now.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” I felt the same dreadful doubt creeping back up and I was trying in vain to dispel it.

  “It’s…complicated.”

  “How come?” I demanded, more firmly than I intended to.

  He looked troubled, like he was trying to figure something out. This was not the expression of a man holding out for his own interest, but I couldn’t comprehend why he was being this way.

  So I pushed more. “I would like to know why. It’s not like we’re living so far apart that it’ll be unfeasible to change places when hook up, once in awhile. Scheduled weekends aren’t much for entertainment, are they?”

  “Is that what we’re doing?” he asked, and I felt a sharp pain in my heart watching his face melt into a sad expression.

  “No. I don’t think so. At least, not from my part,” I said, more quietly.

  He pulled me to his chest and whispered into my ear, “Not from my part either. You have no idea…” He left the rest hanging in the air and kissed my hair.

  I hugged him, struggling not to cry for my stupidity. We swiftly shifted from comforting caresses to heated touches and slowly moved towards my bare guest room. We undressed each other en-route. Once there, he gently lifted by naked body onto the cold mattress and lay protectively on top. His weight, although pressing hard on my front, comforted me and I searched for his mouth, eager to show my appreciation.

  He offered himself, never stopping his hands from caressing my skin in the most gentle and romantic way I ever dreamed of. I tasted him with all I got, grateful for the hurt in his eyes when I hinted towards meaningless sex. I wasn’t happy for his pain but I felt more in love than ever, knowing he was as serious as me. I was sure I could do anything for him and I would give him everything.

  As if feeling my thoughts, he kissed me deeper, cupping my ass. I lifted my legs around his hips to welcome him. He felt my rhythm again and paced himself to it. Leaving his usual aggressiveness behind, he found my entrance and gently entered, inch by inch, careful not to hurt me in any way.

  He might’ve thought this as less erotic, but I certainly was feeling every part of him and the slow pace made everything else slow down, as well. I was becoming wetter by the moment, accommodating him better. This beautiful languidness let my senses relish into his, experiencing everything he meant while offering him everything I meant.

  I opened my eyes and saw him watching me, his expression what I could only describe as blissful possession. The look in his eyes stirred the butterflies in my stomach in a violent twirl, my core following suit, prepared to give into the pleasure of being his.

  He picked up his pace in time, unseemingly thrusting into me harder and harder. I had promised myself to keep quiet but the pleasure building inside me with every one of his thrusts was stronger than myself. I began moaning and he covered my mouth with his, in a delicate kiss meant to absorb the results of his passionate labour. I accepted him fully and moaned silently into our kiss, ripples of bliss becoming stronger and stronger.

  To balance my tempered moans, I dug my nails into his b
ack, unable to control much of my body. He thrust harder, being pushed by my hands into a delirious new rhythm that finally launched me into release. I opened my eyes and looked at him. We locked gazes while I came, my pussy squeezing him closer to climax, too.

  My core hadn’t settled fully when I felt his orgasm. His body contracted, muscles holding me close, as he released his cum inside me yet again. I welcomed it with more pulsations of my core, while we were still holding each other’s gaze.