“Ohhh,” she whispered. “Am I going to get arrested? I thought I was being all stealthy.”
I snorted. “You were being stealthy. Though not stealthy enough not to notice Rafe.”
She cursed low under her breath. “That’s just perfect.” She glared at the man she’d shot. “This is all your stupid fault. You deserve everything you get.”
Kevin started to cry harder.
His incoherent sobbing had me wanting to kick him in the mouth just to get the annoying sounds to stop.
Lucky for me, and unlucky for him, Tommy Tom had the same feeling.
Taking a lunging step forward, he reared back and slammed his fist into the pervert’s mouth.
Then it was lights out Kevin.
“That was pretty impressive,” Ghost drawled from behind us. “It was like Crouching Tiger Hidden Doctor.”
The group behind us chuckled.
Imogen’s watery laugh had me smiling, though, even though everything hurt and I was fairly sure I was dying.
“Let’s go,” I grunted. “Before I fall.”
She looked at me, and then something shifted behind her eyes.
Then the determined and upset-that-I-was-upright Imogen returned.
“I can’t believe you followed me here despite just having surgery,” she reprimanded. “Let’s go.”
She didn’t take my arm, and for that I was thankful.
“Uhhh,” Imogen came to a halt when Tank blocked her way. “What’s wrong with him?”
Once Tank had her attention, he calmly walked around her, clicked and clacked right up to where Kevin was still on the ground crying, and lunged for his throat, stopping only inches away from snapping those deadly teeth down on his neck.
Kevin didn’t move a muscle. Didn’t even twitch. Still knocked out cold. Which likely for him, was a good thing. Had I been on the receiving end of that, I’d have pissed myself.
Tank looked at us, looked back at Kevin, then sneezed on him before turning to return to my side.
He’d been there since I’d left the hospital.
How he’d gotten there was still a mystery to not just me, but to all of the men in my club.
Imogen threaded her fingers into Tank’s thick fur.
Sean—in his wrinkled paramedic uniform—passed us on the way in with his stretcher, and winked at Imogen.
“What was that about?” I asked, ignoring her question.
“That was him telling me he was glad to see me talking, I guess,” she shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Narrowing my eyes, I studied her face, and sighed. “Winking is off limits for other men.”
She eyed me like I was crazy.
“That’s completely irrational,” she informed me as she came to a dead halt at seeing the truck outside. “You drove it?”
I huffed a short laugh.
“Yeah.” I nodded. “But I’m going to need you to drive it back…to the hospital…where I can get back on my pain pump.”
She eyed me warily, almost worried that I wouldn’t make it to the truck, and moved closer to my side.
“Are you about to pass out?” She looked at me worriedly, I’m sure wondering how in the hell she was supposed to get a two hundred and thirty-pound man into a car before he fell all the way to the ground.
“No,” I denied. “I’m gonna make it.”
And make it I did.
The seatbelt and the door, however, were a completely different story.
Chapter 21
I’m not always right, but you’re always more not right. So there.
-Text from Imogen to Aaron
Imogen
Eight weeks later
“Are you sure about this?” she asked, eyeing the couch. “The doctors are just now allowing you to lift a milk jug. Picking up a couch probably isn’t the smartest thing in the world to be doing.”
“Woman,” I snarled. “You better shut your trap before I give it something better to do.”
“Okay, pretty boy.” She poked me in the side. “I’ll shut up just as soon as you find someone else to help you pick up that couch.”
Tank moved, blocking her path, allowing me to catch her before she moved too far away.
“Traitor!” she screeched at Tank, who didn’t look the least bit contrite.
“You were saying?” I asked, backing her toward the couch that I was intending to move.
“I was saying…” she hesitated when I pushed my erection against her ass. “I was saying, ummm, I was saying…”
I grinned and started to move my hand down the back side of her yoga pants.
“Did I tell you how much I like these pants on you?” I continued to work my hand down her pants, slipping underneath her panties as I went.
She licked her lips. “Yes, I think you did tell me about five times during my workout.”
“These yoga pants, paired with your sports bra, have got to be the biggest turn on that I’ve ever been witness to,” I murmured, burying my face into her hair.
She shivered when my beard touched her sensitive skin, but didn’t move away.
“This is the best part of the morning,” I murmured, spinning her around. “Walking out of our shared bedroom to you on your hands and knees doing the Downward Dog.”
Her hands went to the back of the couch, and she looked at me over her shoulder.
“You like me living with you?” she asked. “You don’t mind that I yell at you, and get irrationally jealous.”
I could tell she was trying to tease, but I knew there was a little bit of truthfulness to her words.
She was constantly worried that she’d annoy me in some way—the way that Lynn used to.
What she didn’t understand, though, was that she was nothing like Lynn.
In fact, I had tried to explain, but quickly realized that allowing her to become aware of my feelings of contententment was the better way to go.
“I’ve told you over and over again that nothing you do is annoying…unless you try to make me piss our bed by putting my hand in water.”
She flushed.
“It was a freakin’ joke. I knew you wouldn’t stay asleep—or piss,” she added.
I rolled my eyes.
“You’re just lucky that you didn’t get your ass spanked,” I pushed my hips into her ass, and she collapsed over the side of the couch, her hips at the perfect position for the taking.
I unzipped my jeans and pulled my hard cock out, rubbing the head of it along the seam of her pants.
“You’re gonna have to wash these,” I watched as my pre-come smeared along the black fabric. “I’m sorry.”
She cursed, knowing that I wasn’t really sorry.
I hated when she wore these out.
They molded perfectly to her ass, and I hated how men stared when she walked by.
So no, it didn’t bother me in the least that she’d have to change out of them, especially since I knew for a fact that she’d just tossed the rest of them into the washer not even five minutes ago.
She shimmied her hips, looking over her shoulder at me.
“Are you going to talk, or do it already?” she asked. “Because we have to be on our flight in less than an hour.”
Grinning, I hooked two fingers at each side of her waist, and yanked her pants down to her knees.
She gasped at the sudden movement and braced herself more fully on the back of the couch.
“Jesus, you could’ve warned me you were in a rough mood today,” she teased.
We’d had a lot of time over the last two months to really get to know each other and our likes and dislikes.
For instance, I liked it when she deep throated me when she was on lunch break. She didn’t like it when I grabbed her hair and ordered her to take more.
According to her, she was ‘giving it all she’s got, Captain.’
She didn’t like when I hovered over her while she was working, ei
ther, pointing out things that would be better if she did them differently.
Personally, I did like that. I liked how she was so passionate about what she did. I also liked that she had no trouble telling me to fuck off—even if I was right and she was wrong.
“Aaron,” she hissed. “Please.”
I lifted my cock and drug it across the wetness coating her lips.
“Gotta make sure you’re ready,” I teased.
She growled.
My rabid little pixie.
“You’re about to die,” she snapped.
Grinning, I lined my cock up with her entrance, and slowly slipped inside.
Like every time I took her, the first few moments always took my breath away.
The tight heat of her, paired with the wetness that she only ever had for me, was enough to bring me to my knees.
“You ready for a ride, baby?” I asked her, clamping my hands onto her hips the moment I was fully embedded inside of her.
She gasped for breath.
“Yeah,” she breathed. “I’m ready for you, baby.”
I pulled out then and sank back inside, slow at first to ensure that she truly was ready.
After a few quick glides, I started to take her hard.
My thighs and abs slapping against her soft skin in a steady staccato as I plunged and retreated.
“Ah, God,” she groaned. “You’re killing me.”
Someone knocked on the door, likely Truth ready to drive us to the airport, and I cursed.
“Hurry,” I ordered through gritted teeth.
“Honey?” my mom called through the door. “Are you ready to go yet?”
I froze, half in, and half out of Imogen’s tight pussy.
“Yeah!” I called. “Just give me a minute and I’ll be right out. Imogen’s looking for something.”
Imogen covered her mouth as she tried hard not to laugh.
She wasn’t very successful due to the fact that I could feel her entire body tightening and loosening around my cock.
“All right. I’ll be in the car. Truth said to find it already and come on,” Mom called one last time through the closed door and hopefully moved down the path away from the door.
My girl could get loud when she came, and I’d hate to embarrass her before we sat on a plane with my parents and hers for the next two hours.
“We can’t do this,” she whispered as I started to push back into her.
I laughed.
“Watch me.”
Her head hung, and I grabbed a handful of her ass as I started my rhythm back up.
“You better go or we’ll be late. I’m not coming without you.”
She growled in frustration, but reached her hand back between her legs and started to rub her clit.
Every once in a while, her fingers would hit my balls, and I had to clench down on the need to take her harder and faster. Come in her hot depths without her going.
Luckily, she was close—closer than even she realized—and started to tighten rhythmically around me only a few short seconds later.
She buried her face into one of the couch pillows and groaned, exploding around me.
Finally, able to go, I sped up my thrusts, plunging into her two more times before following her.
“You’re literally trying to kill me. I know it,” she growled.
I snorted and reached for a rag that was conveniently sitting on the couch—clothes that Imogen had folded not even twenty minutes before.
“Still warm,” I murmured as I pulled out and caught my release before it could make a mess all over the couch and her.
Not that it mattered.
She was going to be changing those pants whether she wanted to or not.
And she did…into the tightest pair of blue jeans she owned.
On purpose.
The shit.
***
“Isn’t it kind of weird that your mother is going with us to Kilgore to meet my parents when they all live in the same town?” Imogen broke into my nervous thoughts.
I looked over at her, my eyes taking in her beautiful eyes, and her short pixie cut that she’d just gotten yesterday.
“A little,” I admitted, not daring to tell her the entire truth as to why my mother was coming.
See, this was a wide, elaborate setup.
Something that we were about two minutes from driving right into, even though she had no clue.
The moment we pulled into the gate, she’d know.
Big Papa, Seanshine, Ghost, and Tommy Tom had no reason to be here.
Truth had left us at the airport and had ‘turned around’ and flown back home—or so Imogen thought.
What he was really doing was driving straight to my father’s house while we took the long, scenic route.
Even my mother and Imogen’s parents had opted to take a different car so they could witness me opening my heart, and offering it to her on a silver platter…in front of everyone we both knew. All of our friends and family.
We took the final turn onto my parents’ road, and I groaned when I saw all the cars, sure she would figure it out the moment she realized all the cars belonged to my parents’ place.
But she didn’t.
Not when I opened the truck door and rounded the hood.
Not when she saw all the people—including my club members—on the front lawn, beers in hand.
And not even when she turned around and saw me down on one knee.
“What are all these people doing here?” she asked, confusion in her eyes.
I smiled.
“I wanted to ask you a question,” I told her.
“What kind of question?” she asked suspiciously. “And why are you on your knee? You’re going to get your pants dirty before you see your parents.”
A smile broke over my face.
She really had no clue.
“I wanted to ask you an important question,” I told her, pulling out the little black box that I’d gotten at a jewelry store back home. With not just Imogen’s mother in attendance, but her sisters as well.
It’d been a special kind of hell, but I wanted the ring to be perfect.
And the look in her eyes as I opened the box was totally worth it.
“Will you marry me, Imogen?” I rasped.
People had gathered around, anxious to capture the moment as well as experience it, causing her to lift her gaze.
With wide eyes, Imogen looked around at everyone surrounding her, and promptly burst into tears.
I laughed and pulled her to me by wrapping my arms around her backside.
“You never answered, woman,” I growled.
She looked down at me, placing both hands on either side of my cheeks, and nodded her head.
“How could I say no after you went to all this trouble?” she asked. “I’d hate to embarrass you.”
I growled and bit lightly on her stomach, causing her to squeal.
“Give me my ring, you brute,” she ordered, waving her finger in front of my face.
I slipped the ring onto her finger, tossing the little black box onto the front lawn, causing her to bend over and snatch it up, cradling it to her chest.
The ring shined on her finger, and I felt the biggest relief at knowing she didn’t give me too much hell.
“Why here?” she asked, smiling so wide her face had to hurt.
“This was where I knew that you’d be mine,” I said simply. “Seemed fitting to ask you to be mine here permanently, too.”
***
“Have a safe trip, Bro,” Booth called.
I looked at my brother, instantly suspicious.
“What’s that look for?” I asked him.
Booth only smiled before waving, throwing his arm around Masen, and turning them both.
“That’s incredibly weird,” Imogen said. “I feel like that was too easy.”
With nothing else to do but go throu
gh security, I tugged a lock of Imogen’s hair and urged her forward.
“If he tries to strip search you, I’m going to shove my foot up his ass,” I told her.
We’d not had good luck with airport security. Since the first incident after the day I’d slept with Imogen for the first time, I’d literally despised every single airport security specialist.
Why the fuck did they have to touch her every single time? Not to mention that it never failed. They either stripped searched her, or me.
I’d rather it be me every day of the week, but it never failed. Never.
Today, though would be different.
“Put your bag up there, baby,” I ordered gruffly.
Imogen placed her bag on the conveyor belt, and I followed suit with mine.
The moment the metal detector went off, I started to worry.
I hadn’t put anything in there that should set off the alarm. I’d put my keys, phone, and spare change into the bucket he’d ordered me to. There was absolutely nothing in there.
The security officer pulled my bag down to the table, and started to open the edges.
The moment the bag opened, condoms started to pour out of it, falling to the floor at the man’s feet.
I closed my eyes.
“I’m going to kill him,” I told her. “I’m literally going to kill him.”
But there was a grin working at the corners of my lips, and I knew that Booth had done it because he’d thought it was funny and would lighten my mood.
The security officer even thought it was funny.
“I’m going to have to keep this spoon, Sir.” The officer held up his hand. “The condoms can stay, though.”
As I walked into the terminal, I knew one thing for sure.
This wasn’t the end.
This was only the beginning, and I’d be sure to get Booth back.
Over and over again.
With Imogen at my side.
Epilogue
I even cry in a Southern accent, y’all.
-Wall Sign
2 years later
“Do you know how fast you were going?” I asked the man, who’d yet to roll his window down completely.
“A few over, tops.”
“Actually,” I broke in. “You were going seventy in a fifty. That’s twenty miles over the posted speed limit.”
Beard Mode (The Dixie Warden Rejects MC Book 1) Page 19