Homecoming

by Tara Lynn

  How the hell did the MC convince people with brains to stick by them? That I could never understand. After that, I didn’t even bother looking at guys. Not even in the community college. I didn’t want anything to tie me to this place.

  Damon said he was something different. Maybe it was my body working against me, making me deny what my eyes could see. He was a biker. He wasn’t even a prospect - he was basically a step away from giving orders. That was supposed to be part of his big plan, but how sure could he be? Maybe the MC would swallow him up like it did all the others.

  It was good that he wasn’t thinking about me any more.

  I drove around until I could think that without an emotional reaction. By then, it was time to head to work. Marty hadn’t made a commotion about my disappearing act on the night Damon showed up, but Donna managed to up the stink eye she normally gave me. That was my fault, making her do anything more for her paycheck than spread her legs.

  Normally, the image of her and Marty would give me a cheap mean laugh. Now Marty kept transforming to Damon in my head. Even Donna’s imagined grunts of pleasure stirred up all the jealousy I’d buried in the afternoon. I must have beamed rage to Donna cause she disappeared.

  When I pulled back into the house later that night, there was only a bike parked up on the lawn. It didn’t have any plates I recognized.

  My stomach dropped. This must be for Damon.

  Wanting him made me feel bad. Thinking about him with someone else made me feel worse. Imagining him riding this thing was the worst of all. What in the world would give me relief?

  I slammed through the front door, dropped off my things and went to peruse the liquor cabinet. There was wine out on the counter, but I needed something stronger. Maybe I should pick up a drinking habit and settle into the squalor I felt.

  “Need this?”

  I gasped and whirled around. Damon sat huddled at the dinner table drinking a glass of whiskey. He set it down and wiped his lips. Still, they glistened under the overhead light.

  “How do you keep surprising me like that?” I asked, clasping my chest and trying to steady my breath.

  “Efficiency of motion,” he said. “You should save your energy for battles..”

  “I don’t see you getting ready to fight,” I muttered, happy to feel a small flare of irritation. “I think you just like seeming mysterious.”

  He raised his glass to his mouth, but stopped instead of taking a sip. Watching him gaze at me intently, I had to admit I was wrong. Stillness suited him pretty well. It forced others to move. I could barely keep the chill going up my spine from turning to a shiver.

  He finished the sip. “I guess it’s working.”

  I became very aware of the heat from my hands as they covered my breasts. My body seemed to be flush with feeling.

  No, I was not going to let it be in control. I went over and sat across from him.

  He flicked over his glass, but I took the bottle and had a giant gulp. The fire settled in my stomach.

  “What did you do in the army anyway?” I asked. “That’s where you were for years right?”

  His smiled tightened a bit. “Why the sudden interest?”

  “I’m just wondering what you’re capable of. Sorry, would that mess up that air of mystery?”

  He took a deep sip. “Mysteries are meant to be solved.”

  “You won’t tell me what you want to do, fine. So tell me what you used to do.”

  “Well, I fought a war. That’s mostly what they want us to do.”

  “Like middle east?”

  “Afghanistan’s more central Asia, but yeah. That whole mess.”

  A veil of calm had fallen over me thanks to the alcohol, but this would have caught my attention even without it. I’d briefly considered enlisting as a way to leave Freemont, but it didn’t seem to work. Many of the Liberated were ex-military too. Damon was just the latest. It was all the less reason to trust that he’d become something more.

  “Can you tell me what you did, or is that actually classified?” I asked.

  He chuckled. “I don’t want to paint a picture like I’m in Seal Team Six. I was just another grunt trying to follow orders and keep him and his buddies safe.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Boring stuff. Honestly, that’s what it is. Boredom, then explosions and living with that tension until you inevitably get bored again.”

  The whiskey was kicking in hard thanks to my barely eaten lunch. I had my elbows pressed against the table and even the silences had meaning. Watching his eyes drift back to the past, I saw him like I first had at the bar. That quiet stranger who knew how to handle trouble.

  “It wouldn’t be boring to me,” I said. “It’s a world I can only imagine.”

  I must have been wide-eyed cause he stared at me a moment, shook his head, and gave me a rundown of a typical day. Geography was not my strong suite, but he’d worked somewhere in the south, with the border with Pakistan. The territory was crawling with Taliban.

  His regiment’s job was to play whack a mole in the villages, trying to win over families on one hand and getting them to turn over ornery relatives with the other. The local law enforcement was about as corrupt as the enemy.

  It all sounded oddly familiar.

  “You want to ask it, so ask it,” he said at one point.

  “No, I don’t.” Of course that meant I had already thought of the question. I traced a finger on the table.“I mean if you want to share.”

  “Yeah, three people. All men.”

  “Was it tough pulling the trigger?”

  “They would ambush us. Even with scopes and night vision, I could barely see the faces I was shooting at. Pulling the trigger was almost too easy.”

  I nodded deeply. This was the alcohol. I’d never be so forward about my questions.

  I also wouldn’t be quite so forward in letting my eyes keep drifting to the way his thick shoulders shifted. Or the creases his firm chest drew against his grey t-shirt as it swelled.

  The alcohol was turning on me. His words weren’t clear anymore. Definitely not as clear as the tight power I saw in every inch of his body.

  Maybe, if I wasn’t too tipsy to stand, I would have left. Probably not, though.

  In fact, I was starting to imagine letting myself droop over the table until my head bumped into his.

  “When did you leave?” I asked, after a long silence had passed.

  He refilled his glass and watched the liquid settle. This looked worse than the question I didn’t ask. I was about to apologize, when his head flicked back up.

  “I didn’t. I was discharged.”

  That perked me up out of my daydreams.

  “Isn’t that the same thing as leaving?” I asked.

  “Not when it’s dishonorable.”

  “Oh.”

  He nudged forward on the table. “No ‘oh’ here sweetheart. This was a fate of my own choosing. I needed a way out of the country. I couldn’t handle it anymore.”

  “But you just said-“

  “It wasn’t the violence. It was the effect of it. It struck me that these people were going to get their way of life, sooner or later. This was their home. They were responsible for fixing it.”

  I slumped on my arm, peering deep into his soft eyes. Even among the hard edges, I could see a fierce sincerity.

  “I started going off book,” he said. “We all did, but I didn’t hide what I felt was right. I spoke my mind when missions were announced. I disobeyed orders when I felt they might hurt my men. I helped guys get their hands on stuff from back home that was forbidden but helped them get through their day. It was stupid, but it felt more meaningful than my official duties.”

  Without thinking, I reached out and patted his arm. My fingertips erupted with the thick softness of his arm. Some part of my mind blared with sirens, but I shushed them.

  This was fine. It was just a way to show support.

  “You got kicked out doing what you felt was right
,” I said. “Then you came back to fix your hometown.”

  There was a long pause. “Something like that.”

  His glass was down now. His eyes lay level with my own. We’d been holding each other’s gaze the whole time, but the silence intensified the effect.

  My world had reduced to this table, and now it shrank again to his face. His expression was unreadable, just a gorgeous chiseled block. I found myself gazing at his lips. They could have lied to me all night, and I might not tell the difference.

  But he wasn’t. He’d told me the truth cause he wanted me to feel who he was.

  Moments ticked passed, and he continued to study me calmly. I realized he was waiting for me to pass judgment. I already knew his character. Now I was just trying to figure out why he seemed to mean so much to me. It felt dangerous to even broach.

  “Do you think you can really get what you want?” I asked.

  “I wasn’t sure myself,” he said. “Until I met you.”

  “Me?”

  His hand clasped over my own. “I was nervous that night. You might not believe it, but I was back in town, completely unsure whether I was the man I planned on being. Seeing you in trouble helped me remember that I was. So yeah, I think I can get what I want. All I have to do to stay true to my path is think about how good it felt setting you free.”

  I swam with the memories of watching his gorgeous body move, and the weight of it moving against me. This wasn’t the freedom he meant, but he’d opened the gates. I couldn’t hide from what I longed for.

  His lips were curled up though.

  He knew what he was saying. He knew what his touch did to me.

  An ember had been burning in me and now it erupted into a flame. This was way out of control. I started to lift my hand off, but he clasped his tighter over it. Just an ounce of his strength completely blanketed mine. I was boxed in.

  “It’s good you spoke up that night,” he murmured. “Or we could have done something we wouldn’t want.”

  My head blared with noise. Even seated, I felt dizzy, like I might tumble into him. “Yeah,” I said. “Good thing.”

  “You didn’t want it right?” He clasped my hands and leaned in. “You don’t want me.”

  “I want…” I panted and time stretched out. I had the words, but saying it took everything. “I want… you.”

  His hand rode up my bare arm, tracing a live wire up to my neck. “I want you, too,” he said. “We should get the things we want.”

  His fingers caressed me.

  The warmth in the middle of me bloomed, and the last protest in my brain died. My lips parted and I pressed in. His mouth covered the rest of the distance.

  We clicked together like magnets. His mouth was just as strong as I had remembered: soft and firm and full of hunger. His hand found my chin and tucked me deep into his kiss. The smoke of his whiskey flooded my nose, and blew out the last thoughts I had. I tasted him and felt him and smelled him and had him. This was what I wanted: to take everything he had to offer.

  He rose, pulling me up and sliding us both out from the table. His rippling arms fastened us together, burying me in his strength. His tongue bore into my mouth and his hand slid down my rear, grasping firm samples. He was kneading me open like I was ripe dough. I could feel the gap open at the center of me.

  I moaned into him, barely able to keep a hold on my longing. This was wrong. So wrong, but now all that revulsion I had been fighting flipped to attraction. He deserved to be in me more than any other man I’d ever met. Sharing a household didn’t mean we had to be apart. It was a sign we deserved to be close. I want him to thrust himself deep inside and make me his home.

  Just the idea got me so wet, I bit his lip. He yelped, but his mouth creased up to a smile against mine.

  His stiff edge bore out of his pants. I stroked it, feeling it twitch in my grip. This would be mine tonight.

  “Fuck me, Damon,” I panted in his ear. “Make me yours.”

  His chest froze at my lust. His mouth stopped moving.

  “Say it again,” he said.

  I peered up at his blue eyes, thin now like some animal’s. “I want you inside me,” I said.

  “You’re not going to run off.”

  I wanted to giggle. There was nowhere for me to go. Instead, I tiptoed up and whispered in his ear: “Don’t let me.”

  He scooped me into his arms. I yelped, but his mouth crushed against mine. The world shook and swirled and his lips were the only constant. We left the light for dark and then, a door shut behind us.

  He lay me down gently on a bed. The walls were bare on either side, but the closet was open and full of men’s clothes. This was his room.

  My stepbrother was going to fuck me in his own room.

  He tore my shirt over my head and stood above me, mesmerized by my chest.

  “Christ, those look good,” he said.

  “Come taste them.”

  He pressed me further onto the bed, then stalked over me, dipping his perfect face in. The second his lips pressed past my bra, a whorl of pleasure erupted over me. His warmth and wetness had me gasping for air. My whole world went white as he set to work.

  This was how my body was meant to be used.

  He drew me deep into his mouth, making me writhe. I peeked up to watch him feast like some animal. The sight of his lust made me ache so deep. If he was going to eat me, he should fill me up too.

  I helped him tug his shirt off as he laid my chest bare. He weighed himself down on me, and our skin burned on each other as he kissed me again. Soon, I would feel his fire deep inside me. He whipped down my pants, unbuckled his and sent both skittering across the hardwood.

  A heavy weight pressed against my wetness below. I gasped, feeling it squeeze me open. A moment of fear overtook me. What if I couldn’t take him?

  Then I saw his eyes dimmed with pleasure above me. He was into me. I would serve him one way or another.

  “Is this what you want?” he said.

  “Yes,” I hissed. “I want you so much.”

  He pressed in. A tightness and twitch of pain came, but then everything released and he tore through me like a bolt of lightning. My body sang out.

  “Oh, fuck,” I gasped. There was nothing in my mind, but the ecstasy of him invading me. Nothing had ever felt so good.

  “Take it, baby,” he said.

  He rode in until he sat somewhere lost within me. He gazed at me with a question from above and

  I nodded. I loved this. He slid out and started to fuck me.

  The ecstasy was beyond anything I’d ever imagined. Every inch of him felt like a revelation coursing up my body. I had denied myself this amazing thing, but I knew Damon made it all the better. Every thrust, I thought about how wrong it was to have him so deep, each bit of his length more forbidden than the last.

  My agony grew, and I started to moan. Thank god no one else was home. He grunted and swelled tighter inside me.

  The silence of the room started to condense until the world was just me and Damon. I felt him slip through me. I watched his center enter me over and over. I heard the slick sounds of our union. A great pressure ballooned inside me. I pulled him down and latched onto his back with nails, wanting him deeper, faster. I wanted him to release this thing he had created.

  He pulled away. I lay in a confused daze, but it was short. He flipped me onto my stomach, and then entered me again. I cried out as he bore deeper and hard than he had ever been. My vision went white. My hands wanted to tear him apart, to show him this blissful chaos in my head. I could only twist the blankets.

  Above me, he started to groan and swelled even thicker.

  My body started to shake and then everything shattered. I screamed out as waves of current blanketed me. Damon kept plunging in and out, stoking them on and on. I bounced against his rhythm and wriggled ever last ounce of pleasure out.

  “Fuck me,” Damon said. He pumped harder than ever, giving me a last few winds of bliss and then, he yanked
out.

  His deep voice groaned over me and then hot thick wetness coated my back. I reached behind and took over for his hands, squeezing the last of him out.

  He collapsed next to me and we lay breathing on our stomachs. I felt more spent than he was.

  “We need to clean up,” I said, eventually. “We need to hide this.

  “No,” he said. “Just lie with me.”

  I lay under his arm and felt a deep abiding ease settle over me. We had done this thing that we should not have, but there was nothing about this moment that wasn’t perfect.

  Lie with me.

  I’d have to lie. We both would. Freemont would not accept this. The Liberated definitely wouldn’t. Lorne was all about family - and for that very reason he might go nuts and just murder us.

  That didn’t mean this was the wrong thing though. Heck, him hating just made it more right.

  As I drifted off in my stepbrother’s embrace, it felt like the most right thing in the world.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Damon

  I woke to the sound of heavy muffled footsteps. My head was just across the wall from the hallway, and I could hear someone shuffle to a stop outside.

  “Where is she?” a voice mumbled. It sounded like Jason.

  Someone else yelled somewhere down the wall, and Jason yelled back. “I’m looking in her room now, Mom. She’s not here.”

  No, he would not find Christina there. She lay facing me, her wide eyes shut, her cute heart face buried in the soft drapes of her dark hair.

  I lay mesmerized. I hadn’t forgotten last night at all, but the aftermath was just as spectacular. My eyes drifted down to the rise and fall of her pink tips atop those creamy white pillows.

  I’d dreamed bad stuff last night. I’d woken twice imagining Lorne had stormed in here. Awake though, her body gave me no chance to regret anything. Under the sheets, I was coming to rise.

  “Alright,” Jason yelled from outside. “I’ll give her a call.”

  Her phone. Was it here?

  I lunged over her to the edge of the bed. Her jeans lay in a tangle with mine, and they felt heavier than fabric as I picked them up. I palmed the rectangle of her phone, when suddenly it started to ring.