Misrule

by Kelly, Kathryn C.

  He heard the water, smelled her bubble bath. Shirtless, he went to the bathroom and halted in the doorway, mesmerized as she raised her leg and stroked from her knee up to her thigh. Suds dripped from her beautiful skin.

  She smiled at him, lowered her leg. Tendrils escaped her pinned-up hair and plastered to her neck and forehead.

  His gaze dropped to her brown nipples and he licked his lips.

  “Are you going to join me, Knox?”

  Join her. Yes. It wasn’t often they bathed together. Knox found it extremely uncomfortable in the standard-sized bathtub, but he wouldn’t deny her, especially since he was so grimy and sweaty.

  Fixating his gaze on her, he stripped. The hungry stare she gave his hard cock pulled a smile from him. Proud of his mighty package, he strolled forward.

  “Scoot up,” he instructed.

  She did, slow and methodical, her every move temptation. Sin. Need. From the sensuous glide and small moan that suggested she’d teased her clit, to her searing look, and the way she cocked her head to the side to reveal the tenderness of her damp neck.

  Knox slid in behind her and she leaned back, settling her soft body against his. She ignored the water sloshing on the floor, so he did too, and instead, wrapped his arms around her. She stroked his knee, and he forgot the discomfort he had because he was unable to extend his legs completely.

  “I’ve missed you,” he told her.

  “I’ve missed you too, Knox.”

  He skimmed his hand along her breast, then tweaked her nipple. Some feeling had returned since her mastectomy and breast reconstruction. But he didn’t linger.

  “You went through a lot of trouble,” he told her, caressing her belly as he slid his hand lower.

  “I just found out about it tonight,” she admitted.

  He fingered the top of her mound, before finding her clit.

  “Knox,” she whispered, her little cry setting his entire body on fire.

  “What do you mean you just found out about it tonight?” he demanded, between raining kisses on her sweet neck.

  She shivered. “They were not sure they’d have anyone to help pull this off.”

  He inserted two fingers into her, intoxicated and surprised by her dewiness, and continued to thumb her clit. She jerked up. He wanted to know what she meant, but more than anything he wanted to make her come. Forgetting the conversation for now, he roared to his feet, stooped and lifted her into his arms, then sloshed to the bedroom and laid her on the bed.

  She laughed, a full, throaty sound that elicited a chuckle from him. Masculine satisfaction filled him. He positioned her knees on her chest, exposing her pussy to him. Keeping a tight hold on her ankles, he speared his tongue inside of her, darting in and out of her, encouraged by her moans.

  Intoxicated by her scent and her taste, he licked her seam, found her clit, and released her ankles with reluctance. Using his fingers to open her delicate pussy lips, he laved back and forth. Her groans grew louder. Gripping his hair, she grinded against his mouth. He hastened the speed of his tongue, increasing the pressure against her clit.

  “Let’s come together, baby,” she breathed, as if that was the last thing she wanted to do.

  He blew on her clit, stole another lick. “No—”

  But she was already scooting up, moving to the side to make room for him. He laid next to her and pulled her into his arms, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, sweeping against hers.

  “Knox,” she whispered.

  He tangled his fingers through her hair. “I’m here, Roxanne. I love you. I’m so glad to have you as mine. To feel you in my arms again.”

  “I love you too, Knox. I can’t wait until I’m your wife.”

  She kissed him sweetly, this private, vulnerable side of her in direct contrast to the tough woman she presented to the world. Not that she wasn’t a firecracker when they were alone. In bed, though, where their souls were laid bare and their bodies exposed, she opened herself to him and gave to him. The intimacy he found in her arms extended beyond the physical.

  He met her gaze and her light brown depths consumed him, threatened to overwhelm him. She offered him a little cat’s smile, the kind that drove him insane.

  Kissing him again, she sat up and straddled his thighs, bent and began planting kisses on his chest. She twirled her tongue around his nipple, trailed her lips to his heart, his side, his hip. His nerve endings blazed, set his blood on fire. Overcome with sensation, he shivered.

  Her mouth teased his manscape, semi-circled around his cock and licked his balls. She fisted his dick head, stroked along the length, and gently suckled his nut sac.

  Finally, she slurped his cock into her warm mouth. He released a strangled groan. As she sucked his dick, she wrapped her hand around the inches that couldn’t fit into her mouth and squeezed, massaged, jerked.

  Suddenly, her mouth and hand left him. Climbing on top of him, she took him inside of her, inch-by-inch, shivering, meowling, and frustrating him. Unable to bear any more, he grabbed her luscious ass and thrusted up, burying himself to the hilt.

  As much as he wanted to turn her onto her back and drive into her, he didn’t. He let her ride him and set the pace, loving the sight of her bouncing breasts and the sheer ecstasy on her face.

  When she lost all reason, all sense, screamed his name, he embraced her, then flipped them over, still connected to her. Usually, he’d kiss her, absorb her cries. Tonight, though, he pounded into her, reveled in the sound of her voice.

  One last time, he pumped into her, and cum gushed out, taking his breath and making his head spin. For long moments afterwards, they lay silent. She stroked along the valley of his spine. Goosebumps rose on his flesh and he trembled.

  After a moment, she drew in a shuddering breath.

  He turned onto his back. The sheets, wet from their bathwater, felt cold and uncomfortable underneath his hot skin. He grinned. “The bed has to be changed.”

  “Hmm,” she said drowsily. “And the floor mopped.”

  Drawing her into his arms, he kissed her forehead. “Why don’t you go downstairs, while I tidy things up?”

  Her lashes fluttered and her eyes popped open. “Fuck! What time is it? How long have you been here?”

  Leaning over, he flipped on the lamp, to better see her. The light that had been flooding into the room from the bathroom was adequate but not good enough.

  “Does it matter?” He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. “This ridiculous edict Mortician has in place has to end.”

  She sighed, then sat next to him and snuggled close. Tempering his annoyance, Knox wrapped an arm around her.

  “The boy is only looking out for me, Knox,” she told him. “Let him do this. Cooperate to show that you understand the club dynamics. The group dynamics.”

  “I don’t give a fuck about the club dynamics, Roxanne,” he snapped. “I’m not one of them and hope to never be. I don’t have a tattoo. I don’t ride a bike. I’m not ignorant!”

  She jerked away from him and jumped to her feet. Hands on hips, she turned and glared at him. It didn’t seem to matter to her that she was nude. Her breasts were round and firm, thanks to her surgery. Her waist curved in, then flared out into hips and ass that was all the current rage. He reached for her, but she knocked his hand away.

  “That’s so unworthy of you. Those boys aren’t ignorant. Besides, what the fuck is wrong with a tattoo? Or a motorcycle? I happen to like those things too.”

  He narrowed his eyes at her. “Really? That means you intend to get inked and ride the wind?”

  “No, Knox. Would it bother you if I did?”

  He didn’t want to answer that, not even silently, afraid of what he’d say. Instead, he changed the subject and went back to the topic they’d been discussing before they made love. “What do you mean you didn’t know about this until tonight? This should’ve been your idea,” he grouched.

  “Don’t think I don’t know what the fuck you’re doing, moth
erfucker. By not responding to me and pulling a dirty, lowdown trick of changing the subject, you’ve actually answered me loud and clear. In the interest of time, I’m going to let that sneaky shit slide, Knox. To answer your question, this was my baby’s idea. She went to Meggie and together, they got the others involved. They didn’t want me to get my hopes up that we could thwart Mortician and Outlaw so we could spend time together. Once they decided it was doable, they told me. That’s when I stood up and said how tired I was.”

  He stormed to his feet. “Right, and it took your daughter and Megan Caldwell to arrange this? You’re the one going along with Mortician and you didn’t have the courtesy to want to see me.”

  She raised a finger, then pointed it at him. “Look, motherfucker, I don’t remember you coming up with one motherfucking scheme for us to get together.” With each word, her finger wiggled and twisted, punctuating her anger. “Don’t stand there and play the fucking victim. You already set yourself above almost every motherfucker in this motherfucker, except maybe Johnnie because you think he’s on your level. I’m trying to get the boys to accept you. Instead of bitching and complaining and accusing me of not thinking about your ass, you should be taking this time to get to really know Mortician and the others. You should be thanking him for wanting to protect me.”

  “You’re a grown fucking woman, Roxanne,” he bit out. “What do you need protection from? Certainly not me!”

  She made a face at him.

  “You’re fucking kidding me? I deserve your trust and devotion!”

  “You have it, Knox.” She heaved in a breath. “I want to get this right, though. I want to be with you until my dying day. But I don’t have the best track record with marriage. You and me, we come from two different worlds in so many ways, sugar. For months, we’ve lived in our own little isolated paradise, not allowing much outside influence to touch us. You’re everything to me. Our marriage is important to me. Still, there’s something there. Something between us, and I know it’s the way you feel about my family.”

  “The only family you have here is Bailey, Roxanne.”

  Her look turned disapproving. “I also have grandbabies, in case you’ve forgotten,” she said with so much hostility Knox took a step back. “And Mortician is my son-in-law. Kendall is like a daughter to me. Outlaw—”

  “Don’t bring Kendall into this.” The same guilt he’d felt since he started working with Outlaw to get rid of that redheaded bitch surfaced in him.

  “Kendall is my family, too,” Roxanne said patiently, like he didn’t have a smidgeon of sense. “Outlaw is like a son to me.”

  “A son who gave you a fucking purple truck. A very high-end one at that. His criminal behavior allowed him to buy that. Besides, he’s almost as old as you. Brother material. Lover material, but definitely not qualified to be your son.”

  She growled. Actually growled! “You’re working on my last ever-loving, motherfucking nerve,” she spat, her eyes hardening. “Let me put it to you this way, I see them all as my family. I expect you to at least try to fit in with them. Didn’t you tell me to put your mother on my wedding committee? Why can’t you just go along with Mortician for now?”

  “Because I don’t appreciate his interference. Furthermore, I don’t fucking like to think you’re consenting to this because of something between us. What does that even mean? You think I’m not going to go through with the marriage?”

  “This just feels too good to be true, Knox. A dream. A fairytale.” She shrugged. “I don’t want to lose you. Think about how much more special our wedding will be if we haven’t been living together and—”

  He stiffened. “If that’s the case, why did I move in with you?”

  “I never expected you to propose to me,” she admitted softly.

  When he’d moved in with her, he hadn’t intended to propose to her. He loved her and wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. Marriage, though, meant legalities. And he had so much at stake if their union was to crumble. Still, he’d become increasingly annoyed at how the bikers gazed at her and interacted with her. They were always respectful—she gave them no choice—still Knox knew lust when he saw it. Roxanne was his, and he wanted the world to know it.

  Of course, the pressure Mortician had put on him also precipitated the matter, but that wasn’t important.

  “We can think of our little rendezvous as adventures,” she went on, twisting her engagement ring and giving it a quick glance.

  “What?” he asked suspiciously, not liking the look he’d glimpsed.

  “What do you mean what?”

  “You don’t like the ring? It’s a Harrington heirloom.”

  “The ring is beautiful.”

  “But…?” He heard the word in her tone.

  “It’s just silly old superstition. There’s a very defined culet on the ring.”

  It was rare that he didn’t know the meaning of a word, but this was one of those times. “What the hell is a culet?”

  She slid the ring off her finger and his stomach sank. It was the worst feeling in the world. As long as she wore it, she was his.

  “Put that back on.”

  She smiled at him and came closer, then turned the ring over and pointed to the spot under her diamond. “Do you see that little point? It’s a culet. They are hallmarks of this type of antique cushion ring. It’s an heirloom,” she acknowledged. “Most of the rings in the late 1800s, early 1900s had this, whereas the majority of modern rings don’t have this sharp point.”

  Her explanation lost him. “And?”

  “Well, there’s a superstition that says evil spirits can enter through the culet and put a curse on the wearer.”

  His mouth dropped open. “You can’t be serious.”

  She nodded. “There’s another one that says if the engagement ring is secondhand then however the previous owner’s marriage went, so it would go for the current owner.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” He shook his head in disbelief. “You can’t believe that nonsense. You’re the most pragmatic woman I’ve ever met. This isn’t you talking.”

  By the look on her face, he knew she did buy into that ridiculousness. He blew out an annoyed breathed, torn between frustration and his need to reassure her.

  “My great-great grandparents, my great-grandparents, my grandparents, my parents had and have very happy unions, thank you very much.”

  She shoved the ring back onto her finger. “But you didn’t. As far as I know, your ex-wife is the last owner of it.”

  “Callie wanted her own ring. She didn’t value the Harrington history. Before I met you, I intended to pass it on to Grant.”

  “Of course, you’ll be able to give it to your son when he’s old enough to marry. It should stay in your family where it belongs. I’m honored to wear it. My feelings just go back to the fear that my dream of being your wife will turn into a nightmare.”

  Before he responded, her cellphone started ringing. He knew from the tone it was Bailey calling. Like the rest of them, Roxanne had special tones for everyone.

  “I guess time’s up for us,” she sighed.

  “Hey, sugar,” she answered. The keen disappointment, so clear on her face, appeased Knox. Pausing, she listened then laughed and went silent again, nodding although her daughter couldn’t see her. Roxanne was so expressive. “Okay, I’ll send him down,” she said after another moment.

  Huffing out an annoyed breath, Knox stomped to the closet and found a pair of jeans and a thermal shirt. Instead of ruining another pair of shoes, he grabbed old running shoes. After snatching a pair of socks from the drawer, he pulled on his jeans than sat on the edge of the bed.

  “You’re kilting it, hmmm?” she asked as he pulled the first sock on.

  “Kilting it?” He glanced over his shoulder and took his fill of her still-nude body. The incision on her stomach went from hip-to-hip. He tried not to focus on it too much, tried not to imagine the pain she must’ve been in when she’d had the surgery
to remove fat from her stomach to reconstruct her breasts after her mastectomy. She was so brave. Such a fighter.

  “What do you mean by kilting it?” he asked, realizing his mind had strayed.

  “No underwear.”

  He finished putting on his socks and running shoes, and stood. “Ah,” he responded. “Didn’t see the need, sweetheart. I’m just returning to the club and going to my lonely bed. You know the one? It’s missing my beautiful queen.”

  She smiled at him and stepped into his arms. “You have a silver tongue, sir.”

  He brushed his lips across hers. “I’d say it was golden.”

  “I’d have to agree with you.” Wrapping her arms around his neck, she welcomed his kiss. “You have to leave,” she said breathlessly a few moments later.

  He nodded and sighed. Going to where his trousers lay ruined in one of the bathroom floor puddles, he got his wallet and stuffed it in the back pocket of his jeans.

  “I wish you’d consent to allow me to hire a maid for you.”

  “I don’t need a maid, Knox,” she said firmly.

  “When we’re married and move into our own house, you will. It’ll be too big for you to keep up by yourself.”

  “What do I need a mansion for? I’ve already lived in one and I didn’t enjoy it after a while.”

  That’s right. Duke’s father was “wealthy”. Knox bet he couldn’t touch the Harrington wealth.

  “Besides, I was hoping we could live here.”

  He looked around the room in an exaggerated manner. “You’re joking, right?”

  “Not here in this place. Here on the grounds.”

  “Oh. Well, I have no problem with that.”

  She beamed a smile.

  “It’s the least I can do for you. You didn’t push me to buy an expensive engagement ring, just because I can afford it. You don’t hassle me for money. Or to go shopping. You’re a truly independent woman, earning her way in life by helping her daughter out.”

  Her smile slipped away. “We’ve been through this before. You have access to my bank accounts—”

  “You have access to mine, too,” he cut in. “It doesn’t matter, baby. Most of the money from your divorce settlements are tied up in retirement accounts. The property you own in New Orleans just brings you several thousand dollars a month. Let’s be real, your money can’t compare to mine. It would be easy to assume my money was what attracted you to me.”