Her arms tightened around his waist, her nails digging into his skin. But he didn’t care. She could shred him if she needed to. He wasn’t going to stop until all the thoughts of her past were swept away and all the possibilities of her future took their place.
He buried his face in her slender neck, licking along her pounding pulse, sucking her delicate skin, the moans and groans that moved up her throat vibrating against his cheek.
Those noises drove him wild, made him want to pound her hard, take her fast, but he forced himself to take it slow. Stretch out their pleasure. Push away her pain. But, even so, those whimpers, sighs and his name on her lips...
He did that to her. He did that for her.
He kissed along her collarbone, over to the hollow of her throat. Then removing the arm he had wrapped tightly around her, he pushed up with his upper body and drove deep with the lower.
He stayed that way. Both of them fitting together so fucking perfectly as he curled over her, snagging one of her nipples into his mouth. His teeth scraped against her heated skin ever so lightly. Enough for her to feel it, not enough for her to panic.
He flicked the pointed nipple with the tip of his tongue, then with a groan, sucked it deep within his mouth.
Her body bowed off the bed, encouraging him on. Encouraging him to suck harder. His palm swept over her other pebbled nipple and once again she cried out his name.
Would he ever get fucking tired of hearing it come from her?
As he sucked one, he gently twisted the other between his thumb and forefinger. Once again, enough for her to experience this new pleasure, but not enough to cause pain.
The pad of his thumb brushed over the tight tip. His fingers then swept along the outer curve before sliding along the bottom and around, exploring, kneading, squeezing just enough to bring about his name on her lips once more.
He moved to the other one, sucking it, his fingers now finding the wet, swollen nipple his mouth had left behind.
And though he remained still, remained deep inside her, he could feel her reaction around his dick. That left no doubt how much she liked what he was doing.
Her fingers found his hair, traveling down his braid and back up. Then her fingers were digging into his scalp.
“Gonna start movin’ again, baby. This time gonna stay at the same pace ‘til you tell me to change it. Tell me to go harder, go easier. Go deeper or not. How ever you want it, I’m here for you. What ever you say, gonna listen. Yeah?”
“Yeah,” she sighed.
“Want me to stop, tell me to stop.” But for fuck’s sake, don’t ever tell me to stop. This feels way too fuckin’ good an’ I wanna feel you come around my dick.
“I don’t want you to stop.”
Thank fuck.
It killed him to reassure her, “If I gotta, just say it. ‘Kay, baby?”
“Okay.”
He began to move again, rolling his hips, digging his knees into the mattress, sliding one arm underneath her again, this time to lift her hips just slightly. Her head tipped back, and her eyes closed, her lips parted, little puffs of warm breath beat against his cheek.
It was going to kill him, but he was going to keep the same pace until she told him otherwise.
Yep, he fucking was.
He wanted to grab her thighs and wrap her legs around his hips, but he didn’t want to trigger any memories of being manhandled.
“Good, baby?”
“Yes.”
Please tell me to fuck you harder an’ faster. Even a little...
Her hands smoothed down his back and she grabbed his ass, digging her fingers in deep. He took one of her swollen nipples into his mouth again and while sucking it, circled his tongue around the tip.
Her fingers flexed and dug deeper into his ass muscles.
Whatever she needed...
“Crow...” she breathed.
He didn’t stop what he was doing, he continued to tease her tight nipple and draw it fully into his mouth.
“Crow...”
Yeah, Kachina, cry out my name... Just like that.
“Crow... faster.”
He picked up his pace, not much faster than he was previously moving, but enough so she could tell.
“Faster.”
He quickened his pace a little more, still taking long, deep strokes.
“Crooooow,” she moaned. “Fuck me.”
He lifted his head. “Tell me how you want it, baby. Gotta hear it.”
“Harder. Faster. I... I want to come.”
So do I. But waitin’ on you.
He began to do what she asked: thrust harder and faster. Not as hard and as fast as he could, but more than he was previously. He watched her face for any other kind of reaction other than bliss. But there wasn’t one. Everything he was seeing, every reaction he witnessed, showed him that she was enjoying what he was doing, but her eyes remained closed and he worried about what was running through her head.
The mind could play tricks. One minute things could be good, things could be moving along as planned, then the next...
She could tense up and order him to stop. The slightest sliver of that past nightmare could come back to haunt her.
He needed to keep her attention on him. On them there in this room, his bed.
“Kachina,” he murmured. “Open your eyes. Look at me.”
She ignored him at first, and he leaned in to brush his lips over hers. To remind her who was above her, who was inside her. Where she was at that very moment. Where she was going.
“Kachina,” he whispered. “Need to look at me.”
Her eyelids fluttered open and he noticed that her pupils were wide, narrowing that beautiful sea green.
“Tell me you’re good.”
She nodded slightly. “Yes... Yes. I... This is good.”
He couldn’t fight the smile that curled his lips. “Just good?”
“No... it’s... amazing.”
That was more like it.
He took her mouth, savoring the taste of his Kachina for a moment, then lifted his head once more.
“Eyes on me,” he reminded her. “Tell me to slow down if you need to.”
She gave him a silent nod and he began to do what he was dying to do, what he was waiting for.
He claimed her thoroughly, inside and out. Their gazes remained locked and he watched her face change. Not from panic, but from pleasure. Maybe even a little surprise.
He increased his pace once more, tilted her hips even higher and he drove deep over and over.
Her eyes were heavy and hooded, but she kept them pinned on him, obviously fighting the urge to close them. And he did the same.
He wanted nothing more than to rip the wrap off, throw his head back, pound her hard and come deep inside her. Mark her as his.
All of that would be fucking stupid, so it helped to keep their gazes locked to remind him who was beneath him, as well. To remind him how important it was to be careful with her.
For now.
Later when...
Later...
Fuck.
Later when her tattoo was done and she learned how great sex could be with the right person, they’d go their separate ways. She’d head back to Buffalo or wherever and he’d go back to living by himself.
In this house that was way too big for him.
Way too empty.
In a house that didn’t make sense if he was going to remain a bachelor.
“Crow.”
It was then that he realized it was he who closed his eyes. He had got caught up in his own thoughts, something he was trying to help Jazz avoid.
He opened his eyes. “Yeah, baby?”
“I’m... I’m going to...” Her back arched. “Come. Keep... doing what you’re doing.”
Jesus. It wasn’t like he was going to stop. Fuck no. “Kachina, let go.”
Her mouth gaped open and her head tipped back as she let out what seemed like a silent scream. Nothing but hissing breath escaped as he
r body convulsed beneath him, tensing, jerking.
Then he felt it. The muscles squeezing him, rippling around him, the heat, the slickness. Her hips lifted again and again as she rode out the orgasm.
He dropped his forehead to hers and he stayed right there with her, struggling to hold back until she was done.
And the second she was, he let himself go, too.
He met her on the other side of something he never experienced before with any other woman.
And that fucking scared the shit out of him.
* * *
Crow stared at the digital clock. 5:45 PM. They’d been lying in bed for hours now and he’d soon need to make sure she got something to eat.
He hated to move because Jazz was asleep in his arms, though he hadn’t slept for a second.
Instead he had burrowed his nose into her blonde hair and inhaled her scent which was becoming way too familiar. He’d lightly stroked his fingers over her warm, soft, smooth skin as she slept soundly, her breathing steady.
They didn’t talk afterward. He’d gotten up, rid himself of the wrap and slipped back into bed with her, covering the two of them with the sheet.
It was weird being in bed during the day, especially when he should be at his shop working. But he wasn’t. Because right now being in his bed with Jazz in his arms after he just became her first, was more important than anything.
He should feel satisfied and at peace with the way she reacted. It was a big step for her.
Instead, he was feeling restless. And the reason was, after Jazz fell asleep, everything he found out this morning at SCI Greene, everything Rocky told him, began to invade his thoughts.
He wasn’t sure what to do with that information.
He wanted to hear the truth, the details of the violence he’d witnessed when he was just a toddler, to see if he was repressing any of the memories. To see if he could deal with a past that changed his path. A violent event which ripped him from his parents, from the DAMC and sent him “home” to his mother’s reservation.
Would he be different now if he’d grown up with his parents in the club? If he never experienced everything he did with his ancestors and his real blood?
Maybe Rocky was right. Maybe he was too soft. Maybe being raised among his mother’s tribe instead of his father’s MC made him incapable of being emotionless like Diesel when he needed to be.
He had listened to Rocky’s words carefully, trying to pull up any memory of being in that room, but he had none. Maybe that was for the best. Remembering his mother raped and murdered in front of him may have filled him with a lingering hatred. And he didn’t want to live his life like that.
But like every one of his brothers, the thought of a man turning sex into a weapon, an act of violence, control and revenge, burned in his gut. It stirred that hatred he wanted to avoid.
The thought of what Jazz endured at the hands of their enemy chilled his blood.
But Diamond... What she suffered as a teenager at the hand of their trusted brother. Someone who was supposed to be family. Someone who led them as president. Someone who had access to vulnerable females. Females each and every one of them were tasked to protect.
They should have known. Someone should have known how downright fucked in the head Pierce was.
That was on all of them. They allowed a monster to remain amongst their midst.
His nostrils flared, and his chest got tight. When Pierce confessed what he did to Diamond...
He hated.
He despised.
He had lost all softness that Rocky said he had.
Crow normally didn’t condone violence, but on this occasion, he required it to cleanse his soul.
He knew D’s crew was going to make Pierce disappear. Not run him out of town, not just strip him of his colors. But ghost him.
That fucker was going somewhere he’d never touch anyone ever again. Never touch anyone else’s life with his downright evilness.
While Mercy and the rest of the Shadows took pleasure out of avenging women who’d been hurt at the hands of a man, Crow wanted it even more than them.
He could taste that shit. It permeated every cell in his body. It tainted every thought.
After a quick word with Slade after Hawk and D escorted Pierce out of church, he’d run upstairs to his room, dug out the knife that was given to him by his uncle on his sixteenth birthday. A wide blade that was hand forged and the handle made out of a carved elk antler.
And because that knife had meaning to him, it was only appropriate it would be the tool used to remove Pierce from the earth.
Crow had caught up to Walker and Mercy out in the parking lot before they drove away. While they weren’t happy about it, they reluctantly allowed him to follow. And no one else who was outside, Diesel, Hawk or Zak, tried to stop him.
He’d got on his sled and trailed the large SUV through the countryside, not knowing where they were headed. Only knowing what thoughts spun in his own mind.
He couldn’t push out the image of Pierce forcing himself on a fifteen-year-old Diamond and then her remaining quiet about it.
Diamond was tough. Diamond was a fighter. It ate at him that she remained silent about what that bastard had done all those years prior. It was so unlike her. If she had come forward...
But that wasn’t for any of them to judge.
None of them.
Though, it made him wonder that if no one knew or witnessed what happened to Jazz, would she have kept silent about it, too. Would she have suffered alone, trying to go through life without revealing what chewed her up inside?
He closed his eyes and remembered the day those devastating secrets were revealed... The sun had set by the time they reached their destination, which was an edge of rocky cliff at an abandoned quarry filled with water.
As Mercy dropped Pierce to his knees and Walker held him there, Crow’s first instinct was to simply filet the colors from the traitor’s back.
Between church and the quarry, Pierce’s cut had been taken from him and he only remained with his long-sleeved T-shirt on, facing the quarry from the top of the cliff. It wouldn’t take much to slice that tee free and do what he intended.
Both Mercy and Walker waited patiently as Crow studied Pierce’s back. And surprisingly, at first, Pierce said nothing.
The man knew his fate. He should have known it the second he touched Diamond over fifteen years earlier.
Crow had expected vile words to spew from his mouth, to get in his last-minute digs. But again, he remained silent. His head hung forward, so maybe he was losing consciousness. Or trying to block out what was about to happen.
Probably like what Diamond had to do all those years ago.
Crow actually wanted the man to say shit, because that would stir up Crow’s anger, make it easier for him to dole out the justice Pierce so rightly deserved.
But the more he pictured Diamond suffering at the hands of the man currently on his knees, the easier it became.
Stepping up to Pierce, he used the knife to slice open the worn cotton tee to reveal the black and gray ink that covered the man’s back. The symbol of family and loyalty. History and future.
Pierce had pissed on all of that.
The man’s head had jerked up, but he continued to face the water. “You never belonged in this club, half-breed. Shoulda stayed on your reservation where you belonged.” Then he spat a hocker on the ground before sneering, “Soaring Dove’s name shoulda been Whoring Dove. She loved that fuckin’ white dick.”
Crow stared at the back of Pierce’s salt-and-pepper hair for a long minute and he let those words absorb into every fiber of his being.
This was Pierce. This was who he was. Cancer in the club. Cancer on the earth. A cancer that needed to be eradicated.
It would be Crow’s pleasure to do it.
With deliberate slowness, Crow carved off the colors that he himself had inked into Pierce’s back a couple decades ago. And when he was done, he whispered some words
in Lakota. A request to the gods that Pierce never rest in peace. That what he’d done to others would be done to him for eternity.
He asked the gods to give Pierce no mercy.
Then with slick, bloody hands, he ripped Pierce’s drooping head back by his hair, tempted to scalp him, but he didn’t. Instead, he drew the blade across the man’s throat, as Mercy and Walker continued to hold him upright. When it was finished, he dropped the now tainted knife, drew two bloody fingers of each hand diagonally across his own face, leaving twin streaks of warmth across both cheeks.
After giving Walker and Mercy a chin lift each, which they both returned, he turned and walked away.
As he headed back to his sled, he heard the splash. It sounded heavier than a body. Whatever weighed Pierce down would make sure he never surfaced again. His grave would be hundreds of feet deep.
Crow wondered who else was at the bottom of that watery grave.
Not that he gave a fuck.
He mounted up and began the long trip home. And once he returned to his room at church, he stood under the scalding hot water in his shower until it turned cold.
He waited to feel something. Guilt. Doubt. Anything. But he didn’t.
He had no regrets.
Fucking none at all.
And now he wondered if he was no better than Buzz or Hammer, the Warriors who’d killed a mother and a father right in front of their child and didn’t give one fuck that they did so.
Jazz’s knee slid up his thigh and she adjusted her cheek on his chest. He was on his back with her pinned to his side. “What time is it?” she asked with a yawn.
“Almost time for dinner.”
She groaned and shifted, tucking her face deeper into his neck. He tightened his arm around her, not ready to get out of bed even to make sure she ate.
No, he was liking right where she was at. He was liking right where he was at, too.
She trailed her fingers over his chest. “You have no tattoos.”
He combed his fingers through her hair, gently untangling some of the knots it got during sex. “Got my colors.”
“Other than that you have no tats. Why? Not only are you a tattoo artist, you’re a biker. That’s not typical.”
Down & Dirty: Crow: Dirty Angels MC, book 10 Page 14