“Please…” she moaned.
I lifted my free hand to her mouth and covered her lips with my index finger. “Shhh.”
I raised myself slightly and worked my way along the length of her body until my mouth met her waiting swollen mound. I slowly began to work my right finger in and out of her wet folds as I sucked and licked her clit with precision.
She bucked her hips against my face and I continued to lick her pussy and suck her clit as if my life depended on it. My tongue as deep as I was able to force it while my finger rhythmically continued to work her into a sexual frenzy quickly proved to be too much for her. A loud wailing sound silenced by a pillow against her face confirmed her satisfaction and having reached climax.
I raised my head in enough time to see her remove the pillow from her face and toss it aside. Her eyes met mine and remained fixed for a moment, but not a word was shared. I admired her beautiful face and allowed her a moment to regain her senses.
Sienna’s beauty wasn’t simple.
There was no disputing Sienna was a beautiful woman in her outward appearance. Often times, I found myself simply standing and staring at her, incapable of believing she truly existed in the sense she did, and that she did so with such ease.
Her willingness to eagerly participate in the act of living life was testament to her inner beauty. A woman who refused to allow the unfortunate events in her life to bring her down in spirit, she held her head high and lived life completely and to the fullest. Always giving those around her a smile, if for no other reason but to confirm her position on life, she exuded her beauty from her very being.
But nothing Sienna did, believed, or participated in was quite as beautiful as the scent of her having reached climax on my face.
I slowly inhaled a deep breath through my nose, savoring her aroma as I did so. As her head collapsed onto the bed, I carefully crawled on top of her and began to kiss her sensually.
Our mouths pressed against each other and our bodies chest to chest, I continued to kiss her as I guided my stiff cock inside her wetness. As I slowly and silently began to work my hips back and forth, she bit into my lower lip and held her bite, moaning as I continued the steady rhythmic pace.
I slid my hands under her shoulders and held her chest tight against mine, working myself in and out of her warmth in a balanced and predictable motion. Each stroke of my cock was full and forceful, but not abrupt.
After five minutes of my body grinding against her, and our mouths encompassed in a kiss the entire time, she released my lips and tilted her head rearward. As I continued my long, full strokes, I lifted my body from hers, arched my back, and worked my long shaft in and out with a forceful grace.
As I released every drop of my love into her, she relaxed and howled into the room, providing all she needed to confirm she loved me as deeply and as permanently as I loved her. I collapsed on the bed, drained of every ounce of energy, and satisfied completely that I had provided her a powerful message of my love. Eventually her breathing became less intense, and slowed to a steady pace. After a few minutes of silence, she turned toward me and smiled.
“You were right,” she said.
I raised my head from the bed and turned toward her as I rested my jaw in my palm. “About what?” I asked.
“I didn’t hate that,” she said. “Not one bit.”
I nodded my head and didn’t say a word. I’d proven my point. I didn’t hate it either. I knew I wouldn’t.
It was the first time we actually made love.
And I tricked her into doing it on Valentine’s Day.
Score: Vince 1, Sienna 0.
SIENNA
March 16th, 2015
The routine I had developed over the last nine months not only provided me with a sense of security, but gave me great satisfaction. My adult life, finally, was exactly where I had always hoped it would be. To have everything I had always dreamed of after spending five years doubting it would ever exist made the taste of it all so much sweeter.
I had read half a dozen books a week for as long as I could remember. The count was well into many thousands, and almost all of them had been romance novels. I had never, however, read a book that depicted a relationship or romance as sweet as the one I was living with Vince.
Having been raised by a father who instilled tremendous moral value, a mother who stressed the importance of loyalty and love, and a motorcycle club who required he be strong, fearless, and selfless, Vince was the perfect mixture of what made the perfect man the perfect man.
His mother was exactly as I pictured a mother should be; loving, caring, nurturing, demanding at times, sentimental when she needed to be, and funny. At this juncture in our relationship, my friendship I had developed with his mother was almost as important as the relationship I had with Vince.
“Bradley, you know better. Don’t ‘snatch’, it’s not polite,” she said as she waved her fork in Bradley’s direction.
Bradley had just aggressively taken a bite of tamale from Anita’s fingers before she told him he could have it. Now sitting on the floor beside her chair trying to decide if he wanted to chew the food and eat it or spit it on the floor, Bradley wallowed the tamale around in his mouth as if he’d been given a rubber ball to eat.
“That dog is going to explode. Who feeds their dog Mexican food? I’ll tell you who. Nobody, that’s who,” Vince said as he grabbed a tamale from the platter.
I shifted my eyes from Vince to Anita and waited for it…
“He wanted a bite,” Anita said. “He asked for it.”
I bit into my taco and shifted my eyes back to Vince.
“He’s a dog, Ma. A dog. He didn’t look at a menu and see we were having Mexican food and ask for a bite of tamale. He knows we’re sitting here eating, and he wanted some of what we were eating, because he’s fat and he’s always hungry. If he’d have known it was Mexican food, he wouldn’t have asked,” Vince explained.
And, back to Anita.
She pointed her fork at Vince and wagged the end of it up and down. “You know, for as smart as you are, and for as many books as you’ve read, sometimes you surprise me, Stephen. He knows it’s Mexican food, he sat in the kitchen and watched me make each and every bit of it. Long before you were here I might add.”
I glanced at Vince.
Vince poked a bite of tamale into his mouth, chewed it, and before he swallowed, spoke over his mouth full of food. “Oh, now he can recognize ingredients, huh?”
“Don’t talk with your mouth full, Stephen. I swear, your father would have smacked you for that, and you know it,” she said in a scolding tone.
“He knows better, Honey. I’m sorry,” Anita said as she patted her hand against my knee.
I turned toward her and smiled. “The food’s so good. I love it.”
“Why, thank you,” she said.
“Watch this,” Vince said.
After we both shifted our eyes toward Vince, he reached for the bowl of homemade salsa, scooped out a large spoonful, and held it to his side.
“Bradley!” he said.
Bradley turned, realized he was being offered food, and ran to Vince’s side. After flopping his butt down on the floor, he looked at the spoon, looked up at Vince, and barked.
“Come on bud, it’s good,” Vince said as he wiggled the spoon.
Bradley glanced at the spoon, tilted his head back, and barked again.
“He doesn’t like salsa,” Anita said.
“Come on bud, look,” Vince said as he raised the spoon and pretended to eat some of it.
He lowered the spoon to his side again.
Bradley barked.
Vince raised the spoon, dumped the salsa on the side of his plate, and shook his head. “His stomach’s bothering him after that tamale.”
“Bradley!” Anita said.
Bradley turned, studied what she held in her hand, and upon recognizing it, ran past me toward Anita. As he reached her side, he quickly sat down and tilted his head back slightly. She tosse
d the piece of tamale in the air and Bradley caught it in mid-flight. After gobbling it up and licking his lips, he glanced toward Vince and me.
“See?” Anita said. “He knows what he likes.”
“Tamales,” I said with a laugh.
She patted her hand against my knee. “That’s right, Honey. He loves the tamales.”
“Stephen, you’re picking again. Did you eat with those boys before you came?” she asked.
“Ma, how many times do I have to tell you? Sienna and I eat every Sunday. And we ate at noon. It’s 5:30 now. So, to answer you, no, I didn’t eat with the boys. And I’m not picking, I’ve had two tacos and two tamales,” he said as he poked his fork in his half-eaten tamale and raised it in the air.
“Well, what did you eat for lunch? Maybe you’re still full,” she said.
Vince sighed and bit into the tamale. “We do this every week, Ma. I’m not full. I’m hungry, and I’m eating.”
“You’re talking with your mouth full again. That’s what you’re doing. If that’s the type of manners those boys are teaching you, you need to just quit that little club,” she said.
Vince swallowed the tamale and took a drink of tea. “I’m not quitting the club, and they’re not a bunch of manner lacking pigs.”
“How would I know? You never bring them over for dinner. It makes me wonder, Stephen,” she said. “I’ve always wondered.”
“Keep wondering. They’re not coming over,” he snapped back. “Not now, not ever.”
Uh oh, time to change the subject.
Although Vince was in the MC, and was an active member, he wasn’t at all what I expected a member of an MC to be. He went to all the meetings, rode in all the mandatory runs, and sometimes I was convinced he loved his motorcycle more than he loved me, but he wasn’t really friends with any of the members. He didn’t hang out with them, ride with them, or do anything with them that wasn’t mandatory or sanctioned by the club.
He told me he didn’t trust them, and I silently wondered why he was in the club with 30 members he didn’t trust. He explained the trust of the brotherhood was much different than trusting someone as a friend, and even though they were each his brother, none were his true friend.
It made sense, but it didn’t make perfect sense.
I suspected, like with all things Vince, he simply didn’t want to set himself up for a failure by being misled, lied to, or develop and expectation and have it unmet.
“It’s warming up outside, huh?” I said.
“It sure is, Honey,” Anita said.
Vince stood from his seat. “I’ve got to go to the bathroom, excuse me.”
“You’re excused, Dear,” his mother said.
After he walked away, Anita patted me on the leg. I turned toward her and grinned, assuming she was going to say something about Bradley eating tamales, but that wasn’t the case. What she chose to share with me provided considerable insight to Vince, and why he was the way he was about some things. As she covered the side of her mouth to speak, I knew what she was going to say was about Vince, but only after she proceeded to speak in a light whisper, did I realized the significance of what she was telling me.
“When Stephen was a little boy, he had very close friend. He was the cutest little boy, and so polite, his name was Jackson. They were inseparable. The little boy had a heart condition, and we all knew it, but it wasn’t something we ever discussed. You know, as parents we think those things will always work themselves out. Well, he lived down the block,” she said, pausing and pointing over her shoulder.
“Three houses down. They started kindergarten on the same day, and were together until third grade. The bus picked them up at the corner. I think Stephen was nine and Jackson was ten at the time.” She lowered her fork her plate, leaned forward, and peered through the doorway to confirm Vince wasn’t coming.
“He died that summer. Vince hasn’t had a friend since. Not a single one. And when that woman…when she cheated on him? I thought he’d never be the same. The two people he opened up to and chose to let into his life had both let him down. I guess they were each for separate reasons, but he didn’t see it as different. You know, he looks at things differently than most, and I blame it on him losing Jackson,” she said.
Vince hadn’t told me about his friend. As with many things from childhood, I suspected it may have been something he chose to forget, but I doubted that was the case. More than likely he remembered it, and the memory of losing a loved one and a cherished friend at such a young age not only affected Vince then, but still affected him today.
“That’s so sad,” I said. “I’m so sorry.”
“So were we, Honey. They moved out right after. We lost them all. The Smiths. A wonderful couple and a wonderful little boy,” she said.
As soon as she finished speaking, Vince walked back into the dining room. I turned toward him and forced myself to smile the best I was able.
“I love you,” I said.
It wasn’t all I could offer him, but it was the best I could do. I meant it, and I wanted him to know it. He needed to know it, understand it, and hopefully believe it.
“I love you, too,” he said with a smile as he sat down.
I told myself as I watched him prepare another taco that regardless of how bad things ended up, or how difficult life became that I would always be there for Vince. I would be the one person in his life that would never let him down.
And all I could hope was that one day he would be able to realize my devotion, my sincerity, and my need to have him as my significant other.
At that moment, and forever.
VINCE
April 7th, 2014
Never let your guard down. I have no idea how many times my father had told me that, but it was a phrase not only that I remembered, but something I applied in my day-to-day activities, and it proved to be some of the best advice I ever received.
“How bad?” Axton asked.
I shrugged my shoulders. “Pretty bad.”
“Well, fuck, Vince. You definition of ‘pretty bad’ and mine might be different. Let’s hear it,” he said as he sat down.
I pulled the chair away from the edge of the table and hesitated. Although I was proud that I wasn’t hurt, and thankful I was aware enough of my surroundings to recognize what was happening at the time, I wasn’t proud of what happened.
“Broke out most of his teeth, at least the ones you can see when a guy smiles, anyway. Said I broke his jaw in a couple places, and broke his ankle,” I said.
Axton stood from his seat, crossed his arms in front of his chest, and shook his head from side-to-side. After inhaling a long breath, he exhaled a whistle. “God damn, Vince. And how in the fuck did you break his ankle?”
“When he came up behind me. I flipped him over my shoulder. He landed pretty bad on the table and all,” I said.
“Right there in the restaurant?” he asked. “Broad daylight? This fucker just comes up behind you with a gun and tries to rob you?”
I shook my head. “Wasn’t really a robbery. He was mad about me taking the money I took from him on a deal from about a year ago and was trying for a little get back. Little more than ten grand, and he sure didn’t want to give it up at the time. He kept going on and on about how if I took the money it was going to cause the whole snowball effect and shit. Goes without saying I took it anyway. Guess he just saw me and recognized me.”
“And that girl? She wasn’t there?” he asked.
I shook my head. “Nope. Actually I was in there looking for someone else.”
“Work?” Axton asked.
“Yep,” I said with a nod.
“So in three months you’ve shot some prick, killed him, and beat some prick half to death, leaving him in intensive care in the hospital. And, to top it all off, when this shit happens, nobody can help you, you can’t help yourself, and the club’s got our pants around our fucking ankles and our asses in the breeze…” he said.
“Is that what this is
about?” I said through my teeth as I stood from my seat.
“I haven’t said shit yet, Vince. Now sit the fuck down!” he demanded.
I stood for a moment, glared at him, and eventually sat down. Axton had called me to the clubhouse to have a talk, and although I suspected he wanted to talk about the incident, I had no idea he was going to make it club business.
“So what are you trying to say?” I asked.
“I’m not trying to say a damned thing. What I was saying was this; the business you’re in is your business, at least until it becomes a problem for the club. Your business isn’t a problem for the club…” he paused and lowered his arms as he sat down.
He locked eyes with me and leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “Yet.”
“At the rate you’re going, you’re going to be on the news more than Bret fucking Baier, and it’s going to become a problem if the club’s brought into it,” he continued.
I kept my eyes locked on his and leaned into the edge of the table. I respected Axton, but no one was going to intimidate me, including him. “Anybody named the club yet? Ever?” I asked.
He shook his head. “That’s not the point…”
“It sure as fuck is,” I interrupted.
“Slow down, Vince. God fucking damn, we’re on the same team here, you hot-headed prick. Jesus H. Christ,” he paused and pulled the rubber band tight, released it, and snapped it into his wrist.
After snapping it again, he fixed his eyes on mine. “Here, let me say this before you fucking explode again. Don’t wear your cut when you’re working. And, it goes without saying, nothing with the club name on it. Just while you’re working,” he said.
He leaned back in his seat and glared.
“I don’t,” I said.
“Ever?” he asked.
“Never. Not fucking once,” I said.
“Well,” he said as he raised his hands in the air. “Looks like we’re all good.”
“That it?” I asked as I stood from my seat.
He shook his head from side-to-side and rubbed the few days of growth on his face. “No. There’s one more thing.”
I gazed down at him and widened my eyes. “And?”
Money Shot: Selected Sinners MC Romance Page 14