Page 6 of Behemoth

"Yeah, this is Francis. Who’s this?"

I ask, even knowing it’s a lady from the hospital.

"Francis, this is Cindy from the hospital clinic. I wanted to follow up to see if you have had a chance to see your family practitioner or come in and have your stitches removed?"

"Nope, been busy with work. Figured I’d pull them out myself eventually."

"Um...Francis, if you have time today, Grace can see you at three. Does that work for you?"

"Yeah, that’s great. Guess it’s better she takes them out than me. I’ve got paws like a bear. Thanks for the call, Cindy."

After hanging up, I sit back for a minute trying to control my fuckin’ thoughts. Damn, Grace Sinclair. Just hearing her name has my cock hardening, and she wants absolutely nothing to do with my ass. Well, her words said that, her thoughts were a bit different; apparently she liked what she saw. All of it from what I deducted from her ramblings. Bottom line though, she has Damien to think about, and that crazy MC her ex is part of. She doesn't need to be part of all my craziness too.

Standing, I stretch and head to the bathroom. I need to shower before going to the hospital clinic. Dropping my cutoff shorts and pulling my T-shirt off, I look at my reflection in the mirror. What I see back is a fuckin' mess.

Why would an intelligent woman like Grace want any of this mess? I wear my abuse literally. Scars litter my body, making it look like I've been pieced together. Looking farther down, the only portion not scarred on my front is my dick. It is long and thick as fuck. The sweet butts at the club are always whining about how thick my dick is. It helps that I can hear their thoughts and work it to my advantage. Along with my strength and endurance, I haven’t had any of them turn me away. Thank God since they are the only type of woman I’ve had sex with in my life. A perk of being a biker in a club I guess. They don’t care what you look like as they will fuck anyone apparently.

These thoughts have increased my need for a release. So I reach down and grasp my cock, squeezing along the length first, and continue by caressing up to the engorged purple mushroom head then down the length, feeling it get harder—if that is even possible. A drop of precum is on the tip, so I use it to lubricate my motion. Leaning against the sink, I keep the momentum going until I feel my balls tighten up. Grace's pretty face and beautiful eyes come to mind, and that's all it takes. As I spurt thick white streams into the sink, I feel a brief moment of peace. It only lasts a second though, because when I raise my head, I'm still alone. Even my mind quiets for a moment as I think how fucking lonely I am.

Grace

I hear a knock on the door and scream out, “Enter!”

Seeing Cindy walk in with patients’ charts, I feel this afternoon is going to get busier than it already is. Just what I need when I haven't been sleeping well. Ever since the beefcake known as Francis walked into my ER, my body is reacting strangely, like it has woken up from a long sleep horny. No, extremely horny, which I don't understand. Those feelings I don't recall, ever. Even when I was with Wrecker, my body never felt so alive and so frigging needy.

"Grace, have you eaten your lunch yet? This afternoon is totally overbooked. I did follow-ups and had to adjust your schedule to fit everyone in. Make sure to scarf down your sandwich because you’re going to need your energy, sista."

Laughing, I thank her, and then reach for my lunch bag. Yeah, I pack a lunch; I can't be frivolous with my money. I need to make sure Damien and I are always covered. With the loans I'm paying off, along with my mortgage on the small house we have, I don't want to get into financial trouble. Plus, Damien has special needs that include therapy, and I will never jeopardize his well-being. Grabbing my sandwich and yogurt, I quickly eat, and then wash it down with a flavored water. Then glancing down at my watch I get a move on it. Duty calls.

Damn, it feels like I’ve been working nonstop for days. Grabbing the chart for the next patient, I look down at the paperwork. Immediately, my body heats up as my breathing becomes labored. For Christ’s sake, get a grip, Grace. I shake my head as I look down at the name on the chart, Francis N. Stein. Just looking at the name brings a giggle to my lips. This Frankenstein is HAWT. And he makes me hotter in a lot of private places. Especially in my girlie bits. I take a moment to clear my dirty thoughts then knock on the door before entering the room.

My breath catches because Francis is lying back on the gurney, his shirt off. Lost in my own thoughts for a moment, I stare at all that is Francis, then try and fail—of course—to focus on what I'm doing. What a body. Shame to hide all that. Even with the scarring he’s beautiful. His arms are huge, as is his chest, which narrows down to that delicious V and dark line of hair pointing in the direction my mind and mouth want to follow. With this running through my mind, I fight a giggle. What the hell is the matter with me? I try to clear my mind by shaking my head briefly.

"Good afternoon, Francis. How are you doing today? Any issues with the injury or have any of the stitches pulled out?"

"Nope, all is good. I was gonna try to remove them myself but thought it would be better if you do it. Look at these hands, they’re as big as bear paws."

His words make me laugh at his comparison. As I hold his chart, I glance at his large hands again. You know what they say about big hands. The exact ones I’ve been fantasizing about running all over my body. Back to his chart, I see it’s been fifteen days, so we are right on schedule.

As I approach the cabinets, the door bursts open, banging into the wall, and then hitting someone who is fighting with said door. I turn abruptly to see two of the three assholes from Wrecker's MC, the ones who warned me a couple of weeks ago to watch myself. How they knew Francis was here with me, I have no frigging idea. And I’m thinking they were the same ones who tried to jump Francis. They obviously got their butts kicked judging by the bruises on their faces, fat lips, and one even had a broken nose with two black eyes.

Way to go, Francis, I think to myself. With that thought I hear Francis’ muffled laugh. Damn it, did I say that out loud or did my face give away my wandering mind’s conversation internally.

"Yo, Scarface, didn't we warn your ass already about staying away from Wrecker's ol’ lady and kid? Are you deaf, you stupid son of a bitch?"

Before I can even grasp what was just said, I am moved behind Francis, and his enormous frame is protecting me, taut with rage and anger. I can't see his face, but as I watch, the idiots confronting him turn pale with fear.

"Okay, Dumb and Dumber, I thought we made ourselves fucking clear the last time when I gave you a beatdown and my brothers removed you from my property, but apparently you jackasses didn’t understand your lesson. Whatever Ms. Sinclair and her son do is not your business. Wrecker is serving life, so he no longer exists for her. Especially with all the abuse he dealt out to Grace and Damien. You got a problem with this, have your prez call Brick, my prez, and they can discuss it."

Their faces blanch at the mention of Francis’ prez. I get the feeling he is either not a good guy or at least a very scary dude, especially as the mere mention of his name alone is enough to strike obvious fear into these bikers.

"Nod if you understand, asshats, and then get the fuck out of here."

They both nod while turning and fighting to be the first out the door. As it closes behind them, Francis sits back on the bed and puts his head in his huge hands. Not knowing what to do or even why I do it, I gently run my fingers through his hair and am amazed at how soft it is. He immediately lifts his head, those stunning gray eyes looking into mine, and I can see his are filled with anguish and pain.

"Grace, I'm so sorry. Not sure how they even knew I was here, but no matter, I don’t want to bring this shit into your life or Damien’s again. Get these stitches out of me and I’ll be gone. You'll never see me again. Don't mean to bring this kind of bullshit around ya, darlin’.”

"Francis, you didn't bring this, I did. I apparently have kept a blind eye to Wrecker’s brothers watching me. It’s my relationship with Wrecker that was a disaster from start to finish. None of this is your fault. Let me get your stitches out and maybe we can have a talk, if you have time?"

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