The Four Stages of Loving Dutch Owen

by Debra Kayn

  She couldn't see underneath the table. For the first time, she could imagine them sitting at the table with Rachel and Skull, hiding their relationship, their feelings. Just the two of them together against the world, seeking the bond that had always been there.

  He never let up. "Yeah."

  "C-can we have sex?"

  "Not yet."

  She vibrated. "You're killing me."

  As if teasing her, he changed methods, using his toes again. Her right leg jolted as he hit the right spot.

  Her breasts forgotten; she grabbed the table with both hands. Her body bowed, arched, rubbing against his toes.

  His toes spread over her clit, and he shook his leg, creating vibrations on the swollen nub. Her lower stomach coiled.

  She held her breath to keep her orgasm at bay and enjoy the pleasure longer, but her body exploded. Gasping air that wasn't there, her head hit the back of the chair. Her body quivered.

  "Marla Marie?"

  She opened her eyes, righted her head, and looked at him. "Hm?"

  "Come here."

  On trembling legs, she pushed out of the chair, weak from her orgasm and still shaking.

  Dutch shoved the table away. She climbed up onto his lap and slid down on him with ease. She moaned, looping her arms around his neck. He spanned his hands on her waist and slid her up and down, grateful for his strength because she couldn't support herself after he'd brought her pleasure.

  He gazed down where their bodies connected. "Any idea or fantasy you want, I'll give to you."

  "Mm." She kissed his cheeks, his forehead, his lips.

  He was only challenging her. She had a lifetime of things she wanted to do with him.

  His thighs tightened under her ass each time he plunged deep inside of her.

  "Give me your mouth."

  She slid her tongue between his lips, then sucked on his, caressing the velvety surface.

  Dutch lowered his hands to her ass, grinding her down as his movements jostled her. He groaned into her mouth. She swallowed the sound, feeling her arousal return with a vengeance.

  While he shot his come inside of her, she slipped her hand down her stomach and rubbed her clit, finding pleasure for the second time.

  He chuckled on a sigh, his legs stilling underneath her. She lazily bit his lower lip.

  "That..." She pressed her forehead against his. "Was totally believable. If we would've had company, they would've never known what we were doing underneath the table."

  "Bullshit." His upper body quaked in amusement.

  "No, it was totally doable."

  "Doesn't matter," he mumbled. "I'd fuck you anywhere. The hell with everyone else."

  Her laughter died on her lips, and she warmed all over again. She never doubted his ability to love her, no matter how ridiculous she'd acted in the past.

  Not once had she ever held back or not gone to him because of his age and fearful that she asked him for too much.

  Dutch's unconditional love gave her the freedom to be who she was. That love never wavered, even when they were apart. She could see that now.

  She placed her head on his shoulder and held on to him. He had things to do today, and she needed to go to work later.

  He reached up and cupped the back of her head, in no hurry to start their day. She closed her eyes. All her fantasies paled compared to reality.

  Chapter 33

  FALCON EYED DUTCH. "What's wrong with you?"

  Nothing was wrong. Hell, he felt better than he had in years. Except, he must've pulled a damn groin muscle stretching his leg under the table that morning, fulfilling Marla Marie's old fantasy.

  He pulled up a chair and sat. "I'm going to talk to Woody when I get back to Bellevue."

  "You've made a decision?"

  "Out of respect, I'd like to talk to him first. But I wanted you to know I'll have an answer for you by the eighteenth."

  Falcon nodded. "That works for me."

  He shook Falcon's hand. "I'll also take you up on the offer to sit in on the meeting today."

  "Good to hear." Falcon gathered his beard in his hand. "I'll fill in Buck and let him know."

  The president of the Moses Lake Chapter stood from the table, ending their discussion. His plans for the future mapped out, Dutch walked over to see about borrowing Mike's truck later in the day, and one of the women hanging around the pool hall stepped in front of him and started playing with the front of his vest.

  "I'm bored." She pushed her breasts against him. "But you look like you could keep me entertained."

  In his condition, he couldn't even get his dick up.

  "Pick another biker, babe." He raised his head and spotted Marla Marie standing at the end of the counter, glaring in his direction.

  The woman slithered her arms around him and cupped his ass. He extracted the woman from his body and set her away from him.

  Marla Marie was across the room, taking a pool cue out of Kimball's hands and swinging the stick in the air the closer she got to the woman in front of Dutch. "Keep your hands off him."

  Dutch pitched forward, catching Marla Marie around the waist, and grabbed the stick. "Whoa."

  Marla Marie pointed at the woman. "Did you see what she did?"

  The over-friendly woman slinked off to the back of the room. Marla Marie huffed. He tried to keep his amusement in check.

  Not only was Marla Marie pissed off, but she'd also moved on to loving him again. This wasn't the first woman she'd tried to attack for touching him.

  He remembered when a pintsize version of herself went at one of the chicks in Bellevue.

  "God." She pushed against his chest in anger and stared at him. "Did you like what she did to you?"

  "Nope." He rocked back on his heels, taking her all in.

  There was his girl, planted firmly in stage four. Loyal, loving, and possessive.

  "Then, what's that smug look on your face?" She poked him in the chest. "Don't think you can go from my bed to her. She's a skank."

  He captured her mouth, prying her lips open and staking his claim the way he'd wanted to do the first time she'd gone head-to-head to keep women away from him. Her resistance waned, and her tongue met his.

  Marla Marie molded herself to him, expelling all her worked-up adrenaline. His cock pulsed, letting him know he wasn't out for the count today.

  She pulled back, holding his face. "You should've let me reach her. I would've kicked her ass."

  "I know you would've." He looped his arm around her.

  But, he wasn't willing to let her get hurt again because of him. He could keep the other women off him. He had no use for them anymore.

  "I need to talk to Mike before the meeting starts."

  "Well, I'm staying with you until you walk inside the room. I'm not going to let that bitch get close to you." She slid her hand into his back pocket.

  That was fine with him. He had more important things to do today than let others distract him.

  Near the door, Ruggle high-fived Marla Marie. Patting her ass, Dutch moved away while she talked to her boss.

  Outside, he found Mike and secured his MC brother's truck for later. Lighting a cigarette, he stayed with the group of WAKOM members and observed them.

  A brother was a brother, but there was always an undercurrent at every club. He wanted to see how they laundered the money and determine what kind of security they kept before he made his final decision.

  Whichever chapter he decided to call home, he needed to make sure Marla Marie was taken care of if anything happened to him.

  Sammy approached and stood shoulder to shoulder with him. "You're spending a lot of time in Moses Lake, brother."

  "My woman's here."

  Sammy stepped in front of him. "Are you staying on the road?"

  "What's it to you?"

  Sammy's mouth tightened. "Choose a patch."

  Wearing the three-star patch, covered him to ride under all three clubhouses. He'd grown accustomed to other riders believing h
is loyalty sided with the Bellevue Chapter—they were the ones in charge of the money laundering business.

  When he was in Bellevue, paranoia ran through everyone when he returned from Moses Lake and Spokane. If one member caused a weak link, they'd all go down.

  "You have a problem with me, spit it out." He refused to back down. "I've got five years in the state pen saying I'm loyal to WAKOM. Do you?"

  Sammy walked away. Dutch had no problem defending himself. When one of those assholes took to the road, never knowing if they'd return, then he'd talk to them.

  Two arms slipped around him from behind. "Rubble is letting me start work two hours early and get off at midnight. So, I don't have to go home and then come back to work. Apparently, he thinks there will be enough members sticking around and wanting dinner when the meeting gets out that we can cater to them earlier. Plus, I can help since he'll be here by himself."

  He reached behind her and pulled her around to his front. "Want me to stick around after I run into town to buy a mower?"

  "If you want." She raised on to her tiptoes, and he leaned down and kissed her. "I'd like that."

  He kissed her again. "Are you going to keep the women away from me?"

  "I'm not worried. I can take them." She made a fist and punched her other palm before turning around with a grin.

  He stepped forward and spanked her ass. She threw back her head and laughed as she reached for the door.

  Buck burst out, almost running into Marla Marie. She ducked in, getting out of his way.

  "Everyone inside," yelled Buck.

  He walked in with the other men. Always wearing the patch and standing on the outside.

  Chapter 34

  DUTCH SHUT OFF THE engine of the mower. Taking the full bag off, he dumped the cut grass behind the shed. It took him a full two-hours to knock the grass down around the house to resemble a yard.

  He looked over the backyard. It looked better, if not rough. He'd mow again in a few days and shape it up.

  He pushed the lawnmower to the door of the shed, inspecting the outside of the outbuilding for any repairs. It looked as if he'd need to buy some shingles for the roof. Tomorrow, he'd clean out the shed, so he had somewhere to store the mower out of the weather.

  A job he wasn't looking forward to doing.

  Pulling the door open, he held his breath, prepared for the rankness to hit him in the face like it had years ago, and stood staring in confusion at the interior.

  The place wasn't a wreck.

  He stepped inside. There were several throw rugs spread out on the dirt and two boxes in the corner. He turned around, spotting an ice cooler with two jugs of water sitting on top.

  Curious, he moved the water and peered inside. He pulled out a rolled sleeping bag with the price tag still on it.

  He put the bag back, closed the cooler, and set the water on top. Moving over to the boxes, he opened the flaps. Canned food?

  He straightened, rubbing the back of his neck. There were mousetraps set in each corner with cheese.

  Confused about how the things showed up in the shed, he looked at everything again. The house had remained empty since Sue Smith got carted off to jail until the day Marla Marie had taken the deed he'd offered her and moved into the house.

  The only person who would come in here was Marla Marie.

  He hung his head, inhaling swiftly. The ramifications of what she'd done to the shed hit him square in the gut.

  Had she done this recently? Since he'd come back? Why?

  He'd given her the house. She had the deed. Nobody was going to take it away from her.

  Looking around the small area again, he couldn't comprehend what would make her outfit the outbuilding as if she was ready to move in and live.

  She'd set up the shed as if someday, she might have to hide out again.

  He squatted. What the fuck was she thinking?

  Did she not believe he was going to take care of her? Hadn't he done so since she was ten years old?

  Bursting out of the shed, he stormed to the house. He grabbed a beer out of the fridge and looked out the window, waiting for her. She'd gone to the store while he'd cut the lawn.

  A quick trip, or so she'd said.

  Furious, he guzzled the beer and threw the can in the garbage before getting another one. He was going to wring her little neck.

  How many times had he told her he wasn't going to leave her?

  He lit a cigarette, contemplating calling her on the cell phone and telling her to get her ass home.

  The sight of her as a child, eating the scraps on the picnic table, flooded his mind. He plopped down on the chair at the table, weak at the knees, and cradled his head in his hands.

  He should've seen what surviving on her own when a parent should be caring for her had done to her. Starving for food. Starving for affection. Starving to belong to him when he'd found her.

  Hell, it was only the other night that she'd woken up from a nightmare and padded into the kitchen to look into the fridge as if to reassure herself that there was food in the house.

  He sniffed, swallowing hard. It angered him that she'd suffered alone, reliving her trauma when he was stuck in prison and unable to help her.

  The crackle of gravel under tires filtered into the house. He stubbed the cigarette out in the ashtray and went to the kitchen window.

  Marla Marie pulled her car into the driveway and parked. He couldn't go out there. He'd scare her to death with the way he was feeling.

  She got out of the vehicle, looked at the Harley, then stopped and peered around at the front yard. A smile lit up her face as she opened the trunk of the car and grabbed several plastic grocery sacks, lining them up on her arms to carry them inside the house.

  He watched her walk past the window, struggling with opening the door with her hands full and then burst into the kitchen.

  "Hey." She set her load of groceries on the table, working to free her arms from the sacks' handles. "The yard looks great. How did the mower work?"

  He couldn't talk.

  He was angry.

  He was desperate for her to understand.

  He loved her.

  She ignored the groceries and came to him. Pressing her hands on his chest, she frowned. "What's wrong? Did something happen? Did you get hurt?"

  He couldn't look at her. Imagining her scared and feeling like she couldn't tell him what was going on in her head, he'd failed her.

  "Dutch." She slid her arms around his waist. "What happened?"

  He kissed her hard, shaking inside. His lungs burned, and he pulled back, exhaling harshly.

  She cupped his face, running her hands over his cheeks, his jaw, his beard, crying. "You're scaring me. Did something happen to Rachel? Skull?"

  He gripped her upper arms, shaking her. She startled, and he enjoyed the few seconds when she was as scared as him. How could she not know how much she meant to him?

  "Don't you get it?" His throat burned.

  She shook her head. "I don't understand."

  He pushed her to the side and stepped around her. "Since you were ten years old, you loved me."

  "I do."

  He whirled around and pointed toward the back door. "Then, explain the shit in the shed."

  Her head snapped back, and her mouth opened. She gave no excuse. No reasons.

  He gripped the chair and lifted it six inches off the floor, and slammed it down on the floor. She flinched, pressing her hand to the base of her throat.

  The rage simmering in him fled at the sight of her moving away from him. "What were you thinking?"

  "I..." She looked up at the ceiling and closed her mouth.

  He wasn't going to let her get away with not explaining. Grabbing her hand, he pulled her outside and stormed across the yard.

  Flinging open the door of the shed, he looked at her. "Explain that. Explain why you were turning this into a place to live when you have a perfectly good roof over your head with me? Didn't I take you away from li
ving that kind of life where you have to live in filth, starving to death?"

  Tears flowed down her cheeks. He wasn't going to let her crying stop him from getting answers. She'd lived, fearing he'd leave her, for too long.

  She stepped inside the shed. He refused to go in there with her.

  He belonged on the outside.

  "The first time my mom left me seemed like it lasted forever." She slowly turned and faced him. "I stayed in the house by myself. I was young and not in school, so maybe four years old. I can't be sure. I do remember having a box of cereal in the kitchen—Cheerios. I was afraid to go outside and look for her."

  She looked over at the boxes. Dutch's heart pounded. He'd never asked her about how she'd lived before he'd taken her and handed her over to Rachel and Skull.

  He'd had a good idea what she'd gone through, but seeing her face now, it was even worse than he imagined.

  "When Mom came back, I thought she'd bring food with her. I thought she'd gone to the store, and that's why it was taking so long for her to come home." She looked at him. "When I got old enough to go to school, I never knew if she would be home or gone. I never told anyone else that she'd leave me. I was afraid of getting her in trouble."

  She should've told. A child, a baby, should never have to fend for themselves.

  "The last time she left was different. Usually, she just walked out of the house and shut the door. That last time, though, the police came and took her away," she said.

  His chest pounded. "How could the police miss a kid in the house?"

  Knowing she was alone, living in the shed, he'd known the police weren't aware of her. A fact he'd taken into account when he took her out of town. It was summer. The school she'd attended would believe she'd moved before enrolling in the next grade. If they would've checked, they'd learn her mother was sitting in jail and assume a relative out of the area had taken custody of Marla Marie.

  All he'd thought about was himself. He never wanted his crime of kidnapping her to see the light of day.

  "I was hiding in the shed when the police came that day." She looked around the small space and hugged her middle. "It's where I'd escape to when my mom would have men at the house. I didn't like being around them. It was scary when they started doing...drugs, I guess."