“If you could go anywhere and do anything right now, what would you choose?” he asks, almost disturbingly calm. I don’t see how he can be. He should be freaking out right now. I almost want him to freak out, so that I don’t have to.
Even though my heart is racing, and that anxious feeling is sweeping over me in a tidal wave, I make myself stop and think. If I could go anywhere, do anything …
“I’d get on a bike—my own bike—and I would take a road trip. No particular destination in mind. I’d just ride until I felt like stopping. And I would stop wherever I wanted, whenever I wanted.”
Sin listens to that for a moment, mulling my words over. The silver hoops that line his right ear are missing; I assume the medical staff removed them at some point?
“Alone?” he clarifies, and I give him a sharp look. “What? It’s a valid question. Who would you take on the ride with you? Just yourself? Reba?” His mouth twitches with distaste and he meets my eyes with his silver ones. “Grey?”
“I … don’t know.” Only I do. I’m just afraid to say it, to put it to words. It’s too much to hope for. I’ve already gotten more than I deserve, with Grainger and Sin living to see another day. How could I possibly ask for more than that?
“Figure out the answer to that question; it’ll help.” Sin pulls me close again for another kiss, but it’s tainted a bit with our matching issues. We both have fears of being abandoned. Of being alone. Even if neither of us will dare admit it.
Beast escorts me back into the waiting area, and my eyes catch Crown’s right away.
His gaze follows me as the two of us approach together. He can’t miss the shine of Beast’s ring on my finger or the heaviness of his jacket on my shoulders. It’s all there, all of the possessive things he dreamed about but can never have.
He wants a baby.
So even if I decide not to continue this pregnancy, children are a part of the future that Crown wants for himself. I’m not sure if I’ve ever even considered having kids. I’m neither for or against it, it seems; it’s just that I never imagined my life taking place years or decades down the line.
More than once, I’ve been sure that this is it, the end of my existential crisis.
I’ve spent so much time wondering if I might die, that I haven’t given much thought to what I might do if I lived.
That’s sad. That’s so fucking, goddamn sad.
“The two of you can’t just keep switching places like this,” I tell Crown, before he gets a chance to open that annoying mouth of is. I might still have a jacked-up face, but at least I’m dressed the way I like, and my makeup is as good as it gets for someone who got clocked in the jaw by her rat-fucking brother. My uniform makes me feel more powerful. “You both have to sleep at some point.”
“I’ll—” Crown starts, and I wave my hand dismissively.
“Sleep when you’re dead. I know, I know. But that doesn’t work for me.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, your majesty,” Crown drawls out, flicking his tongue against the edge of his mouth. “Does my work schedule displease you? Perhaps you’d like to figure out how we’re going to fit three other chapters worth of men onto the compound? Make all of the local families comfortable as they hunker down in the clubhouse? Organize guard rotation for all of our people that are currently staying in the hospital? Take your pick.”
“I’ll do any or all of those things if you’ll just give me the chance,” I snap back at him, shoving my fingers through my hair and exhaling to release some of my anger. “Put me to work.”
Crown doesn’t expect my answer, his eyes narrowing on me before he lifts his gaze up to Beast.
“We need to talk,” he tells him, and I get the sense that this is about me.
“If you need to talk about me, I sure would enjoy being included,” I quip right back, stepping between them.
“Probably best if it were later,” Beast clarifies, his accent thicker than I’ve ever heard it before. He rubs his hand against the blond stubble on his face. “After the wedding night.”
Crown tenses up, but when Beast wraps an arm around my shoulders and escorts me to the door, he doesn’t stop him. I can feel Crown staring after us as we go, my heart pounding in my chest. We head straight for the Escalade, and Beast opens the rear passenger door for me, waiting until I’ve climbed in before shutting it and moving over to the front driver’s side.
“If anyone needs to talk, you and I do,” I say, buckling my seat belt and glancing into the rearview to get a read on his expression. He seems calm. He must know about the pregnancy, right? If Crown knows then Beast would have to.
“Later,” he assures me, starting the car and heading back in the direction of the compound. Beast’s hands tighten on the wheel enough that it squeaks beneath his grip, and then he forcibly relaxes himself. “You wouldn’t want to have a conversation with me right now.”
I open my mouth, but then I can’t decide what it was that I wanted to say.
I continue to stare at him in the rearview mirror, but his stoic expression gives absolutely nothing away.
When we get back to the compound, the on-duty guards open the back door and shine a fucking flashlight in my face. I’m tempted to hiss at them, but instead, I just cross my arms and stare back at them like the vampire Grainger accused me of being.
Intense. Baleful. Undead.
They check the back seat, slam the door, and off we go.
Beast thinks sitting back here in the center seat keeps me the safest from snipers, so … this is now my go-to spot. Anyway, the guards checked us on our way out with just as much attention to detail, so I guess Grey stays another day. Maybe a week. Maybe longer.
I stare out the window as we head through the main parking area and then rattle our way up the makeshift road that leads to the farmhouse. There are people fucking everywhere on the compound, in a way I’ve never seen before.
All the families of local members.
This is insane; it’s unprecedented.
A lot of the families—at least half, I’d say—don’t really have anything to do with the club at all. Their husbands are members, but they go to school and work and live like anyone else. Not everybody’s as embroiled in this shit as I am, tangled up in the bloodied tendons of club life like a tumor.
With a growl, I turn back toward the front of the SUV.
Gaz really fucked things up, didn’t he? Cat never needed to know that I’d stolen Grey; he never needed to know that his officers were involved. We could’ve worked our way out of the Grey Wolfe Mafia mess without my father ever being the wiser.
This complicates things.
When we pull up in front of the farmhouse, Beast climbs out and moves to open the door for me, a gentlemanly behavior that I can accept. Mostly. I eye him warily as he climbs in beside me and slams the door shut.
His hand ends up on the side of my neck, and I go completely still before he puts his lips near my ear, grazing that glorious stubble of his against my cheek.
“Was that fear, Gidge?” he drawls, his voice tight and strained.
“No,” I say. It’s the truth.
It isn’t fear; it’s something else entirely.
“Good. Know that as your husband, I will never hurt you.” His hand tightens slightly on my neck, and he adjusts his mouth to meet mine. His lips, when they do brush mine, hurt worse than any other kiss I’ve ever received.
It’s a quiet, desperate sort of violence lined up beside a savage claiming.
My tongue flicks across my husband’s bottom lip as he pulls away to look at me, putting our foreheads together as his grip on the back of my neck squeezes just a little more, and I groan, caught somewhere between a massage and a possession.
“Not unless you ask me to,” he murmurs, licking up the side of my face.
My hands fist in his cut, and I find myself enamored with the song of our attraction. The tempo is made up of frantic breaths; the rhythm is the shushing whisper of leather on leather; the beat is my hea
rt, a steady but rapid flicker of muscle that leaves my pulse racing and my body wracked with dizziness.
A gasp escapes me as Beast puts his teeth to the side of my neck, grazing the throb of my carotid.
“I’ve tried my best to remain a gentleman for you, suge,” he growls, and then he’s biting me in that tender space between my neck and shoulder, and I’m thrusting my hips up off the leather seat. I’ve always found the back of this SUV pleasantly roomy.
Not with Beast in it.
He takes up all of the extra space, consumes the oxygen until I’m not sure if I’m even breathing anymore. I could be dying. If so, if this is what death feels like, I would gladly give into it.
A groan slips out as he grabs my right hand with his left, pinning it to the seat with unbelievable strength.
“But I don’t have to be.” Beast moves his mouth back to mine, using his right hand to fist in my hair as he kisses me like I dare not even ask him to share. Like this is it. And if it is, I have to be okay with that.
My thighs spread willingly, wrapping around his huge body as he bites my bottom lip and sucks it into his mouth.
“Ask me.”
It doesn’t sound like a request.
I swallow hard, lids fluttering as I try to keep them open. I want nothing more than to close them and let myself drift away on a dark river, drowning underneath the harsh current. That’s what Beast is, a mighty river meant to carry me away.
“Hurt me so good that I forget everything else,” I murmur, pushing thoughts of Gaz and Cat from my mind. Old, ugly memories. New, persistent threats. “Hurt me, Beast.”
He reaches down and grabs a lever on the side of the seat, making it lean back at a forty-five-degree angle so that he can cover me with his body. His tongue slides along the edge of my jaw until he’s biting my ear with a growl. His left hand slides up and underneath my shirt, seeking my breasts through my bra. As soon as his fingertips glide across the lace of one cup, he digs into it and tears a hole in the delicate fabric. The hard, pert point of my nipple ends up between his rough fingers, rubbing and pinching as I groan with reckless abandon.
There’s nobody out here to listen.
Nobody out here to hear me scream.
The farmhouse is far enough away from the main clubhouse, and the only people in it are Grey and Reba. They can both watch for all that I give a shit. Guess we’ll be testing the Escalade, just to see if the shocks can absorb a little bounce.
When Beast kisses me again, I bite his lip, and he lets out a small, gruff laugh, grabbing my chin in his right hand and making me gasp. He never stops playing with my nipple, igniting this line of fire between my chest and my cunt. I can feel a needy pulsing and throbbing between my legs, and I want his huge cock to fill it.
My husband’s cock, I think, and the idea thrills me just as much as it freaks me out.
Sin asked me who I would take on that fictional trip of mine. It’s a valid question.
Would I take Beast with me?
Oh yeah.
“This is why I like you, Gidge,” he purrs against my ear, rubbing his cheek against mine again. “The only woman strong enough to be my wife.” He pulls back just slightly, pushing my shirt up and over my breasts. Beast drops his hot mouth to my exposed nipple, and I almost choke on the rush of pleasure, digging my nails into the back of his head and pulling him against me.
He sucks me hard enough to make me see stars, and then he bites down, and I really do scream—but with pleasure, not pain. I hold him against me as he works my breast up until my nipple’s on fire, and then switches to the other side. This time, he leaves the lace where it is, flicking his tongue against the hardened bud and making me arch up against him.
“Maybe we should go inside?” I whisper, but Beast ignores me, taking his time with my breast before kissing down my still-flat stomach. His fingertips graze the waistband of my cherry red leather pants.
“No.”
Just that one word.
My new husband unbuttons and unzips me, taking hold of the waistband and yanking the pants over my hips. My skin is mottled with bruises from the blast, but Beast protected me from the worst of it with his body. He may as well drape himself across me all over again, full circle and all that.
With my pants around my ankles, Beast grabs my hips and turns me over, pressing me into the reclined back of the chair. My arms wrap around the headrest as he undoes his own jeans, pressing the hot head of his cock against my tight opening. I can’t spread my legs now that my pants are in the way.
Beast braces his right hand on the edge of the still-upright seat to our right, thrusting into me with one hard, fast motion of his hips.
It’s almost too much.
He’s huge, and I’m tight, and it’s been days.
I bite my lower lip, my teeth finding the same indentation that Beast left with his own teeth.
“Wait, wait,” I breathe out, but he puts his mouth up against my neck and licks the side of it.
“You can handle me, Gidge. You’re the only one,” he tells me, and then he begins to move, and that sharp prick of pain very quickly becomes overwhelming pleasure as my body stretches to accommodate him.
“When did you know …” I whisper, choking on the words, burning to ash on the inside. My phone buzzes, but I ignore it. Beast’s buzzes. He ignores his, too, which probably isn’t a very smart thing to do. I’m not sure either of us gives a shit in that moment.
There is no club.
There are no other men.
It’s just me and him, his body buried inside of mine, that coiled fury of his pumping into me with each hard thrust, pinning me to the seat. I can feel the SUV shaking with each movement, creaking slightly.
“When did I what, darlin’?” he purrs against the side of my neck, biting me again and causing my hips to buck back against him of their own will. I swear, I take him even deeper then and he readjusts one hand to my hip to hold me there, forcing himself in another inch.
I cry out, squeezing the leather seat for support. Is that it? I hope that’s it. I hope it’s not.
Beast fucks me so hard and deep that I swear, I can feel him moving in my belly. I have to bite my lip yet again to try to stifle the guttural, almost animal-like moans spilling from my throat.
I’ve always been bad. I’ve always liked sinful things. And this? A supposed communion of husband and wife, something that’s supposed to be sacred in certain circles. And we’re managing to make it dirty and raw as fuck.
“Sugar,” Beast repeats, almost a warning. He slows the movement of his hips so that I can talk. Still, my voice is breathy and weak, twisted up with sex and need.
“When did you know you wanted me?” I whisper, feeling my body pulse and clench around him, milking him. I’ve got such a greedy cunt, trying for more seed when it’s clearly had enough. I push back against him anyway, just to feel my ass press against his sweaty skin.
Beast strokes a hand over the round shape of my ass, and then reaches up to wrap that same hand over my mouth.
“As soon as you looked me dead in the eye and begged me to fuck you without a hint of fear. That’s when.” He thrusts in hard and deep, and my sounds of wild abandon are stifled by his palm over my lips. Beast fucks me so vigorously, so desperately that I feel like I’m coming apart at the seams. Everything is feral and unhinged, and I just want more of it, more of him. Harder, faster.
The frenzy inside of me coils up, unfurling like a whip and making me scream again. I can feel the orgasm hit me like a freight train, and then my body’s squeezing and wrapping Beast’s, drawing him deeper, making him curse.
He pulls out so abruptly that I fall against the seat in complete shock, still quivering and shaking from the aftershocks of the orgasm.
“I need a minute, Gidge,” he tells me, and then he’s kicking the door open and buttoning his pants up as he takes off. I stare after him while I struggle to swallow and breathe, shakily turning myself around and slumping in the seat so that I
can fix my own pants.
I follow after him because, like I said before, I love the taste of sin on my tongue.
“Beast.”
I find him behind the house, one hand on the wall, his head hanging down. He’s breathing hard, like he’s trying to collect himself, to bring back that cool, calm assuredness he wears so well. Sin said he wasn’t sure if Beast ever fucked anyone, if he even cared about such earthly pursuits.
I see that it’s the exact opposite.
He cares a lot; he lets sex carry him away on a river of fire.
He cares too much, so maybe he didn’t screw a lot of groupies. I can’t imagine it. I just can’t.
“Give me a minute, hun,” he says, and the nickname melts my heart. It doesn’t come across in a sweet, cloying sort of way like it does when Reba says it. There’s an edge there that makes my pussy clench so tight that I end up wrapping a hand over my crotch and squeezing.
He sees me do it and curses, turning away, like he might take off again.
I move after him and grab onto his arm; he whips a sharp warning look back at me.
“I mean it: Gidge. Back off.”
“No.”
I release his arm, but I just stand there, shaking and panting, wearing his ring and his jacket. I cross my arms obstinately.
“I won’t,” I continue, fully confident in my position. “I’m your wife now, not just some hot fuck. If I want to follow you, I damn well will. It’s my right.”
Beast growls at me, and then he’s grabbing my arm and twisting it behind my back. I end up with my cheek pressed to the side of the house, his other hand wresting my pants down over my ass. He mounts me unceremoniously and ruts me into the wall, hard and fast and violent.
If this is what he was running from, then I’m glad I gave chase.
“I love it,” I murmur, even with my arm trapped, and my face pressed to the wall. “More. Fuck me harder.”
“Goddamn it,” he breathes, accent thick and syrupy. He licks the side of my neck again, and I push back against him, only to be pinned to the wall by his pistoning hips as he fucks me hard and comes with a ragged, masculine groan.
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