by Kay Maree
Approaching Trace from the side, careful not to startle him since he’s holding one big bastard of a machete, I state, “He’s done, man.”
“No,” Trace grunts. “He’s done when I say he’s fucking done.”
Trace lands another solid hit to McDougal’s jaw that has his head snapping back, and a string of curses escaping his blood filled mouth.
Once the asshole goes quiet, Trace steps back to admire his handiwork, giving me the only opportunity I need. Leveling my gun at the bastard’s forehead, I drill two rounds into his skull before he can even thank me for the mercy I’m showing him.
“What the fuck?” Trace hisses, turning his anger clouded eyes on me.
“I’ve got a wife to get home to. And those men have women to see to, so do you. Lesson, Trace. When a man knows death is coming for him, it stops being about retribution and consequences and starts being personal. Don’t be that man, Trace. I’ve been there, and that’s not the kind of road you want to walk down. Go home to your woman, and sleep easy knowing that he paid for his actions, not with blood on your hands. That shit doesn’t wash off easy; trust me.”
Understanding flares in Trace’s eyes before he gives me a nod of thanks, and walks back to join the others. With one last look at McDougal’s lifeless corpse, I pull out my lighter and call out for the boys to exit the warehouse.
This property is owned by Satan’s Sons. They know I’m here, and what’s about to go down, so they won’t be surprised when the call goes out there’s an out of control fire raging.
Lighting the gas soaked rag, I stride out of the warehouse before it bursts into flames without a single shred of remorse for the motherfucker who deserved worse than he got after the life he led.
It doesn’t come as a shock that my wife is awake, sitting on the couch waiting for me when I get home. She messaged me two hours ago, telling me that her brother, Levi was driving her home from the hospital. Apparently, Scarlet fell asleep after using up the last of her energy to try and get Locke to go home. Albeit, she was unsuccessful since Locke had no intention of leaving until Scarlet was released the next day, I’ve got to give the woman props for thinking her bitching would work.
“Hey, baby,” she murmurs, coming to stand in front of me.
Her hair is mussed from running her hands through it, and she’s only wearing a pair of sweats and my Tee, but damn if Tatum isn’t the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen. “Come here,” I growl.
“I’m right here,” she grins, resting her palms on my chest.
“Closer,” I demand, needing to eradicate the space between us.
“Tell me what you want, honey,” my wife murmurs, pushing my jacket off my shoulders.
“Bedroom. Now,” is all I can grunt, grabbing her hand and dragging her down the hall to our room.
Once there, I set about tagging a pillow off the bed and dropping it on the floor by my feet. Tatum understands exactly what I want and doesn’t delay in giving it to me.
On her knees, peering up at me through heavy-lidded eyes, my wife goes to work, and in the process, blows more than just my goddamn mind.
Chapter Fourteen
Tatum
Lucifer’s body jerks as my tongue makes slow circles around the fleshy tip of his erection. Every swipe, pushing him closer to the edge as he growls and mumbles about being ready to explode. Lucifer isn't good when it comes to giving up control, so the fact that he is letting me play, allowing me to taste him without his hands or his mouth getting involved is a big deal.
My husband’s powerful body twitches with the need to take over, to reach down and drag me into his strong arms. His biceps bulge with the barely leashed desire to clench my hair in his fists and guide my movements. Lucifer is naked from the waist down, his heavily muscled thighs on display, as is the delicious V, pointing directly to the object of my current obsession.
Lucifer's cock is long, thick, and pulsing with need. The velvety soft flesh covering the steel beneath is a work of freaking art. I've never been with a man as well-endowed as Lucifer, not even close. He is eleven inches of pierced perfection that literally makes my mouth water at the very sight of his magnificent manhood.
My hand works his shaft up and down, alternating with each bob of my head. The emotions displayed in Lucifer's deep green eyes are intense, overwhelming even. Knowing that I'm doing this to him, that I'm making him feel so much is a heady feeling. Usually, Lucifer is so self-contained, emotionally locked down, so to watch him like this, to see him unravel under my hands and mouth is amazing, to say the least.
“Take your shirt off,” I demand, taking him deep into the back of my throat.
He complies. Oh, God, does he comply.
With smooth, practiced motions, Lucifer reaches behind his head and drags his tight gray T-shirt over his broad shoulders before throwing it onto the floor. I can't help but rake my eyes over every inch of toned, tanned flesh he's uncovered. The ridges of his abdominals. The valley between his pectoral muscles. The solid wall of his chest. He's beautiful to look at, no doubt, but what turns me on the most is Lucifer's ability to create a binding connection between us with just one flash of his dark eyes. It's magnetic, full of unbridled lust and passion. It's us.
Doubling my efforts my hand moves faster, my mouth makes wet slurping sounds every time I pull back until just the mushroom head of his cock is leaking tantalizing wetness on my tongue. His breath becomes choppy, broken, desperate. My legs clench at the sight of him so close to coming. I want him to finish in my mouth. I want to taste him. To drink him down.
Lucifer makes no secret that I'm only still on my knees before him because he wants me to be. His fingers work their way into my hair, tugging, pulling, fisting the weight of it in both hands. “You want my come, Tatum? You want me to come in that pretty little mouth of yours?”
Oh, God, yes. I want that. I need it.
Humming around his thick shaft, I nod my answer. With precision and speed, Lucifer thrusts into my mouth, bumping the back of my throat with each forward motion of his hips. “Are you going to let me fuck your mouth, or do you want to keep pretending you're running the show?” He grunts as pre-come coats my tongue.
Another moan and nod from me is all he gets, but it's enough. Lucifer knows what I want, how to get us both there. And he does.
His cock jumps in my hand when I hit the sensitive spot on the underside of the tip. Lucifer plunges in deeper, making me gag and splutter, but he doesn't stop, and I hope he never does. My eyes are watering, and my knees are aching from kneeling too long. My pussy aches; my juices steadily, bathing my inner thighs. I swallow as much of his length as I can, massaging his balls with my free hand as I feel Lucifer's body go rock solid under my touch.
“You better be ready, baby because I'm gonna come. I'm gonna come so fucking hard,” he grunts, flexing his hips until my nose is nestled in the hair around the base of his cock.
I suck hard, ravenously, desperate to milk every drop of his release from him. My cheeks hollow, and my hand tightens as I the first jet of hot, salty come hits the back of my throat.
“Fucking Christ,” Lucifer hisses, holding my head steady as he feeds me his cock.
His thighs clench, as do his abs when his cock swells even larger before coming in hot, thick streams that I gratefully and dutifully swallow down. Gritting his teeth,
Lucifer snarls a string of curses. His head falls back, exposing the smooth expanse of his neck as he roars out his release. “Yes. Fucking hell, yes. So good, Tatum. So goddamn fucking good,” he grunts, stroking his still hard cock in and out of my mouth.
My mouth, hands, and tongue continue to work his length until he is spent and panting, his hold on my hair going lax. Lucifer's body is loose now, limber and sated. The dark shadows shrouding his eyes are gone, replaced by sleepy satisfaction. This is exactly what I wanted; for him to relax. To show that it's okay for him to give himself over to me and that I will always take care of hi
m. I need him to know that our relationship will always be give and take, not just him protecting me and issuing demands. Although, there are times, like now for example, that I’m only too happy to give into his more dominant side.
Chapter Fifteen
Lucifer
While Tatum pulled her shirt over her head and took off her bra, I stripped her of her skirt and panties. I was already naked after her having sucked me off, so as soon as every inch of her flawless skin was exposed to my gaze, I dove on her like a starving man. I wanted to feel her body against mine. Tatum writhing under my hands and mouth. Watch as Tatum’s lips fell open in the perfect O as I finger fucked her to orgasm. Oh, yeah, that’s definitely what I wanted.
I’d missed her; two nights without her was too long. “Spread your legs wide for me, baby,” I demand, trailing my fingers over the taut expanse of her stomach. “This is going to be quick,” I admit shamelessly as I crawl to kneel between her splayed thighs.
Wrapping my hand around the base of my cock, I slide my fist up and down a few times, stopping to smear the drops of pre-come leaking from the tip over my already sensitive flesh. Memories of Tatum’s mouth sucking my dick have me close to coming before I even have the chance to get inside her. That along with the sight of her dripping wet pussy, so pink, so perfect is almost more than I can handle after being alone with my hand for forty-eight hours.
Lining myself up with the entrance to her cunt, I rock back and forth, covering my cock in her cream. My balls are aching with the need to fuck her, so I do.
Entering Tatum in one hard thrust, she cries out at the invasion. “Marcus!”
Tatum didn’t waste any time reverting to using my given name after I spanked her ass pink for calling me anything but. I didn’t like the sound of Lucifer coming from her lips, and she knew it. She did it to bait me, except her little plan to piss me off backfired on her. Specifically, her ass. Tatum may have bitched me out for a few days afterward, complaining about how uncomfortable it was to sit down on the hard, leather seat in the back of the ambulance, but she didn’t tell me not to do it again. A fact I filed away for the next time I thought she needed a lesson in behaving herself.
Looking into my wife’s eyes, I can see the desperation in them. I can feel her cunt convulse around my cock, pulling me in deeper, refusing to let go. Neither of us needs any more foreplay; the blowjob was enough to make her wet as fuck and me harder than a steel spike.
My hips take on a life of their own as I thrust inside her, taking Tatum harder than I ever have before. “God, yes. Please, Marcus,” she begs, borderline incoherent in her blissed out state.
“What do you want, sweetheart? Harder, softer, deeper; tell me, and it’s yours.”
My hands reach underneath her, grasping one cheek in each hand so that I can angle her up to take me deeper. I hit her sweet spot, and Tatum’s back arches, thrusting her tits upward toward my mouth.
Not one to turn down an offer like that, I drop my head and suck. I flick her nipple, biting down when I know her pleasure is at its peak and she won’t even feel the sting of my teeth.
Desire and need builds in the base of my spine, but I’ll be damned if I come before my woman does. Tatum’s pleasure is my right, my responsibility, my reward for all the shit I’ve lived through. Making her come so hard that she’s blinded by the strength of her orgasm fulfils me in a way my own release never could.
“Answer me, baby,” I groan, sucking her other nipple into my mouth. The vibrations of my voice over her soft flesh makes her shiver and clamp her legs tighter around my waist.
With the release of a low moan, Tatum’s eyes flicker closed before opening again and locking on mine. “I want it all. Everything you can give me, I want it.”
Her wish is my command.
Shifting our positions, I come to rest on my knees, dragging Tatum right along with me until her ass is perched on the top of my thighs. Not once do I allow our connection to falter, though. Being connected to Tatum like this, in the most intimate way a man and woman can be surpasses phenomenal. It’s everything.
My cock tunnels deeper into her heat at this angle, stroking her G-spot with every twist of my hips. I absorb her moans with my mouth, as Tatum does mine. Our kiss is frantic, filled with desperation and so much passion I can feel wetness pooling at the backs of my eyelids. “Fuck, I love you, baby,” I say in a hoarse whisper.
I might not tell her enough, in fact, I know I don’t, but I love this woman down to the very depths of my soul. Tatum is the light to my dark. The soft to my hard. She’s every beat of my heart and the very breath in my lungs. I literally live and breathe for this woman; I always have.
Tatum cups my jaw, pulling me down until only an inch separates us. “I love you doesn’t come close to explaining how I feel about you. But until I find a better way to tell you what you mean to me, I love you will just have to do.”
The weight of her words crashes into me with the force of a hurricane. She shreds me emotionally, exposing my vulnerable side that I work hard to keep hidden. A tear escapes my eye, dripping onto Tatum’s cheek, but she doesn’t make a big deal about it. Tatum simply brushes it away and kisses me gently as she tilts her ass to deepen my strokes.
Needing to show her what that one simple action means to me, I growl as I fill her completely. I pull out until just the tip of my cock remains inside her, and reach between us to thumb her clit. “Open your eyes and look at me, baby. I need you to watch me make love to you.”
With every torturously slow thrust, Tatum’s pussy pulses around my cock. Her inner walls are swollen and sensitive as I keep at her until she can take no more. Her body trembles and her skin breaks out in a fine layer of sweat. I rake my eyes over her, committing what she looks like on the verge of climax to memory.
It only takes half a dozen more thrusts before Tatum is screaming my name as her orgasm grips her and me along for the ride. My cock jerks inside her, spilling my come into her tight cunt. Jet after jet of my seed bathes the walls of her pussy, hopefully making its way to her womb.
We stay like that for what feels like hours, me stroking my palms up and down her thighs, while Tatum languishes in the aftermath of the orgasm I gave her. When her body goes lax with sleep, I slowly pull out of her and shift her to lay flat on the mattress on her back. I climb from our bed and wet a washcloth with warm water, cleaning my cock and then Tatum. Not once does she move, not even a flutter of her eyelids. When I’m finished, I throw the cloth in the direction of the laundry hamper and climb back in beside her.
Pulling the covers up over us both, my arms wrap around Tatum as I settle her head on my chest. Sleep will come easy tonight. The weight of my wife pressed up against my side, and the smell of us still hanging heavy in the room is enough to lull even the worst of insomniacs to sleep.
Just as I’m drifting off, Tatum’s soft murmur has my eyes flying open to stare at the darkened ceiling. “I’d never try to discourage you from doing that again, but if your enthusiasm was solely based on trying to knock me up, you can quit while you’re ahead.”
Placing a gentle kiss just above my heart, Tatum says the words I never thought I wanted to hear. “Congratulations, Daddy.”
And just like that, my world feels more complete than it ever has.
Epilogue
Lucifer
Ten Years Later
“Grady, if you don’t get off your brother right this instant, it won’t be him you have to worry about kicking your butt, it will be me,” my wife shouts from the kitchen where she is no doubt is trying to finish dinner, and wrangle my twin hoodlums.
“Hey, baby girl,” I coo to my four-month-old daughter who’s just woken up from her nap, still rubbing her tired eyes.
To say little Amelie Jade was a surprise baby would be a fucking understatement.
After a difficult pregnancy and even worse delivery with the boys, I made the unilateral decision that we were done having babies. I nearly lost Tatu
m twice while she was giving birth to my son’s – once when she started hemorrhaging while trying to push the twins out, and a second time when the doctors couldn’t control the bleeding after delivering my boys. Regardless of being told by Tatum’s obstetrician what happened was rare, and probably due to her having twins with my genes, which meant they were not small boys, even being that they came three weeks early, I wasn’t letting Tatum go through that shit ever again.
Fate is a fickle bitch, though, and apparently wanted to test me because eight years after my son’s, Grady and Sebastian were born, when we were least expecting it, my wife surprised me at work with a positive pregnancy test. And for interests’ sake, just in case you were curious, yes, I lost my goddamn mind.
Looking back on it now, no matter how scared I was every day of Tatum’s pregnancy, and how terrified I was when my wife went into labor with Amelie’s, I wouldn’t change a damn thing. My baby girl is perfect. Ten fingers, ten toes, with a cute button nose, and gorgeous bright blue eyes just like her mom, Amelie is the light of my life.
“You want to go see what your brothers did this time, or should we stay up here and chill, just me and you?” I ask my baby girl, kissing her softly on the top of her strawberry smelling head.
I don’t get a reply, of course, but the way Amelie smiles at the mention of her brothers, I figure that means we’re headed downstairs.
As soon as I clear the foot of the stairs, Grady, my first born and the instigator out of the two boys, skids around the corner and straight into my legs. Landing on the floor in a heap at my feet, Grady doesn’t miss a beat, standing up, shaking it off like a dog, and taking off again.
“You get I know where you sleep, right?” My wife shouts, trying to suppress her laughter. “You drawing this out is only earning you double the payback.”
“Never a dull fucking moment,” I mutter to my princess before setting her down in her bouncer.