Duck (Rebel Wayfarers MC Book 8)

by MariaLisa deMora

  “Lalo,” was Duck’s direct answer, knowing Mason heard every nuance of anger and hate he held inside.

  “Man comes at the kids, takes potshots at his mother, but they got away safe. She didn’t stick around, you told me that much. So she, what, took the kids back to the ranch, right?”

  “Yeah. Took them up the creek bed until she believed they were far enough away, and then angled through the scrub to the house. They met the foreman along the way and she sent him to where I was.” Duck shook his head, remembering how good it had been to see Gill ride up, knowing the man had his back. He might not be a fan of the man’s lifestyle, meaning it wasn’t for him, but Gill had proven his worth that day, fearlessly riding to the clearing in order to make sure the man Brenda had described as ‘armed and goddamned dangerous’ wouldn’t get to Duck’s woman or kids. Or Duck. “Had my back, brother. I owe him huge.”

  “Good you got that, man. Trust is hard earned, but that’s surely a trial by fire. So, back to your Brenda. She took the boy with her when she headed out of the fray?”

  “Uh, yeah, she got him and Randi out, Randi being Blackie’s little girl.” The girl had bounced back fast, treating the whole thing as just another facet of her summer adventure.

  “Leaving you behind. The man he barely knew, but liked. The man he just learned was his real dad, the man who had stood up to his tests, earning his…respect? Maybe affection?” Mason scoffed, and then laughed softly, a thread of derision in his voice. “While his momma totes him off with a little girl. Totes him off, taking them home like they were babies been out playin’ in the sun too long. A little girl that—until you and his momma showed up—he had been protecting.” There was silence on the phone for a beat as he turned over what Mason said, considering everything his friend pointed out. Dammit, he has the right of it.

  Then Mason spoke again, that derision turning to a soft strength, “He’s scared, but he don’t know how to show it, so he’s trying to pretend he ain’t afraid out of his fucking mind that he nearly lost you. I bet he also thinks he lost your regard, his momma treating him like a kid. Boy that age, treated like a little girl and he knows it because there was a little girl there and she got the exact same as him. He’s not going to see how precious he is to his momma…to you. Won’t know what went through your head when you saw Lalo, heard the gunfire, knew your boy was vulnerable to that shit.

  “Brother, his head is full of ageing panic, fresh shame, and not a little bit of misplaced anger. You gotta talk to him, Duck. Show him your fear. Teach him to embrace the feeling, rise above it, and become better on the other side. You know how this shit works, brother. You’ve done it yourself, seen many of our brothers deal. Help your boy learn how to be a man. Help him, so when he needs the lesson most, he can reach back, bring it out and look it over. Help him turn that fear into courage, brother.”

  ***

  “Bee,” he called as he stepped into the house, hearing a muffled response from upstairs. Dropping his boots in the mudroom, he headed up the stairs two at a time, walked directly to the bath off the master bedroom and stopped in his tracks, rocking in place at what greeted him when he opened the door. Brenda was in the tub, head back, reclining in the water lapping softly around the sides of her breasts. Candles were lit, scattered around the room, the one on the inside edge of the tub casting a flickering glow over her features.

  Startled, she looked up, arms instinctively folding to cover her chest in response, the movement setting the water rocking, pressure on her breasts pushing them together, creating a vision of plump, delectable cleavage. Glistening, wet skin, her softly flushed cheeks, the slow smile that curled her lips…all for him. Just him. Mine, he thought, stepping into the room and gently pushing the door closed.

  “Bath time?” His fingers flew down the buttons of his shirt and he shrugged it off, and then reached over his head to grip the collar of his tee, pulling that off and discarding it on the floor, too. “You didn’t tell me it was bath time, Bee.” He scolded her as he worked the tail of his belt loose, unbuttoning his jeans and pushing them down his hips. “I’m the new bath time inspector, didn’t you know?” Shoving his socks down, he let them fall inside the legs of his jeans onto the floor.

  “Oh, yeah?” A soft, amused, tender look suffused her features and he halted in place again, shocked at how much he liked seeing that expression on her face, wanting to preserve the moment. “New rules, bossman?”

  God, I love her. Duck went to his knees beside the tub, rested an elbow on the edge and lifted his hand to brush her hair off her cheek, unable to go another moment without touching her. Not another breath. “Yeah,” he said softly, and she must have seen the emotion overwhelming him because she reached up, cupping his hand to her face and then turned to place a gentle kiss on his palm. Thoughts of Watcher flashed through his head, an image of Bella, purple lips. Slate and Ruby, her body jerking as Goose’s hands thrust hard against her chest, breathing life back into her again and again. Still and cold. Never miss a moment, he thought and breathed out his love. “God, I love you, Brenda.”

  “I know, baby. I know you do.” She moved his hand, placing it palm-down on her chest, gaze locked with his. Her skin was heated under his hand, pulse thudding, flesh soft and yielding. God. “I feel it here, every time you look at me. I don’t question it, never have to wonder, because you show me a dozen times a day…a hundred. Giving and giving to me; giving and making sure I know.” Lifting his hand, she brought it to her mouth again, grazing her lips across his knuckles, her breath dancing across his skin. “And I don’t. Wonder, that is. I know. And, I love you, too. So much, Duck.”

  Pushing up on his knees, he angled his torso close, tilting his head, pressing his lips against hers. “Love you,” he repeated, murmuring, tracing his tongue across her bottom lip, cupping his hand behind her neck, cradling the back of her head, pulling her into him. “Let me in, Bee.”

  Her mouth opened for him, their tongues sliding and tangling as he angled his head more, deepening the kiss. He mapped the column of her neck with his hand, curved his fingers over her shoulder. Holding on tight, the fragility of her flesh and bone impressing itself under the strength of his hand. He wrapped his palm around her arm and caressed her slowly, easing his hand down into the water, and his thumb grazed the curve of her breast. Breathing faster, he flattened his hand on her ribs, moving up, gathering and cupping her breast in his palm.

  “God, I love your tits,” he whispered in between pants, their mouths still pressed together. He plumped and squeezed gently, drawing a whimper from her so he dragged the pad of his thumb across her nipple. Palming her breast, he plumped and caressed her again. “Pretty, so fucking pretty. Perfect for me. Nips perched on the tips, waiting for my lips.” Thumb and fingertip met there and he rolled and pinched lightly, pulling another whimper from her. “Pretty little nips.” He tugged and rolled, stretching her nipple, cupping his palm underneath and lifting her breast as he shifted, drawing back, seeing her eyes closed, brows drawn together in cute concentration.

  Bending his neck, he brought her breast to his mouth, latching on and sucking deep, groaning in his throat. Rolling her nipple with his tongue, he trapped it, guiding it between his front teeth and flicking the tip relentlessly for a few moments before drawing her deep into his mouth again.

  His hand moved, gliding into the water along her hip. Then he skimmed across her belly before pushing between her tightly clenched thighs. Sucking hard on her breast, he lifted his other hand to her face, cupping her cheek. Groaning as she turned her head, she captured his thumb between her lips and mouthed it, using her teeth on the pad. He mimicked her motions with his mouth on her breast and Brenda moaned softly.

  Cupping her pussy with his palm, he pressed firmly, feeling her legs fall apart, opening without him having to ask. Thrusting his thumb in and out of her mouth, the suction she gave him grew stronger and he groaned, rolling her nipple in his mouth before drawing her deep again. He focused on his hand in the wa
ter. Shifting on his knees, he moved, getting closer so he could rock the heel of his hand against the top of her mound. Grinding into her clit he smiled at the cool air caressing his thumb as her mouth opened in a gasp, and then she closed around him again, sucking and nibbling harder, more frantically.

  He worked his fingers, moving up and down, drawing his fingertips between the lips of her pussy, then pushing down past her opening, feeling the slickness of her wet even in the water of the tub. Leaning back, he looked at her. Face even more flushed, her mouth locked around his thumb in a tight ‘O,’ cheeks hollowing as she sucked on him. “Love you, Bee,” he murmured, pushing two fingers deep inside her, bringing the heel of his hand down on her clit again and moving it firmly side-to-side.

  He worked her, in and out, drawing his thumb from her mouth and tracing across her now-slack lips, feeling the puffs of her panting breaths on his hand. “Fuck yeah, feel me inside you. Hot and tight, so fucking good.” She moaned, her head rolling to one side, neck extending in an unconscious invitation and he lunged forward, planting his teeth in the side, sucking hard while he stroked into her.

  He drew back, mouth open with hard pants. “Mine, Bee. Marked you. Mine.” He stared at the love bite on her neck, his cock tight and throbbing, feeling his pulse pounding there, the need for her driving him forward. “Tight, God, Bee. Hungry, fucking pussy. God, love touching you, fingering you, watching you, baby. Love your pussy.” Plunging deep, he gripped hard, pulling and tugging, grinding into her pussy again, his arm moving back and forth rapidly. The water sloshed high on the sides of the tub, the noises of the waves and the water nearly as frantic as the ones pouring from Brenda’s mouth.

  “You’re gonna come for me, Bee. Come on my hand, like this, letting me look my fill. Pretty tits, beautiful face, that look in your eyes just for me, because I’m fucking you so hard with my fingers.” She cried out, hands flying down to grip his wrist, not trying to still his movements, just holding on as she fell apart, the climax roaring through her. He watched the muscles all over her body tense and clench while her pussy clamped down on his fingers. “Fuck, yeah, baby. Come for me. Come just like that.”

  His name echoed off the tile in the bathroom, her voice fearless in her claiming of him. “Duck!”

  Moving, shifting, he slipped his arms underneath her and lifted. Bringing her dripping body over the edge of the tub and into his lap, he positioned her with one arm, the other going between their bodies to angle his cock. Then he pulled her down while surging inside, driving to the root and staying planted, her cry ringing off the walls again.

  Duck threaded a hand into the hair at the back of her head and angled her face towards his, capturing her lips in a brutal kiss. Wet hair curling around her shoulders, she took him with soft cries, his hands at her waist lifting and pulling her back onto his cock. He tugged and pushed, thrusting up and into her, building to a steady, fierce rhythm as he stared into her eyes, seeing everything he ever wanted reflected there.

  “Gimme a titty, Bee,” he panted, feeling her hands moving at his demand. He kept the connection with her, never losing her eyes as he dipped his chin, sucking her offered nipple deep, powering through the feeling of her fingers on his face, feeding him like he needed, his cock deep, the walls of her pussy hot and tight around him; greedy.

  “Duck,” she breathed, mouth falling open on a gasp as the walls of her pussy started pulsing and contracting again, carried on the wave he’d started in the tub. Mouth to hers, their hard and heavy breaths mingling, he used his grip on her waist to slam her down, sliding her ass high on his thighs and grinding, a groan escaping him. Angling his knees out, the slick wetness of her making every stroke brilliant, he told her, “Fuckin’ close, baby. Deep inside you. Home.”

  Leaning in, he brushed his mouth across the angle of her jaw, watching her eyes sink closed. “My Bee.” He roared and thrust hard, his arms crushing her to him, mouth covering hers, tongue delving deep as he came, feeling her heat all around him.

  Her hands lifted, eyes opening as she cupped his face, bringing their foreheads together. Her walls clamping down, milking him, the look on her face intense when she told him, “Love you.” Chin lifting, lips parting, tongue swiping across. “My Duck.”

  Slowly his breathing returned to normal and he cradled her, holding tight as she shook in his arms, still lost in the sensations assailing her. “God, Bee,” he said, pressing a kiss to the side of her head. “So fucking beautiful. You give that to me and I’ll take it. Want it. Need it, baby. Love it. Love you.”

  On shaking legs he rose with her in his arms, carrying her to their bed and gently laid her down, stretching out beside her. Reaching for the folded blanket from the foot of the bed, he flipped it over their naked forms. She roused enough to roll her head, looking up at him as he lay propped over her on an elbow. With a grin, he leaned in and kissed her lips, dragging the tip of his nose along her cheek until his mouth was near her ear. “Sleep, Bee. We’ll play in a bit.” Sucking her earlobe in between his lips, he nipped gently and heard her soft giggle. “Sleep.”

  ***

  “Hey, Mica,” he said, surprised to hear her voice on the call. “What’s up, honey?”

  “Hello to you, too, Duckmeister.” Her laughter sounded, bringing a grin to his face. “I have some news, honey. I wanted you to hear it from me, first.”

  He finished entering a receipt into the software, clicked to save his work and leaned back into the office chair, resting one foot on the edge of an opened drawer. “Hear what, hon?” he asked absently, still somewhat focused on the rest of his to-do list for the day. Generate invoices, stuff envelopes, call in the feed order, talk to Watcher to see if there were any new leads…

  “I’m expecting.” His thoughts derailed at her response and he sat up, setting his boots on the floor. This was good news. She and Daniel made a handsome couple, and their young son, Jon, was a smart kid. Not earth shattering news, but good to hear nonetheless. He started to respond, but she spoke over him, “Molly’s preggers, too.”

  In his mind, he saw the beautiful young woman as she had looked the first time he’d laid eyes on her. Afraid of her own shadow, never quite meeting anyone’s gaze, standing along the wall so she could stay on the fringes of the group in the backroom at Jackson’s. With them, but separate. Cautious. Fearful. Nearly broken by his brother’s treatment of her.

  “Duck, are you there?” Mica called and he grunted, which was all the response he could generate at the moment. “Honey, she wanted me to call you.” What the fuck for? he wondered, pulling up an image of her boy, Tomas, the one she loved beyond all belief, no matter his beginning had been violent and hateful. She loved that little boy in spite of what Ray had done to her. Now she would have a child created with love, a child to share with her husband, J.J., the two sisters having married the older two Rupert brothers. “She said you needed to hear this from someone you’d listen to, and she didn’t think you’d listen to her.” What would this mean for Tomas?

  “Duck, she said to tell you that you have to help her out.” Fuck, she wants me to take her boy. His nephew, even if he could never say that word aloud, not wanting to rub her face into the memories of his connection to the asshole who had shared his blood. “Said when the time comes, you’ll need to explain things.”

  He thought about Lisa, how she had shrunk from him in the beginning. Alternating emotions of fear and hatred. Those gone now, and her able to stay in the room without wanting to kill him. She could look at him and carry on a conversation. Moved past his association and found peace with who he was. Accepted he was his own man, not tied to his family. He had thought Molly was well past that long ago. Had hoped. She had told him so, more than once, back when she was urging him to do the same.

  “She wants you to promise to love this child the same. She knows it will be hard because it’s J.J.’s, but she doesn’t want her children to know there’re any differences between them. She asked if you could find it in your heart to love them
the same.”

  Now he couldn’t talk because his chest was heaving. Wrong, I was wrong. Lips pressed tightly together to hold back the sobs, he was shocked at the emotions surging through him. Him, she wanted to make sure he was okay with this. A moment in time where Molly should be caught up in experiencing joy and goodness, and she was orchestrating someone to share it with him in a way that would make sure he was good with it all. Giving, when she could be taking, that was all Molly. No matter what his brother had done, it hadn’t broken her.

  Strong. Fierce. Good.

  “Duck?” That was all Mica, too, trying to make sure he was okay. Raw, harsh sound burst from his lips, and he reached up to cover his mouth, trying to keep the pain inside. Her voice was soft, filled with love when she called, “Duck, honey.”

  The door to the office opened and Brenda was there, her face white, fear stark on her features as she looked at him, scanning to see what was wrong, eyes locked on him because she had found him sitting, sobbing helplessly, phone to his ear. “Baby,” she called, rushing to his side, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and head, cradling him to her body. “What’s wrong?”

  “Duck?” Mica’s voice was still coming through the phone, and he could hear the tears she was shedding, too. “Duck, honey, it’s okay.” That was all Mica, too. Always trying to make things better anywhere she could. His brother hadn’t broken her, either, even if he had tried so fucking hard.

  “I tried,” he said, anguish thick in his voice. “I tried to keep you safe. So fucking hard.” Brenda’s body jerked, her arms clamped around him, holding him tight. He could hear her shushing him softly, but his focus was on communicating his grief at his failures to Mica. “I ran. I know I ran, but God, I tried. I couldn’t live with myself so I came back and tried, then I found you, and I wanted you to have a good life. A good life. You deserved everything, got so much shit from him. Wanted you to be safe, to find love, to get on with your life so he couldn’t…wouldn’t win. Wanted you safe, tried, Mica. Tried so hard.”