Monster: Angels of Chaos MC

by Parker, Zoey

  I shut down after telling Christina that the picture was of Marissa. I didn’t even give her the name, leaving it at “late wife.” I felt sorry for her; I still do. She was upset, I guess because she didn’t mean to pry. I hadn’t given her any idea that I used to be married. It’s not her fault. It was an honest question.

  After that, I sort of shut down. I didn’t want her to keep asking questions, which I knew would grow progressively painful and awkward. If she had, and if I’d answered honestly, Christina wouldn’t be asleep right now. She’d be out in the snow, running away from me. Even freezing to death would seem like a better fate.

  I didn’t tell her how Marissa died.

  And I didn’t tell her that the whole town thinks I did it. Or at least that I’m responsible for it.

  They’re right, of course. I’m responsible. She died thanks to me and my fucked up life.

  I joined the club when I was a kid, too stupid to realize what it was really all about. I remember how good it felt, the idea of having a family. A circle of brothers, people I could count on. They’d have my back. I’d spent my whole miserable childhood on the fringe. My parents a couple of alcoholics, Dad in and out of jail. No brothers or sisters at home, all of them only half-siblings anyway. There were four different fathers among the six of us, and I was the youngest. I was always alone.

  The club was going to save me, give me a new life. I’d always loved motorcycles, and when I saw the Angels of Chaos ride through town on their bikes, my imagination would race. They were the coolest thing I’d ever seen. The gossip about them, the way folks would wrinkle their noses and turn away, all of that just egged me on. They already felt that way about my white trash family and me, anyway.

  So I joined up. I met Marissa through them. She was one of the hangers-on, so to speak, always at the parties. Serving beer, sitting on members’ laps. But she wasn’t like the others. She was smart, and she wouldn’t do everything she was asked. A lot of the girls were so broken they’d suck any dick waved in front of their face as long as it meant they got to hang around. Marissa was different. She wouldn’t stand for any of it. I knew she was the one for me.

  I don’t even remember how things went downhill, but they did. I was so busy with the club I didn’t notice the way we were falling apart until it was much, much too late.

  I stepped away after she died. I couldn’t be a part of it anymore. I didn’t need the club to survive either. I’d managed to stay away from any serious charges during my time in the club, so it wasn’t impossible for me to get a job. I started landscaping, needing the air and sun. Something good, something fresh. All I’d ever known was darkness and rot and stink.

  Now here’s this girl. She wants me. I can’t deny wanting her. She’s a pain in the ass, a sarcastic brat. She’s perfect right down to the freckles on her nose and arms. But I can’t bring her into all my shit. I’m too fucked up; I’ve done and seen too many things. I’m dirty, and I’ll never be clean. She deserves so much better than me. She’s a good woman. She has a future. I don’t.

  I always hurt people in the end. It was unfair of me to bring her closer, to give into the need I felt for her. She’s not the type to screw ’em and lose ’em. She’s the real deal. She has a good heart. Now, we’re more connected than before, and it’s going to be even more painful for her once she realizes who I am and what I’ve done.

  Because she will of course. She hasn’t been here long enough to hear the rumors. Or maybe she has, but she hasn’t put two and two together yet. She doesn’t know about Marissa, how she died. How I killed her. Once she finds out, it’ll break her heart.

  But how can I push her away when I want her so badly still? Even after fucking the hell out of her, I want her again. And I want to fight with her and watch her yell at me. I want to watch her cook, since that’s where she’s in her element. I don’t want to let go of her now that I’ve had her.

  And I don’t want to leave her open to that son of a bitch Tommy. She needs to be protected from him. I’ve seen what guys like him can do to a girl like her. My chest tightens at the thought of her being hurt that way. She’s mine now. I won’t let anyone hurt her.

  But what happens when I’m the one who winds up doing the hurting?

  Chapter 14

  Christina

  I know I should continue to my parents’ house, but I can’t. I don’t want to leave him.

  What the hell is wrong with me? When did I become a fawning fangirl? Maybe right around the time I had a screaming orgasm. Or the second time. Or the third time. I don’t remember. All I know is I’m hooked.

  It’s not just the sex. I remind myself of this while we’re tangled up together. He’s asleep, snoring slightly. I’m surfing the sweet spot between asleep and awake, everything hazy and comfortable. My head is on his chest, his heartbeat lulling me back to sleep.

  No, screw it all. I ought to get out of bed and roll on. I can’t stay here forever. The feeling of having somewhere else to be is putting a damper on the time we’re together, anyway. It was one thing while the snow was falling, another while waiting for the world to dig out. Now? I’m afraid of overstaying my welcome, no matter how good a cook I happen to be.

  Or how good a lay. Was I good? My eyes open, startled by this thought. I was thrilled by Jax’s prowess, shocked at the number of times he made me climax. I hardly ever did with my ex. Now I’m worried that I wasn’t good. All Tommy ever required was my presence in bed. I didn’t need to do anything, didn’t even get the chance to. Jeez, did I screw it up?

  I couldn’t have been too bad. Jax seemed to enjoy himself well enough. I remember the way he grunted and shouted, the way he twitched in my mouth. I get a little wet thinking about it, the sounds that came out of his mouth when I was sucking him. I must have done something right.

  Then he’d been weird. He’d been so weird. I’d asked the wrong question. I could kick myself now for it. Was that what good sex did to a person? Turn them into a total idiot?

  No, damn it. I won’t do this to myself. I had every right to ask. It was a totally innocent question. I did that all the time when I was with Tommy. All the nights I spent in bed, cowering in the dark, wondering what I’d done this time to upset him. I shouldn’t have made that remark, shouldn’t have looked at him that way. I should have known better than to set him off. It’s become a reflex, I guess, blaming myself for another person’s actions.

  Besides, it wasn’t as if Jax kicked me out of the house for it. He didn’t even ask me to go back to the spare bedroom. We spent the night right here, with me in his arms. It was bliss. The best sleep I’ve had in years, and I almost never liked sleeping close to Tommy. I was never comfortable.

  I’m wide awake now, thoughts of my miserable past driving sleep far away. I look at Jax’s body. God, he’s beautiful. An underwear model on a billboard is the first thing that comes to mind, every muscle fully defined. Yet he’s not some preening, prissy boy, obsessed with his looks. There isn’t even a mirror anywhere in this room. He’s a man, truly and fully. Rugged, take charge. His body is the result of hard work, not hard workouts.

  That being said, there’s a certain part of him that is not the result of workouts. I glance up at his face, still peaceful in sleep. I still hear his snores. I take the opportunity to get a peek under the sheets, currently around his hips. Damn. The boy is blessed. I remember the way he felt inside me. So big. So thick. Filling me up. It’s all I can do to keep myself from jumping him right this minute.

  It’s best to let him sleep. He seems to be happy when he’s asleep, his face falling into much softer lines. Normally, he looks like he’s got a chip on his shoulder, like he’s always waiting for the other shoe to drop. His brow is almost permanently creased in thought. I wonder what happened to make him look that way.

  He’s had a lot of pain. I knew it the first time I watched him staring at the fire when I insulted him over living alone the way he does. There are demons aplenty in this man’s life. I wish I could help
him, just as much as I wish I could stop myself from wanting to help him. It’s not my job. He’s not my responsibility. I don’t have to take care of anybody but myself.

  I can’t help the desire, though. Damn it.

  Am I falling for him?

  It’s like he hears my thoughts, stirring. One eye opens ever so slightly, then closes immediately.

  “So bright.”

  I giggle. “Yeah, that’s usually what happens in the morning.”

  “What time is it? I’m usually up when it’s still dark.”

  I roll over, checking my phone on the nightstand. “It’s after eight o’clock.”

  “Are you serious? I have to go down to let Blue out. I’m surprised he hasn’t been whining at the door yet.” I give him room to sit up, drinking in the sight of him, the way every muscle plays beneath his skin like a symphony. I hate myself for even thinking something so corny, but it’s true.

  Then he stands, and that magnificent ass is on display. Only for a moment, though, as he pulls on a pair of jeans. He’s so sexy.

  “You want some breakfast?” He looks back, smiling.

  “Yeah, sure. You want to cook?”

  “I’m not completely clueless. I did eat just fine when you weren’t here.”

  I decide to leave it there and not challenge him on cooking being “girly.”

  A short time later I join him in the kitchen, my heart in my throat. I found an oversize sweatshirt of his in the closet and decided to wear it instead of my three-day-old sweater.

  He looks me up and down, not saying a word before turning back to the stove.

  “I hope you don’t mind. I just couldn’t bear the idea of putting that same sweater on again.”

  A moment’s hesitation. “No, no, I get it. I don’t mind at all.”

  Hmm. “Are you sure? I can take it off.”

  He looks back to where I’ve sat at the kitchen table, a grin on his face. “You can definitely take it off if you want to. I wouldn’t say no.” I scowl, making him laugh before he turns back to the stove. “I was just thinking how cute you look in it.”

  I smile, like a complete goon, from ear to ear. “Really?”

  “Really. You should wear my clothes more often.”

  I blush, wondering if he’s thinking along the same lines as I am. Wouldn’t that be something? A story we could tell our grandkids. How Grandpop rescued Grandmom from a blizzard, and they fell in love.

  Ugh. Again, so corny. What’s come over me?

  “How do you like your eggs?”

  “Oh, um, whatever’s easiest for you. Usually scrambled, but I like overeasy and sunny side, too.”

  “You’re in luck. Scrambled eggs are my specialty.”

  I watch as he cooks, not giving a damn about what’s on the stove. He’s still in just his jeans, looking more delicious than anything he could serve up. There’s something about the sight of a man in the kitchen, especially when he’s drop-dead gorgeous.

  “There’s fresh coffee over here, by the way.” I’m desperate for caffeine. I rush for the pot.

  “Is there anything I can do to help you?”

  “Please. I think you’ve done enough this weekend.” He chuckles softly.

  “I cooked a little bit. Big deal. It’s not enough.”

  “Enough?”

  “To make up for what you did for me. It’ll never be enough.”

  He turns, seeing the dead-serious look on my face. “Hey.” He comes over to me. “I don’t need a payback, so don’t worry about it. I was in the right place at the right time. I’m just glad I was able to reach you before it was too late.” He strokes my cheek with his thumb. I’m mesmerized. “I’m glad I got to know you.”

  I feel like my heart is exploding into a million rays of light. “Me, too.”

  He leans in, just about to kiss me, before his eyes fly open. “The food. I’ll take a raincheck.”

  I laugh, then tingle all over at the thought of a raincheck. I wonder what that’s going to involve.

  Breakfast is delicious. Eggs, bacon, toast. Simple but filling.

  “You know, not everybody can get eggs right. Or bacon, for that matter. You have good instincts.”

  “What’s so hard about bacon?”

  “It’s easy to burn. There’s nothing so sad as burned bacon.” We toast to this, touching our coffee cups in mid-air. “Seriously, though. I think you’d make a good cook.”

  He laughs. “Cooking was never something the people in my life considered something a boy should be doing.” He winces, and laughs again.

  “They were stupid. No offense.”

  “None taken, because they were.” He shakes his head, remembering. “If they knew I was a landscaper now, they’d laugh their asses off at me.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I plant flowers and bushes. Trees. I mow grass and lay down mulch. It’s tough fucking work.”

  “I can imagine!”

  “But to them I’d be…a sissy. To put it nicely. They wouldn’t use the word ‘sissy.’”

  “I get it.”

  “I always loved it, though, when I was a kid. Being outside, watching things grow. It was like magic. Sometimes I’d ride my bike through the nicer neighborhoods just to see the way people with money would have their landscaping done. It sounds stupid.” He ducks his head.

  “Not stupid at all. Really.”

  “I guess, growing up the way I did, there wasn’t much… I don’t know…beauty. The closest my mom came to a garden was plastic flowers and a pink flamingo. Otherwise, I lived in a trailer on cinder blocks.”

  I nod sympathetically, getting a much clearer picture of the man in front of me. No wonder he has so many walls built up in front of him. He was taught from an early age that cooking and enjoying nature were girly. I think about that kid, picturing him in my head. I wish I could give him a hug, the poor thing.

  “For the record, a man who cooks is just about the sexiest thing in the world.”

  “I’ve heard that. It’s really true?”

  I stand, sliding my panties to the floor. Then I take his hand, placing it between my legs. His eyes widen before his fingers begin moving through my wetness.

  “You tell me,” I breathe.

  Chapter 15

  “Wow,” he whispers, already breathing more heavily. “I guess I’d better brush up on my cooking skills, huh?”

  I giggle, then moan softly as his fingers begin massaging my clit. “I was thinking about getting washed up. What do you think?”

  He nods, his eyes wider, his breathing heavier still. I glance down to see the growing bulge in his pants. I have to tear myself away from the hand between my legs long enough to walk upstairs. I pull the sweatshirt over my head as I go.

  What’s come over me? I’ve never been so brazen, so forward. He’s unlocked something inside me for sure. I might never be the same.

  I reach the bathroom first, turning on the water in the big claw foot tub before turning to him. I run my hands down his chest and torso before stopping at his waistband, then unbutton his fly. I never break eye contact, staring up into his eyes. A small smile plays over his mouth.

  I slide the jeans down his legs, over his feet. Then I step into the tub, the water running hot now. Steam is already filling the room. He joins me, bringing the temperature up even higher.

  We soap each other up, taking our time. His hands are all over me, everywhere. My skin is on fire from his touch. He slowly, thoroughly soaps my breasts. His hands are moving in circles over them. I sigh, closing my eyes to soak in the sensation. When his fingers close in on my nipples, I groan, holding onto his shoulders to keep myself upright.

  “So slippery. Just like other places.”

  I can’t help laughing, which he cuts off when his mouth covers mine. He wraps one strong arm around me, holding my body close to him. I feel his cock against me, pressing into me. He’s so hard, so thick. I wiggle against him, my soapy skin sliding over his stiffness. He groans into my mouth
. I reach down between us, my hand closing over his erection. I start stroking slowly. He thrusts into my hand as his tongue thrusts into my mouth.

  His free hand runs down my back to my ass. I gasp, pulling my mouth from his to moan. He takes my thigh in his hand, pulling my leg up and around his hip. He presses me to the wall, finding my heat and plunging into it.

  “Oh, Jax!” I grip his shoulders, holding on for dear life as he rocks against me. He fills me so completely, pushing into me again and again.

  “Yes…yes…Christina…” The way he grunts my name as he thrusts into me drives me insane. Knowing I have this power over him, that I can control his pleasure, is more than enough to combine with the physical pleasure and send me over the edge.

  “Jax!” I scream his name, head thrown back. I shudder all over, my head now dropping to his shoulder. My grip on him relaxes, relief flooding my body.

  He’s not finished, however. He slides out of me, steadying me on my rather shaky legs. He washes quickly down there, still hard. I follow his lead, then follow him into the bedroom.

  We’re both wrapped in big, fluffy towels. Another touch of comfort I wouldn’t expect a hard, tough man like him to indulge in. Jax sits on the bed, towel around his waist, holding out a hand for me to stand in front of him. He unwraps me, my nipples instantly rock-hard from the cool air and excitement.

  Then he surprises me, tenderly drying my skin with the towel. I watch him, his face serious, involved in his job. Where does this come from, this sudden gentleness? I place a hand on the back of his neck, kneading it gently as he works. I think of the sweet boy he must have been, in contrast to the man he thought he needed to become.

  His mouth closes over one my breasts, drawing a sigh from me. He pulls me closer, his hands on my hips. It feels so good, his skilled tongue rolling in circles over my nipple, making my breath come faster and harder so soon after my last climax. He knows me so well, exactly what will turn me on and drive me insane.

  Then he stands in front of me, letting the towel fall from his waist. He holds the back of my head, then takes handfuls of my hair. He pulls my head back, tilting my face to his. I gasp, hissing through my teeth. It’s surprising, but arousing.