by K. L. Savage
Having women here is a constant reminder for us ol’ ladies, like a slap in the face.
I stomp my way up the steps and slam the door behind me, take a deep breath, and make my way toward the bar. Tongue is behind it, and whatever beef we have is gone when he opens up another beer and sets it in front of me; the cool fizz of the cap coming off is like music to my ears.
“You’re a bad bitch,” he says, clinking his drink with mine. “I’ve never seen an ol’ lady take out the trash before.”
“Well, you know what they say, if the garbage is full…” I trail off, not wanting to sound like a complete idiot.
“You can then use the bag as target practice.”
I give Tongue an incredulous look of how he put our expressions together. If the garbage is full, you take out the trash, but Tongue doesn’t think like other people.
“I suppose so,” I say.
“Is she running?” He lays his elbows on the bar and leans across it. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had a moving target.”
I spew my beer out of my mouth, and it soaks Tongue. His hair is dripping with it, and his skin is wet. His eyes remain open, and he licks the beer from his lips. “I see what all the fuss is about you.”
Before I can ask what he means, the door to Church finally opens. Reaper storms out, and Sarah runs to follow him to his office. Reaper banned me from entering the room when we got back tonight, and it took all I had in me to obey him.
I’ve been obeying a man for more than the best part of my life, and I’m tired of it, but for Skirt, I have to think about my actions because whatever I do, he can get punished for it. Tool comes out next and heads toward Juliette. Skirt staggers to the doorway, sweat beading along his freckled forehead, and he closes his eyes a second, composing himself. I run to him, my feet pounding along the floor in tune with the drums banging in the song. I stop before I bulldoze him and stifle a sob when I pull his cut away to see the angry, seared heart on his chest.
Jesus.
Reaper is an animal.
“Oh my God, Skirt.”
“I’m okay. I deserved it.”
A door across the clubhouse slams, and Skirt sighs, knowing it’s Reaper still ticked off.
“You don’t deserve this. You were only doing what he wanted.”
“Until I didn’t listen,” he finishes, then snatches the beer from my hand and drinks it down in three swallows. “I’m lucky I didn’t get more than this. What I said could have been taken as a challenge.” Skirt gives me a quick peck, and I can smell the beer on his tongue. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore, okay? I just want to move on with the night.”
“Don’t you need to get bandaged? I can get Doc.”
“No, it’s fine. The wound itself is cauterized. It looks worse than it is, promise.”
Somehow, I don’t believe that for one goddamn minute.
Skirt’s face is pale, he has dark circles under his eyes, and he seems like he’s about to fall over. “Do you want another drink, or do you want to go to bed?”
“I need a drink,” he says. “It’s been a hell of a day.” The front door opens, and Jasmine walks in with tears on her face, mascara lines down her cheeks, and all I want to do is throw the bitch in the fire again. Skirt looks toward the door, and his red eyebrows pinch so close together it looks like a unibrow. “What the hell?” He glances down at my shirt, then back at Jasmine, and having his attention on her instead of me, makes me want to slap him.
And I would if he didn’t have a gaping wound on his chest.
“You have two seconds to get your eyes off that whore and back on me.” I slide onto the barstool, and Tongue places two beers in front of us. I’ve never been happier for a day to almost be over. I’ve been dealt my fair share of abuse, but the way they do it here makes me wonder if I’m cut out for this life. Do I want to be around more men who think they can control me?
My question is answered when Skirt pulls the stool I’m sitting on closer to him, dragging it along the floor until I’m right in front of his face. “I’m betting you have something to do with Jasmine walking in here with her tail tucked between her legs,” he says, impressed and if I’m not mistaken, turned on.
“Oh, you should have seen it, Skirt.” Tongue doesn’t bat an eyelash at the nasty, burnt skin on Skirt’s chest. It’s not hard to miss. Reaper had to have gone in with a hot blade. “Jasmine and Candy mouthed off. Jasmine tossed her drink in Dawn’s face.”
Skirt’s eyes grow wide, and then he laughs; even if it is laced with pain and exhaustion. “No shit, seriously?”
“She dragged Jasmine out by her hair. I don’t know what happened after that, but Dawn is a female version of you, always ready for a fight.”
Which is funny, because I never fought a day in my life until I was free of Cohen. I try to convince myself that the fight I dealt with before is different now. I had to sacrifice myself for the sake of my son. I’d do it again too.
“Sounds like my woman,” Skirt says. “It’s fucking hot too.”
“You’re seriously horny?”
Skirt, through his pale skin, blushes from my surprise. “Aye, ye have that effect on me, but I am tired. Ye think we can go to bed?”
I’m confused. I lean in and whisper, “Which one? Your cabin or back there where Bullseye is.”
“Ye killing me, Lips. The cabin. As much as I want ye again tonight, I’m sore all over. I need to go to bed.”
It’s my turn to blush. I can’t believe I fucked a man next to a dumpster.
“What are ye thinking about?”
“Yeah, what are you thinking about?” Tongue repeats Skirt’s question and sets his chin in his palm.
“Nothing,” I say too quickly and hop off the barstool. “Come on; let’s go.” I help Skirt up and snag my drink. He tosses an arm around my neck, and we hobble to the back door, not saying goodnight to anyone.
What the fuck has been good about it?
A whole lot of nothing. Just pain. Torment. A tornado in the midst of a hurricane, that’s what tonight was.
“I’m fucking hurting, Dawn.”
“I know, baby,” I say, taking more of his weight with every step because he’s getting weaker.
“I had to make face for a bit, to show the club that I’m not a pussy.”
“After everything you did tonight, you felt like you had to have a drink at the bar?”
“It’s different when the punishment comes from Reaper.”
“I guess.” I still don’t understand the dynamic of the club. Reaper holds all the power. He makes the decision on what’s right and wrong. How can he be judge and executioner? I’m sure I’ll learn more as time passes, but right now, if I’m being honest, that little issue with authoritative men is still affecting me.
The cold desert air hits us in the face when we make our way out the door. It feels good since I’m sweating, carrying this heavy man across the way, even if it’s just a few feet. I open the door to the cabin, and he groans from the relief of being home.
We don’t say anything as I strip him of his dirty clothes. I bite back tears when I see the cuts on his back, the angry red skin welting from being parted by a sharp object. I need to be strong. He needs me to be. Once he’s naked, I help him to the shower, turn on the hot water, get undressed, and hold him under the stream of water.
“Even through the noise, through the pain, when I look for solace, I look for ye, and everything is right in my world.” The whisper of his words is drowned out by the water, but I heard him.
I always hear him.
We hold each other, limbs wrapped around each other, water slicking us, and his lips prying mine open until all I drink down is him. He pulls away when a rip of pain tears through him, and I shake the lust out of my head.
“Come on; I’ll bathe you.”
“No, I can bathe myself.”
“Don’t make me slap you. You’re in pain. Let me take care of you.”
“Can’t believe ye’d slap a man when h
e’s down.”
“I only slap one man when he’s down, baby.” I playfully smack his round, firm ass, and he chuckles, letting me bathe him with his pine-scented soap.
“Don’t make promises ye can’t keep, Lips. I’ll spank ye ass if ye don’t.”
The man is insatiable, even when he’s all carved up like a broken heart.
Chapter Sixteen
SKIRT
Soft kisses map around the heart Reaper carved in my chest yesterday, waking me from my deep sleep. I’m drowsy, sore, and fucking hurting everywhere. I wouldn’t mind a bottle of that rum Pirate always has in his hand right about now. Poor bastard. Reaper sent him to a rehab center to get help.
I’m afraid my friend will die there. Pirate isn’t the kind of man someone locks away. He’ll get out and drink himself to death, or he will kill himself in isolation. I’m not too sure which one is better.
A tongue swirls around my nipple, yanking me from my thoughts as teeth bite down on the pink, sensitive bead. “Fuck,” I hiss and arch my back, loving the feel of unexpected nipple play. I glance down and see Dawn’s strawberry blonde hair running down my chest like a silk sheet. Her lashes flick up at me, and those green eyes take me to another world as she abuses my nips, something no woman has ever done before.
Her hand dips below the sheet and bypasses the long, tender cock, then she presses her index finger below my sack, rubbing it back and forth along the sensitive spot. “Oh, shite,” I curse, my body shaking from the over stimulation. I knew I was sensitive, but I didn’t know how sensitive until this moment.
“I bet you could come like this,” Dawn purrs, still lapping at my nipples like a thirsty kitten.
“I bet I could too,” I say, not having any fucking doubt that if she keeps stroking me like she is, I’ll bust. “Ye drive me mad, woman.” The sheets are hot as my body heats, and a sheen of sweat breaks over my skin. She’s consuming me with a desire that’s only found on a nuclear level.
“You better stop, or I’m going to come,” I warn her. Now that she has me all riled up, I want to fuck that sweet pink cunt until the sun fucking sets and rises again.
“I want you to come.”
With a snarl, I wrap my arms around her and flip her over, throwing the sheet over her body. I drive into her in one solid stroke. “I want to come too, but I’m going to come inside ye where I belong.” I ignore the pain in my chest and the cuts on my back as I pull out, only to thrust inside her again. I never thought pussy could feel so good, not ever fucking before. I didn’t know what I was missing.
Now that I have it?
I don’t think I can live without her warmth and slick gripping my shaft. And it can’t be any woman, just this one; just Dawn. The more I think about how much I need her in ways she can never fully understand, I slow my movements as my heart expands and warms in my chest.
Hell.
I’ve fucking fallen in love with her.
What do I do with that?
I slide my arms under her back and tighten the front of her body to mine, then lay my lips over hers, massaging a slow kiss from her. My hand buries in the back of her hair, cupping her skull to keep her close to me while her channel grips me to keep my cock in when I pull out.
Unwrapping my arms from her back, I sit up which breaks the kiss. I stare down at the beauty writhing beneath me. Her lips are swollen, wet, and red from our kiss, and her eyes are closed as she soaks up how we are making each other feel.
“Skirt…” My name leaves her parted lips in a blissful sigh.
I want to always hear my name coming from her mouth like that.
I pause when she opens her eyes, and they shine as she stares at me. I stop moving, keeping my cock buried, and push her hair out of her face. “Did I hurt ye? Are ye okay?” I wipe the tear gathering in the corner of her eye, and I think back to the last few minutes and try to determine what I did to cause her pain.
“No,” she says with a tiny shake of her head. Her palm lands over the open wound on my chest. “I’ve never felt so close with someone. I’ve never had someone give me what I need in so many ways.”
I press my forehead against hers and nod, speechless, because I know exactly what she means. She gets me. Dawn wraps her legs around my waist and urges me to turn over onto my back. I do as she wants, keeping myself lodged in her still. I grip her hips, digging my fingers into the flesh until I feel bone.
No wonder men love it when women are on top. The fucking view is priceless. “Don’t move, Lips. Don’t fucking move.” I’m two seconds away from coming seeing her propped up on me, big tits free and bouncing, nipples hard, and her trimmed blonde bush between her legs rubs against mine.
She fucking moves. A sly and knowing stretch of her wicked lips, and I’m done for. I thrust my hips to bury my cum as deep as I can, groaning like a man who has never had a woman on top of him before.
I haven’t.
The familiar feeling of my cheeks blazing burns my face, but I’m not going to let my inexperience ruin this. She swings her leg to get off me, but I hold her to me and rock her hips back. “I’m not ready to see you climb off me yet.” I push and pull her waist, grinding her against me fast and relentless. Her tits bounce, and I reach my right hand up to tug and pinch that sweet rosy red bud.
“Yes!” She tosses her head back and her long hair tickles my thighs. “More. Faster, Skirt. Faster.”
I do as she says, rocking her harder, quicker, causing my arms to burn and my chest to ache. The wound splits open, I can feel the healed skin pulling apart as her nails rake down my pecs. It fucking hurts, but it isn’t enough to deter me from making her come. Her creamy flesh hypnotizes my eyes as I devour her.
She’s flawless, fragile porcelain trusting my hands not to break her, but she’s broken me.
“Rohan!” Her hips stutter, and her finger digs into my stomach as she tightens around, pulling my seed against her womb with every electrical wave spasming her muscles. She moans and sways, her body drifting and floating in the post orgasmic space. I rub my hands over her body, unable to decide where to touch, so I touch her everywhere.
I sit up, thrusting into her again, sliding through the wet collective of us. Her hands hold onto my shoulders as I take her for another ride. I spin her on my cock until her back is against my front, and the globes of her arse are plump and begging for my palms. I bring both of my hands down, watching the pale flesh turn a bright shade of pink. The flesh jiggles, and my mouth waters to see her cheeks clap again.
Letting go of the apple bottom, my hands soar through the air and spank her as she rides me reverse cowgirl. Her pink star flutters when I part her cheeks and right below it is where she’s taking my cock. My shaft shines, fucking glitters like a diamond from her cream and mine. Her hands land on my thighs, her nails biting the skin as she bounces on me, using me like a fuck toy.
I need to invest in some toys. I’d love nothing more than to shove a plug up her arse while fucking her. The thought has me sliding my finger over my cock, soaking it with our slick, and I bring my digit back, circling her star before pressing to the knuckle.
“Fuck, Skirt!” she hisses, but she doesn’t stop fucking me. If anything, she fucks me harder, with more wild ferociousness.
She’s octane, and I’m going to make her explode.
“Greedy fucking girl, using my cock and my finger plugged in her arse. Yer dirty, but I should know that since you love hearing people fuck, don’t ye? Do ye wish we were doing that right now? Hearing Bullseye fuck that slut? Or maybe ye want someone to watch us? Ye want that? They can sit in the corner and jack their cocks to ye fucking me, Lips.”
Liquid flows out of her cunt from my words, dripping down my balls, and I debate if I want to pull out and make her clean me up. I decide against it when she lays her sweaty back against my front, panting for breath, and wraps one arm around my neck. I slide my finger out of her forbidden hole and I lean us back until I’m laying flat against the bed, my other arm is wrapped around
her middle, and I’m thrusting into her hard and fast from the bottom. My lips are right at her ear and I growl, something deep and dangerous coming alive in the back of my throat.
I want to fucking rip her cunt apart and put it back together. I want to destroy her so she can’t even think about being with another man. I’m the only one. I need to know her fantasies so I can make them all come true. “Tell me, Lips. Tell me what ye want, but know this, ain’t know other man touching ye. Only I touch ye. Ye mine, only mine.” I bite down on her earlobe, and a moan erupts from her throat, sexual sounds pouring out her. Damn that’s what she is, once she explodes, she leaks lava; instead of burning me, it slicks her up for my cock.
My hand dives between her legs and finds her hungry, swollen clit, slippery from her cum. I pinch the erect pearl, wishing I could see it and kiss it, but once I roll the bundle between my fingertips and tug, she’s crying out, gyrating her hips and pussy undulating around me.
“I’m not ever going to stop fucking ye until ye tell me,” I repeat, then flip us over so she’s on her back.
“I want to listen,” she says between swallows, trying to catch her breath. “I wouldn’t mind someone watching. I don’t know. I need to trust them. You won’t share me, right? I don’t like that.”
The heat, the passion, the yearning, the desire to stamp my claim on her in this moment, vanishes because the red hot lividity takes over me. I grip her chin and make her look at me. “Did he do that to ye? Share ye with other men?”
She glances away, and her silence speaks loud enough.
I let go with a growl, a primal animalistic howl gnawing at my throat as I grab her hips, lift them in the air, and pound into her like a man possessed. I am. There’s no doubt about it. She’s mine. No man will ever touch her. No man will ever use her like that again. Only me. Mine.
“Yours,” she replies.
I must have said that out loud. I don’t care. She needs to know I won’t let anything happen to her. I fucking love her.
She’s coming again, and this time I fall over the edge with her. I bring my lips down on hers. Her pussy weeps for me as she orgasms, soaking me with her nectar of tears.