Cuffed for Love

by Goode, Ella

  “Trust me. You scream.” A smile spreads across his face, and I’m taking that as a good thing. Then I remember we’re in the shower. My eyes drop down to see his cock in his hand. I watch as the trace of my virginity washes away.

  “All mine?” I echo his own words back to him.

  “More than you’ll ever understand.” I didn't think my body could hum with more pleasure than it already was, but Dane proved that wrong. I wrap my hand around his cock as I drop to my knees. Dane stays true to his word.

  He always does.

  Seventeen

  Dane

  The motorcycles roared past all night. When I was in the military, constant exposure to noise was one of the things we were exposed to during counter terrorism training. It’s designed to reduce your sleep and thereby lower your defenses and ability to respond. It was actually pretty fucking effective, and a good portion of our guys washed out from the program because they fucked up the following day due to inattentiveness. There’s plenty of former military who found their way into these biker gangs, so I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s a tactic one of them brought from their past.

  Thankfully, Joy sleeps like the dead. I could probably blow an air horn by her ear and she wouldn’t stir. That’s not a bad thing. I slip out of bed and tuck the blankets around her.

  In the other room, I dress silently, slip my gun into my holster, and double-check all the locks. When everything is secure, I text Mick.

  Me: I’m going to make a visit to a friend wanna tag along

  Mick: Is this friend related to your business

  Me: No. non business. personal real personal

  Mick: pick me up

  Mick is standing outside when I pull up. He lopes over to the truck and climbs in, the door shutting with a quiet schnick. “I only brought one extra magazine. Do you think I’ll need more?”

  “No, but if we do, I’m well stocked.” I jerk my head to the cachet of weapons stored inside a long industrial grade trunk in the rear.

  My brother shifts in his seat and reaches out to take inventory. Once he’s satisfied that we’re well equipped, I take off.

  “You should’ve brought Joy over to the house,” Mick says, checking the chamber of his Glock.

  “I don’t want to worry her. Her job is spreading happiness to a bunch of people. This sort of thing would taint that.”

  “I don’t want to be telling you how to run your business, but as your older brother and someone who’s been married for years, you always got to be up front with your woman. She’ll find out later anyway, and if she hears it from someone else, it’ll be your balls that are aching.”

  “Bells gets mad at you because you’re irritating, not because you don’t tell her everything. She knows everything there is to know—“ I shut up before I can shove my foot into my mouth further. I arrive at the biker’s house before my brother stops laughing. It takes him another minute to gather his composure.

  Mick swipes the back of his hand against his eyes, shoves his gun into his pocket, and gives me a nod. “I’m ready.”

  “Better be.” I hop out and head for the front door. The toys in the lawn are gone, and the porch that was sagging in the satellite photos is rotted away. “The sat photos had toys,” I alert Mick.

  He surveys the yard that’s only partially illuminated by the streetlights and moon. “Either they’re grown or they’re gone, but I’ll be careful.”

  Under a carpark attached to the side of the house is an old model Dodge Charger and a shiny black Harley. I scrape off the mud and take note of the license number. The postage size backyard holds a couple broken lawn chairs and crushed beer cans. Flies buzz around a garbage bag that’s partially open. The raccoons will be feasting tonight.

  Back around the front, Mick is keeping watch. I knock on the front door like a good neighbor, but no one answers. It’s late, so that’s no surprise. A swift kick on the knob and the door gives way. Mick goes low and I go high—just like it was in the old days when we were in boot before we got separated due to some rule about brothers not being able to serve together. A rush of stale air hits us. Mick pulls up his shirt over his nose and nods for me to go ahead.

  No one is in the front room. We move quietly and quickly down the hall of the one-story. The first bedroom is empty. Boxes are piled up in the corner, and the mattress is the floor. There are towels on the floor of the bathroom and a trail of dirty underwear leading to a closed door at the end of the hallway. Inside, the biker lays on his stomach, a beer can on the nightstand next to his phone.

  I toss the phone to Mick, who tucks it away. A prod to the back of the guy’s head elicits no response.

  “Drugs?” Mick asks.

  “Who knows, but we both have women waiting so let’s do this.” I haul the man upright, which is no easy feat since the fucker weighs at least three bills. He murmurs something, but it’s not until I shove him under the shower head and turn the cold on blast that he comes to with a roar. His sour beer breath blasts across my face.

  Mick grimaces. “I’ll leave you to it.” He disappears while I’m trying to wrestle an angry biker to the ground.

  “Goddammit, Mick!”

  “It’s Mitch, you motherfucker,” screams the drunkard into my face. Spit smears across my cheek.

  I punch him just for that. He goes down, slipping on the shower curtain and pulling down the metal shower rod with it. It bangs across his face, and blood spurts out. This is so fucking messy.

  “Mitch, Mike, Matt.” I snap my fingers. “Pay attention. Do you know who I am?”

  He glares. “Course, you’re the needle dick skip tracer who took my Carrie in.”

  “Great. Yeah, I did. She shouldn’t have run. Looks like you could’ve used the money to fix up your house.” I pull down a towel that’s slung over the sink cabinet and toss it to him. “How long ago did she leave you?”

  There’s a moment of shocked silence and then a dull, “Three months.”

  “Let me guess. You paid her bond money in hopes that she would come back to you.”

  He nods miserably. “But you took her away,” he accuses. His lower lip starts to quiver. Man. This is not how I expected this to play out. I put my gun away.

  “Did you shoot him already? I didn’t hear it.” Mick appears over my shoulder.

  “His woman left him, and he was trying to win her back, I guess,” I try to explain. The biker cries harder. Mick makes a horrified face and jets away.

  “Just shoot me. It’ll be less painful,” moans the biker.

  “Nah, but if you come near me again, I’ll make sure your woman gets the worst sentence possible.”

  “You can’t do that!”

  “You don’t know that for sure.”

  The biker’s chin drops to his chest in defeat. “Fine. Just…leave me the fuck alone.”

  I pull out my wallet and slap a few bills on the counter. “Get someone to clean up in here and maybe your woman will come back to you.”

  He’s still sniveling as I walk away. As we’re driving home, Mick says, “Please don’t tell me you left him money.”

  The thing about family is that they know you too well. I just remain silent.

  “Fuck. Man, how is it that you have such a soft heart?”

  “Me? You had to run away before you started crying.”

  “I’m a sympathy crier,” he says.

  “Keep telling yourself that, and maybe you’ll even believe it. I can’t wait for Bells to deliver. You’re going to have to be sedated after the first hour.”

  “Try first five minutes.”

  We share a look and then a laugh. It started out tense, but it’s all resolved, and now we’re going home to our women. Couldn’t ask for a better outcome.

  Eighteen

  Joy

  I tilt my laptop screen back a little more, trying to get a better angle. I’ve fallen off the map a little on social media so I have to make sure I post something today. My life has been a lot of sex lately and n
ot much else. I’m sure as hell not going to talk about that. Especially not with how my feed quickly filled up with women asking who Dane was.

  I see the reflection of myself pouting in the screen of the camera and quickly wipe the look off my face. I’m going to do a quick video and be done. I’ve done a video like this one before, but it was already old and I’m sure a little refresher won’t hurt. I am going to show how to do a top bun even faster. I get myself ready and hit the button to start the live feed.

  “Hi everyone.” I give a wave. “I’m going to be working on a few videos and I swear I’ll get them posted up today and tomorrow! I know I’ve been a little MIA, but I promise I’m back,” I let them all know. I glance down at the comments. Everyone is asking if I moved.

  “Oh. No, I haven't moved. I’ve been staying with a friend.” It’s not long before they start commenting about seeing all my stuff in the living room. I peek around the room and notice how right they are. My throw pillows are on Dane’s couch. I grabbed those because I noticed his couch was bare. Who doesn't have throw pillows on their sofa? I guess single men.

  But there is more than that. On one table sits a picture of Cece and me, and there are so many other little things scattered around that are mine. I turn back to look at the camera. “I think I’ve been tricked into moving in with my boyfriend,” I mumble to myself as I realize what has happened. I gasp, putting my hand over my mouth when I realize I said that on a live feed. This is why you stick to posting pre-recorded video.

  Hundreds of comments fill my feed, all of them asking if it was the hot guy from the other night. I don’t want to say. Dane might not want to be known. He doesn't even have social media. I didn't know there were people out there without social media. He pointed out he wasn’t social. Which made me laugh. Then he’d kissed me, and I stopped laughing.

  “I’m seeing someone,” I finally say. “Yes, I think it’s serious.” We seem to live together. I leave that part out because my following put that together all on their own and I didn't notice myself. “But I wanted to let everyone know I’m alive and well. I’ll be—” I stop talking when one of the comments asks if that’s him and then my comments explode so fast I can't keep up.

  I turn my head to see a shirtless Dane standing there in sweatpants. His eyes are still filled with sleep, and his hair is messed up from my fingers. He looks so damn handsome.

  “You left the bed,” he says.

  “I’m recording. It’s live.” I point to my laptop. “Where is your shirt?”

  “I don’t know. You’re always stealing them.”

  “It’s not stealing, I’m borrowing it.”

  “Just come back to bed. We don’t need a shirt.” My mouth falls open for a second. I shut my laptop quickly, cutting off the live feed.

  “I was live! Everyone saw this.” I motion towards his chest as I get to my feet. “And what you said.”

  “Now you get why I hate your bikini.” He had a very valid point there. I skip past it because I love going to the pier with Cece for food and getting a little sun.

  “It doesn't bother you that people might ask questions about you now?”

  “Nope. Now they know you have a man.” A huge smile forms on his face. I’m learning quickly that Dane is possessive when it comes to me. It should annoy me, but the last thing my body feels is annoyed when he’s laying claim to me.

  “Caveman.” He only smirks. “Did you notice that it looks like I live here?” I pick up one of the throw pillows. We’re separated by a loveseat.

  “It looks good around here. Smells good too.”

  “Why thank you. I got—” I trail off. He totally side stepped my question. “Wait a second. You’re avoiding the fact that you pretty much moved me in with you.”

  “Now that I think about it.” Finally he’s going to admit what he’s done. “You’re wearing the shirt I had on last night.” I look down at myself. I am in yoga pants and one of my own shirts. I knew better than to record while wearing a man’s shirt. People would catch on real quick. I’m seeing now none of that matters.

  “This isn't—” I’m again cut off when he grabs me. How the man moves so fast I’ll never know. For such a solid man he is quick on his feet. I’m over his shoulder before I know what’s happening. “You can sex me all you want but I’m going to bring this up again! You can’t avoid it forever.”

  He drops me down onto the bed. He stands on the side of the bed. “You want to go back next door?” he asks.

  “Does my answer matter?”

  He lets out a deep breath and I get it. No, he wants me to stay put and he’ll do whatever it takes to make that happen. But it would hurt him if I said I wanted to leave. “Sweets, answer the question.”

  “I don’t want to go anywhere,” I admit. I prop myself up on my elbows.

  “We’re going to need a bigger place.” He’s already planning our future. Or more putting it to words because it’s clear he’s been thinking about this already. Not to mention all the unprotected sex we’ve been having. I’ve pointed out multiple times that I’m not on anything. That didn’t stop him from coming inside of me again and again. He knew I was his forever. I think from the very start.

  “We’re in love.” I smile up at him.

  “Fuck yes, we’re in love.” He comes down over me. I can’t contain my laugh. “Say it.” I wrap myself around him.

  “I love you, Dane.”

  “I love you too, sweets.” He kisses me and shows me without words how much he does love me.

  Nineteen

  Dane

  “Don’t answer it,” I growl.

  Joy’s arm stops mid-stretch. “But it could be Bells and Mick.”

  Sweat rolls down the side of my face. “I. Don’t. Fucking. Care.” I punctuate each word with a thrust. I’m close. She’s close. Nothing is going to stop me. Not a bullet. Not a bab— “Oh fuck.” The real world rushes back in. Bells is expecting any day now and we promised to be at the hospital with them.

  “Yeah.” Joy looks over her shoulder reluctantly before answering the phone.

  Meanwhile, I stroke a hand over her damp ass. I love fucking her in every position but there’s something extra erotic when she’s on all fours and her ass is shaking every time I hammer my cock into her tight cunt.

  I move—just a little—as she says hello. She sends me an evil glare and I pause mid-stroke so she doesn’t sound like she’s being nailed even though my cock is wet with her juice.

  “Oh my God. Of course. We’re on our way!” Joy scrambles away from me, leaving me hard and wet.

  “Sweets, Bells is not having her baby in the next five minutes. Come back here.” I’m close to begging.

  “No.” She hops over to the closet and starts throwing clothes on. “I promised Bells I would be there. I’m her breathing coach, remember?”

  “Backup coach,” I correct, sadly climbing off the bed. My cock points in her direction, and I have to slap it into submission. It does not go quietly. I nearly shave the head off when I zip up my jeans. The damn thing will not go down.

  “We both know that Mick’s going to pass out at the first cry that comes out of Bells’ mouth. She said he was shaking so hard, she had to make him pull over so she could drive to the hospital.”

  “Fuck.” I pull a shirt over my head and reflexively sling the shoulder harness around my body. There’s a tug on the strap, and when I look over, it’s Joy, pulling the leather off.

  “You do not need your gun in the maternity ward,” she chides.

  “You don’t know that.” But I let her have it.

  She pulls her messy hair up in a clip, grabs my hand, and drags me to the truck. Once she buckles in, the phone goes on.

  “You live-streaming?”

  “Yes. Everyone’s looking forward to it.” She waves at the screen. “Guys, I got the call and we are on our way. Honey, smile.”

  “I’m driving.” I lift a finger. The livestream always makes me uncomfortable, especially since her
followers have given me a nickname—or rather my own hashtag: #BBBH. I asked what it meant once and have been sorry ever since. She types something in. “You don’t use that hashtag anymore, do you?”

  She averts her face, but I catch a glimpse of her guilty smile in the window.

  “Big Balled Bounty Hunter is not something to be embarrassed about. If they wanted to call you Small Dick Skip, then I’d be concerned,” she says.

  I shake my head. “Are you showing the delivery?”

  “No.”

  “I didn’t think Bells would be okay with that.”

  “You are.”

  “What?” I jerk around.

  She grins innocently. “Someone has to man the camera. I’m the breathing coach.”

  “Oh for fuck’s sake.” I can feel the nausea overcoming me.

  In the hospital, we’re directed to the maternity floor. It’s surprisingly quiet. I mention this to Joy.

  “Did you think there would be a lot of shouting?”

  I nod. “Yes, and crying. Crying, shouting, wailing, and gnashing of teeth.”

  “This is where babies are born. Not a funeral parlor.” She hurries down the hallway to Joy’s room. When we get to the door, there’s a moan and then a loud thump. Fortunately, Mick has not passed out. He is on the floor but not because he’s fainted. Nope. Instead, he knocked Bells’ hospital case onto the ground and is on all fours trying to gather everything up.

  “Oh thank God you’ve come. I tried to hold off calling you, but as you can see, this is close to being a disaster,” Bells says.

  Joy hurries over. “I’m live-streaming. Is that okay?”

  “Yes. Yes.” Bells pushes her hair out of her face. “How do I look?”

  “Like you’re glowing. Say hi to my followers.”

  Bells waves. “Oh my God, there are forty thousand people watching?”

  “I know. I think the live birth is fascinating. What can I do for you? Oh the comments say to give you ice chips.”