Rebel Wayfarers MC Boxset 4

by MariaLisa deMora

  “I haven’t been able to get ahold of Cassie.” He admitted this easily, because he knew she was okay. What he wouldn’t admit was in addition to talking to Sammy, he’d also sent more than one prospect to roll past her house and peer into her garage and windows like fucking stalkers. They’d reported back via Myron that there was activity in the house, and all vehicles were accounted for in the garage. “Bothers the hell outta me that the last words we exchanged were angry ones.” He shrugged. “Fucked up, and I know it.”

  “How you gonna unfuck that?” Mason tipped the bottle up again, his neck working as he swallowed. “You’re the plannin’ man. What you got tucked up your sleeve?”

  “You saw the sketch I did of her?” Mason nodded. Not long after Hoss had relegated it to the studio, his friend had visited and without being told had unerringly found it, and called him out on the emotions evoked by the art, just as Faith had. “I think I’ll give it to her. Gonna wrap it up and hand it over, and tell her just how I feel.”

  “How you feel?” Mason snorted. “This is gettin’ too soft, brother. But I want an answer and then we’ll talk about bikes or something else. Fucking asshole, making me into a goddamned chick. How do you feel?”

  Hoss laughed softly and finished his beer before answering. “She’s it for me, Mason. It’s different from Hope, you know?” Mason nodded. Hoss knew he understood because the man had borne love for two women in his life, the first not made for him and he’d known it early, which at least gave him the grace of space to hand her into another man’s arms. The second had been crafted specifically for him, molded by the Maker to fit his life and needs in a way no other woman could. He glanced over and caught sight of Willa staring across the flames at her man with a crooked smile, unafraid to show the world her emotions. I want that from Cassie. “Different, but not less. In some ways, it’s more, because I know how fast things can be ripped away. I don’t know how to explain it, but she fills me up in ways I need.”

  Mason’s mouth worked for a moment, and then he said, “Cherish that, man. Best thing in the world, having the love of a good woman. Holding that in your arms, it’s a good thing.”

  “Fury told me once I needed to hold on with both hands, and I got it. I knew what he meant. With Cassie, it’s not work to do it, brother. Loving her is as simple as breathing.”

  “Gonna unfuck it then, that’s good.” One corner of Mason’s lips lifted in a small smile. “When?”

  “Soon as we get home. We’re rolling out tomorrow morning, and I’m gonna pick up the sketch and go straight to her house. Beg my way back into her heart, and then stay there.” He sighed, a feeling of contentment rolling over him. “Stay there the rest of my life.”

  ***

  Mason

  “Mmhmm.” Willa rolled her neck to shove her face into the pillow and hummed as Mason stroked up her back. He laughed softly and angled his thumbs deeper into her muscles. “Dear God.” Never get tired of her kooky. “That. There.” Her sigh sounded more like a mew and he shook his head. “More. Now. Gargh.”

  “Jesus, babe.” He rolled towards her, shifting the covers out of the way to massage her back more effectively. “How are you so stiff? I thought the whole point of the bus was to keep you from gettin’ achy like this?”

  “First, that’s what she said.” He chuckled at the pleased tone in her voice. “And second, that’s a good question,” she mumbled, not picking her head up. “For which I do not have a good answer.” Arching up, she wedged her elbows under her chest, fluffing the pillows before she flung them back out on the bed. Mason rocked up on an arm, looming over her and watching every sinuous movement of her body as she relaxed into the position, hips gliding side to side. A glance over her shoulder carried humor and he grinned, waiting. “In case you failed to notice, we’re in a bed. Together.” She rocked to one side, bumping him with a hip. “Huh? Huh? Did I plan this, or what?”

  “Quite the planner,” he murmured, sidling close enough to rest his head on her low back. His hand continued to sweep the skin bared before him. And watching himself touch her was as enthralling as ever. “You have a good trip, Willa? Enough of a re-honeymoon for what you wanted?”

  Every night he’d spent in the bus with her, except the two nights she declared off-limits for the men, holing up in hotels with the woman and abandoning the busses while they took advantage of unlimited hot water and paid TV. He tipped his neck, dragging his chin across her hip, mouthing along the edge of the covers where they curved over her ass. He bit gently, then traced the faint indentions with the tip of his tongue.

  “Yeah,” her response was sweetly slow, each sound drawing out in an echo of her pleasure. “This has been a great trip, chunk a hunk. Everything—” She twisted away from him, rolling to her back before jockeying for position under his head again. “I could have ever—” With a lunge she arched up and planted her lips over his. “—asked for. You? Has it been a good trip for you?”

  Mason didn’t have to think, didn’t have to consider his words or the faces of the men he’d ridden these miles with. Didn’t have to imagine his pride at how well Garrett had done within the pack. On this trip, it had been everything he could have wanted, except for the part where his boys underscored how fast they were both growing up. We should talk about Gar-boy. “Yeah, been a great trip. Loved spending time with you and the boys.” Dolly had wound up staying back in Fort Wayne, watched over by a dozen protectors. She’d complained vigorously each time he or Willa had checked in, because she was never alone. As it should be, family’s always protected and held safe. Mason followed her back down to the mattress, chased her lips with an intensity she evidently found amusing, laughing and rolling her eyes.

  “Wanna fuck?” Mouth to her neck, he worked at the column of her throat with lips and teeth, fingers drawing lines and angles along her sides until he cupped the weight of her breast in his hand. “Wanna fuck your old man, babe?”

  She gasped when he applied pressure to her nipple, each movement familiar and yet brand new, a discovery of sound and tension and pleasure each time he laid hands on her body. Rocking against him, her head fell backwards on a groan and she gave him everything he needed. “Please.”

  “Always give you that ask, baby.” He surged over her, cock already rigid and ready. He shoved an elbow into the mattress, fingers delving at her core to find her ready. Never tire of this. “Fucking wet, Wills. Love how you get for me.”

  “And I love what you do to me.” Her rejoinder was airy, breathlessly spoken sounds that settled in his gut, driving his hips into a plunge forwards. One thick finger thrust deep inside her drew a soft moan that rattled up from her chest. A second finger made her back arch, legs spreading wide to welcome him to the cradle made just for him. He worked her for a moment, drawing his thumb across her clit and watched as she shuddered underneath him. “Mason.” His name on her lips made him eager, ready to be inside her.

  “Don’t matter how often I have you.” Hand on his shaft he pulled one slow stroke, bumping up against her with his knuckles as he lined himself with her entrance. “I always want you. More—” His breathing sped up, echoing her gasp as he pushed inside. “More every day, Willa. Always.” Deeper, then a slow drag out, making sure he used every trick to keep her revved up. “More, baby.” A thrust carried him farther inside her, the hot silk of her sex all around him. “So fuckin’ tight.” He rocked forwards until his hips nestled against her and she gave a high whine when he ground tighter against her clit. “Gonna come for me, Willa?”

  She nodded, hair wild on the pillow, a deep blush of arousal moving up her chest to her neck. He reached and grasped her hand, smiling when she spread her fingers so he could thrust through, holding on tightly. He settled that hand beside her head and leaned close, lips hovering just over hers.

  “Yes, Mason. Yes. I’m close, baby.” Her lips parted to pull in air, and she lifted a hand towards his face. Mason nuzzled along the sensitive skin of her wrist, gripping and biting then laying hard,
open-mouthed kisses along her arm. He could feel it moving through her now, the short pulses of tension shooting through her body, muscles shivering as her core tightened around him once, then again, and then she lifted, pressing her mouth to his as she came, exploding and contracting at once, her keening cry pulling him along with her.

  “Fuck, baby.” He broke the kiss and bent his neck, face buried in the pillow next to hers. Mouth to her ear, he latched onto her lobe, tugging sharply while her hips bucked up against him. Her fingers dug deeply into his shoulder and arm, nails dragging a sharp grunt from him, but the shining pain focused his pleasure and he rode the wave, cock pushing and thrusting in and out, harder, faster, until he came with a shout, going rigid against her for a moment, then losing rhythm to chase those sparks that raced along his nerves, slowing and easing until he sprawled over her propped on knees and elbows, blanketing her with his heat. “God, Willa. I love you.”

  She sighed and her head angled to press to his neck as she murmured, “Love you, too. You’ll always be my dreamiest old man.” She yawned wide, and then her sweet snort was followed by a soft snore.

  Jesus. Kooky. “Baby, you can’t go to sleep.”

  “Why not?” Now she was complaining, the rumble of her annoyance clear, if not intimidating.

  “’Cause we need to talk.” Silence from her. “Babe.” She shifted and opened one annoyed eye, blinking as she glared at him. “There you are.” A flash of pink between her lips, and he laughed as she stuck her tongue out at him. “You see Garrett today?” She shoved at his shoulder and he moved, slipping to the side as she rolled to face him.

  “Yes. Did you see how he looked? Poor boy.” Lips bowed in concern, Willa’s nap was out of reach now if the look on her face was any indication. “He’s missing Faynez.”

  “Boy’s got a lotta growing before he’s ready to be missin’ anyone like that.” Mason shifted to his back and wrapped his arm around Willa’s shoulders, pulling her tightly to his side. “Whole trip, though, he’s done really well. Handled himself like a man grown. He’s done good, Wills. Boy’s growin’ up, and a body can see that just from how he listens, always looking for a mentor. He’s like you that way, always lookin’ to learn the next thing. Faynez, though? She’s young, Willa, and had a hard life. Woman like that needs some special handling. Gar-boy’s growing into someone’s gonna be a good man and gonna be better. He’s just got more growin’ to do before that’ll be where he is.”

  Cheek to his shoulder, she snuggled against him. “I know you and I were nearly old codgers before we even met, but with how we are together, do you really think if we’d bumped up against the other earlier, we wouldn’t have known what this was?” Her fingertips trailed a random path across his chest, circling a nipple here, playing connect-the-scar there. “For some people, I think there’s one person they’re meant to be with in our lives. You’re mine, and I’m yours. With Garrett? I think our son’s been lucky enough to find the one for him, just earlier than most.” Her tone slowly lightened, turning from serious to joking, and he knew she’d said her piece. That was how Willa was. She’d tell you how it was for her, lay it out for a person, and leave it to them to take it on or not. By that point, she’d already moved on. “You can’t tell him not to pursue her, Mason. That’s cockblocking, and is bad.” He failed at biting back his laughter and she slapped his chest. “Stop moving. I know you’re laughing, but you’re bobbling me all over. Stop it.”

  “Jesus, honey. You can’t tell me not to cockblock my boy. It’s the nature of things. We don’t need any early grandchildren.” The rush of air she pulled in told him she hadn’t considered that angle. “See? We’re too young to be grandparents.”

  “Oh. My. God.” Distinct pauses between the words was her speech pattern when she was wrestling with something big. Profound. “Oh. My God. OhmyGod.” Up on an elbow, she leaned close and pressed her lips to his once, twice, then a third time, excitement dancing in her eyes. “I pick GiGi. That’s my grandma name. You heard it, right here and now, chunk a hunk. GiGi.” With her cheek back to his shoulder, he roared with laughter when he heard her whisper, “Imma make the best grandmother ever.”

  It took a minute, but he finally had settled down, doing his best to ignore all her additional grandmother remarks. “Not anytime soon, Wills. I love our boys, but you and me, we aren’t old yet.” He rolled them, putting her back to the mattress. Then, mouth to her neck, he told her, “It’s early still. We got time for round two.”

  “Round two?” Her voice was back to breathless and he smiled as she arched against him, rubbing along his body with hers like a cat. “I could handle that.”

  “You always handle me.” He thrust two fingers deep, pulling and stroking her inner walls until she made that tiny mew sound again. “We got time.”

  Extended family

  Faith

  Faith stood beside the tall windows of the dining room and looked out into a backyard filled with family and friends. She’d been inside for a while and expected her father to appear at any time and demand she rejoin the party playing out behind their home. It was a tradition with them to have this annual bash, celebrating an unnamed milestone for the club. This year the weather had cooperated. Not so hot out that the kids running amok risked getting sick from the heat, but the chill of winter was long gone, leaving their guests comfortable in lightweight shirts underneath their leather vests.

  Not everyone wore a vest, of course, only the men who shared a brotherhood with her father.

  This particular party was never restricted to only Rebel Wayfarers, and as usual, her brother’s hockey friends had shown up, their conversations circling tightly around ideas about training, the upcoming draft, training, kids coming up the lines, training, and all things hockey. The party marked changes for their family every year, too, because it signaled Sammy would soon be done playing hockey for a time, giving them a chance to bond away from the many rinks they’d followed him to over the years.

  The corners of her mouth curled as she watched Sammy’s face, hands flying around animatedly as he explained something to his best friends, Jonny Morgan and Kane Shoemaker. Not just friends from league teams; those two were as much a part of the Rebel family as she and Sammy were. Captain, their adoptive father, was a member of the club, too.

  Jonny twisted in place, gaze scanning the groups scattered around the yard and he scowled disgruntledly for a moment, brow wrinkling. Then he caught sight of her in the window and Faith recognized the usual cocky look that came across his face. He turned so his back was to her, deliberately stepping across the small group of players in order to do so, the slight so blatant she felt it like a strike of a blade to her heart. Sammy’s head tilted and he considered his friend for a moment, listening to whatever he was saying, then Sammy’s gaze came straight to her, and she knew Jonny had explained his actions. She’d heard him plenty of times, Jonny not caring if she were close enough to listen or not when he cut her hopes to the quick, declaring by words and actions that any attraction she felt to him was unwarranted and seriously not returned.

  “Faynez,” she heard her nickname called from the kitchen, and turned, already smiling, because she recognized the voice.

  “Garrett,” she cried, running across the space between them and wrapping her arms around the wiry boy’s frame. “I didn’t think y’all could make it. I’m so glad to see you.”

  Garrett Mason had been a friend almost from birth, with only a few weeks between their birthdays. His father was the club’s founder, and a steady influence in the Rebels MC, so he was practically family, too. Tightening her arms, she squeezed until Garrett grunted, then laughed as he returned the favor.

  He grunted again, stiffening, and she leaned back to look up into his face. He was staring over her shoulder at the windows, glaring with what looked like anger, the muscles of his jaw jumping as he clenched his teeth. She pulled away, twisting out of his arms and turning to look back at the window to see Jonny had walked up to the glass and w
as standing, hands to his hips, sending his own glare inside to where she stood beside Garrett.

  Garrett’s hand landed on her shoulder, arm banding across her back, and he pulled, tugging her into his side. She leaned on him, comfortably wrapping her own arm around his hip. “Missed you, Faynez,” he muttered, and she glanced up at his face to see he was still glaring at Jonny.

  “Missed you, too. Did you enjoy the trip, though?” He and his family had traveled to Texas to see his older brother’s band perform at a music festival. “How’s Chase?”

  The patter of light footsteps sounded from the hallway and Faith turned to see a group of kids running through the house and towards the backyard. Before Garrett could answer, her nickname sounded through the house again, “Faynez, you comin’ outside, honey?” Garrett gave her a squeeze, then released her. Another shout, this one louder, “Faynez?”

  With an apologetic smile up at Garrett, she answered her father, “Coming, Daddy.” Grabbing Garrett’s hand, she tugged him towards the back door. “It’s chaos today. Come on, everybody’s here. They’ll be glad to see you, too.”

  A couple of hours later, Faith had collapsed onto one of the blankets spread on the back lawn. Eyes closed against the glare of the sunshine, she threaded her fingers together across her belly and crossed her legs at the ankle.

  Heaving in a lungful of air, she blew it back out steadily, trying to relax just for a moment. This party was always stressful because there were so many details that made it a success. Not entirely her responsibility, but she always felt the need to make it as perfect as possible. She wanted everything to go smoothly so her dad didn’t have to worry about anything. He loved his family and loved his friends, and she wanted that to be what he concentrated on, not whether there was enough beer or if they had enough buns for the brats and hotdogs.