Down & Dirty: Crow: Dirty Angels MC, book 10

by St. James, Jeanne

  Her lips parted on a groan and she began to pant. She tilted her hips trying to encourage him to take it further. He was being too careful.

  “Crow,” she groaned.

  “Wanna taste you, Kachina.”

  “Yesss,” she hissed.

  She expected him to go lower, but he didn’t, instead he alternated flicking the tip of her puckered nipples with his tongue, making her pulse race and her nipples bead even more. Then a gasp escaped her as his warm, wet mouth drew one nipple between his lips.

  Lightning shot from her breast all the way down into her core as it clenched and throbbed. He needed to fill that emptiness inside her.

  She wanted to feel his full weight on her. He had done his best not to do that, not to pin her down on her back. And she knew why...

  Their fingers on her pussy continued to move, explore, but he avoided going inside. He stayed on the surface and when he moved to suck on her other nipple, her body tensed and did something so surprising...

  The pulses radiated from her center as she came and cried out. She hadn’t had an orgasm in years. Since before...

  Even then, they were all self-induced.

  Her pulse raced when he didn’t back off, but continued sucking and stroking, making her thrust against his hand, her body squirm against the bed, her breath become even more ragged.

  She needed his hair loose. She needed to feel that black silk all over her skin. Without asking, she found the end, rolled off the elastic band and began to undo the braid. He hesitated for a split second, then began to suck her nipples even more intently.

  When she had it undone, she spread his hair out over her, smoothing it against her heated skin.

  Then he lifted his head, surged up and took her mouth again. It wasn’t gentle. No. His tongue swept between her lips and hers tangled with his for a few moments, before he broke the kiss, his breathing as ragged as hers.

  He was hard and hot against her hip, and she needed to touch him, but every time her hands got near, he’d move them away.

  “Kachina,” he whispered again, then moved down her body, kissing her flesh as he went. He was...

  Yes, he was going there. Finally.

  He gently cocked her legs, spread her thighs and took her clit in his mouth. She whimpered and grabbed long strands of his hair, rubbing the silky length between her fingers as he did amazing things with his lips. With every stroke of his tongue, every flick to her clit, her hips jumped off the bed uncontrollably.

  She forced herself to lift her head and stared down her body to see his dark head moving between her too pale thighs. She lost her breath when he tilted his head just enough to catch her eyes.

  Then she slammed her head back into the pillow as another orgasm ripped through her, much more intense than the first one.

  The Warriors stole this from her. Years of pleasure. Years of intimacy. Years of being with someone she loved.

  She squeezed her eyes shut and shoved that as hard and as fast out of her head as she could.

  No. This was her time. With Crow. Without them. She wouldn’t let them win.

  “Talk to me, Kachina.” He kissed along her inner thighs, scraped her skin lightly with his teeth.

  “That was... everything I expected from you and more.”

  He rose up with a smile, kissed the top of her pubis and then one of her protruding hip bones. “Are you ready for more?”

  Her pussy clenched, at not only his words, not only the smooth satin of his voice, but at the imagery of the two of them being connected so intimately.

  She wanted that. Oh, did she want that.

  She nodded and whispered a “yes.”

  He studied her for a moment, his eyes darker than normal, his cock hot and heavy against her thigh, the tip of it sticky against her skin. He lifted himself even more, leaning to the right, reaching out for his nightstand drawer. She knew what he was digging for so she didn’t need to watch, instead she studied the long, lean line of his body. Perfect golden skin that she wanted to explore in the same way he had done to her.

  She heard the wrapper tear and his body shifting against her. Then he moved back between her thighs, keeping his weight off her by planting his palms into the mattress.

  “Talk to me, Kachina,” he whispered.

  She glanced down between them, seeing his cock, now wrapped, hanging heavy between them.

  She wanted this. She wanted this.

  She wanted this.

  Oh, how she wanted this.

  It was not fair to Crow to make him be the one to get her over this hurdle. She never should’ve asked him. She should have come to him already unbroken. It wasn’t his responsibility to fix her.

  While he’d been patient with her, like she expected, it wasn’t fair to him.

  “Talk to me,” he urged softly.

  “I want this... I do...”

  “You’re not ready.”

  He began to move away, but she stopped him by digging her fingers into his hair on both sides of his head and holding him right where he was.

  “I want this,” she said more firmly.

  “Need you to be sure, baby.”

  “I’m sure.”

  He dropped his head and took her mouth again, kissing her long, deep, until she forgot everything that was about to happen. And then he moved, lowering himself just slightly. Another shift, and he was pressing the broad head of his cock against her slick entrance, sliding it up and down in between her folds.

  He broke the kiss, pressed his forehead to hers and pushed forward, oh-so-slowly.

  As she felt the pressure, the stretching, every muscle in her body froze as she waited for the pain. The tearing. The stabbing motion. Her breath caught, her eyes closed and she bit her bottom lip so hard she could taste blood.

  She was not in that room in that abandoned house. She was not. She was in Crow’s bed. She was in his house. His house had windows, not like that other one. His house had furniture, not like that other one. This one was a home, not like that other one...

  He was being gentle, not rough. Slow, not fast. He wasn’t slamming her. He wasn’t holding her down against her will. He wasn’t laughing, biting, grunting, digging his fingers painfully into her flesh, and taking his aggression, his anger, his revenge out on her.

  He wasn’t them.

  He wasn’t them.

  He wasn’t Black Jack. He wasn’t Squirrel.

  He cared about her. They didn’t.

  He didn’t want to hurt her. They did.

  He didn’t want her to regret this.

  She wasn’t going to regret it.

  She wanted Crow.

  She needed Crow.

  She loved Crow.

  Then his weight just disappeared. He was gone. She forced herself to open her eyes as he slid to her side, ripped the condom off and tossed it to the floor.

  He gathered her in his arms, rolled her to her side, and pulled her tightly against him, her back to his chest. His erection remained hard against her ass as he spooned her tightly.

  “Crow.” Her voice caught, because her throat got tight, tears burned her eyes. “I need—”

  His arm tightened around her waist, not allowing her to turn to face him. “No. Not yet,” he murmured in her ear.

  “Crow...”

  “No, Kachina, you’ll know when you’re ready.”

  “I’m ready, I swear.”

  “I ain’t...” He blew out a breath and it ruffled the hair by her ear. “I can’t... Not like that.”

  “Like what?” Even though she asked the question, she already knew the answer.

  “You... Not like that.”

  “But you didn’t...”

  “Don’t matter.”

  “It does. I need to take care of you. Like you did me.”

  “Not yet, Kachina. When you’re ready it’ll come easily. When it’s time, you’ll know it’s me inside you, no one else. You’ll have no thoughts of anyone else. Thought I got you there. I didn’t. Fucked up an�
� rushed it.”

  He hardly rushed anything.

  She bit back the sob that so wanted to escape.

  She thought she was ready.

  Maybe he was right. She wasn’t ready. Maybe she’d never be ready.

  Maybe she was so broken, she was beyond repair.

  Crow inhaled a shaky breath. His dick was throbbing and his nuts desperately needing a release. It didn’t help that he was holding Jazz against him. Inhaling the fruity smell of the shampoo in her hair. Feeling her smooth, warm skin against his.

  She was too skinny, yes. She could put on at least twenty pounds if not more, but even at her current weight, he wanted her. Even with that awful fucking black hair, he wanted her.

  The most difficult thing he ever did was pull out before he was even completely inside of her. He wanted to push forward, to take her, to make her his. But he couldn’t. Not yet.

  If he had done so, she still wouldn’t be his. Not when she had other thoughts running through her mind.

  Black Jack and Squirrel still had a hold on her. Those fucking bastards. If he could dig those fuckers up and kill them again, he would. One death wasn’t good enough.

  When every muscle of her body locked. When her nails dug sharply into his flesh. When she whimpered, not because she was out of her mind with wanting him, but with fear. It was like a bucket of ice water had been thrown on him.

  Forcing her to push through her fear, her memories, and continuing on with what he was doing, wouldn’t have made things better for her. It might have made things worse.

  And he couldn’t risk that.

  He couldn’t.

  He never wanted to be the one who might damage her even more. Push her to break once again.

  No, they were just getting Jazz back. He needed to make sure it was Jazz who stayed. Not that other person she tried to be.

  When they started this earlier, when he had led her upstairs to his bedroom, with excruciating slowness removed her clothes, placed her in the center of his king-sized bed where she watched him strip off his own clothes, he wasn’t sure how far they’d get.

  He knew it would take time, that’s why he forced himself to take it so slowly that he thought he was going to lose his own mind.

  He had to keep his patience, his control, while his brain screamed at him to take her.

  His brain played tricks on him, telling him to go faster, make her his quickly before anyone else got that chance.

  He’d be her true first. But not her last.

  He knew that it wasn’t smart to think he would be.

  He was willing to help her get over her fear. To show her how good sex could be with someone who cared. But he wasn’t willing to hold her back once she did.

  She wanted him to be her hero.

  But the hero didn’t always stick around. The hero helped someone and then moved on.

  She wanted him to help her heal.

  But that’s where he faltered. How could he do just that when he himself never faced his past? He’d avoided knowing all of the details, the complete truth, about his parents’ murders.

  If he wouldn’t, couldn’t, deal with that, how could he help her?

  He couldn’t.

  Until his own past was dealt with, he’d be a hypocrite to think he could.

  He needed to finally hear the truth. What currently was nothing but a gap in time. A black hole in his memory.

  He needed that crevice filled. He needed to hear the details.

  He needed to know.

  He needed to go visit Rocky at SCI Greene.

  Chapter Seven

  A buzz sounded as the heavy metal door in the small room on the other side of the thick glass opened. A heavily tattooed man in an orange jumpsuit, with his hands shackled to his waist, stepped inside. The same door slammed shut with a loud metallic clank and Rocky shuffled up to the window with shackled ankles.

  He stared at Crow for a long minute, then took a seat, his bound hands in his lap.

  “What the fuck you do now?” Crow asked him.

  Rocky shrugged then grinned. “What I had to.”

  Crow sighed and sat back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “You get the hole?”

  “Yeah, for a couple nights. Was a nice fuckin’ break.” Rocky’s salt and pepper head tilted and his gray-blue eyes narrowed on him. “Been a while, boy.”

  Crow grunted a “yeah.”

  “Have you seen my baby doll?”

  “Yeah, I’ve seen her.” Crow didn’t tell him Diamond now lived next door to him. He wasn’t sure Rocky would care and their time was limited. He needed to stay on point.

  “Ain’t knocked up yet?”

  Shit. Rocky didn’t know. Diamond hadn’t told her father that she was pregnant. It wasn’t his info to tell. “Don’t think it’s for a lack of tryin’.”

  Rocky sat back in his chair, his cuffed hands resting on his gut, as his eyes got a distant look. “Practice does make perfect. Sure miss pussy in here.”

  “Ruby must miss you, too,” Crow said dryly.

  Rocky’s jaw became tight. “What I fuckin’ meant—”

  Crow cut him off. “Right.”

  Rocky’s narrowed eyes were now focused on him. “Why you here?”

  “Ready.”

  “For what?”

  “Closure.”

  “Why now?”

  “’Cause I need to learn to let shit go. That toxic shit that rots my gut deep down inside. Need to help someone else do the same. So, need to be able to do it for myself first.”

  “Who you helpin’? Isabella?”

  “Bella’s got Axel.”

  “Yeah, right. That nephew of mine would never step into this place to visit his murderer uncle. Don’t want to get his fuckin’ hands soiled.” Rocky paused with a tilt of his head. “’Kay, who then?”

  “You never met her.”

  “Club property?”

  Fuck. Was she? She was DAMC, so in Rocky’s eyes... “Yeah.”

  “Who?” Rocky asked again like the stubborn cuss he was.

  “Was involved in the shit that went down with Black Jack.”

  Rocky shot to his feet and slammed both palms into the thick glass separating the two of them so hard that the loud bang made Crow’s head jerk back in surprise.

  Fury masked the older man’s face. “Was itchin’ for that fucker to come here.”

  Fuckin’ Rocky. “He was handled,” Crow murmured.

  “Just like Izzy’s ol’ man.”

  May Rebel’s fuckin’ rotten soul never rest.

  “It was handled,” Crow repeated.

  “By who? You?”

  The man looked doubtful that Crow could take out another human being. He could. He had. He just wasn’t proud of that fact. He also didn’t boast about it. “No.”

  “Too fuckin’ soft for the club, boy. Ain’t willin’ to spill blood. Now your pop... Coyote... He was a true badass.”

  “’Til he wasn’t,” Crow muttered but Rocky must not have heard him. The speaker system between them wasn’t the best.

  “Too much like your little squaw ma. Soft. You ain’t no hard warrior.”

  Crow’s fingers dug into the arms of his chair as he struggled to let that roll off his back.

  “Right, well, baby doll’s ol’ man... The Marine. What’s the fucker’s name?”

  Crow had to loosen his jaw to answer. “Slade.”

  “Yeah. Slade’s pop was a ruthless fucker. What he did to your ma and pop... Right in front of you, too... Least he left you breathin’... but you were crawlin’ around in puddles of blood when you were found. Almost like you had bathed in that shit.”

  “Slade’s pop...” Crow repeated softly, wondering if he heard Rocky right through the shitty speaker.

  “Yeah... Buzz... That Warrior. That’s what you came to hear ‘bout, right?”

  He came to hear the truth about what happened, but he didn’t expect Slade’s name to come up. “Right.”

  “So you’
re finally ready to hear all the down an’ dirty details? All those times you came to visit me over the years, sat there hardly sayin’ a fuckin’ word, wouldn’t let me tell you, but now, ‘cause of some snatch, you’re ready for me to give you the low down? Must be helluva sweet slit.”

  For fuck’s sake, Rocky was lucky there was a wall and thick glass between him, otherwise, the man would be finding out just how “soft” Crow was.

  And the man had no idea he was insulting Grizz’s granddaughter.

  He loosened his fingers from the arms of the chair when they began to cramp. “Just fuckin’ tell me. Don’t leave anythin’ out. Want every fuckin’ detail. Got me?”

  Rocky settled back in his bolted-down chair with a nod and began to talk. His words washed over and through Crow. Chilling him one minute. Burning him the next. Rocky spared no details. It was graphic. Heartbreaking. Soul crushing.

  Crow heard every detail Buzz and another Warrior were forced to spill before Rocky and Doc finished them off. He heard every detail of the bloodshed that law enforcement pieced together during their investigations. He heard every detail of what the brothers put together while doing their own.

  During it all, Rocky kept calling Crow’s mother a “little squaw.” He knew the man didn’t mean anything bad by it, it was just the way Rocky was, but it still pissed him the fuck off.

  He talked about Coyote getting his throat sliced but not before watching his “little squaw” get raped and slaughtered. Every one of his mother’s orifices had been assaulted with a knife. All while she still breathed, even if barely.

  His mother, the woman he hardly remembered, was tortured by a fucking monster.

  Rocky was wrong. Coyote wasn’t a badass. That motherfucker watched everything that happened. A badass protected his fucking family. A badass would die before allowing anything like that to happen to the woman he loved.

  But Crow’s father didn’t die until after his mother did. And he died because his throat was sliced, not because he was fighting off the other Warrior to try to save his ol’ lady.

  Fuck no.

  Crow would have taken his last breath, let the last drop of his blood fall before sitting back and watching that.