Page 16 of Rough & Ruthless

When we finally pull up to the shop, my heart aches. The lingering damage from the break-in is glaring. The glass is mostly swept from the sidewalk, but the door frame is splintered. Tears well up in my eyes when I see my large (and very expensive) concrete planters reduced to rubble, soil, and crushed petals.

The moment we step inside, however, a grounding wave of damp earth, crushed eucalyptus, and rich flora washes over me. It smells like home. It smells like life.

Shafts of dusty sunlight filter through the windows, illuminating the broken glass and overturned terracotta pots. And standing right in the middle of it all is Stryker. His massive, dark, leather-clad frame is such a stark, overwhelming contrast to the delicate leafy greens and fragile ferns surrounding him.

I immediately set to work uprighting the fallen pots, gently checking the bruised leaves of my monsteras, and grabbing my watering can. True to his word, Stryker stays glued to my hip. He doesn't get in my way, but his intense, dark gaze tracks my every movement.

"Why a floral shop?" he asks suddenly, his deep voice cutting through the quiet of the room. "How did you even get started in all this?"

I pause, trailing my fingers over the vibrant green leaves of a pothos plant. "It's peaceful," I tell him softly. "After a lifetime of instability, of never knowing what kind of fight I was coming home to or what was going to happen next, I just... I wanted to nurture something. I wanted to take a space that was nothing and turn it into a sanctuary. It’s the first thing I’ve ever built that is entirely mine."

“Tell me your story,” Stryker says softly, almost reverently. “It’s only fair.” The giant biker winks at me, and I think it’s the most playful he’s ever been. I wonder if I can draw more of that out of him.

“My childhood, while not great, is sadly not that different from most people I grew up with in a trailer park in Denver. Alpine Grove.” I roll my eyes at the name. “As if calling it that would somehow make living there less depressing.”

“I’m going to need more than just growing up in a trailer park surrounded by sadness. Talk to me, Soraya. Tell me your story,” he repeats.

I bite my lips and focus my attention on a hearty philodendron still hanging next to me. My fingers trace the vines as they split into bright green leaves with yellow stripes in the middle.

“My parents are alcoholics and addicts. Most people are in Alpine Grove. They got into fights all the time. Screaming at each other in the middle of the night, breaking bottles, tearing down curtains, and even throwing furniture around.”

I pause to gather my thoughts, my shoulders relaxing as Stryker gently massages them. He’s silently encouraging me to continue while also reminding me that he’s always here.

“It was… It was chaotic,” I finally say. “Scary, at times. Okay, all the time,” I admit. “But, truth be told, it was somehow scarier when I came back from school to a quiet trailer. Did one of them overdose? Did both of them overdose? Did one of their dealers come to collect a payment they didn’t have? Will I find bodies and blood when I open the door? At least when my mom and dad were fighting, I knew they were alive.”

“Soraya,” he whispers, his hot breath tickling the shell of my ear. “I can’t even imagine. You’re so brave for enduring that for so long. I’m so proud of you for getting out when you could. I know how difficult it is to crawl out of the dirt, darkness, and oppression of places like that.”

I turn around in his arms, looking into his deep brown eyes. Tears form and fall down my cheeks, and Stryker is right there to wipe them away. He cradles my face, never breaking eye contact, proving to me that he’ll stand with me through the pain, heartache, and healing.

“You’re proud of me?” I ask, my voice weak and shaking.

His arms immediately engulf me, his spicy, earthy scent surrounding me as I surrender to his care. “So damn proud, Soraya. I’m sorry you never had the love and stability you needed growing up. The fact that you want to provide peace and growth through your floral shop is admirable, and no small task. How did you make it all the way out here from Denver?”

I explain the job listing and jumping in with both feet when the owner wanted to sell. Stryker’s eyes shine with… well, pride. Just like he said. I don’t think I’ve taken even a single second to reflect on how far I’ve come, both literally and figuratively, since leaving Denver.

“You’re so brave. And beautiful. And mine.” He growls the last word, the atmosphere in the quiet, sunlit shop growing suddenly thick with a heavy, magnetic tension. The way he looks at me, like I'm something precious, something he wants to devour and protect all at once, makes my breath hitch in my throat.

He leans in, capturing my lips with his, leading us in a slow kiss that builds with each stroke of his tongue. My body buzzes in anticipation, and I feel lighter than I ever have now that my past is firmly behind me.

Stryker walks us a few steps farther into the shop, then spins me around so we’re both facing the front counter of my shop. I gasp as his arms wrap around my waist and he kisses his way up the back of my neck, pressing his hard cock into my ass.

“Need you,” he rasps against the side of my neck before nipping me there. “Need to feel you, touch you, and prove you’re really here. Will you let me?”

My breath hitches and a moan escapes my lips as he grinds into me, slipping his hands up the dress Cierra let me borrow. Stryker continues his exploration with his hands, as he sucks and licks my neck. Before I know it, he has my dress and panties off and he’s pushing me down on the counter so my ass is sticking out.

Stryker growls and palms my cheeks, spreading me wide open for him. He takes himself out and rubs his dick between my folds while I push back, trying to get him inside me again. I’m addicted to this man. I know he’s the only one who will ever be able to satisfy my cravings.

His lips slide press against my lower back, slowly moving their way up my spine. “Tell me what you want, beautiful,” he whispers into my skin.

“You,” I breathe out.

"You have me. Now, what do you want me to do to your gorgeous body?"

He continues to saw in and out of my folds, not entering me yet. I moan loudly, my pussy squeezing on nothing as it gushes all over his cock.

“I want you to… fuck me, Stryker.”

He growls. “Tell me again,” he says, snapping his hips and bumping my clit.