Dark Knights Ch. 02

I threw Bryn's pants and underwear into the washer and started it running. As the machine worked, I packed enough clothes to stay with Bryn for a week. Finding the dead cat in my locker at work, followed by Hayden pouncing on us as I left for the day, and then finding a Roller waiting at my house, had left me unnerved. When he'd invited me to stay with him until we got this mess sorted, I'd leapt at the offer. He made me feel safe, both by his presence and by his second-floor apartment.

I was zipping my suitcase closed when my phone rang. I didn't recognize the number, and after a moment's dread, I accepted the call. "Hello?"

"Reagan McKenna, please," a man's voice asked.

"Speaking."

"Ms. McKenna. This is Officer Charles Blayton." I sighed with relief and tapped the speaker button so Bryn could hear. "I wanted to let you know that we've arrested Hayden Rogan, along with his friends, for simple assault and failure to follow a lawful order. They'll probably be out on bail soon, but if you'd like to come down to the police station and file a complaint, you can probably get an emergency no contact order against him."

I glanced at Bryn who shrugged. "Okay. What about the rest of the club?"

"Have you been harassed by them?"

"Does parking in front of my house count?" I asked.

Bryn shook his head. "No, I'm afraid not, not unless they communicated a threat to you. Have they done that?" Blayton asked.

"No."

"Then the order would only apply to Mr. Rogan."

"Okay. Thank you for your help. I'll give it some thought."

"Without the order, Ms. McKenna, there's little we can do. Today was the exception, and quite honestly, if the High Rollers hadn't been so stupid and more cooperative, we wouldn't have had grounds to arrest them."

"I understand. Thank you, Officer Blayton." I hung up the phone. "Do you think I should do it?" I asked Bryn.

"What's the point? If he can't harass you, someone else in the Rollers will."

I slumped, and then tugged at my still damp ponytail. "Yeah, you're probably right. I was so stupid!"

He wrapped me in his arms. He didn't give me absolution, because he knew as well as I did what I'd done was foolish, but at least he didn't rub it in or try to make me feel guilty over it. For that I was thankful. I felt bad enough already.

While we waited on the washer to finish, he paced around the house wearing nothing but a towel around his waist, watching the road in front and to the side of my house. The Roller he'd beaten the shit out of was gone. His bike was still in front of my house, though the man had picked it up and placed it on the side-stand.

"See anything?" I asked for the third time, tugging on my ponytail to make sure it was secure.

"Nothing," he replied, as he paused at the window in my bedroom to scan the road beyond.

"How long do you think before the Rollers come back?"

He shrugged as he turned from the window. "Don't know. Depends on how long it takes that asshole to find a phone or Hayden to make bail, I guess. How much longer on the pants?"

"I did a quick wash. Probably another ten minutes or so, then drying."

He shook his head. "No. As soon as they spin, I'll put them on. I want to get out of here as soon as possible. I don't think the Rollers will do anything stupid in broad daylight, but I don't want to take any chances."

I nodded slowly, feeling slightly guilty for our play in the shower. "I wish now we hadn't taken the time to... you know."

He touched my face. "I'm glad we did."

"Are you?"

A small smile touched his lips as he leaned in. "Very," he whispered before brushing my lips with his.

He was still smiling as he pulled back, and I noticed the towel had a slight bulge in it that wasn't there a moment ago. I returned his smile. It'd only been fifteen or twenty minutes since we'd fucked our brains out in the shower, and he was ready to go again already. Once this shit was behind us, I was going to find out how many times a day he could get it up.

Outwardly, he didn't seem overly concerned, but his pacing from window to window made me jumpy, and I had to force myself not to shadow him. He'd proven that he could more than handle himself, so I tried not to worry. I was sitting on the couch, striving not to fidget, when I heard the washer gurgling as it emptied the tub and prepared to enter its final spin cycle.

Bryn heard it too and we stood together, watching it spin. The timer still said the machine had five minutes left when he jabbed the power button. The machine bleated and then began to slow before stopping with a loud click that signaled the unlocking of the door.

He opened the door and pulled out his underwear and pants. "Are you sure you don't want to run those through a quick dry?" I asked as he draped the towel and then his pants on the top of the dryer.

"I'm sure," he said as he tried to pull up his damp underwear. "Shit! Cold!" he snarled as he worked the wet cloth over his manhood. Despite the situation, I giggled. "Yeah," he grumbled playfully. "It's funny when it's someone else," he said as he pulled his pants off the dyer and began working them up his legs.

"I hope that doesn't mean it won't work later."

"I don't know. We'll see. Jesus," he muttered with a dramatic shudder. He buttoned his pants and then tugged and pulled on them to adjust their fit. "Let's go."

He wasn't wearing a shirt because, even though my Bonaventure Harley-Davidson shirts wouldn't look out of place on him, they wouldn't come close to fitting his broad shoulders, and his own shirt was in my garbage, too far gone to save. As he put on his shoes, I collected my bag from my bed. When I returned from my bedroom, I paused by the door, holding my bag, as he tied his shoes. He rose from the chair and joined me at the door. I started to open it, but he put his hand against it.

"Wait here," he said, gently nudging me aside.

He stepped onto the porch, glanced around, and then trotted quickly down the two steps and out onto the walk that led to the drive. He paused about halfway between the porch and the drive, glancing toward the side street, before he turned back to me and waved me out. I exited, locked the door behind myself, and hurried down the walk in his wake. Though they sky was still dark and threatening, it had stopped raining. He opened the trunk of his car as I approached, and I adjusted my path to toss my bag into the back. He slammed the lid and led me around to the passenger side before opening the door.

I grimaced as I fell into the car. His once beautifully maintained car was covered in dents and scratches. As he quickly walked around the nose of the car, I picked his glasses up on the dash and handed them to him as he dropped behind the wheel.

"Thanks," he said as he took them and slid them onto his face.

"How much do you need those?"

He glanced at me as he started his car. "Well... I don't absolutely have to wear them, but I wouldn't want to ride with me if I wasn't."

"Good to know."

The moment his Subie growled to life, he snicked the car into reverse and we quickly backed down the drive. During the drive we spoke little, my head on a swivel as I watched for any hint of the High Rollers during our drive across town, but I saw nothing.

As we neared his apartment, we stopped at a Culver's for a to-go order of burgers and fries. After we crept around to the pickup window, I smiled as the middle-aged woman working the window had a hard time focusing on her task as her eyes kept flicking to Bryn's well-developed chest. What made it funnier still was how he acted like rolling up to a drive-through window while wearing no shirt was the most natural thing in the world. He passed the food to me, paid, and thanked the woman, all while her tongue was very nearly hanging out as she panted for him.

The food smelled wonderful, and I was starving after working up an appetite in the shower, so I was unable to avoid sneaking a fry every now again as we completed our trip. I was nibbling on a one of the rapidly cooling potato sticks while we were waiting to make a left into his apartment complex when we both heard the deep bass rumble of a hard charging Harley. I stiffened, the fry between my fingers forgotten, but I never saw the bike and its engine noise quickly faded into the distance.

He pulled into his reserved space, inching forward until he was almost touching his bike parked crosswise under a cover at the back of his spot. We hadn't ordered drinks, and I smiled as, after he pulled his pistol from the center console and tucked it into his pants, he took the burgers with one of his hands and my hand with the other. He was far more courtly than anyone I'd dated before, and I was discovering I liked his gentlemanly ways. I took the bag back as he unlocked the door to his apartment, and I released the breath I hadn't realized I was holding when we entered and there were no surprises.

He didn't bother putting on a shirt, not that I was going to complain, moving directly to the bedroom to stow his weapon as I dropped the bag on the small table. I was will pulling burgers and fries from the bag when he returned to the kitchen, opened the 'fridge, and set a Mountain Dew and a Tropicália, my favorite beer, on the table.

"Where'd you get that?" I asked, my surprise clear in expression and voice. "I thought you didn't drink beer."

"I don't. That's for you."

"How'd you know? And when?"

"I picked them up on the way home when I met you at your house. It was pretty clear you didn't like what I drink, so..." He hitched a shoulder.

"Thank you, but how'd you know about Tropicália?" I asked as we pulled out chairs and sat.

"That's right, isn't it?"

"Yes, but how'd you know?"

"You told me."

"I did? When?"

He took a bite out of his burger and chewed before answering. "When you were staying here while waiting for your door to be fixed. You were harassing me about not drinking beer and you mentioned how much you like this one, and how you thought I should try it."

"I did?" I didn't remember the conversation at all, and yet he'd managed to pick out my favorite beer from bare scraps of information. He nodded. "Want to try it?" I asked, as I pushed the can toward him.

"I already did." His tone made his feelings of the beverage abundantly clear.

I grinned. "You didn't like it?" I asked, teasingly lilting my voice up in surprised disbelief.

He made a yuck face as he stuck out his tongue. "I've tasted worse, but you're welcome to the remaining five."

"Don't mind if I do," I murmured as I took a pull from my can. "So... you were planning on me coming back here?" I teased as I returned the can to the table.

A tiny smile touched his lips. "Well..." he began, drawing the word out, "I was kind of hoping."

Despite everything that'd happened today, I was beginning to relax. Being with him seemed so... right somehow. It was almost like all my troubles faded to insignificance when he was around, not to mention I was beginning to I really enjoy his company. The fact we were on the second floor, and he seemed totally capable of kicking the shit out of any man that threatened me, also helped me feel secure.

We ate slowly, discussing what had happened after I left work, but as one hunger was satisfied, another one grew. I was still marveling that he'd been listening close enough to what I said to pick out my preferred beer from an off-hand conversation. I tried to think if any other lover had been so attentive, and I couldn't think of even one. Better, last night he'd fucked me slowly and gently, as if I was more than a collection of body parts for his enjoyment, but then earlier today, when I wanted to get fucked, he'd risen to the occasion and fucked me like I'd never been fucked before. On top of how he'd fucked me last night and again today, over the past week he'd treated me like I was more than someone to ride his cock. I'd come to him for help, and he'd provided it without reservation or condition.

Beyond all that, however, was how my view of him had changed. As I spent time with him, and caught fleeting glimpses of the real Bryn Ludlow he kept carefully hidden, I began to suspect he was nothing like the distant and aloof persona he showed the outside world. I'd always liked and respected Bryn, but now I saw him as he truly was, a caring, intelligent, funny man, a man I was proud to call my friend.

Last night, and again today, I'd discovered another facet of him. He was strong, confident, and had proven beyond any doubt he was no pussy. I smiled to myself, recalling his claim he'd have screamed like a girl at finding a dead cat his in locker. The contrast between his statement and what I'd seen him do earlier made his joke even funnier now. He could certainly out fuck, and probably out fight, any man in my past. I drained the last of my beer, sat back in my chair, and watched his eyes as he calmly returned my gaze. I couldn't believe I hadn't noticed the hot nerd vibe coming off him before this all started.

But now there was even more. I saw hints of it when he first stood off the Rollers at my house, but having him kick the shit out of the Roller lurking in front of my house this afternoon proved he was also a bit of a badass, and that tickled the part of me that liked bad boys. Hot, attentive, smart... and a badass? Yes, please! A pleasant wetness flowed from my center. It was early, just after eight, but I was ready for bed. Not only did I want to feel his touch again, but as the stresses of the day had slowly drained away, coupled with full stomach and the beer to take the edge off, I was feeling relaxed and a bit drowsy.

"What?" he asked.

His word pulled me out of my head. "What, what?"

"You were smiling."

My lips quirked with another involuntary smile. "Can't I smile?"

A tiny smile touched his own lips. "After the day you've had?" He shrugged, then grimaced slightly, his nose wrinkling as his lips pulled back over his teeth as he stood and began stuffing wrappers into the bag that had transported the burgers.

"You okay?" I asked as I rose with him and picked up his Dew bottle and my can.

"Yeah. A little sore."

I nodded as I forced myself not to smile. I was of the opinion that the best way to avoid getting sore was to keep moving, and I had an idea on how to encourage that. His tan pants were now lighter around his hips and thighs, where his body heat had dried them, but darker down his legs where the fabric was still damp. I tossed the two containers into the small recycle tub he kept beside the trash as he waited for me to move out of the way. After he tossed the bag into the trash I melted into his arms.

"Come on. Let's get you out of those wet clothes before you catch your death of pneumonia."

He huffed out a brief laugh as his arms loosely encircled me. "I'm almost dry now."

I tipped my head up, offering my lips, and he took them in a brief kiss. "I'm not... and better safe than sorry," I murmured as I felt his cock swelling between us, pleased that he was already hardening.

He snickered. "Good to know... and my undies do still feel a bit clammy."

He held me a moment longer before he released me, the slow drag of his fingers down my arm making my skin prickle in pleasure. He took my hand and slowly towed me to his bedroom. His single bedroom was small, his queen-sized bed dominating the space, but it was pleasantly masculine.

His bed was a low platform style, the mattress covered with a deep blue comforter, with octagons stitched in, and crisp white sheets underneath sporting thin pinstripes in a matching blue. I knew from experience his bed was supremely comfortable, but now I was looking forward to sleeping in it with him. At the foot of the bed was a low two-drawer chest with a padded grey top that provided storage and a place to sit. Along the wall opposite the window was a six-drawer chest with mirror, and a single bedside table was squeezed between the bed and the wall with the window. The furniture was simple, well made, and suited him.

The room was so small the only artwork was a stylized black and white print of a Harley Flathead from the late thirties or early forties on the wall above the bed. The bike was posed in a pool of light in front of a brightly lit cityscape. A woman, wearing black leather so tight it appeared to have been sprayed on her, walked away from the bike toward the camera, her hair flying as she strode across the wet pavement in her high heeled boots. She was removing her leather riding jacket to expose her ample breasts, her expression making her intent to fuck the shit out of someone mistakable.

There was nothing pornographic about the print. I'd seen women far more scantily clad on calendars in the shop, but I'd mentally rolled my eyes when I'd seen it the first night Bryn had loaned me his bed. Now that I knew him better, the print made me smile. I might not have as big a set of tits as the chick in the print, but I could ride a motorcycle where it was unlikely that bitch could, especially in those boots, and I was doubtful she could even sit on a bike in those pants. I turned to face him. Her look, though, I could completely understand. It was probably the same look I had on my face in the shower a few hours ago, and the same look I likely had on my face now.

He removed his glasses, placing them aside on the dresser, and then, as he lowered his lips to mine, I pulled him down into a torrid kiss. I was bubbling with desire and I wanted to fucking go, but he refused to rise to meet me and kept his kiss slow and erotic. I kissed him harder and forced my tongue into his mouth, trying to stoke his fires, but instead of returning my heat, he pulled back.

As our lips disengaged, I glared at him, slightly pissed off that he didn't want me, but then he turned me and drew my back into his chest. Gripping my breasts, he nuzzled my neck, his slow licks and kisses incredibly erotic. Releasing my breasts, one hand slid up to lightly grip my neck as his other hand slowly traveled down my body, stopping just above my crotch to tug my ass firmly into him.

"Not so fast," he rumbled into my ear, his breath hot on my neck. "I'm want to enjoy you for a long time tonight."

Holy fuck, that's hot! my inner voice screamed. My mind swirled with memories of his slow, gentle lovemaking last night, and his hard, fast, dominating fuck as he took me in the shower only hours ago. I imagined the two experiences merging and becoming one, and I almost moaned in desire. Having him taking me for a long time? Oh fuck yeah! Let's get it on!

I twisted my head, desperate to taste his lips, and I was rewarded with their caress. I lifted my arm and wrapped it around his head, holding his lips to mine. As we kissed, I was disappointed when his hands left my neck and crotch, but then moaned as he slowly opened the two buttons on my shirt. Our lips parted just long enough for him to slowly pull my shirt over my head before he turned me, squatted, and picked me up by the ass.

I wrapped him in arms and legs as he held me to his warm chest, my lips finding his again. He turned to the bed and dumped me into the center, but I refused to release him and dragged him down on top of me. He continued to kiss me, our tongues engaged in an intimate dance, before he slowly pulled back. I released him from my arms but kept my legs around his hips, holding his crotch to mine. He held my gaze for a moment before he powered out of my legs, took my hands, and pulled me to a sitting position. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I pulled him into another kiss, moaning softly in excitement as he quickly unsnapped my bra and drew it away. I tried to pull him down onto me again, desperately wanting to feel his warm flesh against my chest, but he squirmed out of my embrace and gently pushed me backwards to lie on the bed.