by K. L. Savage
“Patrick. This could be the only liver. You will die without it,” I warn him.
“I can’t,” he struggles to say. “I can’t take the liver of my sister’s killer. I can’t have that darkness inside me. No.”
“But what better way to say, ‘fuck you,’” Dr. White says. “What better way than to live the life he never could. You will do things for the rest of your life that he would hate. You’d be a better man. You’d never be the scum he was.”
“She’s right,” Reaper agrees.
“He would hate it,” Tool says. “Can you imagine how pissed he’d be knowing he is helping someone? Come on, Patrick. We need you here with us. Fuck him. Don’t let him take your life away again.”
“Come on,” I beg and squeeze his hand. “I just found you, and you bring so much good in my life. Please, don’t go like this. I love you. I need you here with me.”
“He did horrible things,” Patrick says, taking a minute to catch his breath. “What if I get his liver and I become like him?”
“We won’t allow that to happen.”
Reaper nods toward Skirt. “And that would never happen because you’re a good man. Someone who fights for what he loves, who he loves. We are asking you not to give up that fight over fear. You deserve this liver. You deserve to take from him like he took from you.”
“Take it,” Knives says.
“Take it.”
“Take it!”
“Take it!” Tongue steps forward.
“Take it!” Poodle stands by Tongue and chants along with everyone else.
I grab onto his hands and kiss his yellow knuckles, hating that the fearing storm in his eyes is gone, replaced with the promise of death. “Please, take it.”
Patrick looks over everyone’s faces as he lays there in the hospital bed. One singular tear escapes the corner of his eye and falls down his cheek. He sniffles and meets Dr. White’s emotional face. “I’ll take it.”
I thought ‘I love you’ were the best three words to hear, but I was wrong.
Epilogue
Pirate
Eight weeks later.
I’m healing nicely after my transplant, and surprisingly the taste for alcohol is nearly gone. Maybe the temptation was in my old liver, and this new one is a way to say ‘fuck you’ to Hester for what he took from me. Not only am I beating the odds of liver failure, but I’m not relapsing into another drunk spiral. I figured I would after I had his liver, but if anything, the challenge to be better just to spite him is enough high for me.
The yellow tint on my skin is gone, and my energy is coming back. Once I heal up enough, I won’t be draining the club account for booze anymore. I have a job lined up at the garage. Everything is falling into place.
Well, almost everything.
There’s the issue with sex.
Sunnie and I haven’t had it in awhile since I’ve been healing, and I’m ready to try again. I wonder if either of us will be able to fall over the edge this time since our nightmares are over. We both go to our support meetings like Reaper has made us do, and we are better than we’ve ever been.
I want to try. I have a good feeling about it.
Plus, I might have stolen Patricia’s romance novel, so Sunnie can finally know the ending. Patricia’s dead. She isn’t going to miss it.
While I was healing, Skirt and the guys built me a small two-bedroom cabin on the property.
And while the deck still needs to be completed, the inside is done after round the clock work. So we are kind of trapped inside for the time being, which I don’t mind because I plan to use all of this alone time in bed, fucking my woman until she’s coming on my cock.
It’s been too long since either of us felt good, and it’s time to put our pasts behind us. I slowly walk out of the bathroom and take my shirt off. I know the surgical scar isn’t the sexiest, but hopefully she still finds my body attractive.
I slink out of the bedroom door and hide the book behind my back. She’s on the couch, tongue sticking out between her lips as she types something on the computer. “Hey,” I say, watching her head tilt up, and her beautiful sapphire eyes bore into mine. Her tongue is still poking out between those pretty rose petals, only this time, she’s licking her lips now.
Her blonde hair in a loose braid that hangs over her shoulder, and my cock hardens when I imagine wrapping it around my wrist, fucking her from behind. Her eyes drift down my body, stop at the scar, but then work their way down, landing on my erection through my sweatpants.
“Hi,” she says, a bit of a husk in her tone.
I toss the book at her and strip off my pants, then wrap my hand around my cock. “Read the filthiest thing in the book to me and we will act it out. When we are sated, which we will be, you’ll finally give me the ending of Samuel and Elizabeth.”
“Patrick, we can’t. You’re healing.”
I continue stroking myself and kneel between her legs, loving that she’s only wearing one of my t-shirts and a thin pair of lace panties. I run my hands up her legs, and the soft flesh of her thighs hit my palm, and I moan. Shoving my hands under her, I grip her ass and place her on the edge of the couch, then lift the shirt over her head.
Fuck yes, she isn’t wearing a bra.
Her nipples are hard and pointed, reminding me of when she wore the white shirts from the rehab center. It has officially shut down, and all of the patients were moved to a different facility. I bend down and suck a nipple into my mouth, almost passing out from how good her body feels so close to mine again.
“Patrick,” she pants. “We can’t. I don’t want you to get hurt.” Her back bends when I move to the other breast. I grunt in surprise when I feel her hand wrapped around my cock.
I kiss my way up her body, lick the side of her neck, and steal her mouth in a heated kiss. She whimpers, and I greedily swallow it, starving for the sounds of her pleasure again. I pour my own whines down her throat, telling her what she feels is very much reciprocated. “The only way you’re going to hurt me is if you don’t let me inside you.” I knead her tits in my palm, and she throws her head back, spreading her legs for me.
She doesn’t argue with me. She’s too far gone. Her thighs are wide open, showing me a place of wet tranquility. The blue lace has a wet spot in the middle, showcasing her need. I want to go slow. I want to ravage. I want to tear her apart. I want to claim and own, but I want to love her all at the same time.
And thanks to her, I know how to do that.
My lips trail along her inner thigh, inhaling the scent of sugar and spice from her lotion. “I can’t believe you’re mine.” I suck her flesh into my mouth and bite down, and the spot in her panties grows bigger as her cries get louder.
“Patrick,” she whimpers the name I only ever want to be called by again. I don’t want to be attached to Pirate in any way. I’m not drunk off rum, gin, whiskey, or anything else. I’m healing. I’m more than an addict.
I’m human.
I’m capable of being fixed.
I’m not worthless.
I’m not Pirate anymore.
The only thing people will see me holding onto is Sunnie’s hand. She’s more than a person to me. She’s more than some odd chance at love. She’s my light at the end of a really long, winding, fucked up pitch-black tunnel. She’s hope and peace, a familiar soul, a kindred part of me that goes so bone fucking deep that without it I don’t think I’d be able to breathe.
When I say she is everything, I mean she is my salvation. She’s the one I pray to when I struggle, when I crave the thirst that latches on to the back of my throat.
I thought I’d find my heaven after a nightmare.
She’s the reason why my world spins. Her touch on mine slows down time. She’s the beginning and the end; she’s the heartbeat in this once dead chest.
So when I say Sunnie is everything, she is the reason why blood still courses through my veins. She’s my life.
And I’m hers in this life and all the others we wil
l live in this world. I’ll find her again when we die. A love like ours doesn’t stop at the end of our time; it’s infinite.
I lay my head against her stomach for a few seconds to compose myself and squeeze her sides before I kiss her chest, her stomach, and then mouth her clit through the fabric of her panties. She gasps and buries her hands in my hair, pulling me forward until my nose is rubbing against her slit.
I wrap my fingers in the waistband of her panties and yank them down her legs. Her blonde bush is trimmed, shaped, and perfect. I never thought I’d miss the wildness of it before, but I do. I’m reminded of a time when we were lost and nothing made sense.
Except her. She made sense.
“You’re so goddamn beautiful it hurts, Sunnie.”
“So are you, Patrick.”
And for the first time, I believe her.
I latch my mouth onto her folds, sucking each lip until I can’t taste her cream. “No, no,” she begs. “I need you.” She tightens her hand around my cock, emphasizing what she really needs. I spin us around and sit on the couch while she hovers above me. I can’t do much since my side is still hurting, but I’m not complaining since she looks so damn hot on top.
She reaches between us and holds my cock steady to her entrance and sinks down. I love watching her mouth part when she’s full of me. She glides down slowly until her ass is pressing against my thighs, and her hands fall to my chest, careful not to touch my scar. “God, it’s been too long.”
In more ways than one.
My hands navigate her body until they land on her tits. I roll her elongated beads, and she rocks her hips. I want to lean my head back and relax while she takes control, but I don’t want to miss a damn second of her fucking me.
“Fucking ride me, babe,” I tell her, and she tilts her chin down and stares at me through her light brown lashes, giving me a seductive snarl.
Her nails pinch my skin as she fucks me with zero restraints. She fucks me hard and fast, impaling herself on me harder and harder. Her tits bounce, and she tries to throw her head back, but I catch her by the braid, and use it as leverage to fuck her harder. With every downward stroke, I thrust up, sinking myself deeper in her peach.
Fuck, I want a taste. I dip my hands below and insert two fingers next to my cock and on the next stroke, she stretches fully.
“Oh fuck, Patrick,” she whimpers and looks down where we are connected. She grinds her swollen, erect clit against my pelvis. “That’s it. Oh, fuck.” Her eyes widen, and her hands slide up my chest to wrap around my neck. “Don’t stop. You feel so good. Don’t stop. Oh, god. I think I’m going to come. I think I am.”
I hate that she doesn’t know. It’s been too long. I snatch the back of her head and yank her forward for a sloppy, messy kiss. I keep one hand on her hip and drag her along, helping her get to that high.
“Patrick!” she rips her mouth from mine, and the pure ecstasy on her face has my balls pulling tight.
I glance down to where she’s riding me in surprise, and I see how drenched she is, pouring her nectar all over me the closer her orgasm comes. My spine tingles, and my toes curl, and a low burning swirl that’s lightweight in my chest uncurls, and I know I’m about to fall over the edge too.
“Faster. Harder. Oh, god, please!” she begs, leaning back so far, her hands fall to my shins, and the penetration is deeper, but the base of my cock isn’t inside her cunt. I can see her lips gliding over the flesh. Her stomach is tight and lean, just like her cunt. “I can’t,” she cries, falling against me in a fit of rage.
I’m not leaving this couch until she does. We have come too far and been through too much to not enjoy something as simple and natural as an orgasm. My fingers slide between her cunt and find her clit, and I fucking pinch it, tug it, pull it, then rub it in quick circles.
“Patrick! Patrick, yes, yes!” she screams at the top of her lungs as her body bucks, gyrates, and shatters. She gushes all over me, soaking my thighs and dripping down my sack as her orgasm rips through her and tears her apart.
The smile on her face, the sheer blitz has me pumping into her once, twice, then burying myself to the hilt. I hold her close and pour every drop I have into her depths. Her muscles clench and spasm, drinking my seed. “Sunnie,” I shout, and orgasming feels so fucking good it hurts.
I’m shaking.
I’m in disbelief. I was confident this would happen, but I was still unsure.
“We did it!” She giggles. “And it felt so good. Let’s do it again.”
“Give me two minutes.” I chuckle, lifting two tired fingers. The same fingers that were just in her pussy. I bring them to my mouth and moan. I love how her sweet peach tastes.
As she lays there and we catch our breath, I think about the first time we had sex and how frustrating it was that we couldn’t come; same with all the other times, but it still felt good. I think about the journey, the sessions, the meetings, the damn chips I have for how many days I’ve been sober. The letters the MC wrote me that I’ve never read because I’m too fucking nervous to. I’m not ready for what the paper says.
I think about getting her back. Regardless of the blocks in our heads when it came to sex, I still wanted her, with or without the orgasm.
“I wonder what Gale is doing.”
I stare down at her and scoff in disbelief. “If you’re thinking of Gale, I must have done something wrong.”
She giggles and shakes her head. “I’m just wondering. We never heard from her. I hope she’s okay.”
“Let’s not talk about Gale.” I flip her onto her back and slide in and out slowly, making sure it doesn’t hurt my stitches. “Let’s make you orgasm a few more times. We have a lot of time to make up for.”
I make love to her all day and night, sending us over the edge until we are bone tired. She’s the rest of my life. My time well spent.
She’s my addiction.
THE END
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Surprise Scene
Three weeks later
I’m wasted.
I lift my drink into the air and scream ‘Fuck it’ at the top of my lungs. A hot little hunk comes up to me, shirtless, way too young for my old ass, but after all the shit that hit the fan, I need to let loose. I’m so fucking done working in rehab. I’m going to travel. I’m going to die doing all the wrongs in life that I never did when I was younger.
I’m going to dance to Cardi B’s WAP, whatever the fuck that means, and I’m going to wake up in the morning with regrets.
I’m in Jamaica, living my life in a luxurious beach house, and I never plan to go back to the States.
“Hola, Mami!” A gorgeous man with tan skin and white shining teeth aligns his body with mine. He has a six-pack and is smoking a joint.
I’ve never smoked before.
“You’re looking gorgeous.” He kisses along my ear.
“I’m too old for you.” I bat his hand, but bring him closer until I feel that delicious ridge of his cock. Oh my god, it’s been so long since I’ve had sex. Ten years? I think. I stopped caring when my husband died.
Why did I stop caring about my sex life? There are so many men out there who love older women.
And I’m going to eat it up. I’m sure there are people worried about me, but I’ll send a postcard.
I have more important things to do.
“Si, Mami, you are.” He kisses down my neck and back up to my ear, sucking the lobe into his mouth.
“Oh, dear.” I melt against him.
“I like my women older. You’re better in bed. How about we go back to your place, and I’ll show you a good time.”
Just as I’m about to turn around, another man with beautiful chocolate skin and chiseled features holds out a shot glass. I go to reach for it, but he lifts it in the air and places the shot glass in his mouth and squats to my height.
“You want me to get that?” I squeak, feeling foolish for not knowing.
; The man behind me rubs his seductive hand down my body and he whispers, “Si, Mami. Drink up.”
I wrap my lips around the glass and drink down the tequila. The stranger stands to his impressive lumbering height and brings his lips to mine, shoving his tongue in all corners of my mouth, drinking any remnants of tequila.
“You taste good.”
Oh my. I’m surrounded. What is a woman supposed to do?
“You want both of us, Mami?” the sexy man with the Spanish tongue licks the shell of my ear. “You can have us.”
What is it that the young people say these days? YOLO?
I’m going to YOLO the fuck out of these hot men, and then it’s time to move on to Brazil because fuck all the bullshit, you know? Life’s too damn short to not sleep with gorgeous men. I played by the rules for far too long.
Make a mess of yourself.
You can clean up later.
Listen to an old lady. You’ll thank me.
Acknowledgments
To my Ruthless Readers—you ladies are amazing, and I love that you’re so passionate about the series you have your husbands reading it.
GMB, as always, you guys rock!
To the Bloggers and reviewers who reviewed Pirate—I was at Whataburger tonight with my stepdad, it’s kinda our thing I guess, late night Whataburger trips lol, but I was on Goodreads and reading your reviews out loud, and y’all had us both choked up. He said, “Damn, now I wanna skip ahead and read it. Those reviews are phenomenal and paint such a vivid picture.” So once again thanks for all you do.
Silla, you have turned into my Ruthless Keeper, and I’ll always be thankful. I probably shouldn’t say this because someone might try to steal you, but 99.99% of the time everything runs so smooth and falls into place because of all your countless hours of hard work. You have never been just our editor or our assistant—you have always been our third. (That sounded kinda dirty)