by Debra Kayn
From the day he found Johanna, she'd willingly stayed with him. Being a dad, he knew an eight-year-old kid should've fought, screamed, cried if a stranger stepped into the room —especially looking like him. Whatever happened in her life prior to that night, she'd been conditioned to accept strangers, to subserviently do what others said. She'd been a little girl who had been taught that her fears were not her own, and she'd buried them deep to make her fucked up life easier.
He'd been the only person in her life that came and settled her fear. He would never leave her.
"You feel good." He inhaled deeply. "Smell fucking good."
His cock, harder than ever, pounded uncomfortably trapped in his jeans. His need to enjoy holding her overrode his need for release.
He brought his hands up and cradled her head, pulling her face out of his neck. "Missed you, bug."
The wetness painting her cheeks wretched his gut. He'd broken her when he'd been hauled away and then forbid her to come see him.
There were no sobs moving her body, no sound out of her mouth, no change of expression on her face. Only tears rolled from her eyes.
He brought her forward and kissed the evidence of his obliteration from her face. The salty truth tainted his tongue.
"I'll make things right with us," he whispered, lingering his lips near her mouth.
She turned slightly, kissing him softly, almost shyly. His balls constricted. The hesitation reminding him of the first time she'd tried to kiss him at sixteen years old.
He held still, letting her take his bottom lip, his top lip, getting comfortable with him all over again.
The whole time, she held on to his beard.
Her sweet breath fanned his face the deeper she gained her confidence. He ached. The pain a pleasure after so long.
Unable to sit still, he cupped his hands under her bare thighs and rubbed. Her skin the softest thing against his for four long years.
Johanna covered his mouth. Watching her the whole time, he caught the moment her eyes closed at the touch of her tongue against his. He let her stroke him until he no longer could sit back and wait.
He brought up his hand, cupped the back of her head, and kissed her deeper, swallowing her moan. The sound echoed in his chest, and he brought her body tight against him with his other hand, taking sanctuary of finally being with her.
She pulled her hands from his beard. The force took his mouth off her, and he jerked back and claimed her lips once again, not done by a long shot.
Johanna tugged at his vest, pulling and moaning her frantic frustration. He slipped his hand under her hair and undid the string at the back of her neck, and ripped her shirt down over her breasts.
She'd come to him braless. Lifting her, he stood, turned, and stood her on the top of the bed, breaking their kiss. His gaze level with her breasts, he unbuttoned her shorts and took them and her panties down to her ankles. Holding her hips, he dove forward, tonguing between her legs.
Johanna widened her stand, holding on to his hair, pressing his head forward to her sex. He separated the folds of her pussy and smashed his face against her, sucking, licking, nibbling. Her arousal stroking his senses, he needed deeper.
He hooked his hands around the back of her thighs and pulled her feet out from under her. She landed on her back on the bed, and he settled between her legs, fucking her with his tongue.
Johanna pulled his hair and bucked underneath him. He planted a hand on her stomach, pinning her to the bed. Her legs loosened and widened. Rubbing his beard against her, he made her quiver.
"Chief," she whined.
Fuck, he missed that neediness she only gave him. So damn strong and independent, except when it came to him.
She fisted his hair, half pulling, half pushing. His cock thundered for attention, and he loved having control over his body. He wanted the wait. He wanted the power. He wanted her to come on his face.
He lapped his tongue over her clit. Four years. Four fucking years.
A loud moan filled the room. He slid one hand under her ass, lifting her higher while holding her stomach, keeping her still. A little wild thing, she moved as if she wanted to cover the whole bed and he already looked forward to the next time they had sex because he planned to let her go crazy on him.
"I can't. I can't. I can't...." She writhed on the bed. "I can't stop."
Her body convulsed in pleasure, trapping his head between her legs. He slowed and softened his tongue, letting her ride her orgasm until her legs fell away to the sides and she settled on the mattress.
He lifted his head and stood. Taking off his vest, he ripped off his shirt and rubbed the material all over his head, his face, his beard, drying her juices.
Her fingers slid down his stomach. He tossed the towel and gazed down at Johanna on her knees in front of him. His chest seized, and he exhaled loudly.
"Damn, bug." He stroked her cheek with his hand. "Do you know what you're doing?"
She lowered her gaze to his zipper and concentrated on undoing his jeans. "I know everything. I just don't have any experience doing most things because you've been gone."
His cock grew inches. Fucking inches.
Because he'd had her followed by his MC brothers while he was away, he knew without a doubt she hadn't slept with anyone. The only place she was allowed to roam by herself was at the clubhouse because his men were afraid of being killed for touching her.
"Give me a few seconds of lovin', bug." He grabbed his cock when she tugged his jeans, protecting his hardness from getting caught in the material. "But, when I come, I want inside you."
She braced her hands on his thighs and leaned forward, stopped, and then leaned back and eyed his cock again. He hadn't jerked off in days. The damn thing slapped his stomach.
"Bring it down to your mouth." He held her head.
She wrapped her fingers around him and lowered his cock. His toes curled in his boots at having someone else touch him after so damn long.
Her tongue came out and wet her lips before she opened her mouth. Her serious expression amused him as she aimed for him in her innocence.
She stopped before making contact and flicked her gaze up at his face. "I dreamed about doing this," she whispered.
"Yeah?"
She shrugged and a smiled curved her lips. "I swallowed. In my dream. Just in case you're wondering."
"I'll keep that in mind for later," he muttered, putting his hand over her hand and bringing her mouth back to his cock.
The moment her lips closed around him and her tongue stroked him, he knew he wouldn't last.
One stroke of her tongue.
One suck from those lips.
When she put those talents together, he pulled out of her mouth and slid his hands under her armpits, putting her on the bed. He grabbed a condom out of the nightstand and rolled it on his dick, and laid down on top of her.
"Spread your legs." He rubbed the head of his cock over her pussy, letting her wetness lubricate him.
She gave him extra room, and he pressed into her in sweet torture. Staring down into her face, he caught the slight flinch as his size pushed its way in after a long dry spell. His arms trembled. It took all of his strength not to nail her to the bed.
Fully seated inside of her, his heart pounded. Everything he'd done, he'd done for her. He'd go through hell or a lifetime in prison to make sure she understood that she was wanted and loved.
Her gaze intensified. She stroked his beard and whispered, "You've done me. Now, do you, Chief."
Without blinking, he moved. Out, in, a little harder, a little faster each time. Blood rushed from his head as if strangled and he fucked her hard, riding her body. His ball sac constricted in pleasure and he exploded, sweet relief spreading through him, taking the rest of his control.
Holding himself still, he couldn't hold himself up any longer and rolled, taking her with him until she laid on top of him with his cock still inside of her.
Her breasts bare, her pussy embracing him
, she planted her hands on his chest and looked over his body. He watched her inspecting him while catching his breath. When she finished checking out his upper body, she looked over her shoulder at his lower half before bringing her gaze back to his eyes.
"It's hard to believe you're here." She swallowed hard. "You're okay? No injuries, no new scars."
"I'm good, bug." He rubbed her thighs. "Better than good, I'm back where I belong."
"I don't want to leave this room and share you with the others. Ever."
He lifted her off him and removed the condom. "Give me fifteen minutes to speak to the club and then we're going home, and I don't plan on leaving the house until we talk about everything that has happened in four years."
She moved off the bed and grabbed her panties. "Do you have to talk to the club alone or can I go with you?"
Johanna shimmied into her panties and grabbed her shorts. Her hurry to dress spoke of her desire not to leave him. He'd give her that.
He wiped himself off on his dirty shirt and tossed it to the corner of the room. "Don't plan on letting you out of my sight for a long time, bug. Need to touch my boys. Look my men in the eyes. Take in all of Brikken and pay respect to what Rollo gave me. I want you with me, and then we'll ride home."
"Home," she said, smiling.
Slipping on his vest, he took in her happiness. She looked like she'd been thoroughly fucked and his cock responded again. He needed to get her out of here so he could slip back between her legs.
"Ready?" he asked, going for his belt and coming up empty. When he'd received the bag of items he had on when they stripped him down to serve his sentence, his belt never made it in the bag.
"Just a second." She slipped her hand into her front pocket and pulled out a hair band. "Can I?"
His throat constricted and his eyes burned. He nodded and sat on the bed. She crawled on the mattress and kneeled behind him, detangling the ratted mess on his head, and as her fingers worked diligently separating the strands to braid his hair, he closed his eyes to hide the emotions threatening to overtake him.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chief rolled off the bed and walked out of the bedroom. Johanna reached out and picked up her phone off the nightstand, checking the time. Ten after three, in the morning.
Wide awake, she sat up and hung her legs off the edge of the bed. She had no idea how he was surviving with so little sleep.
He'd been home three days, and the most he slept was an hour at a time. If he wasn't making love to her, he was mowing the yard, working on his Harley in the garage, or eating. At night, he paced the house or went outside and stood on the deck.
She walked across the room and grabbed one of Chief's shirts out of the dresser, slipping it over her naked body. If not for Deana warning her what to expect, she'd be worried.
He refused to answer her when she asked what was wrong. She walked out of the bedroom, looking throughout the house for him. The sliding door to the deck was open. She slipped outside and approached him on bare feet, crossing her arms against the chill in the air.
Chief continued to gaze out into the darkness. She wrapped her arms around his waist from behind, and he jolted.
"Sorry," she whispered. "I didn't mean to startle you."
"I didn't hear you."
She pressed her cheek against his back, his skin warmed her face. "You left the door open."
He grunted. "You should be sleeping."
She stepped around him and plastered herself against his front, looping her arms around his back. "I don't want to miss a minute of being with you."
When he remained silent, she second-guessed herself. Maybe he got up at night because he needed to be away from her. Maybe being back home with her twenty-four/seven tested his patience. Four years apart seemed like a lifetime. He could've changed while incarcerated and needed time to himself.
She swallowed, wanting to ask if he'd prefer she went inside but knew that adding her problems on to his would only cause him more stress.
"You're not cold?" She rubbed his back.
Every inch of him was warm to the touch. Though she wasn't surprised. Every night when they went to bed, he covered them both up to the chin as if he needed the extra heat.
"The prison was cold." He lifted his hands and held on to her hips. "Always cold."
That's why he wanted the warmth now. She closed her eyes, resting her cheek on his chest. His heart beat loudly in her ear.
"You know, Jett stayed here at the house for a few days when he got released from the penitentiary. He wanted to sleep in his old room." She moistened her lips. "I offered him our bed, and I could take the couch, but I think he wanted the comfort of his room he had growing up."
"You took care of my boy," he said.
"I think he took care of me." She lifted her head and gazed at him. "I was hurting and needed the companionship. I don't think we said more than ten sentences between us while he was here, but it was nice to have someone in the house with me."
Chief tipped his head back and looked up at the sky. "You grew up in four years."
There were times where she believed her age made things harder. The Brikken women were older than her and yet they expected her to keep them informed and organized, making sure they knew what days they were allowed at the clubhouse and when their men would be away from home. She had a hard time being a leader when it would be easier to let someone else take control.
She certainly hadn't handled Chief being away maturely. But, she'd survived. It was over. He was home.
"I close my eyes, and I can't shut myself off." He brought his head down and kissed her forehead. "I came out here to get fresh air, remind myself I'm free to walk out. I'm all fucked in the head, bug."
"You'll figure it out." She kissed his chest. "It's going to be hard on you for a while."
"This isn't who I am. I'm the president of Brikken. I want to be with you. I want to push my boys harder. I want..." He exhaled harshly. "I don't have time."
"There will be time," she said softly.
"I don't know," he muttered.
She rubbed her cheek against him. His frustration level got the best of him. He was too hard on himself. The club understood.
She'd seen how Keeffe continued to run the men. Even his boys kept their contact short and sweet when they checked in on him.
"Rollo was fifty years old when he was murdered." He looked down into her eyes. "A couple more months, and I'll be his age when he left this world. I should be stronger, and here I am standing outside in the middle of the fucking night, bitching about I-don't-know-what."
"Oh, Chief." She stood on her tiptoes, her heart splintering in pieces. "You're not your father. Your club is looking out for you. I'm with you. I believe, business at Brikken is running smoothly. You don't always have to be the one carrying everyone else."
"Yeah, I do, bug," he said softly. "That's my job."
She'd relied on him forever, not to leave her, to keep loving her, and she'd added more responsibility on his shoulders. She never realized he could have resentment from being unable to protect his father. It would be like him, even though his father had been the parent, to take on that accountability and be burdened with guilt. He wanted to take care of everyone, and it was simply impossible.
"I love you," she said. "There are times, like right now, where it feels like my heart is going to explode because it's so full."
He raised his hands and captured her face. Cutting him off before he could say anything, she stretched and kissed his lips. "Come back to bed. For once, let me watch you sleep."
He gave a small nod, and gathered her hand, leading her into the house.
In the bedroom, she crawled across the bed and patted the mattress beside her. Chief shut off the lamp and laid down on his back. Pulling the comforter over them both, she cuddled against his side.
He covered her hand on his chest with his hand. "Talk to me, bug."
"About what?"
"Anything." He yawned
. "Just want to hear your voice."
She closed her eyes and whispered, "I think I first fell in love with you when you saved me from the rat that was going to kill me."
"It was a mouse."
"It was huge."
"Little bitty thing...like you," he said.
"You were my hero."
He squeezed her hand. "You said that was the first time you fell in love with me. Were there more times?"
"Mm..lots of times." Her body warmed. "I think I was ten years old and you picked me up from school on your motorcycle. Tanner — I don't remember his last name — followed me clear to the parking lot where you were waiting. You told him to scram. What you didn't know is he used to terrorize me on the playground at recess. He was always pulling my hair and chasing me, but after you told him to go away, he never bothered me again."
"I'll kill him," he said, though his body relaxed.
"I don't think that's necessary. I can't even remember what happened to him. He probably moved away." She wrapped her leg around Chief's thigh. "I spied on you the day you told Nene I wasn't going to live with her anymore, and heard everything. That was the third time I fell in love with you."
Nene had thrown out some ugly accusations at Chief. She swallowed. Even at twelve years old, she understood the risk Chief took standing up for her. There was nothing perverted about their relationship. It was her first experience learning that other people judged without knowing the facts. That sometimes, love is pure.
"Keep going," said Chief.
"There are things that happened all the time that made me fall in love with you." She sighed in contentment. "Sometimes I think I love you too much."
"Not possible, bug."
She smiled against his chest as her eyes burned behind her eyelids. Many nights she'd laid awake wanting to talk to him. They shared so much together, he was the only one who'd been there and had the same memories. At times, she felt like she was suffocating because she didn't have him around to talk to.
Now, she could breathe.
Chief's soft snore filled the silence. She remained perfectly still, letting him sleep. He needed his rest, and if it helped him knowing she was watching his back, she'd spend every night for the rest of her life, rehashing their shared past and making sure he was safe.