Page 51 of The Pursuit of Her Happiness

“Sure. Come on in.” I wave them in and toward the living room. I close the door and turn around, face planting into Polk’s broad muscular chest.

“You ok, darlin’?”

I shrug. “Ask me when they leave.”

He holds my hand as we walk into the living room to join my parents. We sit stiffly on the couch opposite them, Polk winding his arm around my back and pulling me into his side. He’s being protective and supportive and I love him even more for it. I don’t talk about my parents, because I don’t see them. I can’t even tell you the last time they saw their grandchildren. Joe and I bonded early on over being massive disappointments to our parents. Polk’s family is novel and different and sometimes I watch them like I’m Steve Irwin, but without the accent.

“So,” my father begins but doesn’t continue. As always, he leaves it up to my mother.

“The divorce wasn’t enough? Now you’re having a mid-life crisis with a biker?”

“Mid-life? Mom, I’m 36, that’s hardly mid-life.”

“And you’re begging for financial help from the public! It’s embarrassing!” I rear back, closing my eyes when the room starts spinning. My heart rate accelerates and I’ve been making such strides in relaxing. My vision is just about back to normal. Getting QFW up and running is like a drug to my system. I’m rejuvenated without the meth teeth and skeletal appearance.

And my parents are seriously harshing my buzz.

“Excuse me?”

“Your sister would have never—”

“We don’t know what she would have done or become. She died.” Mom gasps dramatically, “She died before she began to live!”

Polk squeezes me to him, “You do understand that your daughter, the only child you have left, the mother of your grandchildren you never see, has just been diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis, right?”

“So, she claims—”

“Get. Out.” Now is not the time to be turned on, but God. Damn. Tone lethal. Body rigid. Nostrils flaring. He is fucking hawt!

“You can’t kick us out, this isn’t your home!” Oh, right, parents. Down girl!

“No, but she’s my woman. She’s my entire fucking world. I will not sit here while the two of you try your level best to crush her. She’s stronger, more resilient than anyone I’ve ever met. The charity ride? It’s not for her. It’s for the charity we’ve started and she’s running for those who do not have family to support them. Those who are not fortunate enough to have a great job. Or the disease has progressed far quicker.”

Dad blusters, “We don’t support this—”

“Not you,” Polk interrupts. I’m gonna jump him. “Her actual family. The Congressionals MC. Joe. The boys. Me.” He thumps his chest and my ovaries explode. “We are her family. You are sad, pathetic DNA donors who have let grief and pain swallow you whole. Find a therapist. Take some meds. Have an orgasm or two. Do something to find the happy in life. I have and she’s sitting right fucking here.”

“Quinn—”

“Get. Out.” I don’t think my voice has ever sounded like that before. Jeez, I’m turning myself on now.

“How dare you!”

I roll my eyes at my dad, “I’m about to get naked with my man and no one sees him in his birthday suit but me. Also, I’m done. Don’t come back here again. If you ever find the happy, shoot me a text or write me a letter and I’ll consider giving you another chance.” I’ve shocked them both and it’s like a double edge sword. I’ve longed to say so much to them, but it isn’t worth it. They won’t change. They can’t. “I’ll tell you this, who you two have become…she would be ashamed of you. Think about that while you let yourselves out.” I jerk my chin toward the foyer and quickly straddle Polk. His hands go straight to my ass, pressing me down to ride the hard ridge of his shaft between us. Our mouths clash and the door slams shut. In moments, I’ve got us both bare from the waist down. I hover over his cock, glistening with his arousal, making my mouth water with need. He breaks the kiss to pull my shirt over my head, then he’s fumbling with the hooks of my bra as he sucks down my neck. He pulls a hard nipple into his mouth, rolling it with his tongue, and I slowly slide down his shaft, reveling in the stretch.

“Quinn.” My name on his tongue…sinful. His hand tangles in my hair at the back of my head and urges me closer until his tongue is pushing into my mouth. My body curves in a slow roll as I torture us both. His hand on my sternum, I lean back, my hands on his thick hairy thighs. I have never felt more sexy, more powerful in my life. I’m high on Polk. Bently Walker is my addiction. “You better not be thinking of spreadsheet formulas!”

“But baby, it can add an entire column with a few simple strokes!”

“My strokes are the only ones you need to concern yourself with.” In a manly display of strength that has my entire reproductive system giving a valiant effort to reboot itself, Polk picks me up and lays me on the coffee table, his cock snuggled deep in my twinkle cave. The angle…Jesus, it’s good. So good. “Play with your titties.” My hands move and I pinch just shy of painful when his thumb starts to circle my clit. “You are absolutely fucking saturated.” I tug on his shirt until he gets the message, crying out when his abs are exposed. He’s so beautiful. A smattering of hair I love to play with when we’re laying in bed. A solid yet soft pec that cradles my face perfectly, his heartbeat lulling me to sleep almost every night. The thick muscles of his arms flexing as he holds me tight or cages me in when he’s above me like right now.

“Tell me.” He growls, dipping his head low until he’s centimeters from my face. “Is it that I stood up for you? The new pack of pens that arrived today? Or that you stood up for yourself?”

Kegeling, I smile devilishly when it drags a tortured moan from deep in his chest. “Why can’t it be all of the above?”

He shakes his head with a smirk. Squatting between my legs, his pace increases, my body shifting with his every thrust. He slaps the side of my tit, my back bowing at the rough treatment. When he pinches my clit without warning, I cum. So. Fucking. Hard. The room starts to spin again, so I close my eyes until it stops. Vertigo sucks.

“I meant it, Quinn.” I pry my eyes open and meet his stare. My heart stutters then takes off at the complete and utter devotion that shines back. I hope, I pray he can see the same in mine. “Every. Word. I. Said.”

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