3: Closets

                                    

                                          
CELIA
"Don't mind Grave, he's harmless for all that he is scary... He's just a man with a few skeletons in his closet."
Silver's words ring through my head as I slowly push myself up off the table. Those stormy eyes are pinned to me, striking at my resolve to not throw myself at him and ride him into the sunset—no. A hurricane. Looking into eyes like that while in the throes of pleasure must be a lot more intense of a feeling than gazing at the sinking sun. 
There would be lightning as his hands caressed me. Thunder as he groaned. And both at once as he shuddered beneath me and filled my pussy with his cum. 
I wonder if a man's secrets could have anything to do with him devouring you with one look. 
A voice breaks the heated stare between us before I can ponder the thought further.
I stand straight and nod at the bikers who'd thanked me for breakfast. All the while, Grave's stormy eyes follow my every movement, even as I walk out of the room.
I pass Morrigan in the kitchen and smile, receiving a dazzling one in return. She's actually quite sweet compared to the stern person she had been for the majority of my interview. But I get it, and I think it was mostly because she cares so much about the club.
This morning we talked while preparing the food and serving up plates. She told me a little bit about the motorcycle club—the Reapers and what they do. Basically, what I discerned is that they ride motorcycles, and fuck. Occasionally they take trips to other clubs for rallies and social things like that. 
While she talked I wondered if any of it applied to stormy eyes. For some reason, the thought made me uncomfortable, sad even—something I should not feel at all. Morrigan is the club president's wife. They've been together since high school and a part of the club for about as long. She would know a lot about Grave, but I couldn't bring myself to ask about him.
	I carefully balance six plates on my arms and take them out to the other club members. They thank me and when I look up, I once again meet intense eyes.
           I have half a mind to approach Grave. To end this constant staring match. To initiate what I know would be the best sex of my life. 
	"Celia?" Morrigan calls from where she stands behind her husband. "Come here, the prez wants to introduce you to the club."
	I nod and as I'm walking, I brush past Grave. My hip presses into him and for a small second, I hesitate to continue forward. The littlest touch and experience of his warmth affects me beyond reason. But Morrigan is my anchor to reality. If she or the others weren't here...I'd probably be all over him—begging him to do all kinds of wicked things that are so not meant for the eyes or ears of the others.
	"Prez," Morrigan addresses. "This is our newest member of the staff. The one and only, Celia."
	I shake his hand, returning a silent nod. He then turns to his wife and whispers something. She waves a hand in the air afterward, flagging someone down behind me. 
	Silver's shoulder brushes against mine a second later. "How can I serve you?" he jokes.
	"Celia needs a club name," she tells him. "Since you're more of a wordsmith, we're leaving that to you." She gracefully slides into her husband's lap, losing my attention once he starts kissing her.
	"A name," Silver muses. "So you're in."
            I shrug. "It would seem so."
            "Exciting," he smiles. His head tilts to the side then and his whiskey colored eyes focus on me. "Celia... Seal... Cece—" I grimace at that nickname and shake my head instantly.