by Brook Wilder
“Thank you, Dax. That takes some maturity.”
“You’re telling me.”
We chuckled a little, and she sat with her hand in mine in the middle of her kitchen table. We both turned away and went back to our food, pulling our hands back so we could eat. Our motions were slow and reluctant, however, like there was still something else that needed to be said.
The thing was, there was so much that needed to be said. There were eight years’ worth of things that needed to be said. Honestly, there were probably some things from before that as well. Even before she left, we’d been pretty good at glossing shit over and ignoring things. But as we chipped away at the immediate issue of the baby, it was only a matter of time before we put all the cards out on the table.
“Listen, I’m sorry I wasn’t around much while I was out of town.”
“You were out of town, like you said. How much could you have been around? You were off in Cincinnati, living the dream. As long as you were okay there, we were all okay here,” I tried to assure her.
“That’s not really what I mean, though. I could have been available more. You know, to you.” Tears welled up in her eyes and threated to spill onto her cheeks.
“What about Frank?” I opened my eyes wide and raised my eyebrows, going for the cheesy, ominous look of someone hosting horror movies on TV.
“Please. He knew his place when it came to the MC.”
“Yeah, but did he really? Did he even know about us?” I asked in a teasing voice, but it was a serious question. Frank hadn’t come down when she came to my dad’s funeral, and if I had my timelines straight in my head, they should have been together then.
She sighed and slowly shook her head. “No, he didn’t know about all that. I was trying to put it all behind me. That was stupid of me, but when I came back for you dad’s funeral, I simply told him it was a death in the family and I needed some space to handle it.”
Her tone lowered while she talked about that period. Sometimes it was easy for me to forget how it affected other people when my dad passed away. Dan and Micah – especially Micah – mentioned it from time to time, but I often felt like I was the only person walking around with the weight of it on my shoulders.
Sure, Fawn had shown up for it, but she’d only been there for a few minutes. She hadn’t been there for me, for her dad, or even for herself. The way I had seen it, she made an appearance and dipped out before it could get too real for her, before she could have been reminded of who she was and where she was from. I never thought about how that would eventually affect her.
“I should have stayed longer when I came down.” She nodded, looking away from me again. Then she added, “And I didn’t even know about Lilian. I had no idea until you told me. I felt like such an ass for not knowing, Dax. You have no idea. If I had known, I would have been here in a heartbeat. I should have been here, by your side. That’s what family does, right? Regardless of distance or differences, we stick together.”
She took my hand again, and our fingers intertwined, tangling in each other. She looked at our hands. Then, she chuckled and looked me in the eye.
“If growing up at the clubhouse taught us anything, it should have been that we’re all family here.”
“You got it.” It was good to see her finally coming around. Fawn was finally home, finally ditching all the nonsense she thought made her headstrong and independent. Independence didn’t mean ditching us. It meant, as far as I could tell, doing her own thing with our support, with the MC at her back, because we were her family. And it was about time she realized that and stopped fighting it.
I felt like I should have stood up and dusted my hands off at that point. I could see myself pulling on the front of my cut to straighten it over my shoulders and declaring proudly, “My work here is done.” But I wasn’t about to get up and leave, not like that. There was still work to do, for the both of us.
She stared at me with expectation in her eyes, as if to say she’d opened up and it was my turn. I had hoped lightening the mood a little bit would have worked, but it hadn’t. I had to let her in, or let myself out.
“I’m not going to lie and pretend it was easy,” I told her. “I’ve been pretty closed off since Lilian’s accident. I know that. I own that.” I took a deep, shaky breath. “She was a target because of how close she was to me, and believe me, that’s weighing in my mind right now with the two of you.” I nodded toward her stomach.
She immediately put a protective hand over her belly. She knew exactly what I meant. When she did it, though, I felt a surge of emotion deep within me. It was a protective feeling. I’d been trying to avoid my feelings for her – and failing miserably – since I found out she was coming back, but I realized in taking the assignment to watch over her, I had walked into the situation I had wanted to avoid.
We were connected, and there wasn’t anything either of us could have done about it. We were still partners in crime, like we always had been, and we made sense. I was taking a chance by letting a kid into my life, an unborn child even, by the changes I was prepared to make for that child. I wondered if it was time to consider doing the same for the woman sitting across the table from me.
Not the girl, the woman. Fawn had grown into an impressive woman, in beauty as well as in strength. She was nothing like the girls I’d been running around with. She was a force to be reckoned with.
CHAPTER NINE
Fawn
“Here, let me help.” Dax got up from the table the same time I did and reached for my plate to take it into the kitchen.
“Thanks, but you don’t have to help me clean up. You paid for it,” I protested.
“I’m not doing it because I have to,” he said, looking directly into my eyes.
I didn’t know which one of us let go of my plate first, but we started moving toward each other again, our bodies pulling us both across the table. This was the moment we had been avoiding for the last few months, another run-in, another moment alone with our feelings for one another. I couldn’t have pulled away even if I had wanted to.
Our lips met over the table, the first kiss all over again. They pressed together until they parted, and then our tongues rushed to meet between us. I took his tongue into my mouth like taking him inside of me.
His strong, inked arms flexed as he took me into them, pulling me close to him. We abandoned the table with the plates on it, the counter and stove with the rest of the food spread out across them, and we left the kitchen altogether. My body moved with his as he led me upstairs.
My emotions tore at me, telling me to ditch my clothes and let him take me right there on the stairs, as we reached the landing where they turned and went back on themselves, continuing upward. His hands, though, his commanding hands – they kept pulling me up, up, up with him, prolonging the inevitable. I wanted him so bad. I couldn’t contain myself any longer.
As soon as he touched me, I melted into a puddle. As his lips continued to work against mine, it only got worse. By the time we made it to the bedroom, my legs wobbled and threatened to give out from underneath me. I couldn’t imagine having to wait any longer for him.
“Please,” I said as he pulled his lips away from mine – one simple word, my voice little more than a whisper. I ran my hands down the sides of his face as I did.
He hadn’t shaved in a while. The stubble was getting thick enough for me to rub it, which I did. Gladly. It was soft, fuzzy, inviting.
I kissed him again, my lips lightly brushing against his. I paid attention to the way his stubble tickled my lips this time. I knew my mouth was going to be red from kissing him, but who was going to see it? Who was going to say anything about what we were doing?
No one would have been surprised that we’d slept together. They might have been surprised that it was only our second time together. That was definitely more shocking, I thought.
The intensity of the desire in his eyes and in the way he held me was nothing compared to the intensity I felt betwee
n his legs. His erection pressed hard against me through his jeans. I could feel it pulsing and throbbing, reaching for me. He had fit inside me so perfectly before. My lips quivered with longing as I felt him against me. I wanted him back inside of me, deep, filling me with his size.
I ran my hands down the front of his cut, tracing his badges with my fingers. There were so many, from his name and the city (like there were other branches yet) to his title and other badges that had been given to him by the MC over the years. Having grown up on the back of a motorcycle, he’d received nearly every recognition the organization had for its members. It had never impressed me before, seeing those. It seemed like some overblown version of merit badges from the Boy Scouts, but up close, the heat of passion radiating from him, I realized they symbolized something else.
Those badges represented his dedication. They represented his passion, his perseverance. They represented the qualities I wanted in a man, a man who could handle me at my best and my worst, who could put me in my place when needed, but who would also be there to hold me up when I needed it as well.
His lips met mine again as my hands reached his belt. I gripped the old leather, feeling the creases and cracks in it as I pulled it through the buckle and let both ends of his belt dangle in front of his jeans. I couldn’t help but run my hand down the front, over his crotch. I stroked him through his jeans, pressing my fingers along the sides of his bulge.
I moaned into his mouth as I anticipated releasing his manhood from its captivity and taking it into myself again. I slowly worked his button and zipper, sliding my persistent fingers behind the denim to find his shaft pressing against his boxers. I deftly moved my hand in through his fly, finally reaching his flesh. His skin was drawn taut over his straining shaft. I ran my fingers up and down along his veins, pumping desire through his tool.
“Oh, that’s good, baby.” He pulled his lips away from mine and breathed the words, his voice weighed down by desire and pleasure. His body hummed as I worked his cock in my hand.
His hands moved down from my arms to my jeans, pulling them down again without undoing the button or the zipper. He took my panties down with them, and I climbed backwards onto the bed, keeping my legs up to expose myself to him. I beckoned him to follow me with a curled forefinger.
He dropped his clothes to the floor, but he didn’t immediately climb onto the bed. He kissed my leg, dragging his lips slowly up one thigh as his hand moved up the other. I worked my shirt off over my head as he moved up my body, kissing my hips, the mound between my legs, my stomach, between my ribs, up between my breasts. His lips traced the curves and lines of my body.
Their touch was gentle yet demanding. He wanted me, in no uncertain terms, and the way his lips parted, then pressed together over my skin, almost like he was suckling at me, told me how completely he wanted me. I couldn’t contain myself. No one had ever made me feel the way he did.
“Please, Dax. Take me.” I buried a hand in his hair as his lips hovered over my nipple, gently brushing it.
Every touch, even the slightest, sent the most intense, thrilling sensations through my body. Pleasure flowed through me like electricity, from the tips of my toes to the folds of my sex, to the tips of my nipples and the top of my head. Even my hair felt like it was standing on end with the thrill of his lips and fingertips touching me.
He parted me with his fingers as his lips made their way back up to my mouth. He dipped his middle finger into me, probing into my wet center, deep past my lips and the entrance to my sex. I arched my back and breathed in sharply through my nose. My thighs shook at his touch, rocked by the sudden burst of sensation rippling through my body.
I squeezed my legs together around his hand, holding it close to me. His palm brushed the skin around my clit, and I rolled my hips down, pressing my slit hard against the heel of his hand.
“Fuck, Dax.” I grabbed his shoulders and held on tight.
“Is that good, baby?” he asked.
I nodded, my eyes closed, my lower lip rolled inward. I sucked on my lip and bit it as his fingers started to work on me. He pressed them deep into me and pulled back, deep in and back, running them along my front wall, my g-spot, stroking me until the pleasure became unbearable. I whimpered as my body shook under his touch, and I could feel myself growing ever wetter around his hand.
I gasped and cried out as my body tensed up, every muscle tightening, even the muscles around his hand. My ecstasy grew inside me like a bright ball of energy, and I could feel it getting large enough to erupt. I convulsed on the bed, arching my back deep and uncontrollably.
“I’m cumming, Dax! I’m cumming!” And I was, already, as his fingers started working furiously to drive me over the edge. I closed my legs and rocked them hard against his hand, helping myself along, finishing myself off with his fingers inside me.
“Now,” he said as I released him, as if there was something else to say afterwards, though he never said what it was. He merely spread my legs instead and, gripping himself at his base, introduced himself into me again.
I took a deep, sharp breath as his head pressed between my lips. I moaned as his shaft entered me, inch after inch of him passing through me. My muscles stretched to allow him to enter, and I could feel my juices gathering around him, wetting him as he pulled back and thrust himself back in.
“Oh god,” I called out, my jaw shaking as I spoke.
I threw my arms around his neck and felt the muscles flexing underneath his skin with each movement. He pumped himself into me rhythmically, using long, protracted thrusts. I could feel each inch of his meat sliding in and out of me. It felt like he was driving deeper every time.
“You feel so good,” he breathed above me. “Fuck!”
He took my breasts in his hands and rubbed them, squeezing them gently. He passed his thumbs over my nipples, flicking them until they grew harder, harder, like little pink peaks sticking off the tips of my tits. Then, he took them between thumb and forefinger, pulling and pinching slightly.
I called out wordlessly as he pulled on my tender flesh. My hands fell away from him and gripped the sheets on the bed, balling up inside my fists as I held on for dear life while he continued thrusting into me. I clenched down on him, trying to hold him inside me. I could feel him getting closer to orgasm.
His cock thickened inside me, and I could feel him straining to hold himself in. He pressed against my hips, driving himself in all the way down to the base, and started grinding himself against me. He pressed hard against my innermost walls, reaching all the way into me. I rocked my hips against his, grinding against his cock as he continued to grind himself into me.
“Fuck,” he growled above me, drawing out the word.
His body became one hard shaft against me, every muscle pulled tight, until he finally released himself. He let out a long, rough breath as he jerked inside me, expelling all of his seed, seemingly at once. I pulled on his body, pulling him closer to me, deeper inside me.
I worked my hips against him, trying to pull out every last drop from his manhood. I could feel his muscles working to pump me full of his cum. His warmth filled my insides, and he started pumping his shaft into me again, spreading himself around inside me.
My lips and walls quivered with pleasure at his motion. My thighs trembled. My breath quickened, and soon my ecstasy had been awakened again. I held onto him and joined in his motions by pressing my hips against him, offering a little resistance, a little friction, until I felt myself cumming around his cock again.
“Oh god,” I called. “Oh yes. Yes, Dax.” My voice came out in bursts, as if thrust from my throat in the throes of ecstasy.
Finally, our bodies came to rest with Dax lying on top of me, panting, his heart pounding against my chest. My heart pumped against his in alternating beats, it felt like. He smiled down at me, a warm, caring look in his eyes, and then he rolled off of me, lying next to me on the bed.
“I think that was better than the last time,” I told him, trying t
o summon up the energy to laugh, but all I could manage was a little smile. “Not that last time needed any improvement,” I added, “but Jesus, Dax.”
He rolled onto his side and propped his head up on his hand. He ran a finger up my leg, sending chills through my body again. I could feel my desire already trying to brew up a little more for him, but I was spent. I couldn’t handle any more.
“It’s going to keep getting better,” he told me as his hand passed slowly over my stomach. He held it there, his palm and fingers spread out wide enough to cover my entire belly, and I put my hands over his, holding him in place, holding our hands together over our baby growing inside me.
I knew he was talking about more than the sex. I could see it in his eyes and feel it in his touch. He was talking about us, of course. His eyes sparkled in the dim amber light coming from my open bathroom door. He leaned down and kissed my stomach, his lips pressing and holding right over where our baby most likely was growing.