The Broken Pieces of Us(10)

By: M.N. Forgy

two weeks later

I am going over some of the Numbers Hawk passed my way when I see Babs pulling a bucket of water along the floor in front of my office. She has on a loose, red, silky top that showcases her tits enough to make a grown man growl and tight ass black jeans. I try to look away, mind my business, but I can see the bucket is obviously too heavy for her to lift with the way she is pulling it with all her might, water sloshing over the side with every tug she gives it. I chuckle and get up from behind my desk to help her.

I reach down to grab the bucket, my hands accidently grabbing the tops of hers instead of the bucket. Her skin is soft, silky. My dick pulses from the skin contact, making me let go quickly, causing gulps of water to splash all over her.

“Oh, shit!” I curse, trying to grab hold of the bucket before it spills everywhere. I wait for it, the moment she cusses me for getting her pants and boots soaked with mop water. I look away from the wet floor to Babs laughing so hard she can’t breathe. Her eyes are squeezed shut and her face is red from the lack of air. I don’t think I have ever seen her laugh so hard before. She looks so youthful and carefree.

I notice a drop of water above her red lip and slide my finger over it without thinking. Her laughter stops, her gorgeous green eyes pinning me. I take my other hand and cup her cheek, wanting to feel more of her silky skin. For the life of me, I can’t figure out what the fuck I’m doing. She leans her head into my touch, her lips parting with a rush of air she exhales, her eyes silently accepting my touch. A door down the hall slams, breaking us quickly. I walk back into my office, my heart racing, and close the door, cursing myself.

I can't resist the way she draws me in, even though I know it’s wrong on so many levels. I can feel myself stepping over the line from brother to traitor with the feelings I have for Babs. I wake up eager to see her, my dick vibrating with the need to have her. This can’t be good.


A few months have passed and Babs has stayed a few nights with me along the way when things between her and Locks get rocky. Luckily, here recently, Locks just stays at the club overnight instead of going home to Babs. I haven’t touched Babs, afraid to cross that line again, but have wanted to. My fingers literally twitching with the urge to fondle her. Locks has never laid another finger on her, and I made sure of that, hiring a local thug and his crew to find Locks and rough him up a bit. Letting him know she better never be seen with a mark on her again. He doesn’t know it was me who sent them, because he came to me about it after it happened. Of course, he left out the part about the warning of Babs never being touched again. He played it off as it being a beat down for fooling around with some guy’s wife. He knows I can’t stand a man who hits a woman, treats a woman the way he has Babs. There have been a few times I wanted to take that fucking vice president patch, but what would that say about me, pulling a patch of a man who has been my brother for years, who has grown up with me in this very club. Both of our dads reigned over this club before us. They were the kings of this place. Locks and I would play here with our toy guns and cheap fake cuts, swearing that one day we would be just like our fathers. I saw my father with other women, seen the look of a woman coming to pleasure before I was ten years old, while Mom was at home, not allowed at the club. Maybe that’s why I feel for Babs the way I do…

Babs refills my cup and starts preparing food for the party tonight. She is always working, always cleaning.

“You ever take a day off, babe?” I ask, lifting my cup at the cutting board she is chopping away at.

She laughs. “This is my home. I want it to be nice for my boys. I like it here. It's nice to feel needed and I love doing things for others; keeps me young,” she explains earnestly.

I tilt my head to the side and stare at her. Her green eyes glimpse my way for a mere second before going back to her chopping. Did she mean boys? Or me?

I look back at the carrots I’m chopping, my cheeks hurling a shade of red that has me annoyed. Do I want Bull? Yes. It’s been months since I had sex, but I know having sex with him would be crossing a line. But I can’t help but yearn for Bull. He is tall, dark, and handsome. His hair is just starting to shows some flecks of grey, which make him look distinguished and sexy. His body is in great shape. He must still work out ‘cause there is no flab to speak of. The few nights I have spent here, I have woken up before him and have seen his morning wood, which is mighty impressive.

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