Raine Falling (Hells Saints Motorcycle Club)

by Marinaro, Paula

  Uh-oh.

  Diego leaned in and went to put his mouth against mine. When he did, my lips clamped together. As much as I wanted this, I should not want this. This wouldn’t be good for me. This could prove my undoing. This was something that if it started again and stopped again, I didn’t know if I could recover from it. This could hurt. Big time.

  So I turned my head and clamped my lips shut.

  “Raine.” He was nuzzling against my jaw.

  I shook my head and put my hands up to push him away. But, oh my God, I wanted him too. His lips on my neck made me tremble all over. I loved his smell. I breathed in deep, felt my nipples get hard and my legs get weak. I felt aching deep inside my belly and below. And it was building. I was trying my best to resist him. I really was. But I wanted him.

  He looked at me and tucked his two fingers under my chin.

  He said softly, “Not this shit again with you, Raine. Give me your mouth, damn it. Last time I’m gonna ask. Last time I’m going to be fucking nice about it. In about one minute you give it to me or not, I’m going to take it, and it will not just be my tongue that I’ll be putting down your throat, Babe.” His mouth so close to mine I could almost feel his lips brushing against mine.

  “Jesus, Diego. Could you be any more disgusting?” I pushed at him.

  But really, I wanted his tongue down my throat. I wanted his hands in my hair. I wanted to feel his warm, hard body covering me. Oh yes, I did.

  And by the hungry look in my eyes, my guess is he knew.

  CHAPTER 35

  It had taken every ounce of restraint for Diego to stop himself from putting his fist through the door. He was going to fucking kill Crow. And he was not too happy with Raine either.

  But when he saw her go all soft and dewy, her eyes bright with tears, it took everything he had not to rip every stitch of clothing off her beautiful silky skin and bury himself so deep inside of her that she would have no fucking doubt who she belonged to.

  Fucking Crow going there. He would deal with that shit when he got back. Thank fucking everything holy that Crow didn’t get his shit up in his woman. He owned that sweetness, and that asswipe fucking knew it. Whatever stopped him from making his play for Raine was a damn good thing. Crow would be pissing in a bag for the rest of his life, Diego ever caught him up in Raine again. Yeah, he was going to have a fuckin’ man-to-man with his brother Crow.

  But, for now, he was going to focus on her. He had her up against the door, her heavy tits heaving, her nipples peeking out of that shirt like someone was calling their goddamn name. He felt the heat radiating from her so damn hot that he knew her pretty little panties must be drenched right through. And this was all for him. He owned that. All of it. Whether or not she wanted it to be that way, he owned every inch of that soft wet pulsing honey.

  Time to get down to business. Time to let all that honey know where she belonged.

  “Yeah, baby,” he said. “I actually can. I can be a lot more disgusting. As a matter of fact, I’m reining in a whole fucking shitload of disgusting. Been reining it in since the day you and those big beautiful eyes walked into that shit hole of an apartment looking so scared and lost and brave that I had to fight to stop myself from taking you right there in front of my brothers and your sister and her jacked-up fucking boyfriend. I been wanting to be balls deep in you since I first laid fucking eyes on you, baby. Now you’re telling me that fucking Crow almost beat me to that? I’m fighting with everything I’ve got to rein in disgusting.”

  Oh boy.

  “He didn’t almost beat you to it, Diego,” I whispered. Because I had absolutely no pride where this man was concerned, I laid it out there.

  “No?” He was moving his mouth along my jawline.

  “No.” I was breathing heavy now and to tell the God’s honest truth my panties were absolutely positively so wet, I was afraid they were leaving a stain on my jeans.

  “Diego?” I loved the feel of his name on my tongue. I felt my nipples get even harder.

  “Yeah, baby?” His mouth moving to the corner of mine.

  “I’m still not sure this is such a . . .” I gasped. Diego had slipped his hand down the front of my pants and was moving his fingers up and down the outside of my panties.

  “Yeah, that’s my girl,” he said against my mouth. “That’s my good, little baby girl.”

  And as he thrust his tongue gently into my mouth, he put a finger in my honey pot, then two, then three. And he moved those fingers in me slowly. In and out, in and out. Slipping and gliding and tugging against my wetness until I started to spasm. And as his fingers fucked me, his tongue swirled, plundered, and danced in my mouth.

  And he was in.

  Thank God she had opened to him, because in about five more seconds it wouldn’t have mattered. He had never forced a woman, but he had never ever wanted a woman the way he wanted Raine. He was so rock-hard for her he had cum backed up to his spine. Damn fucking damn. The minute he took her mouth, his hand was heading hell-bent to her pussy. Slipped right in. Oh yes, he fucking did. When he felt how wet her little silky panties were he almost shot his load in his pants. God, this woman turned him into a goddamn horny teenager.

  And she was tight and wet and willing. And she gave it up to him. Her tight little V grinding against his big rough hand. He slipped one, then two, then three fingers in her. Then he moved his thumb to her clit and she climbed up on him like she was a dying woman. She wrapped those long beautiful legs around him, her back against the door and she gave it to him. She pushed hard against that hand, soaking him.

  She was ready. So fucking ready. She swung her head back then forward, beautiful big bouncing tit hanging out from the way her shirt had slipped off her shoulder and from his free hand working that magnificent half-dollar-sized nipple. All that long dark hair spilling free from that goddamn braid she had coiled it up in. She met his eyes and held them. He worked her, sliding his fingers in and out, in and out. She fucked his hand hard. Like he liked it. She was being a good girl. His good girl. His fucking incredible very good girl.

  I came hard against Diego’s hand.

  And I mean hard.

  And I wanted more.

  Every part of my body was on high alert. I came against his hand while he had me trapped against a door. I rode that hand like my life depended on it. Wanton and shameless and burning with a raw naked need.

  CHAPTER 36

  Oh. My. God.

  It had been hours. Hours and hours and hours of incredible mind-blowing sex. Mind blowing. Diego was tender and loving, then rough and forceful, then tender again. I couldn’t get enough of him, and my body responded to him in kind. I was shy, then shameless, then hesitant again. He had me up against the wall, then on the floor, then on my back with my legs spread open hitched on his shoulders while his mouth laid claim to me. Mind blowing.

  Dolly had come knocking at the door.

  Then Reno had come knocking at the door.

  Diego had roared a giant, “What the fuck?”

  And Reno had yelled just as loud, “What the fuck?” back.

  Then Diego had opened the door, threw him the keys to the SUV, and told him to tell Prosper that we would be there soon. He slammed the door in his brother’s face and came back to me. Then he showed me some more good time.

  By the time I got to the shower, my girlie parts were sore in a very good way. My mouth was swollen, and I had a pink burn on my face and various other parts of my body where Diego had rubbed his three-day-old five-o’clock shadow against me.

  Sweet Jesus. I looked exactly like a walking ad for hours of very thorough, very mind-blowing sex. My face was in the final stages of healing, and most of the color had muted to quiet yellows, blues, and soft blacks. Now I was adding a deep pink to the mix. Honestly, I looked ridiculous. I looked like I had just gone seven rounds. And I guess, in a way, I had.

&
nbsp; I’ll not even get started on the rats’ nest that was my hair. The crown braid that I had been so proud of had been torn from the pins early in the game. What was left was a screaming mass of tangles from where Diego had pulled and buried and twisted my hair in his big beautiful hands.

  The hot spray of the shower was steaming up the room, and I lost sight of my reflection in the mirror. What I found in that steam were two big hands kneading my ass again and dragging me into the shower where my opponent held me against the ropes. The beautiful man proceeded to score a knockout in the final bout. I went down smiling.

  CHAPTER 37

  While I was putting the final touches on my makeup, I heard Diego on the phone with Prosper making our delay all good. Prosper was sending a brother from the Nevada Chapter of the Saints for us.

  I got busy straightening up the room partly because it needed it, and mostly because after hours of hot sex with Diego, I was having trouble meeting his eyes. I snuck a peek at him from under my lashes. His hair was still damp from the shower, and he had shaved. He smelled of clean soap and warm sex. I turned pink from inside out remembering. I had to get a hold of myself.

  “Babe, if you’re going to turn yourself inside out every time you’re out of my bed, that’s gonna give me all the more reason to keep you in it.”

  I looked up quickly at him, and he was grinning. I threw a pillow at him. Then he started laughing. I had seen the many faces of the moods of Diego Montesalto, but I had never seen him laugh. And it was a thing of beauty. The crinkles around the corners of his eyes stood out, and the dimple on his right cheek deepened. His dark eyes glittered like diamonds, and his beautiful mouth curved in a perfect U-shape.

  Damn him.

  He reached for me, and I ran from him. He caught me and held me close to him. He kissed me long and hard, and I melted against him.

  “Hmmmmm,” he whispered against my ear. “My baby is ready again.”

  He was not wrong.

  His cell rang and I was saved by the bell. Our ride was here. Diego introduced me to Justice, the sergeant at arms for the Nevada Hells Saints Chapter. Apparently, anyone with the title sergeant at arms never did this “chauffeur shit” and Diego was really honored that Justice had made sure he was the one to bring us back to the house. They did the man-hug thing. The two of them shared a flask of something and a pack of smokes on the way to the farmhouse. After that first brief introduction, I was all but forgotten in the back seat. That was fine by me. I had plenty to occupy my mind.

  At one point, I tried to listen in on the conversation. It was a montage of curse words. Every other word was fucking or pussy or prick and those were peppered with phrases like goddamn straight, and you fucking feeling me, or cocksucking asswipe can’t find his own dick with a navigation system. The rest of the words seemed to be spoken in some kind of profane code. The two of them together were pretty bad. I had grown up around that, and my ears were still burning. I tuned them out and went to my happy place.

  Because my happy place involved recent memories of tongue and hands and deep hour-long orgasmic pleasure, I heated up and turned that wonderful shade of pink all over again. My girlie parts started to tingle at the recall, and I squirmed in my seat.

  Diego caught the movement in his visor mirror.

  “Babe.” He smiled at me. And then he winked.

  I scowled at him and looked out the window.

  He grinned and offered me a hit off the mystery flask, which I gladly accepted.

  While I sputtered and coughed and wiped the tears from my eyes as the horrible stuff hit my belly, the two hyenas in the front seat had a good time laughing at my expense. But when the coughing fit was over, Diego leaned into the back seat and pulled me close to him. Then he touched his lips to my forehead.

  “My baby is a lightweight,” he muttered against my hair.

  When he released me I caught Justice’s eyes in the rearview appraising me.

  “So she’s yours, D?” Justice had turned to him.

  I held my breath waiting for the answer. The last time Diego had been asked this I had screamed out a resounding “No!” This time I held my breath. Diego took a minute, maybe remembering that time too. Maybe he was giving me that out. I didn’t know, but it seemed like he took a while to answer. Justice took his eyes off the road and glanced at Diego.

  “Yours, D? ’Cause if that sweet thing ain’t owned, I . . .” Justice began.

  “Don’t even fucking think about it, Brother. She’s mine. All mine. All the time.” Diego was looking at him.

  “You lucky sonofabitch.” Justice grinned and passed Diego the booze.

  “Got that right, Brother.” Diego took a pull on the flask, found me in the visor mirror, and his eyes went soft.

  I colored. Of course I did.

  He smiled a slow, soft smile and held my eyes until I looked away.

  My toes were curling in my boots and girlie parts on red alert.

  Oh boy.

  CHAPTER 38

  We pulled up in front of a white, old plank-board farmhouse. There were probably about a dozen Harleys parked outside. The house was big and could have used a fresh coat of paint, but it had an honest-to-goodness perfect wraparound porch complete with two porch swings. There was pretty gingerbread lattice on the eaves, and the windows were large and clean. A brick pathway leading up to it was lined with blue stone and some pretty perennial plants that I didn’t know the names of. The house was at the end of a long, dirt driveway and stood alone with plenty of space all around it.

  People were milling around the porch. By people, I mean big mean-looking men with Hells Saints Nevada cuts on them. And their women. I would never get used to this, and I still didn’t know why those cuts and those women made me so uneasy. I searched back in the corners of my mind to bring forth something bad that might have happened as a result of being with the shadow people of my childhood, and honestly there wasn’t anything specific there. But there was an uneasiness that would never quite go away.

  Now here I was once again, heading towards the source of that unease. My seat planted in the thick of it. If the entrance into the club a few weeks ago hadn’t sealed it, then the last few hours with Diego probably had. If I wanted him, that meant I had to deal with them. They were his family. His choice. If I stayed with him, with Prosper, with my job at Reds, they would eventually become my family too. Maybe.

  We hit the front steps. There were chin nods at Diego and looks of curiosity at me. I kept my eyes on the prize of the screen door. Diego felt me tense beside him, and he wrapped his arms around my shoulders. I felt more curious stares. And those mostly came from the women. I wondered briefly how many more “Ellies” there were in Diego’s recent and not-so-recent past. Conversation for another day. Maybe.

  The screen door opened to us, and I found myself wrapped in Prosper’s big arms. I didn’t know if I was ever going to get used to the feeling of being swept back to being a little girl every time I heard Prosper’s voice, or looked into his eyes, or found myself in his arms. Aside from Claire, Prosper was the only family I had left. And the difference between him and Claire was that Prosper had always taken care of me, and I had always taken care of Claire. With Prosper, I had felt safe. That’s what the good daddies do.

  “Hey, Little Darlin’. Thanks for making the trip. A man needs his family around at a time like this. Gonna make all the difference in the world to Pinky, you being here.” He kissed the top of my head.

  A man needs his family around at a time like this. And there it was. My heart lifted a little and opened a little. This could be where I belonged. Maybe.

  I entered the house and saw a whole lot more people inside. Diego left me and moved to a small bunch of bikers in the corner of the room. More man hugs all around. Prosper led me toward the kitchen gently with his hand on the back of my neck. It was a large country kitchen with a white porcelain dou
ble sink, a cracked and faded cheap linoleum floor, and chintz curtains on the windows. A large rectangular butcher-block table stood in the middle of the room with a half-dozen mismatched chairs pushed in around it. Every countertop was filled with a covered dish.

  There were lots of blondes (and not one that was naturally born to it) in that kitchen. Every body type. Skinny, curvy, toned, and saggy. All sporting serious cleavage and tight bottoms. Whether those bottoms were skirts, jeans, or shorts, they were all body-hugging. The hair was big, the jewelry was fake, and the tats were real. Except for Dolly and three other redheads of various shades that I spied out of the corner of my eye on the way through, it was safe to say that I was the only non-blonde in a crowd of at least twenty-five women.

  She was standing with Dolly, her back towards me, but I recognized Pinky nonetheless. Knowing what I knew now about the history between Prosper, my mom, and Pinky, I was suddenly very unsure that I should be here. I knew that Pinky had wanted me to come and had even requested my presence. But I wondered, in the seconds I had left before she turned to me, if in her mind’s eye she was expecting the child I had been all those years ago. I wondered if she had taken into account that who would stand before her was the woman I had become. The woman who, by all accounts, bore a striking resemblance to my mother. The dying woman who had owned Prosper’s heart.

  As a matter of fact, until that very moment I hadn’t realized that I was about the same age my mother had been when we lost her. I stumbled back and fell against the hard wall of Prosper’s chest.

  He put both hands on my shoulders, giving them a squeeze, and called out, “Pinky, our baby girl is home!”

  Conversation halted and all eyes fell on me. Pinky turned from the sink, wiping her hands on a dish cloth.