The Nomad Series-Collectors Edition

by Janine Infante Bosco

  She moans.

  Beautiful.

  Just beautiful.

  “Deuce,” she cries as I lean forward and suck one into my mouth. “Wait!”

  My mouth pauses and I lift my eyes to hers.

  “There’s something I want to do,” she says breathlessly. Her cheeks flush as I pull back and she throws her leg over me.

  “Where are you going?” I groan as she slides off the bed. Folding my arms behind my head, I watch her walk her naked ass over to the little table. Keeping her back to me, she pulls something out of her purse.

  “I’ve got condoms,” I tell her, because what the fuck else could she be grabbing?

  Then she turns to me and lifts a tube of lipstick in the air.

  “There’s something I want to do,” she says as she kneels on the bed and pulls the cap from the tube of lipstick.

  “Don’t need lipstick, I’m only going to kiss it off,” I retort, patting my thighs. “Now get back on and ride me like our lives depend on it.”

  “I was hoping you’d maybe…”

  “I’d what?” I ask as she begins to paint her lips my favorite color. “What do you want? Talk to me.”

  “I want to rewrite another first,” she whispers, rubbing her lips together before she tosses the lipstick onto the bed and crawls over to me. Grabbing my knees, she spreads my legs and centers herself between them.

  Awareness coils throughout my being and I swallow hard because there isn’t anything I can think of that I want more than to feel those lips around my cock.

  Those plump red lips.

  Jesus, fuck.

  “Ally—”

  “Please?”

  “What if you—”

  “I won’t.”

  “You don’t know that,” I argue.

  Bracing her hands on my thighs, she makes herself comfortable between my legs.

  “Let me try,” she all but pleads.

  “As long as you know I would never have asked for it.”

  “But you want it, don’t you?” she whispers, trailing her hands down the inside of my thighs. “I mean, you’ve wondered what it would be like, haven’t you? Tell me I’m not the only one who wonders if you’d fit in my mouth.”

  “You’re fucking killing me,” I groan.

  “And I haven’t even touched you,” she whispers, marveled over her own power. Her hand closes around my shaft and I swear I fucking see stars. I’m not going to survive having her hand around me much less her lips.

  “Goddamn,” I curse as she pins those eyes on me and sucks me into a sea of blue. Mouth wide and willing she flicks her tongue over my head.

  “Someone’s excited,” she whispers licking the pre-come from me.

  Good God, I’m fucked.

  “Ready?” she teases.

  “Are you?”

  Her answer comes in the form of her lips closing around me, drawing me in one inch at a time.

  “Holy fuck,” I hiss as my cock disappears into her mouth. My fingers slide through her hair as she takes me slow and deep. Then she gags and I freeze. My whole fucking world stops but she keeps going. Her eyes never leave mine as she takes and takes, pushing herself, pushing me. She learns how powerful she is and I learn how weak I am. I fist her hair and hang on for dear life as she controls everything.

  She licks.

  She sucks.

  She paints my cock red and plays with my heavy balls.

  She drives me fucking insane.

  And when it becomes too much, when feeling becomes too much and I’m about to blast my load down her throat, I pull on her hair and force her mouth off me.

  “What’s wrong?” she pants the question.

  Mouth swollen, lipstick smeared and eyes wide, she’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.

  “I’m going to come,” I growl.

  “So?”

  Shaking my head, I draw in a deep breath and move her off me.

  “Bend over,” I order as I get on my knees.

  “But—”

  “You want to feel?” I question, gliding my hands up her body, squeezing her tits in my palms. I lean over her and brush my lips across her, tasting the remnants of myself on her delectable mouth.

  “Yes, but I thought that’s what we were doing,” she murmurs.

  Staring at her, I start to count the freckles on her flushed face and decide I don’t want her on her belly with her ass in the air. I want her on her back, legs on my shoulders, cock deep inside her and my eyes glued to that face.

  “Fuck it,” I growl. “Lean back,” I demand as I grab her thighs and push them apart. Kneeling between her, I glance down at her wet pussy and I groan. So fucking inviting, so fucking tempting. Taking one leg I extend it over my shoulder before fisting my cock and guiding it to the place it wants most, the place I want to live inside.

  “Are you on birth control?” I ask, brushing the head between her lips.

  “No,” she admits. “They took the IUD out.”

  “I’m clean,” I tell her, recalling the time she told me she was. It was the admission that made me dream of this, of taking her raw—flesh to flesh.

  “I’ll pull out,” I tell her, feeling the sanity slip from me. “Or not…” I add.

  Yeah, I had fucking lost it.

  The scary part was I didn’t care.

  I wanted to come inside of her, I wanted to fucking brand her internally.

  “What’re you waiting for?” she pants, arching her hips and giving me permission to make us both feel something we’ll never forget.

  Thank you.

  I silently thank her and whoever the fuck sent her to me.

  I thank the heavens that made it possible for us to do this.

  Then I slam my mouth over hers and grab her other leg, curling it against my side as I drive my bare cock into her.

  “Oh my God,” she moans, closing her eyes once I’m fully seated inside of her.

  “Look at me, Ally,” I pant against her lips.

  Her eyes flutter open and I lean back a fraction.

  Blue.

  Bright blue.

  And in a second, I forget red is my favorite color and fall in love with blue.

  “I’m looking at you,” she whispers.

  “What do you see?”

  “Fire.”

  “What do you feel?

  “Fire.”

  Beautiful fucking fire.

  Right there.

  Where she begins and I never end.

  I fuck her slow.

  Nice and slow.

  Hanging on to this thing we’re building.

  Willing it never to end.

  I work for her moans.

  For her sweet moans.

  I work harder for her sweat.

  Licking it off her tits.

  I work and work until she’s screaming my name and her pussy is drawing the come from my balls. Her leg slips from my shoulder and she wraps both around my waist, locking me in place, keeping me inside her as we both lose our minds and fall over the edge.

  Coming never felt so good—so free.

  So fucking right.

  Falling forward, I press my lips to hers. Chest to chest, our hearts beat rapidly as I kiss her. I kiss her long and hard, soft and slow. I kiss her like I may never get the chance to again. Like this is the end of the line.

  A part of me wishes it was.

  A part of me wishes we were dying here in each other’s arms.

  Because the bigger part of me knew the truth.

  The end of the line was coming and I was meant to stand there alone.

  Tearing my mouth from hers, I lift both hands to her face and I count her freckles one more time and pray it’s not the last.

  I’m not ready to give her up.

  I’m not ready to ride without her.

  “Deuce?”

  “Yeah,” I rasp.

  “You’re crushing me,” she giggles.

  “Shit,” I mutter, pushing off her. “I’m sorry.” I slowl
y pull out of her. Leaning back on my haunches, I push my hair back and watch her stare at my cock.

  “My favorite color is definitely red,” she jokes as I reach between her legs and swipe my thumb over the wetness dripping down her leg.

  Drops of me.

  Drops of her.

  That beautiful fire.

  The magnitude of what I’ve done weighs heavily on my chest and I think about what it might be like if time was on my side—if it wasn’t slipping through my fingers.

  “Whatcha thinking about, Clyde?” she asks, moving her head to the side as she brushes her long hair away from her neck.

  “I’m thinking I should probably clean you up before I dirty you up some more,” I lie, forcing a wink. Scrambling off the bed, I pad toward the bathroom to grab a towel. Turning on the faucet, I raise my head and it becomes clear as I stare at my reflection in the mirror that I am my own worst enemy.

  I dug my own hole.

  Now there’s no climbing out of it.

  There’s no fucking way I can rewrite my own past.

  There’s no sweet ending.

  There’s no religion that can save me.

  I’ve got heaven in the next room and Satan’s pulling me back.

  Dampening the towel, I wring out the excess water and close the faucet. Deciding to make the most of the little time I have, I head back to my oasis, back to Ally.

  She’s not in the bed though.

  “What’re you doing?” I ask as she bends down and lifts something from the floor. “Ally?”

  “Oh my God!” she gasps, dropping whatever she picked up.

  I toss the towel onto the bed and stride toward her, bending down to pick up the piece of paper. Turning it over, I lift my eyes to Ally and see the tears slip from her eyes.

  “That’s Sara,” she shrieks, pointing to the photograph in my hand.

  Casting my eyes downward I stare at the photograph.

  Death.

  It has a face.

  It’s a pair of lifeless blue eyes.

  Chelsea’s eyes.

  -Thirty-nine-

  DEUCE

  Dread churns deep in my bones as I stare at Ally.

  “How did you get this?”

  Wiping her tears, she glances at the photo and I quickly turn it over. She doesn’t need to be haunted by death too.

  “Someone slipped it under the door while you were in the bathroom,” she stutters and I instantly drop the photograph. Turning toward the door, I peer into the peephole.

  “Get dressed,” I tell her. “We gotta get out of here,” I add, pulling away from the door. I move to the curtains, peel them back and inch but all I see is the filth of the windows and the blackness of the parking lot.

  “Why would he send a picture of Sara?” she questions behind me.

  Dropping the curtain, I turn back to her.

  “What did you say?”

  “Sara, why would Yankovich send a picture of Sara?”

  “Sara,” I repeat, trying to make sense of her question.

  “Her name isn’t Sara,” I correct, glancing at the photograph on the floor. Flashes from that night torment me as I try to recall when anyone paused to take a picture of her like that. At the time, it seemed as soon as she took her last breath they dragged her body to her grave.

  Tearing my focus away from Chelsea’s picture, I look back at Ally.

  “That’s Chelsea. I should know, I was there when it happened,” I admit. “I’m also the reason it happened.”

  “That can’t be,” she mutters, brushing the tears away from her face. “That’s the girl I was telling Jack about. That’s the girl that disappeared…” her voice trails off.

  The wind changes once more.

  One final time.

  The skies clear.

  It’s the calm before the storm.

  The moment of clarity.

  “Are you a hundred percent certain?” I croak, as what she reveals begins to make sense.

  “Your Chelsea is my Sara,” she whispers, bending down to take the picture. “Yankovich killed her.”

  “No, he didn’t,” I say.

  The truth burns.

  The flames destroy.

  “My club did,” I reveal hoarsely.

  “Jack killed Sara?”

  “Chelsea,” I correct, grasping for control and failing miserably. It’s coming together.

  The tires.

  The photograph.

  Yankovich.

  “We have to get out of here,” I tell her abruptly.

  “No, not until you explain,” she demands.

  “Ally, now isn’t the time—”

  “The fuck it isn’t,” she shouts, lifting the photograph to my face. “What happened to her?”

  Angrily, I rip the picture out of her hands and tear it to shreds. The pieces fall at our feet, just the way this beautiful thing we created between us does too.

  “You want to know what happened, I’ll tell you what happened, Ally. She was shot four times in front of my face and the final bullet, the one that killed her came from my fucking gun. Your Sara, my Chelsea, she was killed and her blood is on my hands. She’s dead because I couldn’t keep my hands to myself, because I was a selfish motherfucker with a vendetta.”

  The gasp that escapes her lips guts me but it also reminds me of what I’ve tried to bury. The secrets and lies that I forgot the moment I met her.

  “Now you know,” I say. “And before it happens to you, I suggest you put your clothes on so we can get the fuck out of here and get you to safety.”

  “I don’t understand,” she cries.

  “It doesn’t matter,” I shout. “They know where I am, they’re probably waiting outside this fucking room—”

  “Who?” she hollers.

  “The Bastards of Mayhem,” I growl. “Goddamn it, Ally,” I yell, running my hands over my face. “I’m begging you to get dressed so I can get you out of here.”

  Dropping my hands from my face, I stare back at her. Every fear, every regret, all my mistakes pour from my eyes and find hers.

  “I won’t watch you die because of me,” I choke out. “I killed the president of a club, Ally. They’ve been gunning for me for years now. I should never have stayed in one place. I knew the chances of getting caught were greater but I wanted to be part of this thing Jack’s building, this thing that Wolf was desperate to save. I wanted to believe in brotherhood again. So I stayed, but I never banked on you and now here we are. They know where I am, they know you’re here with me and there’s no way out. Not for me.”

  “Then we’ll run,” she says automatically. “We won’t go to Jack…we can leave right now…someplace where they can’t find us.”

  “Ally,” I start, shaking my head as I reach for her. “We won’t make it past the state line.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying it’s time to go.”

  It’s time to say goodbye.

  It’s the end of the line.

  And death is the wage of sin.

  “You’re right,” she says suddenly.

  Stepping out of my reach, she turns around and starts to grab the clothes scattered across the room.

  Hers.

  Mine.

  “We’ll go to Jack, we’ll tell him the truth. I’m guessing he has no idea about any of this?” she asks as she throws me my jeans.

  Catching them in my hand, I watch as she loses it and roughly tugs her shirt over her head.

  “He’s going to be pissed but he’ll know what to do,” she says, as she reaches for another article of clothing. “He’ll make it right. He made things right for me, he gave me you. He’ll make things right for us now.”

  Tears streak her face as she tugs her pants on and slides her feet into her shoes. Silently, I pull my own clothes on and once we’re both dressed, she turns to me.

  “It’s going to be okay,” she says.

  I don’t have the heart to tell her it won’t be.

  I
don’t have the guts to say the truth.

  I never did.

  That’s why we’re here.

  “It’s going to be okay because we’re all property of Parrish,” she whispers.

  Silence.

  She reaches for my hand of which I give willingly.

  Just the way I gave her my soul.

  And as I brush my lips across her knuckles, I count the freckles on her face…

  One last time.

  -Forty-

  DEUCE

  I couldn’t stand to look at her, I couldn’t bear to see the sadness radiate from her knowing I’m the guy who put it there. So I kept my eyes on the road as she continued to ramble on about Jack. He’d be proud to know she’s got so much faith in him. It’s funny how life comes full circle right before it ends, isn’t it? Who would have thought Ally would be Jack’s number one supporter? When we started this thing, you didn’t think she’d be the girl that turned everything around. You thought she was just another name, just like I did.

  Another face.

  She surprised us, didn’t she?

  She taught us a few lessons too.

  Now it’s time for her to learn one.

  It’s time for Ally to learn the carnal rule of any motorcycle club. A sacred rule the Satan’s Knights live and breathe to obey. It’s a rule I never quite mastered, which is ridiculous considering who my old man was. Thinking about it now, my old man and Jack were a lot alike. They shared the same values and cherished the same principles. I’m well prepared for the consequences of my actions because my father would’ve done the same exact thing. He would’ve delivered the same sentence.

  Still, Parrish managed to throw me for a loop when I turned into his driveway and found him sitting on his front porch at one-thirty in the morning. Holding Ally’s hand in mine, I lead her up the walkway.

  “What’re you doing outside in the middle of the night?”

  “Counting the fucking stars,” he bites back, lifting a vaporized cigarette to his lips. His eyes dart between me and Ally before I finally grab my balls and I turn to her, finding relief in her eyes.

  My girl.

  Goddamn, my girl.

  She’s the real deal.

  The girl you find once in your life.

  If you’re lucky the timing is right.

  If you’re me, you’re fucked.

  “Give us a few minutes,” I tell her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Seeming to believe everything will be all right, she smiles at me and kisses my lips.