“I need you to make me scream, I need every fucking bitch in this clubhouse to know you’re taken. Do you hear me?”
My tongue felt thick in my mouth. “I hear you.”
“After this, we’ll burn the bed,” she told me, the words hoarse as she peered into my eyes. “But fuck if we’ll do that yet. I need you.”
“I need you too, angel,” I whispered, then I pinned her to the wall again, only this time, I urged her legs to slide down so she was standing on her own feet.
When she was, she leaned back against the wall as I reached for her pants—neat little shorts that covered her to mid-thigh and not the butt hugging stuff she tended to wear around my place. I fiddled with the button and muttered, “Ain’t never seen this pair before.”
“I’m trying to be professional with the women,” she answered.
I hummed. “I like them. Secretary chic.”
That had her snickering. “Better than the short shorts?”
“Time and a place, angel,” I told her with a grin, as I slipped my hand down the front of her shorts. When I twisted my arm so I could rub the front of her panties, I groaned at how wet she was.
“All this for me?” I demanded.
“Only for you,” she whispered back with a depth that stunned me.
I stared into her eyes and saw emotions she’d never let me see before.
She was all over the place. Mostly, I could see that. She’d lost weight, her cheeks were gaunt, and when she’d hurled herself at me, I’d noticed she looked a bit haunted. Kind of like she’d expected A, B, and C from her dealings with the women, but was getting G, F, and Z.
Considering what she was discussing with them, what she’d learned from Lily, and how her father had died? I thought she was holding up well.
But seeing her staring up at me? I knew she’d changed.
For the better.
She’d always been guarded before, but something had flipped the switch.
I could never be happy about how that had happened, but it relieved me that I wasn’t going to have to go full caveman on her ass like I’d warned in our last texts.
I slipped my pointer finger over her panty-clad folds, and muttered, “This is my cunt, isn’t it?”
She gulped.
I knew she had a fondness for that word. Got her engines revving faster than my hog started up.
“Y-Yeah, it’s yours.”
“Say the word,” I purred. Knowing that got her even hotter.
She sounded like her tongue had turned into a slug or something in her mouth as she mumbled, “My cunt is yours.”
“I want all those fucking juices drowning me,” I ground out, the words harder than my touch.
She reached up and set her arms on my shoulders even as she dug her chest into mine. “I want your cock inside me. I’ve been dreaming about it.”
“You get yourself off?”
She shook her head. “Not many times. Usually when I talked with you on the phone.”
That had me grinning at her. “Good answer.” I tapped her clit, happy when she made a keening sound like I’d been rubbing her off for minutes instead of seconds. “No more touching this little cunt without me around, hmm?”
She licked her lips. “What if I’m horny?”
“Then you ask me to suck you off. I’m more than willing.”
Her pupils turned to pinpricks. “What if I fingered myself in front of you?”
“I’d be agreeable to that kind of show.”
She sighed. “I like that you don’t want me to be a doll.”
I snorted. “No. I definitely don’t. I like you to be what you are—all woman.”
She bit her bottom lip. “It feels good being able to be myself again. You only want me to be me. I like that.” She rubbed herself against me like a cat would before her arms slipped tighter around my neck and she whispered against my mouth, “My cunt feels empty, Sin.”
I pressed a quick peck to her mouth. “Not for long.” I put pressure on her clit before I murmured, “Stand up straight so I can get you nekkid.”
She snorted, but did as bid, slumping against the wall like she was drunk or something.
I slid my hand out of her fly, reached up and sucked my fingers clean, our gazes connected all the while, grabbed her pants, and dragged them and her panties down at the same time.
Then I moved to her blouse. Another prim little thing with a faint pinstripe, and I began to unbutton it. When I saw she wasn’t wearing a bra, I arched a brow.
She had big tits, and though she’d go bra free at my place, she didn’t leave the house without them.
“You said you were coming home today,” she admitted with no shame.
I grinned as I cupped the heavy weights in my palm. Fuck, I’d missed these.
“Gonna titty fuck you at some point tonight.”
“So long as you get me off first, I don’t give a shit,” she muttered with a moan as I fondled the peaks of her nipples, and her answer had me holding back a laugh.
When I eyed her body, looking for changes, I’d admit to being disappointed when I didn’t see any.
Her tits weren’t bigger, she didn’t even have a pooch or anything like that.
Then, I gently pinched her nipple, and when her face pulsed with pain, I realized why.
Reaching down, I laved said nipple in apology, and her hands tore through my hair, gripping me there, keeping me in place.
“Sensitive, hmm?” I rumbled against the bud, laughing when she arched into me the harder I sucked.
A squeak escaped her, telling me it was borderline painful, but after I jammed my thigh between hers and she started riding it, I grinned and carried on sucking.
When she screamed, I didn’t stop, and neither did she. Her hips rode me faster than a bucking horse, until, out of nowhere, she went limp in my arms.
Brows high, I pulled back and saw how her face was slack.
“Well, that’s a fucking first,” I muttered under my breath, as I saw she’d passed out.
Fuck. I didn’t even know women could do that, and especially not from having their nipples sucked.
Humming, feeling stupidly proud of myself, I picked her up and moved around the room to the side where there was an armchair, which I placed her on.
The space was simple. TV on the wall, table underneath it. A bed, two nightstands, two odd lamps on them, and then two dressers for my shit. I kept most of my stuff at my house, but I had some games here and shit tucked in the dresser for when I was bored.
Moving over to one of them which had, once upon a time, contained sheets, and thankfully still did, I made the bed.
It’d been a long time since I’d made a bed. The clubwhores tended to do that, even in the other chapter, so it took me a little longer than it should have, but by the time I was done, I twisted around and saw she was watching me.
Her legs spread.
Her fingers between her fucking thighs.
Tongue cleaving to the roof of my mouth, I had to smirk because she was a little fucker.
“Thought I said no touching yourself.”
“You never said anything about me not being able to do it when you’re in the room.”
“In the room and watching,” I clarified.
She shrugged and hitched one leg on the side of the armchair, revealing a cunt I’d been dreaming about for months.
She sank back into it and began to finger fuck herself.
My jaw tightened to the point of pain as I started to strip out of my jeans before dumping my cut and Henley on the ground after I’d toed off my boots.
She carried on teasing me, and I regretted putting sheets on the fucking bed—that was what I got for being a gentleman.
The second I was naked, I strode over to her, fist on my dick as I whacked off a few times.
The tip was wet, seeping pre-cum, and when I was close enough, she moved forward, sitting up, and took the tip between her lips.
She sucked me clean, sucked m
e off some, but I knew I’d blow my load way too quickly if I let her play. Just the feel of her was manna, but to know she’d carry on was a mind fuck.
I grabbed a handful of her hair, pulled her head back, and muttered, “Another time. Gonna come too fast as it is.”
She smirked at me, and I wanted to fuck her until she was too exhausted to smirk again. But…
“You okay?” I asked, concern hitting me when I thought about her passing out.
She shrugged. “Little sleepy.”
“You’ve never done that before.”
Her gaze quickly cut to the wall beside the door where she’d just exploded into unconsciousness. “Time for firsts, I guess. Not going to complain. That was intense.”
I hummed, reached down, and hitched my hands under her arms until I could drag her into a standing position.
She moved, flowing into me like she was a dancer and we’d been training together for years.
How had I only known her for six months?
It felt unreal, impossible. One moment, I’d never known her, the next? She’d been at a party, watching me. Watching me do stuff I was ashamed she’d seen, because if I’d seen her doing stuff like that, I knew I’d never get the image out of my head.
That she might feel the same way actually pissed me off and made me want to make amends.
I just wasn’t sure how.
The only way I thought I could do so was to make my claim on her so fucking evident that everyone knew to back the fuck off me in future.
Sure, I was trading a lifetime of varied pussy for just the one, but she was worth it.
Why have a sample of middling cunts when you had a platinum snatch waiting for you at home?
I moved us back, holding her close as I flopped onto the bed.
When she crawled over me, her cunt instantly settling atop my dick, I knew she was as hungry for me as I was for her.
She didn’t even fucking wait.
No more foreplay, nada. Just grabbed my cock, slipped the tip inside her, and rolled her hips down until we were joined.
When she’d stopped panting, and my eyes were uncrossed, she rested her hands on my shoulders and muttered, “I thought you’d be angry about the baby.”
That brought me down to Earth with a bang.
I placed a hand on her stomach. “Why?”
“Thought you’d think I’d trapped you. I didn’t. I did everything I was supposed to do.”
Jerking a shoulder, I told her, “And the kid still came to be. That tells us something.”
“It does?”
“That she’s going to be a pain in the ass.”
Her eyes softened. “What if it’s a boy?”
“Then we’ll butt heads.”
She grinned. “You’ll do that if she’s a girl too.”
“Yeah.” I swallowed. “Never thought I’d be a dad.”
“Why?”
“Made sure of it. Never trusted no bitch before.”
Her eyes flared wide. “You trust me?”
“You’re not a bitch,” I corrected her softly, well aware she didn’t like it when I used those kinds of words.
I had me a feminist on my hands, and while that was absolutely fucking hysterical, I wasn’t about to piss her off when my dick was in pussy heaven.
“You gonna ride me or talk me off?” I demanded.
“I can do both.” She grinned at me, then whispered, “When you’d call me and you’d ask me to talk about stuff to get off, I’d lie there and I’d finger fuck myself.”
“I know you did. I heard.”
She shrugged. “Didn’t know I always took those calls with a butt plug in though, did you?”
Eyes flashing, I reared up at that. We both moaned at the change in position, but I was the first to come down from it, and I spread her ass cheeks apart and fingered her rosette. “You like it?”
“Loved it,” she said thickly. “I’d fuck myself with my finger, and with the other hand, I’d fuck myself with that.”
“You know I’m going to want to see that, don’t you?”
Her pussy fluttered around me. “Figured as much.”
“Fuck, now I want to fuck you there,” I complained.
“You can. Later,” she promised, her eyes wicked. Then she hitched herself higher and began to ride me.
Giving me exactly what I needed, feeding her own fire too.
She let her head fall back as she started to rock harder, faster. Her hands came up, one to cup my shoulder, the other to grab a firm hold of her tit.
The second she did?
Fuck, it was like she detonated.
I wasn’t sure if tits were always that sensitive, but she’d been tender there before. I’d never been able to gnaw on them without her squirming under me—in a bad way. Now? It was like night and day.
I groaned as her cunt tightened around me, literally sucking the cum from my balls. I wasn’t about to complain either.
Fuck.
She ground down on me again, then screamed when I sucked her other nipple between my lips.
Her orgasm was loud, hard, and fast. It fucked with my head how quick she was to explode, and even as I wanted to carry on, to ride this out, I knew I couldn’t.
Storms flared behind my eyes, lights flickered like I was in the Polter-fucking-geist, and when I came? I came hard.
Fuck.
Eight
Ghost
When Katina’s hand was tight in mine, I smiled at her, even as I felt nerves flutter to being inside me.
I wanted to be strong for her, but she looked so like Mama that it was hard not to cry. Hard not to think about what Mama would say to me, knowing what she did about me.
Katina was still unaware of all that, but it was like looking into my mama’s face, so it made me feel bad. So bad.
I wanted to be as innocent as I’d been the last time I’d spoken to Katina on the phone, but that wasn’t possible.
And I had to accept that.
We were in the kitchen of the clubhouse, where her foster mother was making her a sandwich because Kat got something Star called ‘hangry’ around five in the afternoon.
I wasn’t entirely sure what that even meant, but to be honest, I was just happy she was here.
That I could look at her.
That she was safe.
I honestly thought she was better off in Star’s hands than mine. Evidently, the state had picked her out a suitable parent, and the truth was, I wasn’t suitable.
I was a wreck.
I wanted her, I wanted to know she was safe, and I wanted to be close by, but I knew I couldn’t be what I had once been, and that broke me.
It truly did.
“What’s wrong? You look sad.”
I felt sad. But I couldn’t say that. How could I tell such a young child all that?
I rubbed my stomach instead, and muttered, “I’m just hungry.”
“Star makes the best PBJ sandwiches ever.”
Star snorted. “I don’t.” The older woman sounded jovial, teasing, but the look she cast me over her shoulder was wary, concerned.
I got the feeling she was worried I’d take Kat away from her, and that made me feel so much better.
Star loved Kat.
That much was clear, and it made me so happy to know that. So happy because if I ended up being returned to the Ukraine, then I knew Kat was in safe hands.
I murmured, “I’m not used to PBJ.”
Kat’s nose crinkled. “How can you not be? It’s like, sooo good.”
“I’m not from the same place as you,” I reminded her with a smile. “I speak good English, but I grew up with things that are very Ukrainian.”
Kat tipped her head to the side. “Like what?”
“Didn’t Mama show you?
Kat shrugged. “Nope. She usually made things that were very American.”
I arched a brow at that. “Really? What like?”
“I don’t know. Just things like meatloaf, you know?
With gravy.” She hummed. “I loved that when she made it. She used to do a really great mac and cheese too.”
“She used to make me that as well.” I smiled at Kat. “Did she ever make you trisky pechinka?”
Her brow furrowed. “Nope. I don’t even know what that means.”
“I’m surprised. She used to love that snack.”
“What is it?”
“It’s basically cod liver on little toasts. Most people buy the toasts, but she used to make them herself.”
“Why?”
“She liked baking.”
“Mom? She hated baking!” Kat denied with enough vehemence that I raised my spare hand and said, “It’s okay, Kat. She must have changed in the time she was in America.”
Kat blinked at me, then bit her bottom lip. “Why is your voice so husky?” she blurted out, then she quickly peered down at the counter like she was scared of my answer.
What was I supposed to say to that though? I was bought and sold like a piece of meat, raped and tortured, made to endure things no living being should have to endure and through it all, I screamed until I lost my voice?
That wasn’t something I could tell my baby sister, was it?
“I just have a sore throat,” I said huskily, but my gaze drifted to Star, whose eyes were loaded with sympathy.
She knew.
She knew about my past.
I blew out a breath, unsure if that was liberating or not.
“Katina?” Star asked softly. “Are you ready for your sandwich still?”
My sister hunched her shoulders. “Yes, please.”
Star reached over and scrubbed a hand over Kat’s head, mussing up her ponytail. Kat grumbled, made a big show of sorting out her hair, then made a bigger show of getting off the stool to go and wash her hands.
Star laughed, then said to me, “Kat likes to remind me I’m a heathen.”
“A what?”
“Star forgets things.”
“Like what?”
“Basic human hygiene,” Kat muttered.
“As if. I brush my teeth three times a day, thank you.”
“You just forget to turn the dishwasher on or clean the floors every day.” Kat snickered. “What about vacuuming? And you never brush down the walls. Ever.”
Even though my brows rose at that, because who brushed down walls? Star rolled her eyes. “I have a life. I have better things to do with my time than clean the walls.”
Forgotten & Found: A Dark & Dirty Sinners' MC Boxset Page 73