Angel: RBMC: Ankeny IA

by Kristine Allen

  “You have always been stunning,” I murmured as I slid my hands up her thighs to grip her hips. Her fingers threaded through my hair as she cradled my head. Adoration shone in her eyes, whether she knew it or not.

  I pressed my lips to the tiny silver lines on her belly; evidence of the months she carried our son. She tried to pull away, but I held fast. “Beautiful,” I insisted as I kissed the next one. There were only a few, but I loved every single one of them.

  Locked on her mossy gaze, I moved lower until the flat of my tongue licked her swollen pussy lips. Separating them, I dove deep, tasting her and savoring her. Lids heavy with lust, she watched me with pants slipping from her perfect mouth. Those pants turned to a keening when I slid my tongue up to press on her clit.

  Teasing.

  Torturing.

  Lifting one leg to hook it over my shoulder, I groaned at her spread open for me. Steady but slow, I devoured her, bringing her close, only to repeatedly back off.

  Only when she shuddered and moaned, “Oh God, Angel,” did I have mercy and suck her clit between my lips as I slid two fingers into her tight, hot sheath. I worked her until she was ripping at my hair and screaming my name in a litany of ecstasy. One last bite to her swollen nub and my tongue slid down to capture my reward.

  Nothing in the world tasted as good as her release on my tongue.

  Sex drunk, she slouched against the wall. I shut the water off, grabbed our towels, giving us a cursory dry as we stepped out of the shower stall. With one hand, I blindly opened the door, kicked my pants out into the room, then scooped her up. Her still slippery legs wrapped tightly around my waist. One last kick had my jeans by the bed. I clutched the firm globe of her ass until we reached the edge and I laid her on the mattress.

  Using my foot to lift my jeans, I held her gaze, daring her to try to back out. Because I was prepared to grovel, if need be. Taking the condom from my pocket, I ripped open the foil and rolled it over my throbbing length.

  “Scoot up,” I demanded. Gaze locked on mine, she did as she was told.

  Thank fucking Christ.

  Grasping her thighs, I lifted her up, circled the tip in her weeping cunt, and buried myself deep. She squeezed me tight, and it took my breath away.

  “Fucking hell,” I ground out. Her heels dug into my ass, urging me on.

  “Move. For the love of God, move, Angel!” she begged. Nearly thirteen years since the first time I’d slid into her perfect heat, and it still felt like that night. Holding her ass in one hand and leaning forward to rest the fist of the other next to her head, I slid out.

  Then I rammed home. Again. And again. And again. Until we were a blend of each other. One. It was the best feeling in the world.

  Every thrust had her tits bouncing and shaking until the temptation was too much. Dropping her ass to the bed, I slowed down and ran my tongue along her puckered nipple. Cool fingers wrapped around the back of my neck and held me to her as she gasped.

  “Yes, like that,” she murmured. From the edge of my vision, I saw her reach up to pluck at the other one. Pinching and twisting it, she drove me crazy with her lack of inhibitions when it came to her pleasure. That night in the hotel rushed back to me, and I hated myself for not making her leave with me the next morning.

  Because as I buried myself in her tight pussy, each stroke screamed out what a fool I’d been. There hadn’t been, nor would there ever be anyone else for me but her. We were meant to be. Two halves of a whole.

  Everything about her overwhelmed me. Her needy sounds, the rise of her hips to meet each snap of mine, the taste of her skin, the feel of her hot, wet depths, the sea of her eyes that I wanted to drown in—all of it had me wanting to consume her, drown in her, devour every piece of her until no one knew where she started and I stopped.

  Pushing my face into the side of her neck, I teased her with my tongue and sank my teeth into her soft flesh, marking her as mine. I couldn’t get close enough to her.

  “I’m going to come,” she panted, and I doubled my efforts until she exploded around my cock, squeezing me like a fist. Enjoying her pleasure, I held still within her and basked in how fucking amazing it was.

  “Yes!” I growled into her neck as my back curled and I couldn’t hold off any longer. Making slow strokes in and out of her hot pussy, I reveled in the perfect fit until, finally, my hips thrust forward one last time.

  Oblivious to her nails raking my sweat-slicked back, I drowned in the bliss of her body.

  As we floated back to reality, caught in the wave of post-coital euphoria, I thought I heard her whisper into my hair.

  “I think I still love you, and it scares the hell out of me.”

  “Your Guardian Angel”—The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus

  “Holy shit, Batman,” I muttered, half praying he hadn’t heard my whispered confession. Laughter burst from the man collapsed over me. Thankfully, he held some of his weight up on his forearms, because the man was big.

  Everywhere.

  He was a far cry from the man-boy I’d fallen in love with and given my virginity to a million years ago. More physically mature than the night I’d gotten pregnant with Trace. Every time I saw him, he got better. Seriously, age truly was good to him.

  “You should probably get off me. You know, in case Trace comes back,” I said as I gave him a nudge with my hips.

  Wrong move, because he growled like a bear and pushed his stiffening cock back into me. His teeth grazed my neck, and goose bumps spread over my skin.

  “How are you getting hard again? Shouldn’t that be difficult at your age?” I whispered in shock. He’d literally just come.

  His dark head lifted, and he looked down at me in disbelief. “Are you shitting me right now? I’m not even thirty. How is that old? Besides, I can’t help what you do to me.” His lids grew heavy, and his teeth sank into his perfect bottom lip.

  A few more strokes and he froze. So did I. Because it suddenly seemed—different.

  “Please tell me that condom did not slip off.”

  He raised a brow. Then he pushed up to rest his weight on his arms as he looked at where we joined. “Well, you see….”

  “No! Oh my God, no!” I tried to push his chest away from me, squirm out from underneath him, something. But his hips held me pinned to the bed.

  “Stop! You’re only going to make it worse!” he rasped in an almost painful way.

  “This is bad. Get it out!”

  “You still on the pill?” His dark eyes held mine captive.

  “No, the patch, but God knows where that thing has been in the last eight years!” I motioned to his dick in disgust at the thought of how many skanky women he’d probably fucked lately. If they were anything like that TV show, I was an idiot for being in bed with him at all.

  Shit.

  “It’s been a while since I had sex with anyone,” he quietly admitted. “A long while. And I’ve been tested since.”

  My heart stuttered, unsure what to do with that information. “How many?”

  “Huh?”

  “How many women?”

  “You really want to discuss that with my dick in you?” he asked with disbelief coloring his handsome face.

  “Well, I think this might be a pretty prudent time,” I said airily, though part of me really didn’t want to know.

  “How many I’ve fucked? You really want to know how many women I’ve fucked? Are you serious? How many guys have there been? Wait. No. Never mind. I really don’t want to know.” He closed his eyes and shook his head as if trying to clear it like an Etch-A-Sketch.

  “One,” I whispered since I was stubborn and pissed off and evidently incredibly dumb.

  “Wait. What? One guy in eight years?” He blinked rapidly as his throat bobbed with his swallow.

  “Yes.”

  “Why?” he asked. Though I realized he was right, it was probably not the right time to discuss this stuff. Yet my mouth kept running.

  “Because that’s all it took. Now you.�
�� My jaw set as I prepared myself to be bombarded with his manwhore ways and mentally made a note to find a place to go get tested.

  “One.”

  “What?” Stunned, I couldn’t get out anything more than that one word. He was a big bad biker in a big bad motorcycle club. I’d seen the shows. I knew what their lives were like. There was no way.

  His chin dropped to his chest, and he closed his eyes, then nodded.

  “Only one woman has touched you in eight years?” I asked as if he couldn’t really expect me to believe that. His lids lifted, and he winced.

  “I didn’t say that, but you asked how many I’d fucked.” My stomach churned a little at the possibilities behind that statement, yet I reminded myself we hadn’t been together. It wasn’t as if he’d cheated on me, nor me on him.

  “Why only one?” I finally choked out, trying not to envision the possibilities.

  “You first. What did you mean when you said that’s all it took?” His deep mocha eyes stared unblinking at me.

  Digging for the courage to tell him the truth, I finally opened my mouth and spewed the words. “It only took one to show me they weren’t you,” I whispered as my words caught on my shuddered breath.

  “Jesus,” he muttered softly as his eyes closed briefly. When they opened, I thought I saw the shimmer of tears in them before he blinked them away.

  “Tell me how you can be part of a 1-percent club and only have had sex with one woman since me.”

  “Two reasons.”

  “Which are?” I prodded as my hands cupped the back of his neck and my thumbs held his scruff-covered chin.

  “I swear I didn’t know about Trace,” he began. My eyes narrowed as I waited, biting my tongue. “But I didn’t want to take the chance of getting someone pregnant and passing on my abilities to them.”

  “Wow.” My chest ripped open.

  “No. Don’t go there. I was a fucking idiot. I didn’t know any different. Because even though it’s only been a day, I wouldn’t walk away, and no way would I want to go back to not knowing he existed. We’re going to figure this shit out. I meant it.” His vehement words spoke right to my heart, but I prayed I wasn’t foolishly jumping in with both feet.

  The problem was, Jude “Angel” Bearheart had owned me heart and soul since I was a kid. So I promised myself I’d guard my heart this time and enjoy him while I could. Because once Trace was sufficiently educated, if I valued my sanity, I needed to go home.

  “And the other reason?”

  “No one compared to you.”

  Knowing I might be an idiot, but unable to be otherwise with him at that moment, I bit my lip, then whispered, “Fish that fucker out and finish what you started.”

  His lips twitched and then he chuckled. “Yes, ma’am.”

  I’d seen the ugly side of people. The sick, depraved, twisted, and selfish side of society that thought it hid well in the shadows. I’d done everything I could to make sure none of that touched Trace, yet there we were.

  The men that Angel called brothers were some scary-looking dudes. Hot, but scary. Well, maybe not all of them. Some could’ve passed for Santa Claus. Well, if he drank beer and cussed like a sailor.

  Jasmine had only joined the gathering briefly. She stayed by the bar nursing a beer and avoided eye contact with the big tattooed guy they called Chains when he tried to talk to her. He had rolled his eyes, grabbed a beer, and sauntered back over to the group he’d been sitting with. She left her beer sitting on the bar and stormed down the hall toward the rooms.

  Kira had been chatting with me, but Voodoo stole her away after the guys finished with a brief meeting. They’d been filing out a few at a time ever since. Deciding to go save Hawk from my son’s incessant chatter, I stood from my barstool.

  A rough hand slid around my neck from behind to cup my throat as heated breath tickled my ear. “Did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight?”

  Heart tripping and fluttering at his touch, I sucked in a stuttered gasp. A slight curl lifted the corners of my lips. “Maybe, but I forget.”

  Teeth tugged at my earlobe. A growl rumbled his chest against my back, and his other hand slid around my waist to flatten against my stomach. “Fucking breathtaking. That’s what you are. Need to make sure every motherfucker in here knows you’re mine.”

  Looking around the room at the rowdy bunch of bikers, I hesitated. Then my gaze flickered toward my shoulder to where he teased my ear and jaw. The man was fast sucking me into his vortex. Though I knew better, I boldly asked, “Am I?”

  The hand around my throat tightened slightly. Not enough to hurt or scare me, but enough to get my attention. It also sent my pulse skittering.

  “You’re goddamn right you are. And if you aren’t sure yet, then maybe I need to fuck you again until there’s no question. This body?” He pulled my backside flush against his front. I moaned softly at the feel of his growing erection. “It’s mine. This mind?” He pressed a kiss to my temple. “Also mine. But this heart?” He slid his hand that was flat on my abdomen up to lie over my pounding heart. “I’ll share with our son—and the rest of our children.”

  Nervously, I licked my lips, deciding to ignore that comment. The son in question was across the room plying Voodoo’s father, Hawk, with a million questions about motorcycles. It was so weird to think of Voodoo as anything other than Ogun, even though I couldn’t say what Hawk’s real name was. The few times I saw him when we were kids, he was big and scary and all biker-ish.

  “Pretty confident of yourself,” I breathlessly attempted to tease in deflection.

  “Hell yes, I am.” He turned me to face him. When I tried to drop my gaze to pretend to study his cut, he used the edge of his forefinger to raise my chin. “Korrie, I love you. Always have, always will. Too many years were wasted and lost. Not happening again. Unless you can tell me you don’t love me back and never will. Then it will fucking gut me, but I’ll set you up wherever you want to be. The only thing I ask is you don’t keep my son from me.”

  Swallowing with difficulty, I reached up to cup his cheek. My thumb brushed back and forth across his short beard. His eyes closed briefly before the warm chocolate of his irises filled my vision, patiently waiting for my answer. He was the gorgeous one, not me, and that was dangerous.

  “I hate what my mother did to us, and I don’t see her taking this lying down. I’ll be honest, I’m afraid of what may have been unleashed by what happened in Kentucky. This isn’t over.” I trembled as a shiver shot through me. Though the former senator may believe his son ran off, he wasn’t the only one to worry about.

  My mother was not a passive person. The thought of her made me think of how unfair she’d been to me my entire life. When I thought about the years and milestones Angel and Trace had missed with each other, I wanted to cry and rant at the injustice of it all.

  “I’m going to do everything in my power to keep you and Trace safe. My brothers will do the same. You’re family now, and that’s what we do.” He dropped his head to rest his forehead against mine. “I’ve learned a few things over the years.”

  “Oh yeah? What’s that?” I asked with a half-hearted grin, because he was nothing if not adorable.

  “Life is fleeting. The good guys don’t always win. And sometimes the bad guys are the only ones who can save the day.” He gave me a chaste kiss. “Oh, and something Voodoo’s grandma insists… love always wins. Which is why I know we’re going to get through this.”

  Unfortunately, I didn’t have his optimism.

  Pulling me back into the shadows of the room, he cradled my face and kissed me.

  “Mom! Dad! Uncle Hawk said he’s gonna build me my first motorcycle!”

  We broke apart and turned to face our son. It was so strange to think about not being in the parent thing alone anymore. Even if we didn’t stay here, Trace had a father in his life now. Then what he’d said sunk in.

  “What?” I asked, shocked and a little afraid at the thought of my son on a motorcycle.<
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  Angel simply laughed as he high-fived our beaming son. I shot him a look that said he was insane.

  One of the older guys called Trace over to teach him to play pool. It was a little comical, because he wasn’t really tall enough to have very good aim.

  Or so I thought. He was surprisingly good.

  It seemed like Angel’s brothers were doing their best to keep Trace occupied so Angel and I could spend time together. My face heated at what he might’ve told them in their meeting. Not that I was ashamed of being with him, but I was still on the fence about what was right for us. I also didn’t know how much guys like them discussed.

  “Looks like he might be a natural.” Angel looped an arm over my shoulder and tugged me close to his side as he raised a beer to his perfect lips. I found myself staring at the movement of his throat as he swallowed and finding everything he did sexy as hell.

  Dangerous.

  I was quickly falling into the lovesick girl I’d been at fifteen and again at twenty. He did that to me, though. I’d never been happier or more proud than when he’d asked me to be his girlfriend. I’d been just shy of fifteen when we lost our virginity to each other, but we’d been flirting with the change in our feelings for years. I’d been sure that he’d never see me as more than the tagalong with him and Ogun.

  My hand splayed over his chest as I turned into him.

  “So you really think this is a wise decision? Us?” I was incredulous that he saw things so simply.

  His gaze dropped to me, all molten and intense. “Damn straight, babe.” Then he pressed a kiss to my head and gave me a squeeze. My heart was so full I was sure it would burst, but I was worried.

  In that moment, I believed there might be a chance that we’d finally found our happily ever after.

  That maybe nothing else mattered because together, we were unstoppable.

  “Sad Angel”—Fleetwood Mac

  “Concentrate,” I said to Trace as he reached for the cut on Ghost’s palm. When he’d overheard me trying to teach Trace about control during a healing, he’d whipped out his big-ass knife and sliced open his palm.