Raising my shirt over my head, he licks and sucks my breasts. Pulling the fabric of my bra back, my nipple pops free, and he sucks it into his mouth. Hand through his hair, I tug as my pleasure increases, heat building between my legs.
The cool air tickles my nipple when his mouth leaves it. With a devilish grin, he tugs at my shorts, wiggling them and my underwear off my hips and legs. Reaching down, I pull his button and zipper as his tongue invades my mouth. Folding his jeans off his hips, I reach into his briefs and pull his erection out. His lips never leave mine as he slides his cock into me.
Pulling me to the edge of the counter, his strong arms hold me there, teetering me on the lip as he thrusts in and out, making me moan in sexual bliss.
“Fuck, baby, your pussy’s just what I needed.”
“Harder. Take me harder.”
He pulls out, dropping my legs and turns my ass to face him. Arms gripping the counter, he pushes into me, and I nearly come then. Hand wound through my hair, my back arches as he grips my hip, pounding into me.
My breath catches when he releases my hair, grabs my legs, and raises them off the floor. With my legs over his arms, he slams my pussy down onto his cock again and again and I come hard, half moaning, half pleasure screaming through my release. His thrusting slows as he reaches his own release.
“Lean back against me.”
I do, and he lets my legs down and slides his hands up and around my chest as my feet touch the floor. His free hand turns my head to kiss him.
“You satisfy me like no other pussy can.”
“Good. I want my pussy to be the only pussy you ever want.”
Chuckling, he kisses me. “It already is.”
Turning in his arms, I lock my lips to his, needy for more of his touch, more contact between us. It’s the only time in this last week I’ve been able to forget everything else.
“Take me upstairs. Make love to me.”
Lifting me, a smile skims his lips before he kisses me again.
“I love how greedy your pussy is for my cock.”
“Always.”
Lips feathering mine, he nibbles my bottom lip. “I love you, baby, so fucking much.”
***
In one of his white tank tops and my underwear shorts, I finish cooking us dinner. In nothing but worn, ripped jeans and sexy black ink, he’s leaning against the counter watching me, admiring me while I prepare our plates.
“How did it go with Alee?”
Remembering the last words she said to me, I stop prepping the plates and bite my lip as tears well up in my eyes. Strong hands caress my arms before his warm chest meets my back.
“I’m sorry you and your sister are hurting the way you are. I promise to make Drake and Levi suffer. I’m fighting them tomorrow night. I’ll hurt them. I’ll make them pay for what they did to you both.”
Hearing his promise, I break, the emotions pouring out of me in tears. He holds me through it, kissing my head and cheek.
“Let it out, baby. I know you’ve been hurting and keeping it in.”
Turning in his arms, I cry against his chest. It’s the first I’ve broken down in front of him. Since Amberlee’s assault, I’ve only cried when I was alone.
“You’re fighting them at the clubhouse?”
Wiping my tears with his hands, his beautiful green eyes look into mine. In them, I see affection mixed with a fierce determination.
“Yes. It’ll be a cage fight. Me against them. I won’t let them go out quickly.”
“Can I watch?”
A proud smile raises the corner of his mouth.
“Yes, but I want you to stay with Mercy. Don’t leave his side. No matter what.”
“I won’t.”
“Have you ever handled a gun?”
The question surprises me. “Yes.”
“Your father teach you?”
“Yeah.”
“Any good with it?”
“If you’re wondering if I can shoot the target I’m aiming at, the answer is yes.”
“What about a man? That’s different.”
“I don’t know.”
“I want you to start carrying one. We’ll go to a range. Make sure you’re comfortable handling it.”
“Why do you want me to start carrying one?”
“Because, baby, I’m going to fuck them up, and their egos won’t let them take that kind of beating without having a grudge against me. I want you protected when I’m not with you.”
Worry constricts my chest.
“Maybe…you shouldn’t fight them. I don’t want you to have to watch your back all the time.”
“I won’t be watching my back, my true brothers will. One wrong step and I won’t hesitate to put them down.” Caressing my face, his half smile is reassuring. “Don’t worry about me, ok. Let’s have dinner.” Carrying the plates into the living room, he sets them on the coffee table. When I enter, he pulls me into his lap.
“We’ll eat in here. I want you in my arms all night.”
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
——
ERIKA
EVEN WITH AMBERLEE’S demand for me to stay away, I can’t. I made the appointment with the landlord of the rental property for a visit and I’m keeping it. Not only that, she’s in a dark place. She needs me even if she doesn’t want me around. Pulling up the drive, her car is there just as I expected. Dori’s is gone as I also expected. Whether Amberlee talked to Dori about the new place to rent or not, I don’t know. She hasn’t answered any of my calls today.
Opening the front door, I’m accosted by the sound of running water. I quickly run into the kitchen, stepping through a pool of water and turn off the faucet.
“Alee!”
She doesn’t call back. I head to her room to find her. When I open the door, I’m relieved to find her there asleep on her side.
“Alee, you left the sink running.”
She doesn’t stir, which is normal. She’s a heavy sleeper. Climbing across the bed, I join her. Rubbing her arm to wake her, my body tightens. Her skin feels cool and damp. With a shaky hand, I turn her toward me. Gagging, I fight back nausea when I see the blood and vomit spilled from her mouth across the pillow and blanket. Lifeless golden hazel eyes stare up at the ceiling. Hands trembling, I reach for my phone as my eyes become wet with tears.
“911, what’s your emergency?”
“520 Lumont Street. My sister has overdosed.”
“I’m dispatching a paramedic to you now.”
Several questions later, I hang up, trembling, losing control, waiting for the ambulance to arrive. I hear the sirens in the distance and rush to the door to make sure it’s unlocked. Waving them in, I point them to her room. Collapsing on the floor, my head falls into my arms as I listen to them administer medical attention. Moments later, she’s rushed to the ambulance on a stretcher.
The ambulance pulls out and I hurry to Dominic’s Camaro. With my trembling hands, I’m unable to start the car. The keys drop, and I completely break down, sobbing into the steering wheel. Forcing slow deep breaths, I lift the phone and dial my mother.
“It better be important.”
“Alee, the ambulance took her to the hospital. She overdosed.”
The line goes silent for several beats.
“I’ll get off work. I’ll be there.” I can hear the fear in her tone.
My next call is to Dom, but it goes to voicemail.
“I’m going to the hospital. Alee overdosed. Please call me as soon as you can. I need you.”
With more slow, deep breaths, I collect my composure enough to drive. Fear is a tight ball in my gut the entire way to the hospital. The image of Amberlee lingers in my mind, plaguing me, churning the nausea in my stomach with the memory.
Pulling into the emergency parking area, I run inside. I’m the first to get there, I don’t see my mother. A nurse pulls me aside and the look on her face begins the horrific conversation that comes next.
Amberlee is dead. Dead o
n arrival.
The next moments are a blur. I don’t remember much of the people who spoke to me, what they said, or what I said in return. All I remember is minutes later seeing Dominic walk through the sliding glass doors and his muscular figure lifting me into his arms.
***
“Erika.”
My swollen eyes blink a couple times before Dominic comes into focus. We’re at his house, on his couch. I’m in his arms. The memories come rushing back and I sob against his chest.
“She’s gone.”
Holding me tight against him, he kisses my head.
“I know, baby. I’m so sorry.”
“Will you take me to my old house? I want to see Dori and…”
“Alee isn’t there.”
More sobs break free. “I don’t want to accept it. I want to go over there. I want to talk to her, to hug her. Dom, I can’t. I can’t do this. I’m not strong like you are.”
Putting my face in both his hands, he looks me in the eyes, his own full of pain. “Yes, you are. Don’t ever doubt that. I know you’re hurting. I’ve been there. I’ve felt every agonizing pain you’re feeling now. I’ll be here for you. I’ll listen. I’ll hold you. You will get through it. The pain will lessen, but you’ll remember her. Always remember her.”
Gently bringing my face to his, he kisses me tenderly. So soft, so caringly, my tears of grief mix with tears of appreciation.
More composed, I put my hand in his as his free hand rubs along my arm and back.
“It happened so fast. I’m still—”
“In shock.”
“Yes. I don’t want to accept she won’t be at home when I go over there. I want her to be there. I want to talk to her. I want to hug her. I want to fix her and make her better.”
“I know. It’s the hardest part.”
“How did you do it?”
“I shut myself off from feeling. I fucked, drank, fought, rode for hours, maybe days. It’s all a blur. I don’t want to see you do that. I want you to come to me when you need me.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.” Firm hand caressing me, he soothes me with his touch. “I’ll be here for you. Whatever you need.”
My head drops to his. “I’m lucky to have you.”
“No, baby, it’s me who’s a lucky bastard.”
With his kiss, my tense shoulders lower.
“I need to help Dori. Help her make arrangements,” I struggle to say. “I’m not sure I’ll make it to the fight tonight.”
“It’s all right if you can’t. Either way, I’m teaching those fuckers a lesson.”
“I want to be there.” A single tear trickles down my cheek. “I want to see them suffer the way they made her suffer.”
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
——
DOMINIC
THE CLUBHOUSE IS buzzing with life tonight. Every member and their ol’ lady came out for the cage fight. No other MC members are allowed on a night like this. It’s in-house and exclusive. Keeps the outcome private and the bruised egos of the losers contained. I plan on bruising more than their egos. I want them carried out on a fucking stretcher.
These men aren’t my brothers. They don’t know loyalty, honor, or respect the patch and the brotherhood it stands for. They’re weak men. Men who get off on torturing and raping a woman who couldn’t defend herself against them. I don’t see them as equals. I’ll never see them as equals.
Through the church room is another set of double doors. This is where we have our fight cage and private bar. Wooden benches line two walls, the cage taking up the other two. Between the benches and the fight cage are high top and low top tables with bar stools and chairs. Every seat is filled and the liquor is pouring heavily. A few bucks make their rounds on who’s going to win the fight. It’s fun play for my brothers, but for me, tonight is about so much more.
Lighting dim, it makes the blood stains on the cage mat harder to see, but it’s there as a lingering memory of previous fights. Fights I’ve been a part of. Blood I’ve contributed myself. You don’t last in the Serpents as long as I have without shedding some.
Across the cage, between the bars, I can see Drake and Levi getting themselves worked up for the fight. A slap to the face, some words for courage, a shot glass thrown back. Next to me are Mercy, John, Tex and RJ, some of my closest brothers. Mercy slaps my bare back and hands me a shot.
“Fuck ‘em up.”
With the shot thrown back, I bob my head. Shirt in my hands, I pull it over my head and toss it on a chair. Reaching into my pocket, I retrieve the brass knuckles I brought. That’s an advantage with the cage fights—there are no rules.
Christian opens the cage door and dips his head, indicating Drake and Levi need to enter. Shirts off and in their jeans, they go into the cage, bouncing on the tips of their feet. They’re wired and ready, probably high on coke too. Another advantage for me. With intent steps, I flex my muscles and give Christian a hard stare as I enter the cage.
The door locks behind us and I measure my opponents. Levi is tall and gangly, has speed, but will easily be put off balance. Drake has muscles, a solid core, slightly shorter than I am, but he always steps before he punches. It’s been engrained in me to study the way every man I know fights, especially the ones closest to you.
Bloodshot eyes and their hyper energy are telltale signs they’re high. The corner of my mouth raises when the circling starts. They’ll come at me together at first, in hopes to overpower me, wear me down. Then once I’m tired, they’ll split up and go for individual attacks to give themselves breaks and ensure I remain exhausted. They’re dumb fucks if they think the fight will last that long.
They both charge and I slam into Levi. Hand to his throat, I ram him into the cage bars, knocking the wind out of him. Grip tight on his throat, I bring the brass knuckles down on his face. Blood spurts from his nose, then again from his busted lips.
“Fuuuck!” the word roars from my chest.
The cold steal slices across the lower left side of my back. Enraged, I turn on Drake and see him holding the bloody switchblade.
If blood is what they want, blood is what I’ll give them.
Fast hand to his wrist, I wrap my elbow around his arm and kick his leg out from under him. The blade drops and I flip him over slamming him to the ground. No hesitation, I snatch the blade and whip it across his cheek. Blood pours from the thin, neat cut. Flicking the blade into my other hand, I nail it into his thigh.
With the painkiller effects of the coke running through his system, he bellows from the wound, but still has a lot of fight. Seeing Levi come at me with a set of spiked knuckles, I get one brass-knuckled punch to Drake’s face before I duck and roll, dodging the swing of Levi’s arm.
Quick on my feet, I feel the warmth of my own blood running down my skin on the inside of my jeans. That’s gonna need stitches. I need to move fast before I lose too much blood. Drake pulls the blade from his thigh and limps to his feet, holding the bars of the cage.
Circling one another, the crowd is alive with energy, screaming and hollering inaudible words at us. They’re hungry for more.
Waving my fingers, I encourage their attack. Levi’s got good legs, so he comes at me first. With an uppercut of the brass knuckles, he lands on his back. One hard boot to his face and he’s lights out.
Drake circles me, blade in hand. With a fast swing, he grazes my arm, slicing it enough to make me bleed, but not enough to make me give a fuck. The fresh scent of copper fills my nostrils. Crimson red covers Drake’s face and stains his jeans. Watching his feet, he lunges again, and I grab his hand, lock onto it, turn inside his arm and elbow his face, breaking his nose. Pulling his hand backward, the blade drops. With one swift turn, I put brass to bone, knocking him on his ass.
I only stop when I see his eyelids. He’s out cold, and I heave a breath, controlling my fury before I murder him here in front of everyone. Rising to my feet, I pull the brass knuckles from my bloodied hand. The cage d
oor opens for me, and I step out to hoots, hollers, pats on the back, and shots shoved into my hands. I down two for the pain.
All the faces are an adrenaline pumping blur until I see her—my Sparrow. Running to me, I enfold her in my arms, kissing her hard and fierce.
“I need to be inside you, baby.”
“Take me now. I don’t care.”
“Fuck, I love you.”
When her hand pulls back, she sees the blood and her eyes go wide.
“Dom, you’re bleeding bad.”
Raising my arm, she examines the cut. Mercy is beside us. He takes a look.
“C’mon, Dom, we need to get this stitched up.”
With Erika under my arm, we follow Mercy out into the bar and restaurant area.
“Meet me in the bathroom. I’ll get the kit and a bottle of Jack from under the bar.”
With worried eyes, Erika looks up at me, and I wink at her.
“I’m fine, baby. Mercy knows how to do a quick stitch. How long you been here?”
Pushing open the bathroom door, I take a look at the damage in the mirror. The cut is easily four maybe five inches and it’s bled too much already. Erika touches the outside of it, biting her lip in worry.
“Since you stabbed Drake in the thigh. He cut you deep. Should we go to the hospital?”
“Nah, baby, some hard liquor and your pussy will do the trick.”
Her eyes light up and a glimpse of a smile tilts her lips.
Mercy walks in with the stitch kit and nods for me to assume the position. Tossing me the bottle, I twist the cap off and chug several swigs. Handing the bottle to Erika, she takes a couple herself, and my lips curve.
“You gonna watch?”
“Yes, I’m not leaving your side.”
Clipped Wings : (A Kings MC Romance, Book 2, Standalone) Page 15