Page 12 of Papa's Beloved

I cling to his back on the ride home. Tired from staying up all night with my friend and weary from dealing with men like Montgomery. Men who think women are objects to be used for their benefit and have no value of their own. Too bad we can’t dig a big hole and stick all of them in it.

I need to get out of my head. I have today and tomorrow off, then it’s back to work. Which I love. And dealing with Lord Fuckyou which I hate. I’d love to give him a piece of my mind, then knee him in the balls. It’s no less than he deserves.

Lost in thought, I don’t realize we arrive until Papa pulls the bike to a stop.

He offers his hand to me, as always, to help me off the bike. I take it, grateful for the support. After I’m standing on the pavement. He brings my hand to his lips, kissing my palm. His smile takes my breath away. And I count my blessings that this man hasn’t walked away from me.

He hops off the bike, pocketing his keys before taking my hand.

“Take me to your room.”

His step falters for a second before he squeezes my hand.

“Your wish is my command, Beloved.”

We walk through the lobby to the elevators and take it to the top floor. Papa recently moved into Gambit’s old apartment. Several of the apartments are now empty. Gambit, Nitro, Boomer, and Dakota’s houses were already complete. Smoke’s house is due to be finished in the next few weeks, and Outlaw is living in one of the townhouses the club built.

The houses and townhomes are all behind a massive brick gate topped with razor wire and monitored heavily. We also have a mini-market and an indoor/outdoor swimming pool. It’s slowly becoming a community within a community.

We entered the apartment. Papa stops in the living room.

“Are you hungry? I’ll make us breakfast?”

“I could eat. Do you mind if I shower while you cook?”

“Not at all.”

I head to the master bathroom. I love the shower, it’s programmable and has a dozen shower heads including a rain shower feature. Papa and I have already christened the shower and all the other rooms of the apartment. The memories bring a smile to my face. That man knows how to lay it down and lay me out.

I program the shower before getting a towel and shower cap. I am not getting this hair wet. It would take too long to deal with. I take my wig off, sitting it on the bare wig stand I keep here. Once I get the wig situated, I don the shower cap and step into a blissfully hot shower.

I hurry through a shower, washing a day's worth of grime off me. After I have the towel wrapped around me, I realize I don’t have anything to wear. I head to Papa’s dresser and pullout a tee shirt, pulling it over my head. I fluff my hair and head to the kitchen to see my man putting the finishing touches on breakfast.

“Something smells good.”

He turns to me and smiles. “Not as good as you.”

“How do you know?”

“I just do. Sit down. I’m about to plate our food.”

“What did you make?”

“Crab benedict with potato pancakes,”

I sit down at the small table in the kitchen where he has two glasses of juices and coffee. He sits a plate down in front of me. Perfectly poached eggs sit on top of a crab cake, which sits on top of a potato pancake with the perfect amount of bechamel sauce on top.

I cut a piece, taking care to get everything before popping it into my mouth. It’s an explosion of flavor with a little heat.

“Ooh, heat.”

“Just a little.”

“It’s amazing. You’re a splendid cook, better than I am.”

He shakes his head. “You’re not a terrible cook, you just don’t like to cook.”

I shrug.

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