Sarge: Book 8 in the Vengeance MC series

by Thomas, Natasha

  “That’s it. That’s all of it,” I breathe a sigh of relief. “I will never be able to tell you how sorry I am. How much I wish things could have been different.”

  Curling his massive body around my much smaller one, Atlas hushes me.

  “Shh, Em. If you’re done, it’s my turn to speak.” His breath fans my hair as he buries his face in my crown. “A lot of what you told me, I already knew. Like I said, Lucifer was pretty fucking informative when we talked earlier. How you felt, though, what you went through having to give up

  our baby, I had no idea. No fucking clue. And I hate it, Emmy. I hate that you suffered through all of it alone. If I’d have known, I would have done anything I could have to make it better. Can’t change the past, baby, but I can promise to do better in the future.”

  Now it’s my turn to call his name

  “Alas…”

  “No, sweetheart. I sat back and let Gemma tear strips off you. I didn’t have your back as I should have. I didn’t say one fucking word to stop the shit coming out of her mouth. And I regret it. I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry I couldn’t see past my own anger to recognize your pain. I’m so goddamn sorry it took me this long to find you and convince you to give me another chance.”

  Jerking back slightly, I look deep into his eyes and startle at the emotion brewing there.

  “Yeah, it’s not you who needs forgiveness, Emmy; it’s me. I’ve had my head up my ass for so long, but I promise I’m done with that. I can see clearly now for the first time in what feels like forever, and fuck my future looks bleak without you in it. We were given another shot, Emmy, a shot I wanted for decades, and I’ll be damned if we waste it.”

  I don’t say a word because I can’t. I’m literally speechless. This man, this big, beautifully scarred man still loves me. But better yet, he forgives me.

  *****

  Hours later, Atlas grunts,

  “Lie back,” as he crawled up my body between my spread thighs. He had been torturing me, stripping me slowly and carefully, worshipping every inch of my body with his rough touch. My nerve endings are on high alert, and I’m seconds off begging him to take what’s his.

  My blood heats further as I watch him shoulder his way between my legs, exposing me to his gaze completely.

  “I’m gonna taste you, Emmy. Not because you need my mouth on you, but because I fucking need to. I’ve never tasted anything as sweet as you do when you come on my tongue,” his deep rasp sounds, vibrating over my heated skin.

  Goose flesh springs up everywhere he touches as Atlas runs his hands from the inside of my thighs up over my belly to cup my aching breasts. Chills dance the length of my spine. Sex with Atlas has always been intense – something that hasn’t diminished with age.

  But I don’t have time to think about all the phenomenal ways Atlas has made love to me over the years as he lowers his head between my legs and separate the folds of my pussy. His warm breath makes me shiver as it comes into contact with my heated flesh. Atlas’s tongue darts out tenderly lapping the outer lips of my sex, before plunging into my dripping core.

  There was nothing slow and easy about Atlas’s assault on my tender flesh, however. With ease and startling speed, he coaxes my body out of hibernation to have me teetering

  on the edge of orgasm. Two thick fingers thrust into my sex,

  manipulating me G-spot as he attacks my clit, sucking it between his lips.

  But if I thought he was going to let me come, I was wrong. Instead, Atlas stops, looking up at me with heat darkening his gaze and a crooked grin on his face, his beard is wet with my juices.

  “You want me to finish you off, Em, or do you want to come on my cock?” He asks, rotating his fingers, pulling a delicious shudder from me.

  “Your cock,” I answer breathlessly.

  “That’s what I hoped you’d say,” he smirks, before removing his fingers from my pussy and climbing off the bed to remove his clothes.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  ~ Sarge ~

  Status Quo

  The day after Emmy broke down and told me all of the shit she had been bottling up for years, I ordered her to pack up her stuff and put her on the back of my bike. I called one of the prospects to come out and pick up her car and bring it back to our place. I wasn’t going another second without my woman by my side. We have lost too much, just like I told her, and I wouldn’t lose another second I didn’t have to.

  Where I had planned to have my old lady on her back in our bed for a good forty-eight hours before telling anyone she was home, I had to defer for a few hours since almost everyone we knew was at our house eagerly awaiting our return. The women had organized a huge welcome home party for, Emmy. And albeit I was grateful for their enthusiasm, I wanted nothing more than my woman to myself.

  “You did good, old man,” Boss claps me on the shoulder.

  Turning to face him, I nod at Emmy.

  “It was all her, Son. Took me a while to see it, but it wasn’t Emmy who needed to get her shit together. It was me.”

  No truer words have ever been spoken.

  Emmy didn’t need my forgiveness, I needed hers. Not once did I stop to think about why she did the things she did, just that she did them. I let the pain of her actions cloud everything I knew about the amazing woman who owns my heart. I overlooked her suffering, her grief, and fixated on mine.

  We had a lot to talk about, a lot to get off our chests, but for now, she was here, and that was a good start. Everything else would come with time, even a relationship between her and Gemma.

  Boss tips his head to the side of my back deck, where in one of the corners cut off from everyone else drinking and laughing, Emmy and Gemma stand side by side.

  “It’s fucking surreal looking at them like that,” he mutters. “They could be twins if Emmy were a few years younger.”

  Yeah, my daughter is the spitting image of her mother in every way, except for her hair. That’s all me. Gemma’s dark brown hair with strands of burnished red through it is the exact color mine was when I was younger. Gemma’s said more than once that she wondered where she got her hair from since her parents were both blonde, but she did it with a smile so I knew it wasn’t a comment meant to hurt,

  just an observation.

  My heart burst with pride as I watch Gemma and Emmy huddled together. The look of love in Emmy’s eyes as her mouth softens and her body moves closer to Gemma gives me hope. Hope that one day the two women who mean the most to me can find their way back to each other.

  Gemma and I did a lot of talking while Emmy was gone. I had realized my mistake at not standing up for my wife when my daughter tore strips off her, and I wanted to make it right. More than that, I wanted to give my girls the same chance Emmy gave me.

  My daughter is as hard-headed as her old man, though. At first she balked at the idea of hearing what her mother has to say, but deep down, even if it were to give her closure, Gemma knew it was necessary. Which is why she’s here. Gemma promised to try. She promised me that she would let Emmy talk, and that she would listen. Really listen. That she would put her preconceived opinions about the woman who gave birth to her and has loved her every day since aside.

  Clearing his throat, Boss queries,

  “You given any more thought to what you’re going to do now?” Referring to me selling him my shop, Tools, last week.

  I’d been the sole mechanic in Furnace outside of Pipes, the MC’s highly successful custom bike building shop. I

  loved working under the hood of cars, getting my hands dirty, making engines purr again. But I wasn’t fooling myself, or anyone else for that matter; I’m not getting any younger. I want to spend my days with my woman, making up for all the time that we’ve missed, not drowning in grease and testosterone.

  “No thought needed,” I shrug. “I’ll stay on until Wrench, Grady, and Trey have a handle on things, and then I plan on taking my woman on a long overdue ride.”

  Emmy and I had always talked about ridin
g the Pacific Coast Highway from the Mexico border all the way to San Francisco. It was high time I made that happen. And I would, just as soon as I knew the guys I hired during Tools expansion were solid.

  “Sounds good. How long are you planning on being gone?” He asks with a smile.

  “A month, maybe more. We’ll see how it goes,” I grin back.

  “She deserves the world, old man. She’s just lucky she’s got a man who’s willing to see to it that she gets it,” he grunts before heading off in the direction of his wife, leaving me alone to ponder his parting statement.

  *****

  Hours later, when everyone has gone, I lead Emmy up the stairs to our bedroom. When we’re standing in the

  middle of our bathroom, I smirk wickedly at her as I open the shower door, turn on the taps, strip her naked, and push her inside.

  “Even though I like you dirty, baby, I think we both need a shower,” I grunt, hurriedly stripping out of my jeans and boots.

  It doesn’t take more than thirty seconds before my body pressed up against Emmy’s, the hot water sluicing between our bodies. There is no way I will last long enough to survive foreplay. I want my woman now. Hot, hard, frantic. My cock is hard enough to pound nails, standing straight up, leaking pre-come at the tip. Showing her just how much I need her, I take hold of my dick and rub it up and down the slick length of her slit. The wetness I feel dripping from Emmy’s perfect pussy is all the invitation I need. Spinning

  her around to face the wall, I push her into the tiled wall and fit my front to her back. My fingers caress the length of her spine, stopping to squeeze her ass roughly, before sliding a hand between her legs to test the readiness of her pussy.

  Growling when I find her soaking and swollen, Emmy grinds her ass against my cock, earning her a hard swat on her luscious ass. I bend my knees and grab Emmy’s hips, pulling her backward until her ass is tipped up higher, before slamming inside her making her cry out in a mixture of pleasure and pain from my sudden intrusion.

  “I like you like this. At my mercy. Mine to fuck however I want,” I groan, into the base of her neck.

  Emmy moans when I pull out slightly, thrusting up to hit her G-spot just right.

  “Oh, God. Yes. Right there, honey.”

  Feeling her pussy walls clamp down, I grunt,

  “Not yet, baby. You don’t come until I say you can.”

  “I-I don’t think I can wait,” she says on a long shriek as I fuck into her even harder.

  Releasing one hand from her hip, I reach around and finger her nipple, giving it a rough tug.

  “You’ll wait,” I murmur huskily, before plunging my hand between her thighs, seeking out her clit.

  Chuckling at her whimpers at her demands for me to get her off, I pull out until only the head of my cock is

  notched inside her scorching heat.

  “You gonna wait, sweetheart, or am I going to have to punish you?” I ask continuing to slide only the tip of my dick in and out of her cunt.

  Emmy goes wild at my threat, thrusting back against me, trying to force my cock further inside her. Deciding to take pity on her, I thumb her clit and slam myself balls deep. Her breathy wail at the force of her orgasm washing over her almost has me blowing my load before I’m ready. Almost. Gritting my teeth, I hold back and pinch her clit hard, drawing out her climax until she sags into the wall that’s now the only thing holding her up. Other than my cock, that is.

  Letting the aftershocks of her release fade, I lazily stroke in and out of her body. When I feel the subtle pulses wane, I pull out and spin her around to face me, lifting her legs, encouraging her to wrap them around my waist. With my hands on her ass and my face buried in her hair, inhaling her sweet vanilla scent, I lower her back onto my dick. We both moan deeply as I push further inside her, and it takes everything in me not to come right then.

  My hand lets go of her ass, slapping against the wall beside her head, while I plunge inside her. My thrusts are rough, hurried, desperate, as I feel my orgasm building in intensity.

  “Gonna need you to come again for me, Emmy. Not going to last much longer,” I warn, punching my hips forward.

  Emmy throws her head back, crying out her pleasure as

  I swivel my hips so that I’m grinding against her clit. My lips crash to hers, silencing her with a deep, claiming kiss. My balls pull up tight, my cock jerks inside her as I feel her next orgasm rushing to the surface. Just when I think I could do this forever, Emmy tears her mouth from mine and bites down on my ear lobe. My weakness.

  “Now, Atlas. I need to come now, and I want you to come with me,” she murmurs into my ear.

  My pleasure, I think as I piston my hips faster, pushing my cock into her as deep as I can.

  With three more thrusts, Emmy comes beautifully all

  over my cock, and I follow her over. My cock explodes inside her pussy, bathing her wall with hot, thick jets of my seed. Goddammit!

  “Fuck, yes,” I hiss raggedly.

  For long moments, we stand just like that; Emmy legs around my waist, my spent cock wilting inside her and our foreheads pressed together. But eventually, I have to put her down. I’m not in my twenties or thirties anymore for Christ sake.

  Slowly lowering her to her feet, I steady Emmy with my hands on her hips and look deep into her beautiful blue eyes.

  “God, but I fucking love you woman.”

  “And I love you,” she smiles, reaching for the body

  wash.

  *****

  Two weeks later, I have the woman I was born to love, the only woman I have ever loved on the back of my bike as we ride along the winding highway that will take us on our next adventure.

  Our journey has been a long one, but we haven’t reached the end of it yet. My only hope now is that the road is smoother, now that the storm that was our beginning has passed. But I suppose we’ll just have to wait and see. And fuck me, if I can’t wait to see what happens next.

  EPILOGUE

  ~ Shade ~

  “The best things in life are the most dangerous. Motorcycles and Women. Not necessarily in that order, either.”

  – Honest truth

  “I can’t conceive of one fucking thing you could say that would make me want to stick around to hear you out,” I sneer at the man claiming to be my father.

  After twenty-nine years of not knowing the deadbeat who donated his sperm to my useless, piece of trash mom, why change that now? At one point, I wished for a dad like the other kids at school. Someone to throw a football with, do guys stuff with and teach me how to be a man, but those days are long gone.

  Glaring at the shell of a man in front of me, I shake my head in disgust. At about six or seven inches shorter than my six-foot-five, and forty pounds lighter, he looks more like a deadbeat junkie than a successful real estate broker his business card claims him to be. His dark hair interspersed liberally with gray is slicked back, and his suit

  that may have been fashionable and fit him well back in the day hangs off his frame.

  Just when I’m about to tell him to get lost, he opens his mouth and says,

  “Gemma.”

  My hands ball into fists at my sides, and it takes everything in me not to jump over the fucking table and beat the shit out of him for daring to utter her name.

  Gemma hasn’t spoken to me since she stomped out of the clubhouse a few weeks ago. I tracked her ass down at home later that night and banged on her door for ten minutes before she basically told me to fuck off and leave her alone. I did what she asked, or I should say, I did, to a point. I sat across the road from her house that night and every night since, just watching her come and go; making sure she was okay.

  Her brothers, Christian and Jacob, were frequent visitors, as was her sister, Ebonee. But it wasn’t until a big guy, one that rivaled my height and two-hundred and forty pounds started showing up that I decided enough was enough. Gemma might be pissed at me, but I’d be damned if I was going to let another man steal her out
from underneath my nose. She is mine, and the sooner she realizes that, the better it will be for her and me.

  So over the course of the last few nights, I came up with a plan sitting on my bike in the freezing fucking cold, watching her shuffle around her house going about her

  business. I was going to woo her. Fucked if I knew exactly what that entailed, but I knew it would have to be good. Women liked flowers and shit. I’d buy her a million of the bastards if I had to. Chocolates, too. Especially since Gemma has the worst sweet tooth of anyone I know. Yeah, that’ll work.

  Refocusing my attention on the asshole sitting across from me, I beat back visions of the gorgeous, curvaceous redhead that’s been consuming my every waking thought.

  “I’m only going to say this once; do not ever say her name. Unless you want me to rip your fucking arms off and beat you to death with them, that is.”

  John Duke – that’s what his card says his name is – holds a placating hand up.

  “Whoa. I’m not threatening the girl or anything, I was just going to tell you she’s late on her mortgage payments. Her bank contacted my agency and asked us to take over the sale if she does come current on the loan soon.”