“Everyone is an integral part of this club regardless of whether you’re a patched member or not,” Axe declares. “Everyone brings something to the table in a manner of speaking.”
“I think it’s time we call it a night,” I squeeze Paisley letting her know without saying what it is I want.
“I agree. Night everyone,” she stands up, hugging the women.
“See y’all in the morning. Cara, I’m feeling a little tired myself,” Axe says, causing her to giggle and her face turn a light shade of pink.
After all the goodnights are given, we finally head up to our room.
8
Paisley
Twisted and I have always had a scorching hot sex life. Whether it was a quickie in the shower, or a fast fuck in his office. He’s always taken care of me and my needs. He’s never been a man who’s chased his and left me hanging, for which I’m eternally grateful. The couple of partners I had before him never gave me an orgasm worth writing home about. But the ones Twisted gives me, are ones worth writing a full-length novel about.
“I want to taste you,” he whispers into my ear as we breach the doorway.
“Same,” I reply.
“You’re gonna have to wait, sweetness. You bouncing around on my lap all afternoon has me at a hair trigger. Putting my dick anywhere near your mouth will ensure things end before they get started.”
“We’ve got all night,” I state, reaching to pull my shirt off.
“And I don’t bounce back as quickly as I did when we were younger,” he says, giving me a wink.
I think about his words and realize he’s right. While we still enjoy those all-nighters from time to time, our breaks in between are longer than they used to be. “Maybe not, but quality has always been more important than quantity and trust me, you bring your A-game every time you touch me.”
If he were a peacock, he’d be preening at my words right now! His chest swells and a cocky grin crosses his face as he moves my hands and continues what I was trying to do, undress me. “Love you, Pais.”
“Love you, Travis.” Everywhere his hands touch, the flame flickers higher so that by the time I’m down to my tiny pair of panties, I’m soaked. “You’ve got too many clothes on for this to work,” I tell him.
“All in good time, baby. All in good time.” Ah, he’s in a teasing mood, I see! He grins wolfishly at me and my body responds, nipples pebbling to the point of pain.
Drawing me closer, he starts kissing me. Slowly at first until suddenly, it feels like the heat’s been put all the way up. Gasping, I pull away slightly and start dragging his shirt over his head. God, I love his body. Chiseled and muscular, with just the right smattering of chest hair to make me swoon. “Travis, let’s get you naked,” I say, now reaching for his belt buckle.
He chuckles, saying, “Someone’s horny, I see.” What does he expect? With us sharing our memories tonight, some delightful ones came to the forefront of my mind.
“Is that a problem?” I arch my eyebrow at him and work hard to keep a serious expression on my face.
“Not in my book. Never in my book,” he states, picking me up and gently tossing me onto the bed. He quickly divests himself of the rest of his clothes before joining me, pulling me into him so I can feel his hard length pressed against my stomach.
“I’ve changed so much over the years,” I whisper. Not a lot if I’m being completely truthful. I’m within five pounds, give or take, of my weight when we first met. But the sun in Texas, despite sunblock, has given me a year-round tan, and my abdomen shows that I’ve had kids.
“You’re my tigress,” he responds, his fingers tracing over the stretchmarks on my hips. “I love that your body bears my mark on you for everyone to see. These right here? They show the world that you took what I gave you and gave me something priceless—children. How could that be a bad thing?”
“You sure you don’t need your eyes checked?” I tease. I mean, I still look relatively young, but those laugh lines get deeper every year.
“Baby, you never said a word when I started shaving my head, why the fuck would I care that you’re showing that we’re doing what I always wanted?”
“What do you mean?”
“We’re gonna grow old together, Paisley. All of this,” he motions between us, “is just the passage of time. Doesn’t dim how I feel for you or how my body reacts whenever you’re in the vicinity.”
“I love your shaved head,” I tell him, sincerity ringing out in my tone. When his hairline started receding, he caught a lot of shit from the brothers until he shaved it all off. “If anything, you’re sexier now than when we were younger.”
“So are you, sweetness,” he murmurs, capturing a nipple between his lips. My back arches as the sensations course through my body and I grip his biceps in my hands.
“God, I thought I was turned on before,” I whisper, “but when you do that, it’s like a bigger switch goes off.” His hand dips between my thighs and I hear a chuckle against my breast.
“You’re dripping, Paisley. Just like always.” So, sue me, his touch turns me on to the nth degree.
“Only for you,” I moan as he switches to the other breast, his other hand continuing to pluck and tease the first nipple. I don’t bother doing much because he likes control in the bedroom for the most part and I love giving mine over to him.
As he moves down my body, my thighs splay as if on autopilot and he looks up at me and grins. “Somebody’s eager.”
Feeling his hard dick pressed against me, leaving a trail of heat and pre-cum, I nod. “Always. You pack a weapon of mass orgasms, mister, and know how to use it.”
At my words, he leans back and laughs, long and hard. “I never know what you’re gonna say, sweetness.”
“Glad we still have some mystery.” Some couples complain about knowing each other too well. They’re bored and needing something new and exciting in their lives. I like to keep my man on his toes and satisfied so he never has to say the same when it comes to me or us.
“Absolutely. Now, stop talking and let me feast.” Gladly! I would shout out that it’s about damn time, but I’m afraid he’d stop, and we’d have to have a prolonged conversation. I’ve never been so happy about him being a multi-tasker than I am when we’re in the bedroom. We may be talking, but his hands are always touching me in some shape or form.
He grabs a pillow and lifts my hips, placing it underneath. As his hands stroke my inner thighs, I feel my insides flutter. Knowing what’s coming doesn’t stop my desire from ramping up a few more notches, that’s for damn sure. Everywhere he touches, he leans in and then kisses me, staying away from the magic button. Soon I’m writhing on the bed, begging him to suck my pussy.
Without warning, he moves in for the kill, inserting two fingers that start stroking my g-spot as his lips and tongue lick and suck at my clit. “Travis,” I moan, “I’m going to come.”
His breath tickles me as he murmurs, “That’s the plan, sweetness.”
Lost in a mindless haze of passion, I cry out when my orgasm hits, my thighs pushing him further into my pussy as I ride out the waves that are crashing through my body. Just as I’m about to pull away because I’m getting sensitive, he rises over me, hooking my legs over his arms and thrusts inside.
Euphoria unlike any other.
Home.
If I had to use one word to describe what having him inside me felt like, that would be the one I’d choose. My arms wrap around his shoulders and I hold on, powerless to do much of anything in this position.
“So fucking good,” he pants out. My pussy, which was still spasming when he entered me, clenches around his length. “Keep that up and this won’t last long,” he warns.
“A natural response to what you’re doing,” between pants I tell him. “You gonna join me on this ride?” I know we’re rare because not all couples orgasm at the same time, but nine times out of ten, we do.
“Fuck yeah,” he replies, increasing his thrusts. This position h
as him hitting my clit each time he powers inside and soon I’m at the precipice once again. “Come with me, Paisley,” he cries out, reaching between us to lightly pinch my clit.
“Travis!” I holler, the waves crashing over me once again. I hear him shouting from a distance and feel his dick pulsing inside.
Long moments pass as we heavily pant, taking in deep gulps of air, as we attempt to regain our breath. I run my hands down him, touching wherever I can, uncaring that we’re a sweaty mess. I know my man and as soon as he’s able, we’ll be headed to the shower to clean up.
Twisted
The memories must have done something magical, because I took her again when we were in the shower before getting us both cleaned up, and back into bed. Laying there with her head on my shoulder, I’m running my fingers through her hair when she says, “It’s mostly been a good ride, hasn’t it?”
“It has, I wouldn’t change a thing,” I admit to her.
“I’d change one thing,” she quietly says into my chest. This has been a hard topic of conversation between the two of us. She carries all the blame on her shoulders, even when I’ve told her time and time again it wasn’t. No one could’ve predicted what happened. The doctors couldn’t have prevented it. Her OB doctor has repeated that to her each time she’s needed to hear it. My mind drifts back in time.
“How’s it going, sweetness?” I ask when she answers the phone. I took a run for the trucking company because one of the guys was out sick. I’m just now getting back and dropping off the truck in the yard. I hated leaving Paisley because she was having a hard time with this pregnancy. We haven’t even told anyone yet, wanting to wait.
“I don’t feel good, Travis,” she replies.
“What’s going on?” Fear crawling up my spine.
“I just feel lethargic and have no energy. When I was pregnant with Tig, I felt like I was bouncing off the walls. But this time? I could cheerfully sleep most of the day.”
“Baby, the doctor said each pregnancy is different, remember?” I hate that I’m away right now because she sounds almost defeated.
“I know, but something isn’t right. I can’t explain it.”
“I wish things had been different,” she whispers.
“Yeah, me too, but, sweetness, we might not have Evie,” I reply, my voice soft as I continue running my hands up and down her. This always kills me, how she took the blame.
“Travis?” Her voice is high-pitched and shaky and I’m immediately on alert.
“What’s wrong? What’s going on?”
“Travis,” she sobs, incoherent for long moments. Moments that have my heart in my throat and my blood pressure spiking so hard I’m worried about a heart attack.
“Where are you, baby? Tell me and I’m there,” I tell her, already grabbing my keys and heading to my bike.
“Hos... hospital,” she cries.
“What’s going on? Talk to me, Paisley,” I command, switching my phone so I can hear her through my helmet. I have no clue where Bandit found them, but they’ve been a lifesaver for us during runs.
“I’m...I’m losing the baby,” she whispers.
My heart plummets at her words. I busted my ass to get the trip done and am grateful I’m in town at least, but still, right now, she’s alone. “I’m on my way. Hold on, sweetness,” I tell her, wetness now coating my cheeks.
“Call an ambulance. I’ll meet you at the hospital,” I tell her, hating that I’ll have to hang up with her so she can call them.
“Okay, I’m gonna call them now.” Without either one of us saying bye, the phone goes silent letting me know she’s hung up to make that dreaded phone call.
What feels like forever, but is in actuality less than thirty minutes, I find myself practically running into the hospital to find my wife. “My wife was brought in by ambulance,” I tell the clerk. She scoots her chair back and I belatedly realize that I probably look imposing as hell, but right now, I don’t give a flying fuck.
“Your wife’s name?” she stammers out.
“Paisley...” Before I can tell her our last name, I hear a scream and start running through the doors, the clerk hollering at me.
“Where are you, sweetness?” I shout, running down the hall, glancing into each room.
“Travis!” At her scream, I find the room and mindless of anything else, I barge in, to see her surrounded by nurses and a doctor.
“I’m here, baby, I’m here,” I soothe, going to her head and kissing her. She’s in obvious agony, her hair plastered to her head and sweat pouring down her face, but she’s still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. “God, Paisley,” I cry. “Do something!” I yell at the doctor.
“I’m sorry, Mr.?” the doctor inquires.
“Martin. Travis Martin. Do something for her!” I demand.
“We’re doing all we can, but we can’t give her any more pain meds. She’s having a miscarriage, sir, and unfortunately, for some reason, the meds aren’t working.”
“Then give her something else!” My mind’s on overdrive seeing her in such agony.
“We can’t, sir,” the nurse quietly says. “I’m sorry, but all we can do is wait it out.”
Fuck! Right now, I wish I could take her place because seeing her like this has my insides tied in knots. Leaning over her, I murmur, “Don’t fight it, baby, just let it happen.” My soul is crying for the little one we’ll never get to know, but right now, she’s my priority.
“Why did this happen?” she cries out. “I don’t understand!”
“Mrs. Martin, I don’t have that answer for you. For some women, it’s a common occurrence, for others, it’s not. Do you have other children?”
“We have a son,” I growl out. “She didn’t have any problems carrying him.”
“Each pregnancy is different. Once we realized that we couldn’t stop this, we gave her a medicine to try and help speed it up and that’s causing a lot of the pain.”
“What the fuck? Why would you do that?”
The doctor glances at me and I see the panic in his eyes at my tone. Normally, I’d care but right now, I don’t give the first fuck. “Because we need to make sure that she uh, she expels it all,” he says, his voice low. “We don’t need anything to be left behind that can cause a problem.”
Well, that’s above my fucking paygrade, that’s for damn sure. “How much longer do you think?”
“An hour or so.” Fuck. Another hour of her writhing in torment? I take a deep breath and nod. One of the nurses grabs a chair and quietly brings it over to where I’ve been standing. Giving her a curt nod, I sit down, never letting go of my woman. My world.
He was off. It was nearly three hours before the doctor was satisfied that it was ‘over’. She was whisked away from me so he could do some kind of procedure and I’m now sitting here, my head in my hands and tears pouring down my face.
When she’s finally brought back to the room they took me to, she’s quiet and pale. The tear streaks on her face have my heart breaking again. “Travis?” she quietly says as I lean over her.
“Yeah, baby?” My voice is gruff, full of unshed tears.
“I’m...I’m sorry.”
“Sweetness, you got nothing to be sorry for, y’hear? This shit happens. It fucking sucks, but it happens. We’ll deal with it, okay?” No way can I blame her for something that happens. It’s not like she went to some fucking clinic or some shit.
“It’s my fault, though.” I can’t understand how she’s coming to this conclusion.
“How do you figure?”
“Because at first, I wasn’t happy about being pregnant again,” she says. “I know we’ve been trying and all, but it seemed like maybe it wasn’t a good time with everything going on.”
“Paisley, that wouldn’t have caused this,” I tell her. “I’m telling you, it’s not your fault!”
“Then whose is it!” she screams at the top of her lungs.
“Fuck if I know, but it happens!” I holler back. Ye
ah, I’d say we’re both stressed because we never scream at each other. “Paisley, hear me loud and clear, I don’t give a fuck if we have another child down the road or not. You are my life. You’ve given me a son and if he’s the only kid we ever have, I’ll still count myself a blessed man.”
Her quiet sobs break me, and I fall on my knees next to her bed. “D’you hear me, sweetness? We started as just us and when whatever kids we’ve got move out, it’ll just be us again. This,” I say, waving my hand down her body, “is a blip, a bump, in our lives. It’s a sucky one and our hearts are broken, but we’ll survive.”
“Are you sure?” Her voice is quiet and low, unlike her normal vivacious personality.
“I’m fucking positive. I’ll make it so if I have to.”
“I wonder...I wonder if it was a boy or a girl,” she murmurs.
“It was an angel.”
9
Twisted
The memories are emotionally draining. It was the first time in our relationship that we raised our voices at each other. I just wish it’d been the only time. Paisley was suffering what the doctors and therapist called survivors guilt. She questioned her womanhood, her mothering capabilities. Why did her baby not make it? Why is she allowed to live a full and happy life, while her child ended up in heaven?
I fall asleep with one of those memories on my mind.
I pull into the driveway of our house, my brows furrowed in concern. It’s dark and yet there are no lights on, either inside or out. Parking my bike in the garage, I hurry inside to see what’s going on.
“Paisley? Sweetness, where are you?” The SUV we bought is in the garage and I see her purse on the table, the keys hanging by the door, so I know she’s not out.
“Daddy?” Tig asks. I head down the hallway and stop in my boy’s room. He’s got his little television on and is watching his latest obsession, the Ninja Turtles.
A Twisted Kind Of Love: Rebel Guardians MC Page 7