by Kati Wilde
“Bull?” she whispers my name in horror. “Are you—”
“Get back in the fucking car!” I get my good foot under me—then freeze when Raphael hefts the tire iron and takes a warning step closer. In a lower voice, I tell her, “I’m just fine. You get back in the car and get the hell out of here.”
She doesn’t move. Because now she’s looking at Raphael, too. There’s no mistaking the threat in his posture and her pretty face is a frozen mask of fear.
His triumphant gaze on me, he says to her, “He’s just fine, my love. And he’ll remain fine if you come with me now. He’ll remain fine for as long as you stay with me.”
Jesus fucking Christ. If that’s her choice, I know what she’ll decide.
He knows it, too.
“Don’t you even think it, Sara,” I say hoarsely. “You get in your car and go.”
She rips her gaze from Raphael to find me in the dark. And my heart shreds to nothing when I see the tears filling her eyes.
“Don’t,” I beg her. “Don’t.”
“I’m not risking you, Bull,” she says on a shuddering breath, then straightens her shoulders and looks to Raphael. “I’ll go with you. But we’re obviously not going anywhere in your vehicle. We’ll take mine.”
Without another glance at me, she gets into the driver’s seat and pulls on her safety belt.
I look to Raphael. “I’ll come for you.”
He grins and takes a step back, still holding the tire iron high. “You do that. And when you find us, you’ll see who that pussy belongs to. You’ll see the only baby filling her belly is mine—”
And I didn’t hear him coming because of my loud fucking engine. He doesn’t hear Sara because her engine’s so damn quiet.
On a soft whir, her car shoots forward. His eyes widen but he only has a moment to glance toward the oncoming headlights before she rams into his legs.
Even through her closed up windows I hear her scream as she hits him. Immediately she slams the brakes. Raphael bounces off her hood, the tire iron sailing out of his grip. It clatters to the asphalt about the same time he rolls off her car and lands in a heap in front of her tires.
For a stunned moment, I think maybe it was an accident. I think that maybe in her terror and distress, her foot slipped and she didn’t mean to punch the gas.
Until she gets out of the car again with a long fucking knife in her hand.
She starts toward Raphael, who’s groaning and crawling across the road toward the SUV, dragging his right leg.
Fuck. Although a part of me wants to roll around laughing, I can’t let her do this.
“Sara,” I say gruffly and shove to my feet. White bursts of pain flash behind my eyes as I feel the bones grinding in my ankle. Probably the only reason I can even stand on it is the support of my boot. “Stop, baby.”
She stops but doesn’t lower the knife.
“I’m not letting him take anyone else,” she says thickly. “I’m not.”
“He won’t.” I hobble over to my gun, pick it up with my left hand. My right’s not working too well.
Tears are streaming down her cheeks as she turns to me. “I can’t lose you, too.”
“You won’t.” And I’m not going to let her finish him off. We could call the cops now, and every jury in the country would say what she did was justified after he tracked her across the U.S., and after he mowed me down. Killing him while he’s crawling across the road is another matter. She doesn’t need that stain on her hands.
Not when mine are already covered with blood.
Gently I take the knife from her. Down the road, there’s headlights approaching. Two motorcycles. I can hear the rumble of their engines from here.
They’ll be the cleanup crew.
I would use his own tire iron but my shoulder hurts too fucking much. Instead I hobble over to where Raphael’s rolled over onto his back, blood dripping down his temple from a gash over his eye.
Yet the crazy asshole is grinning. Somehow, he still thinks he’s won. Maybe because he’s got an army of fucking lawyers. Maybe because he knows that after the cops show up, he’ll be taken in—but his money will get him off and he’ll come after her again.
But we’re not calling the fucking cops. Because the Hellfire Riders take care of their own.
And Sara’s mine.
I return his grin with a feral one of my own. “Tell me again who that pussy belongs to?”
“Me,” Sara says before the fucker can answer.
All right. I’ll give her that.
“The soon-to-be Mrs. Masters,” I tell him, then pull her close and tuck her face against my chest. She needs rid of him but she doesn’t need to see this.
I aim right between his eyes. Her body flinches when I squeeze the trigger. For a long second she stands rigidly against me, then I feel her shudder and soften as she begins to cry.
My throat aching, I hold her closer. “You okay?”
“I don’t know,” she whispers brokenly. “Is it really over?”
Not quite yet. Raphael’s a big name, so his disappearance will raise questions.
No one’s going to find any answers. An hour from now, there won’t be any sign that anything ever happened on this stretch of road. And by the time the sun rises, there won’t be anything left of Raphael Wainwright—or the vehicle that brought him here.
But that’s what Blowback and Zoomie will take care of. It’s nothing she has to worry about.
“Yeah, baby.” I press a kiss to the top of her hair and lead her around the side of her car, where she won’t see the mess of his head. “It’s really over.”
She abruptly halts. “You’re limping.”
“Because I broke my damn ankle. And dislocated my shoulder, I think.” I squeeze her hand, stopping what I know will be coming when her mouth drops open. “We’ll head to the hospital after I talk to them.”
Her brow furrowing, she turns to look at the approaching motorcycles, and when she glances back at me I catch her chin.
“You saved the fucking day,” I tell her, just in case she hasn’t realized it yet. “Running your car into him.”
I meant to distract her from worrying about me by telling her that, but her eyes fill with tears again.
“I thought I was too late.” Her voice is a hoarse rasp. “When I pulled up and saw your motorcycle, I thought he’d killed you. And I just wanted to die.”
My chest is suddenly aching worse than my arm. “No, baby—”
“Then when I saw you hurt…I’d have done anything to stop him.” She looks up at me, and despite the tears glimmering in her eyes, her expression is fierce. “You said ‘the soon-to-be Mrs. Masters.’”
“Yeah, I did. Was that too fast?”
She’s shaking her head. “I want to know how soon? Because I’m not losing you.”
Just like that, the ache is gone. “As soon as you like,” I tell her.
“Then I want very soon,” she says and hesitates for a brief moment. “Though I’d like to keep my name, too. It’s all I have of my family. I’ll add Masters but not get rid of Abu-Hamdi.”
“I don’t care what you call yourself,” I say. “As long as I can call you mine.”
Christ, her happy smile. It’s so fucking beautiful.
“You can call me that forever—which is as long as I’ll be loving you,” she says softly, then rises up on her toes. “Now will you kiss me, please?”
And I do.
Epilogue
Bull
Two years later…
Even with Sara snuggled up against me, getting out of bed in the middle of the night has become a hell of a lot easier. Because the longer I lie here, the more likely she is to wake up, and for the past few months sleep has been a luxury for both of us. So better to let her rest a bit longer.
And what’s waiting for me down the hall is someone I’ll always be happy to get up for.
But the crying that woke me up quiets before I’m halfway there. By the faint yellow light shining bene
ath the nursery door, it’s easy to guess why.
In the rocking chair by the window, Pop’s cradling Nadia’s tiny form against his chest. Pride gleams in his eyes when he looks over at me. “Just needed a diaper change,” he says in a hushed voice. “She took a shit that weighed almost as much as she does. That’s a sign of a healthy appetite if I’ve ever seen one.”
She’s definitely a hungry little bug, spending almost as much time on Sara’s tits as I’d like to. Grinning, I ask, “You want me to take her?”
“Hell no.” Gazing down at her sweet face, my pop says, “You want a baby to hold all the time, you better go back to your pretty wife and get busy making another one.”
Can’t argue with that. Still, I don’t immediately go, watching him rock my sleeping little girl.
After meeting Sara, maybe I should have been prepared for how such a tiny female could wrap herself around my heart. But I wasn’t. And every single day, I’m fucking staggered by the sheer amount of love I have for that little girl and her mama.
And maybe we will have another baby. I’m not real certain yet. We tossed the condoms the night of our wedding, but it still took almost a year of frequent trying before she got pregnant.
Sara took to pregnancy real well. She spent the whole time glowing. But me, I watched her belly grow bigger and bigger, and began worrying that she was too delicate to survive what I put in her.
And I was close to right.
Nadia’s got a full head of dark hair now, but she arrived bald and she sure wasn’t big. Because Sara fainted one day when she was a little over eight months along, the baby came early, and in the few hours between seeing Sara fall and watching her wake up in a hospital room, I learned what true terror was, fearing I was about to lose them both. It all ended up well, Sara was fine, the baby was strong—but we’re five months past that, and I don’t know how many times I’ve sat where my pop is now, holding my little girl close, simply watching her breathe.
But in my pop’s arms, Nadia’s as safe as safe can be. And I’ve got a wife to hold. Chances are, I’ll spend the next hour watching her breathe, too.
Pop’s voice catches me as I head back out the door. “You did real good, marrying that girl. I got plenty of reasons to be proud of you, David. But out of all those, setting your eyes on Sara was the best thing you ever did.”
My chest is suddenly real fucking tight, my eyes burning. “Yeah, it was. ’Night, Pop.”
“’Night, boy.”
Moving silently through the dark, I return to my room and ease into bed. But all that effort at being quiet was for nothing. As soon as I’m under the covers Sara turns to me, pillowing her cheek on my bare shoulder. I pull her closer, wishing we were skin to skin from head to toe. But since we’re up and down the hallway so often at night, we’ve both taken to wearing a pair of pajamas to bed. Half a pair, anyway. I take the bottoms, she takes the tops—which are more like a nightdress on her—and it all works out in a Jack Sprat fashion.
In a drowsy voice, she says softly, “Is she sleeping again?”
“Yeah. Pop’s in there with her.” I bury my face in her hair, breathe in her clean, sweet scent. Since we’ve been married I’ve been using her shampoo on my beard just so I can smell her all through the day. “He’s going to have her hunting and fishing and building her own underground bunker before she’s five years old.”
She turns her face against my shoulder to muffle her laugh. Then with a heavy sigh, she pulls away and sits up.
It’s too early for her to be praying. “You all right?”
“Just leaking a bit.” In the faint moonlight filtering through the curtains, I see her cup her breasts in a way that’s become familiar the past few months—as if she’s trying to staunch a flow. “Since she’s sleeping, I should go pump.”
“You don’t have enough milk stocked away?” I ask. “Seemed like there was plenty when I fed her a bottle earlier.”
My casual tone doesn’t fool her. The first time after we got the doctor’s go-ahead to resume marital relations, Sara was straddling me with my cock deep inside her, and I was nuzzling her full, ripe breasts when her milk let down and squirted all over my face. The past two years I’ve been real good about making her laugh almost every time I get into her, but it wasn’t any effort making her laugh that night. As I was blinking milk out of my eyes, she cracked up, her inner muscles rippling the length of my cock. And I had no idea what to do, because the milk kept dripping from her nipples in a steady stream, and I knew that when she’s full enough to leak like that her breasts ache, but after two months without being inside her, there was no chance I’d soon be leaving the warmth of her cunt. So I latched on and began sucking to ease the pressure—and between the creamy sweetness of her tits and the rediscovered heaven of her pussy, I started coming while she was still laughing.
Each time since then I’ve lasted longer, but I can’t resist sneaking a taste once in a while.
Now she giggles and pushes at my shoulder. “You’re depraved.”
I strive for a woeful expression. “Where do you think my bad side comes from? I was abandoned by my mother as a pitiful little baby. I never got enough time on her tits. But you can turn my life around, make me good.”
Her laugh is a sparkling flash in the dark. “I’d rather keep you bad.”
“And depraved isn’t bad?”
Her nose scrunches up in that adorable way she has. “You’re such a caveman.”
Yeah, I am. And she likes that, too. Because depraved or not, she sure is quick to pull off her nightshirt and nursing bra before straddling me, her mouth all over mine.
And as sweet as her pussy is, as sweet as her tits are, they’ll never compare to the sweetness of her kiss and all the love that spills from her lips. Two years or two decades or two centuries, I’ll never have enough. I’ll crave this woman until I die.
Then probably keep on craving her after, too.
With her face flushed and her nipples fat as cherries, she rises over me and impales herself on my thick cock, moaning as she fills her pussy as deep as she can. It requires all my control to simply let her take what she wants, rather than flipping her over and fucking into her. Instead I slide my hands up the sleek length of her thighs and help her along, working her slippery clit with my thumb. Her head falls back, the ends of her long hair sweeping my thighs in a rhythmic tease. Slowly she rides me, a curvy light in the dark—my light, my life.
I know she’s close when her leisurely movements quicken. When her sleek thighs begin to shake.
When her pussy begins clenching around me, that’s when I break.
And I’m not nearly as civilized as a caveman when her cunt’s squeezing my cock. On a feral growl, I slam her back onto the bed and shove deep, consuming her ragged cries with a ravenous kiss. And she’s still coming, then coming even harder as I fuck relentlessly into her lush depths, until her cries become muffled screams of pleasure, my name over and over. Primitive need drives me deeper into her even as I spill my cum and her pussy milks me dry.
Her full breasts are still heaving when I lower my head and latch onto her nipple, and that’s when she starts giggling again, her cunt rippling around my cock.
Threading her fingers through my beard, she whispers tremulously, “I finally have my big hairy baby.”
And I discover I can’t suckle her tit when I’m busting a gut laughing. I can kiss her, though, and her lips are just as sweet and loving whether she’s grinning or moaning.
“Your big hairy man,” I growl against her mouth. And since my cock is still hard inside her, it’s easy to punctuate that point with a rock of my hips that leaves her gasping.
“My baby, my man, my husband,” she responds breathlessly, her dark eyes shining as she loops her arms around my neck, pulling me tighter against her soft body. “It doesn’t matter, as long as I can call you mine.”
“You’ll be doing that forever,” I vow. “Because we’ll always be so fucking good together.”
&n
bsp; And every kiss, every breath—it just gets better.
So I breathe her in deep and kiss her again.
The End
Don’t miss Duke’s story, available now in Faking It All!
Also by Kati Wilde
Contemporary Romance
Going Nowhere Fast
(a new adult romance)
Secret Santa
(a holiday romance)
All He Wants For Christmas
(a holiday romance)
The King’s Horrible Bride
(a modern royal romance)
The Wedding Night
(billionaire romance w/a twist)
The Dead Lands
Barbarian Fantasy Romance
The Midwinter Mail-Order Bride
The Midnight Bride
Pretty Bride
The Hellfire Riders Motorcycle Club
The Hellfire Riders: Saxon & Jenny
(includes: Wanting It All, Taking It All, Having It All)
The Hellfire Riders: Jack & Lily
(includes: Betting It All, Risking It All, Burning It All)
Breaking It All
(Gunner & Anna)
Giving It All
(Saxon & Jenny)
Craving It All
(Bull & Sara)
Faking It All
(Duke & Olivia)
Werewolf and Shapeshifter Romance
Beauty In Spring
(a short Beauty & the Beast romance)
High Moon
(a werewolf romance)
Teacher’s Pet Wolf
(a werewolf romance)
Upcoming Romances
Losing It All
(Stone’s book — Coming Soon)
The Midsummer Bride
(a Dead Lands novel)
Sheriff’s Bad Bear
(a berserker romance)
Reading Order
The Motorcycle Clubs Checklist
For a complete series list with links to individual sites, please visit my website.