by Colbie Kay
“Nope. We’ll take it. Call me later to talk numbers.”
“Oh. My. God,” Chatty squeals as she rushes over to me, bending down and throwin’ her arms around my neck, and peppering kisses all over my face.
Laughing, I give her a short, sweet kiss. “Marry me?”
“Someday, Gunner, someday.” She draws out the last someday as she looks around our new home.
Later that night, I wheel myself into the room Tink’s in. I visit him the same time every day, and he’s makin’ some progress—I can see it in the blinking of his eyes, the twitch of his fingers, and sometimes his breathing becomes erratic for a few moments until he calms. Doc says he’ll come out of it when he’s ready. His flesh has healed and the bruising is gone, along with the swelling. He looks like Tink, but from chest down his body is disfigured with all of the scarring.
Sittin’ in my chair next to his bed, I start talkin’ like I do every night. I tell him about my day, plead with him to wake up, and talk to him about Chatty and the baby. After a few hours of no response, I leave his room, go into mine, and transfer myself into bed next to Chatty.
Pulling her close to me, I think she’s asleep until her lips touch my neck. My hand runs down her long dark hair. “Give me that mouth.” Her kisses trail up my jaw, over my stubbled cheek, until her lips land on mine. I push my tongue, gaining entry through her parted lips. The kiss is a fight for control, frenzied, and full of a desperate need.
Her in only my t-shirt and me in nothing at all, I remove the offending piece of material so I can feel her big, beautiful tits. Palming both, I gently massage, then run the pad of my thumbs across each nipple, causing them to immediately harden under my touch. Her hips move, makin’ her pussy rub against my cock.
Breaking from the kiss, I tell her, “Get up here, I want you ridin’ my face.” She scurries up, turns around, and puts one leg on each side of my head. Grippin’ her hips, I lower Chatty down, and my tongue skates lightly front to back against her wet cunt. The tip of my tongue flicks her clit, makin’ her moan loudly.
“So fuckin’ sweet. I love tastin’ you.” I hum against her smooth wet flesh.
Chatty reaches for my cock, wrapping her hand around me, giving a few strokes before bending and taking me into her mouth. I try to concentrate on makin’ her come, but fuck, her mouth feels good. Groaning, I continue my assault on her pussy, rubbing my hand on her ass cheek. Inserting two fingers inside her, I push in and out, hittin’ her sweet spot. Her cries grow and the speed her mouth moves increases. Her hips move back and forth, chasing her impending orgasm.
She grows closer by the second, and when I feel her start to pulsate against my fingers, I pull them out. I keep flicking my tongue against her clit, but I take one of my wet digits, placing it against her asshole. She tenses for a brief second before she continues working me over.
“Gunner,” she mewls at the new sensation.
I make small circles on the hole; her body starts to shake and it’s time I let her detonate. Slowly, I push my finger inside the tightness and pull back out over and over. Within a few seconds, she’s screaming and biting down on my cock as the orgasm racks her body.
Climbing off me, she is breathless, and her hooded eyes meet mine. “That was amazing!”
Sitting myself up against the headboard, I smile. “You tasted fuckin’ amazing. Now come ride me.” She does, she rides me so fuckin’ good. Her hips move forward and backwards in a slow rhythm. Her tits bounce beautifully. I take a nipple in my mouth, sucking on the tight bud while massaging the other. Running my tongue up over her chest, neck, jaw, and finally landing on her lips, I kiss her hard. She moans as another release is makin’ its way to the surface.
“It feels so good.” She hums in pleasure.
“Sure the fuck does. You’re so goddamn wet and tight.” Placing my hands on her hips, I move her faster. Takin’ over, I bounce her on my cock, makin’ her go even deeper.
Groaning and growling into her neck, I grow closer to my own release. “Come with me, Chat.”
Her nails dig into my shoulders and her movements speed up as she takes back control—then, they become erratic. “Now, babe, now!”
Her head rolls back as she cries out my name. I pull her close, placing my lips against the skin of her chest and groaning out her name as my cum fills her up. Sweaty, breathless, and sated, we hold onto each other until our breathing goes back to normal.
She climbs off me, walks into the bathroom and returns with two wet washcloths. She cleans me up, then herself, and places them on the side of the clothes hamper. When Chatty returns to bed, I scoot myself back down and pull her in close so that she is tangled up with me. “I love you, Chat,” I tell her as her head hits my chest.
“I love you too, Gunner,” she tiredly responds on a yawn. Kissing her forehead, I run my hand down her hair until she falls asleep.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Kicking and screaming, I try to fight my way free from the two men holding my arms and dragging me into the old walk-in freezer. It’s no use—they outweigh me by at least a hundred pounds each. I have no doubt Deuce ordered this before he announced he was leaving town yesterday.
One holds my arms behind my back, stretching the muscles almost to the point of snapping. “You ready to talk?” the other asks as he gets the chains in position.
“Talk about what?” I feign ignorance.
His big belly laugh rips through the small space. “You think we wouldn’t find out who you were? Deuce put a tail on you. Saw where you were going at night and followed that car back to Wichita a few times. You with that club down there—the Satan’s Sinners.”
Fuck! I never once noticed a tail on me going back to Montera—I followed all of the rules.
I keep my mouth shut.
My wrists are bound to the chains. I try flailing around hoping I can break free. The more I move, the tighter they become. “It’s no use—you ain’t getting out. One more chance to talk.” The prick smiles.
I keep my mouth shut.
My clothes are cut and ripped from my body, leaving me bare for them to do as they please. A thick brown leather strap is brought in by a third member. He hands it over and the first hard lick cuts across the back of my thighs with enough force that I jerk forward and hiss out from the pain.
Two…Three…Four…Five…
“You ready to talk, or you want more?” They can do what they want, I’m dead either way.
I keep my mouth shut.
“Guess you want more.”
Six…Seven…Eight…Nine…Ten…
“Let me have a go,” the second man says cheerfully.
Punch after punch reigns across my face; I feel the swelling as his fists connect with my eyes, cheeks, chin, and lips. The taste of copper fills my mouth and my head lolls to the side.
The lashings begin again, biting into the flesh of my body.
“Hey, Kid, you gonna wake up today?” I hear the voice and I know that voice. Gunner. He always called me ‘Kid.’
I can’t wake up. I can’t pull my mind away. I’m not sleeping, though; I see the white of the ceiling and I know I’m not in the walk-in freezer anymore, but I can’t move, I can’t do anything, I’m stuck.
Twenty-two hits across my backside and I’m asked once again. “You ready to talk?”
I can’t see his smug face anymore. My eyes have swollen completely shut, my lips burn from the cuts, and my flesh stings from the open wounds. Blood runs down my body and coats my face. I remain quiet. My beading sweat drips in the cuts and lashings. I don’t know how much more I can take.
I grit my teeth as a scalding pain causes my body to shake uncontrollably. The stench of burning hair and skin fills the space as my flesh is singed.
He moves to my front and the first cut of the leather s
ears into my skin. I scream out no longer able to hold it in. Laughter surrounds me.
“You should see Chatty; she’s gettin’ so big. She’s only a couple months away from having her. I wish you could wake up and see her. You gotta wake up, Kid, you gotta see my little girl when she gets here.” It’s Gunner again; I recognize his voice. He comes to talk to me a lot; I always hear him, but I can’t respond.
I wish I could. But I can’t—I don’t know how to break free.
Ten… I make it to the number ten before their slimy voices start to fade in and out.
Fifteen… I make it to fifteen before I lose consciousness.
“How’s he doin’ today?”
“He’s moving more. I think he’s coming out of it.”
Slowly turning my head towards the voices, I feel a hand on my body. Lightning-fast I crawl up the bed, tucking my legs up to my head, and I start rocking.
“Tink, it’s okay, you’re safe.” A hand lands on my shoulder.
I roar out in agony, “Don’t touch me!” Feeling something ripping at my skin, I look down and see the tubes. I grip them tightly extracting them from inside me and throw them across the room.
“Hey, Kid.”
Hearing his voice, I look to the left of me. Tilting my head to the side, my eyes narrow and my teeth are bared, like a wild animal. He doesn’t look like Gunner. His hair is longer, he has a beard. My eyes scan his features. He sits there with his hands out in front of him.
“It’s okay; you’re safe here. You’re back at the compound.” He’s in a wheelchair.
His voice, Gunner’s voice. “Gunner.” My voice is raspy from nonuse.
“Yeah. It’s me, Kid.” He reaches out slowly. “I gotta clean you—up you made yourself bleed by pullin’ them tubes out.” Looking down, I see the trickle of blood on my arm and stomach. I slowly nod.
“Doc, hand me the shit to get him cleaned up.” They move in slow motion.
Gunner takes the cloth and alcohol, then cleans up my seeping blood. I watch his every move without a word.
“I gotta ask you somethin’, Kid.” Gunner looks at me like he’s sad; he doesn’t really want to ask. “Did you talk? Is that how Deuce and The Four Kings found out?”
I shake my head.
“How’d they find out?”
“I had a follow. They followed you back here.” My eyes connect with his.
“Okay, Kid. You need some water and food.”
“I’ll get him some water, but the food needs to start slow,” Doc informs us, then leaves the room.
“You good?” Gunner questions when it’s just the two of us.
I shake my head and look down, noticing all of the scars. Tears threaten to break free.
I’m changed—I feel it inside of me and I will never be the same or okay again.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Thirty-four weeks exactly today, that’s how far along I am—and I’m miserable. I’m as big as a freaking house, I hurt all the time. Between the ligament pain and the Braxton Hicks contractions, I can’t get comfortable when I lay down, and if I try lying on my back, my boobs are so big I can’t breathe because they come up to my neck. My check-up with Sierra went great, as usual, and everything is moving along as it should. The baby is growing and measuring perfectly, but it looks like she might be on the bigger side. Sierra said if she keeps putting on weight like she is then she will be about nine pounds.
About a week after we looked at the house, Gunner and Mark came to an agreement, money was handed over, and we were moved in. I have slowly started filling the house with furniture, thanks to my new obsession with online shopping. We asked Tinsley to move with us, but unsurprisingly she decided to stay at the clubhouse; I think she feels safe having all of the guys there, especially Romeo. She hasn’t said anything is going on between them, but he wasn’t willing to let her go so easily, either. And now you never see her without him.
Sitting with Crazy Girl at a table in the bar eating, I stand up and feel something between my legs. Looking around on the floor, for I don’t know what, I don’t see anything.
“What are you looking for?” Crazy girl asks while looking around also.
“I don’t know.” Laughing it off, I pick up my plate and take it to the kitchen to be washed. Returning to the table, I take my seat again, but feel my pants are awfully wet. “I think I pissed myself.” My wide eyes meet hers.
“It happens.” She shrugs like it’s no big deal. I guess it wouldn’t be to her because she’s already gone through two full-term pregnancies and one miscarriage.
“How’s the new house? Are you guys getting settled in?” Crazy Girl sits back, stuffed full from the food.
“I love it, and yeah it’s coming along—we just finished up the nursery.” I smile and rub my belly, feeling her kick hard against my huge stomach.
“I’m so happy for you, Chatty.”
“Thank you. I never thought I would get the chance to feel this way again, but it’s more intense because of her, ya know?” My eyes get watery and I smile.
“I know. You two have been through so much. How’s he been since you got back together?” Taking a drink from her glass, she waits for my response.
“He’s been amazing, the sex is on fire, and he has to tell me he loves me fifty times a day.” I laugh. Standing up once again, I feel the sudden release of fluid. “Something’s wrong. More just came out when I stood up. I don’t think it’s pee.” My worried eyes connect with hers.
“I’ll call labor and delivery.” Crazy Girl pulls her phone out, and when the nurse gets on the line, she hands me the phone. I explain what is happening and I’m told to go home, lie down, and drink a lot of water. Hanging up the phone, I repeat what the nurse told me, and Crazy Girl rushes off to go get Gunner.
“What’s goin’ on, Chat?” Gunner wheels out of the hallway, following behind a worried Crazy Girl.
“I’m leaking fluid, I have to go home and lie down.” I bite down on my bottom lip; it keeps me from busting out in tears right here in front of everyone.
“Let’s go!” He rushes me out, not saying a word to anyone. Crazy Girl follows behind helping with Gunner’s wheelchair.
I drive us home and do exactly what the nurse told me. Gunner is worried; he doesn’t say much, but he takes care of me, and I get even more worried as the night moves on.
Waking up the next day, I get up from the bed and yet again have the fluid run down my legs. Gunner agrees that we need to go see Sierra, so he gets in the car. I fold up his wheelchair and place it in the back, then we head to the doctor’s office.
When I get there, I explain to the nurse what’s going on and she tells me to go straight to labor and delivery. So, back in the car we go, heading to the hospital.
The nurse in labor and delivery puts us in a room, me on the bed, and hooks a monitor up to my stomach so they can watch for contractions, the baby’s heartbeat, and movements. Our little girl tumbles around excessively, but I am starting to get really scared because I know something isn’t right.
I’m asked a ton of questions, do a strip test, and then the nurse checks my cervix. I’ve never in my life experienced pain like I did when she shoved her fingers up inside of me, and at that point I wanted to punch her in her fucking face. She told me my cervix was completely closed and that the strip test was negative—she then so kindly told me that all this time I have been pissing on myself.
I become livid, because not only do I not believe her, but I used a handy little thing called google and I did my research. It told me that if the strip turns blue, it’s positive for amniotic fluid—and I watched that strip turn blue. At this point, I am told everything is fine, to go home, and Sierra would see me next week at my regularly scheduled visit.
“You okay?” Gunner asks
from the passenger side while we are driving home.
“No, I’m not okay! Something is wrong, Gunner, I feel it. That bitch not only hurt me when she shoved her whole fucking hand up inside me, but she made me feel like I’m going crazy. I’m not fucking crazy, and I’m not pissing on myself!” My voice raises a couple octaves the angrier I get.
“Babe, you need to stay calm—it’s not good for you or our daughter.” Gunner places his hand on my thigh, gently rubbing circles on my leg.
Taking a few deep breaths, I calm some. “I know. But I’m not pissing on myself.”
“I believe you.” He chuckles lightly.
When we get home, I lie back down, Gunner takes care of me once again, and I wait for night to fall so I can get this day over with.
Wednesday morning—two days since my check-up with Sierra and the day after my disastrous experience at labor and delivery—I get up from our bed. When I do, a gush of fluid pours out of my vagina. Since I was made to feel crazy, I decide not to say anything yet. I will keep track of her movements myself and see how the day goes. Walking into the bathroom, I put on a pad I had from before I was pregnant.
As the day moves into night, I have been soaking through the pads and towels that I had to put under me. I’m making a mess all over the fucking place, but she is still moving strong.
Thursday morning, it’s just as bad with the fluid, her movements have slowed down, and I’m now even more worried and scared. I decide I’ve had enough of this shit and someone is going to listen to me. Stomping into the living room, I look at Gunner sitting in his chair watching television. “We’re going back to the doctor!”
He wheels towards me and takes my hand. “Is it worse?” His thumb traces along my knuckles, and tears gather in my eyes.
“Not worse, but I can’t feel her move.”
“Let’s go!” Gunner quickly wheels himself out to the car as I rush to put a new pad and yoga pants on.