Page 4 of Sparrow's Grace

Just as I had my tongue moving along with my lips to tell him, his hand that wasn’t bracing his body slammed down on my mouth.

Forcing me to be silent.

I had tried to dislodge his hand from my mouth but to no avail.

Where he was two hundred and twenty-five pounds… I was a hundred and twenty pounds. I was no match for him.

And when he came not even a few minutes later without me coming, calling out Luanne’s name? I felt tears rolling down my cheeks.

He didn’t say a word as he removed his hand, pulled out of me, and walked to the bathroom without a backward glance.

I laid there until I heard the water turn on because he always took a shower after he fucked me. It made me feel as though he was washing the scent and everything that had to do with me from his body.

I promised myself that this was the last time. The last time that he was going to fuck me and not have a care. The last time I was going to be made to feel like I was nothing more than a whore.

Wiping my cheeks, I got out of bed, grabbed some wipes, cleaned myself off, and pulled on my panties, jeans, and my socks. Sticking my feet back into my tennis shoes, grabbed my bags, and left the room.

What I didn’t know was that not only had my dad exacted a promise from me and from Deck that I was to be his ol’ lady someday. He had extracted a promise from the President of the Steel Bandits MC, his best friend, Gaston.

If Deck ever mistreated me that I was free to leave without any repercussions from the MC.

Chapter 1

Savannah

I had stayed at my parents’ house over the next few weeks, never venturing to the clubhouse even when Deck had called to ask if I could grab him something to eat. I had used the excuse that I was working overtime because I had been. Technically.

I just hadn’t told him that the overtime was happening because I had picked up more work and I had also found a quaint little coffee house to work in a few times a week.

Who doesn’t love caffeine? See, this was why I loved my job; I could do it from anywhere.

Even though I hadn’t gone to college or anything like that, I took a trade course for graphic design at the local college, and thankfully, I was smart, so I learned by trial and error.

I designed everything you could think of. From book covers to promotional ads, to cologne advertisements, all the way to underwear model campaigns.

And what had them coming back for more was that I didn’t alter the person’s body. They were human. People reacted better when they saw someone that wasn’t perfect.

Also, from having the clientele that I did, I designed a cover for an author and then read one of her new books. I had sent her a message on her social media about the edits.

Normally, I hated doing that, but I really loved her work and couldn’t understand what had happened.

And that…. well… that had started my career as also being an editor.

So, I could’ve gone and gotten him something to eat, but I was still angry with him for how he had treated me that night.

And I repeated the same process over the next month and a half.

What hurt, though?

That wasn’t when he hit me.

It wasn’t that he fucked me with no care.

Nor was it that he never muttered my name when he came.

It wasn’t even the fact that he thought it was okay to belittle me at every turn.

No, it was the fact that he hadn’t checked on me. He hadn’t asked me if I was okay since I hadn’t seen him. And that… well… that makes a person feel so unwanted, it’s not even funny.

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