Blood and Honor

by Vixen, Jayna

  The low growl that ensued from his mouth—oh, that mouth—sent a bolt of searing heat between her legs. Rhee’s knees weakened but she held her ground. Slowly, she lifted her tentative eyes to meet the intense, scorching blue gaze that she knew awaited her.

  “Enough playing around, darlin’.”

  “I’m not done, Dax Jamison.”

  Rhee leaned forward, letting her long hair graze the taut muscles that laced Dax’s stomach. The growl became a roar. Before Rhee knew what he was about, Dax ripped through the silken restraints that bound him. Then, she found herself beneath him, her skirt yanked up and her knees spread wide—all in a matter of seconds.

  “No fair,” she complained.

  His lips found her neck, and that sweet spot behind her ear. His breath ghosted over her sensitized skin, and she shivered in delight. “Told you baby, I play dirty.”

  God, did he ever. Over the last three months, Dax had taken Rhee on a sexual roller coaster ride that left her inexperience in the dust. It seemed like the man was never sated. And luckily, even though she was sore more often than not, neither was she.

  He nudged her with his cock, priming her. She was so wet she could actually hear it. And then, oh God, he was pushing inside, stretching her to capacity and then a little more.

  Will it always be like this? Feel like this…like he…owns me?

  Dax was urgent, but he always took care to ensure that she was ready. Oh, so ready. She had to be to accommodate his size. Rhee blushed as she considered the fact that she constantly seemed to be in various states of arousal. Just the man’s scent was enough to soak her panties and fill her head with carnal thoughts—at the most inopportune of times.

  As he seated himself deep inside her, Rhee’s eyes fluttered open to find Dax’s customary primal gaze locked on her own. She gasped as he withdrew completely, only to thrust back into her, hard. Her hips came up to meet him, urging him deeper, even as he bottomed out inside of her.

  He wasn’t the only one who couldn’t get close enough.

  ***

  “Damn, darlin’.”

  Her answer was an exhausted moan.

  How the fuck could it get even better every time? Was it their deepening connection? The fact that she had birthed his child? Dax had no idea but one thing was certain—fucking Rhiannon Blake was like coming home.

  Every. Single. Time.

  “Hmm?”

  It was cute—how she was always the one who couldn’t keep her eyes open after getting laid. He puffed up inside—-knowing that the earth-shattering orgasm that ripped through her body was his doing.

  “Got some shit to do.”

  “Um hmm.”

  Dax smiled as he disengaged himself from the lure of the cozy bed and the warm body that nestled under the sheets. He stroked Rhee’s hair and administered a light slap to the lush curve of her backside before pulling on a pair of board shorts and a black tank. He liked his new, simple gear. Two items of clothing and some Havianas and he was good to go.

  Why the fuck does anyone wear underwear? Gotta be the single most pointless article of clothing ever designed.

  He glanced at the closet, which housed his discarded motorcycle treads. And his cut. Okay, truth be told, Dax missed his cut. He missed the smell of the leather and the hum of his bike. He still rode here and there but he was putting more miles on his surfboard than he was on the cruiser he had out here.

  “Babe…gonna be able to get Sirena? It’s late.”

  Rhee didn’t move for a few seconds. Then, she let out a long sigh.

  “Dammit, Jamison. How can you just do…well, that, and get up like nothing happened?”

  “That good, huh?” He grinned.

  “Don’t let it go to your head.” She sat up and tossed a pillow at him, revealing an expanse of golden skin decorated with sexy-ass tan lines and topped with luscious, pink nipples.

  Dax hesitated, his eyes feasting on her nude form. He was receiving a very clear message from his cock—and he was going to be late to the speedboat party. “Darlin’, it’s already going to my head.”

  Rhee’s eyes widened as she took stock of the bulge in his shorts.

  “You are insatiable, Dax.”

  “Only for you, darlin’.”

  ***

  To Rhee’s surprise, Sirena slept a solid eleven hours—in her own bed. It was a rare occasion that Rhee was able to sleep in past the sunrise. She woke up slowly, every muscle and tendon in her body feeling loose and wonderful.

  The not-too-distant sound of waves meeting the shore greeted her ears as she padded into the bathroom, all too aware of the light brush of air against her naked skin. It touched her like a caress, heightening her awareness of her body. Rhee caught herself in the mirror.

  What is he doing to me?

  Her lips looked swollen; her chin was slightly abraded from contact with the layer of light blond stubble on Dax’s face. Her eyes moved lower. Rhee found herself starting to squirm as her nipples pulled tight at the sight of the faint red marks on her neck. Slowly, she brought her hands up to cup her well-used flesh, hefting her own breasts in her hands, feeling her nipples pebble further. She dropped one hand between her legs to find herself wet as sin and sore as hell.

  Holy shit, he’s turning me into a sex fiend!

  Rhee stepped into the warm spray of the shower. The sensation of the heated droplets running down her skin just made things worse. Rhee blasted herself with a shot of cold water to quell her overactive libido.

  I need to get a grip.

  She forced herself to switch her focus from her throbbing nether regions to her expanding studio. The man in charge of the new grant—some up and coming congressman—wanted to meet today to discuss the transfer of funds. Yeah, it was a skirt and heels kind of day. Even though she hated fancy clothes, and especially loathed heeled shoes, the look on Dax’s face when he came home to find her dressed up would make it all worth it.

  The politician, the one with some distant connection to the island, was making his large donation official this afternoon. There would be paperwork to sign and hands to shake, blah blah blah. Worth it, though. For sure.

  Rhee winced as she dried off and grabbed her green wrap dress from the hanger. It was her favorite outfit. And, much like the rest of her clothing, once Dax saw her in it, the flimsy material didn’t stand a chance. She shivered as another throb of desire pulsed between her legs, making her squirm.

  Something was off and she stood there for a moment, puzzling over herself in the mirror. Her nipples were so hard they poked through the sheer material of her dress. Already, the cotton panties she wore were dampening. If Dax were to return unexpectedly, he would find her wet, willing and waiting for him.

  Jesus Christ. What the hell is wrong with me?

  The last time Rhee could remember being this horny, she was…

  Pregnant.

  Chapter Twelve

  Mickey was soaked with her own sweat, and at first, she had no idea where she was. There was a humming sound coming from somewhere nearby. Closing her eyes was downright terrifying, but sometimes, Mickey was also afraid to open her eyes when she woke up.

  Like now. When she wasn’t sure what she was going to open them to.

  Would it be pitch black? So bright that the light burned her eyes? Would she be opening her eyes to someone who pitied her? Who was angered by her presence?

  Who wanted to hurt her?

  Finally, she couldn’t take the suspense any longer and blinked. Mickey let out a relieved sigh when she found herself alone in a small, twin-sized bed, a dim glow emanating from a small lamp nearby. She sat up and squinted at the nightlight, to confirm that it was indeed shaped like a horse. Mickey looked down at the bed and found that the bedspread was also decorated with horses. Or…ponies. Purple ones. Thoughts and urgency swirled in her head.

  I’m in some crazy horse lady’s house? Well, I suppose it’s better than a crazy cat lady.

  After a few more moments of wakefulness, t
he memories rushed back. Fuck, she had passed out in a public diner. Mickey shook her head as if to clear it. That’s right. She was in Shelley—no, Ruby’s—house.

  And I need to get out of here.

  Gingerly, she removed herself from the bed, taking care that the springs didn’t squeak. Another glance around the room told her that it belonged to a child—a young girl. There were horses everywhere. On peeling posters that looked like they could use some new tape. On shelves. There was even a large, stuffed pony at the foot of the bed—so big she could practically mount it.

  Weird.

  Ruby looked like she was old enough to be a grandmother. So…who did this room belong to? Maybe her granddaughter?

  Mickey took stock of herself. Her clothes were literally sticking to her skin, telling her that she had suffered another one of her night terrors, but oddly, she didn’t recall waking up the usual way—by screaming her damn head off.

  Maybe I’m getting better. That’s good.

  Ugh. I feel so gross.

  The humming stopped just long enough for her to notice. Then, the door opened. Ruby stepped into the room slowly, as if she knew that sudden moves would cause Mickey’s anxiety to return.

  “Ah, you slept well, didn’t you, my friend?”

  Friend? It was an odd term. Mickey regarded the other woman warily. She had been kind and caring the night before, but Mickey knew better than anyone that most people just couldn’t be trusted.

  “You barely made it up the stairs, hon’. I was sure glad you made it to Sadie’s room. I’m pretty strong but there’d be no way I could carry you.”

  Mickey continued to stare as Ruby rambled on. “You needed the rest and I’m glad you got some. I’m working on my famous home-cooked chili. Why don’t you take a shower and I’ll see about getting you some fresh clothes. Yours look…well, damp.”

  “Shower?” Mickey echoed, her voice sounding faraway and lost to her own ears. Oh, the thought of scalding hot water cascading down her shoulders sounded so good right now. And the chance to use a toilet that was not attached to a gas station or rest stop…heaven.

  “Bathroom’s right down the hall. Towels are in there. Take your time. I’ll leave some spare clothes on the bed here.” Ruby cast Mickey a somewhat critical glance. “I can see that you’re nothing but skin and bones though, girlie. What I have will be big on you—you’re such a tiny, little thing. But we’ll fatten you up in no time.”

  Ruby bustled off, leaving Mickey standing there in confusion. In no time? Is she suggesting I…stay here? I can’t! Can I? But…where else can I go? I’m out of money.

  She wrestled with her thoughts, shivering in her damp tee shirt, until the lure of a warm shower became too great to resist.

  ***

  An hour later, Mickey found herself with a belly full of the best steak chili she had ever had in her life. Who would have thought that chili with no beans could be so hearty and delicious? She perched on a garish old couch, clad in a ridiculously oversized pink sweat suit, and fuzzy pink slippers to match.

  Mickey cradled the cup of hot tea in her hand, letting the warmth heat her in the few places the chili hadn’t reached. Ruby was one of those people who never seemed to stop moving around. She moved from the kitchen to the living room, back and forth. She cleared a few dishes. Then, she appeared with a slice of lemon pie that matched the couch almost exactly. Ruby adjusted the television volume and handed Mickey the remote.

  “Time for Jeopardy.”

  Mickey grinned. “Okay.”

  Her unexpected caretaker stopped dead in her tracks.

  “Ruby?” Mickey asked hoarsely. Shit, did I do something wrong already?

  “Oh, honey, it’s just that I’ve been waiting to see you smile since I first saw you walk through the door of my diner.”

  Mickey wasn’t sure how to react to that statement. To make matters more awkward, tears came to the older woman’s eyes. Ruby brushed them away with a shaky laugh.

  “Never you mind.”

  Mickey was unused to genuine kindness. Nothing comes without a price, she reminded herself.

  “I—why are you doing all of this, Ruby? Letting me into your home…taking care of me like this? I could be a bad person…a thief…”

  Mickey didn’t want to admit it but she was a horrible person, a person who didn’t deserve this kind of care. She was worse than a thief. I’m a murderer. Her hand began to shake, the fork rattling against the plate, threatening to dump her pie into her lap.

  “I-I don’t deserve all of this.” Reluctantly, Mickey set the mouth-watering pie down on the coffee table. An instant later, she found the plate placed back in her hands, and a determined set on Ruby’s face.

  “Well, I guess you have a right to know.” Ruby sat down heavily. “It’s the least I could do…helping a young girl like you. It’s like…like I’m getting another chance.”

  “Another chance to do what?”

  “To atone for what I did. You see, Michaela, you’re not the bad person here. I am.”

  ***

  “Sadie liked horses. I guess you could see that,” Ruby sniffed. “I keep everything just the same as it was. Just in case…”

  When Ruby’s daughter, Jessie, got hooked on crank, Ruby put her foot down. Unfortunately, Ruby’s brand of tough love didn’t work the way it was supposed to. One night, Jessie left with her new boyfriend. She took Ruby’s five-year old granddaughter with her, and Ruby had neither seen nor heard from her since.

  “Are-are you sure it’s okay that I’m in her room?” Mickey whispered. It seemed wrong somehow.

  “It makes me feel better to know that I’m helping you, Michaela. Really, it does. To know that there’s a warm body sleeping in that bed. I’m sure you think I’m just a crazy old lady, but the moment I saw you walk into my diner, I knew you needed help. Just as I knew that I was going to be the one who helped you.”

  “Call me Mickey. It’s what my family calls me.”

  Ruby opened her arms and after only a moment’s hesitation, Mickey went into them. It felt strange and wonderful, comforting and foreign, to be embraced like this. It had been such a long time—an eternity really—-since she had been held.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Who the hell did you meet in that dress?” And why do you look so nervous, little girl?

  “What’s wrong with my dress, Dax?”

  “You just look too fuckin’ good, darlin,’” he growled. “Where the fuck were you today?”

  “Really, Dax? I must have told you three times that I had a meeting with that politician who attended our studio open house last month. Marvin Thatcher—he’s running for congress.”

  It was her crowning achievement—making the paper. Yeah, Dax remembered the politician. He remembered quite distinctly the flicker of warning he had experienced when he saw the man approach. Most congressmen were fucking crooked, so he chalked it up to that. Still, Dax made a mental note to ask Turtle about the guy.

  He never could trust a guy in a suit.

  We make a very strange couple, Dax mused, his possessiveness cooling a degree or two. The ex-con biker and the do-gooder humanitarian.

  Actually, Rhiannon’s fundraising activities provided more cover for their pot operation. The local and mainland government turned out for her events. It helped that Turtle’s extended family ran most of the shit out here too. All in all, his new gig and his new life seemed to be going well.

  Almost…too well.

  “Come here.” Dax reached for Rhee and was mildly surprised when she danced away.

  He narrowed his eyes at her. “What’s going on, little girl? You itching for another spanking?”

  Dax hid a grin as Rhiannon blushed—either with outrage or with desire, he had no idea. But oh, how he dearly loved to see the color fill her cheeks like that. And he loved to pinken her other cheeks with the flat of his hand. She loved it too…and he made her admit it—even beg for it.

  “No!”

  Her outburst
surprised him. Then, her physical response confused him. But only for a second.

  Rhiannon’s right hand flew out to rest low on her stomach. Protectively. And there was only one reason Dax had ever known a woman to execute that particular little gesture. It was an instinctual thing—a female, protecting her young.

  “Are you sure?” He asked in a low voice.

  She turned bright red, following his gaze to where her hand lay against her tummy. Rhee shuffled her feet at bit. He took a step closer, trying unsuccessfully to gauge her feelings.

  “No—I just…I feel sort of…off lately.”

  “I thought you were on the pill?”

  “I am. I’m sorry, Dax. I wasn’t planning this. Trust me, I have no desire to go through all of this again…”

  Her voice went up several octaves until it cracked, but by then she was in his arms anyway.

  “Hey, darlin’. What are you sorry for?”

  She lifted her face to his, and God, those eyes, illuminated by her tears, were like emerald pools, like the green room. Rhiannon, she was his green room.

  “I’m not sure, Dax. So…there’s no need to worry. I even took a home pregnancy test and it was negative, so I’m probably just…over-reacting. I’m not even late…really. I just—this feeling, it’s familiar.”

  He cut her off. “Who says I’m worried?”

  “Well, but…I mean, I might be pregnant, Dax! Do you understand what that means?”

  Dax traced the curve of her jaw. Rhiannon’s skin was so satiny smooth. His cock jerked to attention and he shifted slightly. Something about this conversation was painfully arousing. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure I know what that means.”

  “You—you’re not…upset?”

  Was he? Nope. Not even close. Dax smoothed his hand down her deceptively flat belly as he considered his own emotions. It was something he was starting to do more and more lately. He felt a warmth spreading inside his chest and something else, something possessive and primal, began to churn there as well.