McCoy (Golden Glades Henchmen MC 3)

I'd never been the kind of man to think too much of the future. For me, the moment was good enough. And if I did think about the future, it was usually shit about the club, about expanding distribution, about the legit businesses, about maybe one day getting my own place as the club continued to grow, and the house started to feel tighter than was comfortable.

I'd never once stopped to think about finding a wife or having a child.

Yet that was exactly what I was picturing as I watched Shy draw the smallest flower art on a child's tiny fingernails, as I saw her getting giggles out of the kids, as she cooed over the nails, talking about what a good sitter they'd been.

I was thinking about future versions of us. And kids I'd never given any real thought to before, but found myself oddly fascinated by the topic.

You know, for all of five minutes before I remembered how ill-equipped I would be to handle children, to try to raise them up to be halfway functional members of decent society.

I hadn't exactly had a great role model, after all.

If I modeled parenting after what had been shown to me, I'd likely end up with kids in juvie or jail who hated me, and who never became a functioning member of society.

Not that it mattered.

We were nowhere near discussing kids.

Hell, we barely discussed the relationship as a whole.

Still, though, I didn't need to hear the words to know them.

"Yeah, I'm sure about her feelings for me," I said, giving Eddie a firm look, then moving past him, and heading back toward the house.

Inside, I found Shy walking out of the room she was supposed to be sharing with Belle, but she spent only a couple minutes in a day now.

"How is she?"

"She seems a little better actually," Shy said, pushing me into my room, and closing the door behind her. "I mean, she was a little freaked until I got her inside. Once I did, though, and I talked to her a bit, she actually looked at me and talked to me."

"What'd she say? You don't have to get too personal with me. I'm just curious.

"No, I want to know," I assured her.

"She told me that she was picturing the guys who..." Shy trailed off, exhaling a deep breath. "Who made her do things. And she was picking them off. I mean, I don't know what a therapist would say about that being healthy or not, but I can see how that might make her feel a little better. At least in the moment."

"Yeah, I can see that too," I agreed, sitting off the end of the bed, and reaching out toward her, grabbing her hips, and pulling her between my speed legs. "She's going to be okay. She just needs time."

"And guns," Shy said, shrugging, as she rested her hands lightly on my shoulders.

"With blanks the next time," I added.

"Probably smart," she agreed as my hands slid back to sink into her ass, massaging for a moment.

"How was your day?" I asked.

"Good. A little crazy, but good."

"Want me to make it better?" I asked, already feeling my cock hardening at the suggestion.

"Hmm," she said, pretending not to be just as greedy for me as I was for her. "Maybe."

"Maybe," I repeated. "By that, I think you mean you are going to take a couple steps back, and take off your clothes for me," I told her, watching as her eyes went heated.

"You know what," she said, smile playful. "That is exactly what I meant!" she declared as she slid back a few steps.

But she wasn't about to rip her clothes off.

Oh, no.

Instead, she turned to my dresser, flipping through my vinyl, picking something I couldn't see, then putting it on the record player, dropping the needle.

And as the music started to fill the room, her hands splayed on the dresser as she started to sway her hips, shake her ass, and give me all kinds of ideas.

By the time her hands reached down for the hem of her shirt, my cock was already hard and straining.

Shy teased her shirt up, then lowered it, then lifted it higher, a personal little striptease. And with all my experience in life, I'd never had a woman put on a show for me before.

So while my cock wanted to be inside her already, I leaned back and enjoyed her dance as she finally tossed her shirt to the floor, and did some more dancing before reaching behind her back to unclasp her bra, making a whole event out of sliding it down her arms, then holding it up in the air for a second before dropping it.

I needed to fist my hands in the covers to keep from jumping off the bed when she finally slid down her shorts, leaving her in nothing but a barely-there strip of cheeky pink panties.