Hopelessly Shattered (Sacred Sinners MC - Texas Chapter #1)

by Bink Cummings

  “I need you to fuck me,” I whine, pinching my nipples into sharp points.

  “Why do you need me to fuck you, babe?” He kisses my clit, and I lift my hips, searching for more. Backing off, he chuckles, swiping a finger through my folds—stopping just long enough to encircle my empty core. He toys with me there, and I groan in frustration. “You’re gonna tell me.” He moves lower, coating my asshole with my juices, getting it nice and wet. “I may even put a little toy in here.”

  Oh dear, god! Yes, please! His cock in my pussy and a toy in my ass. It’s the best feeling ever! Being filled to the brim, coming so hard that it’s an out of body experience. He’s taught me well.

  “Yes. I—I want that.” My voice wavers.

  The tip of his finger breaches my back door, and I whimper. “Then tell me what I need to hear.”

  Swallowing thickly, I wet my lips before replying as steadily as possible. “I need your cock because I love it so much.”

  “Why do you love it?” His tone deepens as he nuzzles his cheek to my inner thigh, tenderly delivering a kiss or two there.

  “Because it’s the best I’ve ever had,” I blurt unashamed. It’s true, without a doubt.

  “It’s the only one you’ve ever had.”

  “Yes,” I rasp.

  A quick kiss is dropped to my throbbing clit. Dear God. He’s gonna make me come soon.

  “The only one you’ll ever fuckin’ have.”

  “Yes,” I groan, rolling my nipples until the pain sizzles through me.

  “You’ll carry all my babies. And only my babies.”

  My heart flutters madly at his words, but I don’t speak. My fingers falter as a ball of happiness unfurls in my gut, mingling with the pleasure and feelings I’ve yet to tell him aloud. They’re mine to keep and cherish, for now.

  “We’re gonna have three kids, Kat. Three. And I’m gonna make you come so much you’ll never want another dick. Never want another man. I’m it for you. Tell me I’m it for you.” Emotions I can’t pinpoint soak like rich whiskey into his words.

  “You’re it for me,” I murmur, knowing that I mean it with every ounce of my being.

  “Good,” he growls. Then everything turns fluid as his mouth attacks my clit, ravenously sucking it like he hasn’t eaten in a week. A thick finger slips into my pussy, and that’s all she wrote. My world flips upside down, mind blanks, and I become a slave to Brent’s unholy onslaught.

  This is the best Thanksgiving ever.

  PRESENT

  This is the worst Thanksgiving ever.

  Following my shower, I quickly dress in a pair of black maternity leggings and one of my oversized AC/DC t-shirts. Once covered, Kade and I head downstairs to get some food to quell the pain in my stomach. It works, but the experience that come along with the sandwich and chips is a different story. Club members and visitors alike stare at me like I’m carrying the bubonic plague or something. To say it's disconcerting is putting it mildly. While I sit on a metal stool at the oversized butcher's block in the middle of their industrial sized kitchen, people pop in and out to chat a little with Kade. They don’t think I notice the looks they are casting my way. I’m sure many are curious since nobody knew about Ryker’s and my quasi-relationship until it was announced by Bear. Just as nobody knew that Ghost had a daughter. I’m an intruder on their turf. One that didn’t ask to be lied to by two of the men I’ve loved the most. And I surely didn’t ask to be treated like dog shit you’d scrape off the bottom of your shoe. Honestly, I bet it has a lot to do with unknowns. They probably want to know why I’m here, and pregnant. I’d wonder the same thing if I were them. Like—What does she want? The thing is, I only want honesty. That’s all I ever wanted. I don’t want Ryker. That’s for sure. And as for my dad … that remains to be seen.

  The one positive thing about this whole experience has been Kade. He’s been attentive, caring, and has no qualms with giving his fellow club members hell for throwing me dirty looks. He’s protective, and I love it. It makes me feel kind of special to have a big guy like him going to bat for me. Kade is the first to do that for me since my daddy. Thankfully, he didn’t have to do it all that often, as I didn’t attract much attention, and flew mostly under the radar. Today has been the exception. Unfortunately, I’m the star of the show.

  After the quick bite, Kade asks if I want a tour of the clubhouse. I politely decline, and we head back to his room where we talk about next to nothing as we wait for dinner. Which finally comes around, bringing us to this point that has me standing here, at the edge of my emotional safety net.

  Thirty plus leather-clad guests are milling about in the backyard. I had wondered how everyone was going to fit for dinner. Now I know—as I stand inside the back door of the house, bare toes resting atop the cold metal strip of the threshold. The green grass strewn with various folding tables stretches before me. Some with folding chairs tucked underneath, draped in turkey printed tablecloths. The others lined along one side are bursting with fragrant food. It reminds me of a potluck. Not that I’ve been to many of those.

  Standing in wait, Kade waves me forward, a friendly smile gracing his lips. Huffing a sigh, I take the first tentative step onto the concrete stoop. It’s warmer under my toes. For good measure, I scan my surroundings a few more times. My dad, Ghost, notices me and jerks his chin in greeting, then goes about filling giant red cups with beer from a keg on the opposite end of the yard, where a table is covered with a shit-ton of liquor. Bear is impossible to miss, he has to be the second biggest man here. Asshole being the first. And there’s no mistaking that he’s here, because everybody has been eyeing him and my dad at least a dozen times each. There’s a tension floating through the air so thick it could be cut with a knife. If I wasn’t concerned for my dad’s safety, I wouldn’t care about it, or the glares Ryker seems to be tossing in his direction. Part of me wants to slap him silly, while the other hopes my dad handles his own.

  Another few steps in the right direction, I draw more attention to myself, choosing to ignore the outright stares and faint comments. They’re not mean, at least. More like whispers of “What’s she doin’ here?” and “What was Bear thinkin’?” … Shit like that.

  Sidling up next to Kade, he tosses an arm over my shoulder and escorts me over toward the head of a long table. He pulls a chair out for me that’s three from the head, where I assume Bear will sit. Knowing that I don’t want to walk around and socialize, I take the seat. He drops into the chair at my right, leaving a single one open next to him.

  Out comes his knife again, doing what it always does, tracing his tattoos. I’m pretty sure it’s a nervous habit. Or perhaps it’s out of boredom. I haven’t quite figured it out yet. Thankfully, he never breaks the skin, so I don’t think he’s a psycho. “We sit according to rank,” he explains.

  I wait for him to give me further clarification, but when it never comes, I ask, “Who else will sit here?”

  Using his knife, he points from spot to spot, naming spaces. For a short-lived moment, I get an ounce of relief as he goes down my side of the table and the name Ryker isn’t announced. But it soon fades into a stomach ache when the spots across from me are reserved for him and his wife, Vanessa. Shit.

  Antsy, I jiggle my foot, silently mulling over my streak of bad luck. At least my dad will be next to Kade. And that weirdo outside his bedroom earlier today named Creeper … he’s going to be seated to my left. As soft rock music flutters through the air, dulling some of the chit-chat, I tilt my head back, take a deep breath, and close my eyes. Taking a moment of solitude, I pretend that I’m not here and that this isn’t the first step into hell itself.

  My senses kick into high gear without my sight, and the smell of delicious food blending with a small bonfire at the corner of the property makes my mouth water. For a few precious seconds, I daydream about being here under different pretenses—where I’m happily in love, and with my daughters as they spend time with their uncle and grandfathers. Everyone is nice to me i
n this dream. They all want to be my friend, and, most importantly, they adore my girls. I can almost hear Roxie and Scarlett squealing in delight as they eat slices of pumpkin pie that are drowning under a mountain of canned whipped cream—a family favorite. I’m partial to pecan pie myself, but the whipped cream is always a given.

  A sliver of contentment douses my otherwise frazzled soul and a few notches of tension ease from my shoulders. I can do this. I can handle all of it with Kade by my side. My protector. Not that I’ll need him. I won’t. I’ll be cordial and will try to keep a tight lid on the snarky remarks that usually get me into trouble.

  When I reopen my eyes, there are people piling food onto plates across the way. Kade, who’s no longer seated next to me, is striding back with two plates full of food. He sets one in front of me and retakes his spot. More and more people find their seats, including Vanessa and Ryker. Occupying myself by twiddling my thumbs in my lap, my stomach does an uneasy tumble as I hear the asshole grumble under his breath. He’s obviously not pleased that I’m here—any more than I am. Good. Maybe that’ll keep him from talking or looking at me tonight. So far, he hasn’t. I would know. I’ve always been able to feel his eyes searing into me no matter where we are. Call it a sixth sense, or a Brent sense. I don’t care what it’s called, but it’s something I’ve had since we first met all those years ago.

  Bear is the last to take his seat, and the crowd quiets as if it’s a huge deal. I haven’t touched my food, so I bow my head out of respect and stare at the pile of mixed sustenance in front of me. It’s a good thing I don’t have that form of OCD where my foods can’t touch, or I’d be even more miserable. Kade isn’t a clean plate filler. Not that I’m complaining. At least I didn’t have to get up.

  Bear roughly clears his throat, capturing the group’s attention. “As tradition, we’re gonna go ‘round the table and say what we’re thankful for before we eat. I’ll start first.” There’s a pause that feels like it takes ages before he speaks again. “I’m thankful for my club, my brothers, our family, and I’m especially thankful for Kat joinin’ us here today.” I dare to peek his way out of the corner of my eye. Catching his gaze locked on me, he lifts a red cup into the air. “Here, here,” he chants, and everyone follows suit by raising their glasses before my dad takes his turn.

  “I’m thankful for my daughter, and granddaughters.”

  The sincerity in his words draws tears to my eyes. I blink them away. More here, here’s are cheered, more alcohol consumed, then Kade is put on the spot. I can’t believe I’m next. Since I’m not a member, can’t they skip me? I hope they do.

  “I’m thankful for…” Kade’s arm drapes over the back of my chair, hot and comforting. I have to stop myself from leaning into it to dull the awkwardness of everyone’s focus on me. He traces designs across the span of my shoulders with his fingertips, like he’s trying to ease the tension. It helps, a little. “I’m thankful for family, an—”

  “Care to remove your hand, brother?” Bre—Ryker growls lowly, cutting Kade off. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end and I dip my head lower, praying that he stops talking. I don’t want to hear that voice. I don’t want to smell him. Look at him. Nothing. It’s better this way.

  Undeterred, Kade ignores his brother, his fingers drawing earnestly. I catch him out of my peripheral as he shoves a hand into his vest, right where he stows his knife. For three heartbeats, I wait for him to yank out the weapon to play. Another beat passes, and he surprises me by dropping his hand into his lap and squeezing his thigh so hard his knuckles turn to snow.

  “I’m very thankful for family—” He grits his teeth, and Ryker curses loud enough for me to hear. “I’m thankful for now knowin’ about my nieces and the charming Katrina.”

  On that note, Kade’s hand cuffs around the back of my neck gently, clearly trying to get some point across. My belly shouldn’t relish in the affection as much as it does. I can’t tell you the last time I’ve been hugged by anyone other than my daughters. I kinda miss it.

  Ryker doesn’t like it one bit. A string of expletives thunders from his chest as I feel the table shake, and glance up just in time to see him shoot to his feet, chair collapsing onto the grass. Then, my father’s on his feet, too. Fuming, Ryker shoots daggers from me to Kade, to my dad, and back again.

  “Sit the fuck down, children,” Bear bellows, leaning back in his chair, arms folded over that barrel chest. He’s not amused by this in the least. And neither am I. This is stupid.

  “I’m here to defend my daughter. I’m not sittin’ down ‘til he does.” My dad jerks his head in Ryker’s direction, eyes narrowing so sharply that the lines around them crinkle deeper, revealing his age. He’s got one hand tucked into his vest.

  Ryker snorts, rolling his blue eyes. “Right, because I’m gonna hurt Kat.” Sarcasm drips like rich honey from his lips. “That’s fuckin’ ridiculous to hear comin’ from you, old man.”

  I’m not sure if that was supposed to be a taunt or not, but my dad isn’t taking the bait as he remains planted, glaring, body taut. From here, I can make out an older tattoo on his forearm. It says daughter inside a white banner that’s surrounded by some skulls and roses. It’s kinda pretty, in a manly way. Below it are … holy shit! He has my daughters’ names tattooed on him, too! A fierce bolt of joy explodes inside me, and I can’t help it when I crack the tiniest of smiles. Cupping my mouth with my hand, I hide the evidence of my happiness. I don’t want people to take my reaction the wrong way, and think I’m enjoying this sad display of dominance.

  When I was a kid, my dad didn’t have any ink. Now, he’s sleeved, and it’s a cool surprise. It suits him. I always thought he was too much of a bad boy not to rock some ink. And since his hair is longer than before, curling just above his collar, the tattoos definitely fit him. He doesn’t quite look like the man I knew growing up. But he’s still my dad, and I’m still his female mini-me.

  “You’ve already done enough, Ryker,” Dad snips.

  “I … see … Pot’s callin’ the kettle black.” Ryker’s biceps bulge as he crosses his arms over his beefy chest. I’d forgotten how sexy that actually looks.

  Irritated by this pathetic pissing contest in my honor, I take a calming breath before I stand, drawing all eyes our way. As if they weren’t already glued here to begin with. Kade, not letting me go at this alone, shoots up from his seat but remains quiet at my side. I siphon some of his inner strength, cup my belly with one hand, then summon my attitude to the surface. “Sit down, both of you, and be quiet.” My scowl swaps from Dad to Ryker. “This is already weird enough without you acting like two baboons ready to fling shit at each other. So let’s eat. Everyone’s food is gettin’ cold. And Dad...” Cautiously, he lowers into his chair, eyes keenly watching me. “I still love you, and we can talk afterward. Ignore the jerk, he’s not worth either of our breaths.”

  Still standing, Ryker’s face falls from its bravado just a smidge when I aim my disappointment in his direction. “Sit down.” I point to him like a teacher scolding her student. As anticipated, he doesn’t budge and his jaw clenches, nostrils flaring. Yes, he’s a stubborn mule, just as I am. That’s one of the many, many, reasons things could never have worked between the two of us. At least not now. I don’t think I was as stubborn back then. Years of single mothering does that to ya. It’s either that or be walked all over by two equally obstinate daughters, and that wasn’t an option.

  “He doesn’t need to listen to you.” Vanessa grows some balls, and I glance her way, ready to take on the world if this woman really wants to throw down. I have zero tolerance for bitchy, self-righteous, know-it-all chicks; especially when I’m trying to defuse a situation that involves me. Not her.

  “Do you think it’s acceptable to act this way on Thanksgiving?” I’m composed as I wait for her response, but it doesn’t come. Tilting her head to the side, she flips her luxurious black hair over her shoulder in defiance. Great, and here I thought we could at least be cordial afte
r all that’s gone down. Looks like I’ve got myself another enemy in the making.

  Keeping my eyes glued on her, and refusing to spare another glance at her husband, I speak from the heart, both hands rubbing my daughter. “Listen, I know this situation isn’t ideal. You didn’t know about me. Nobody did.” I sweep my gaze down the tables and back, watching people nod along with my confession. “You can be pissed all ya want. Defiant. Juvenile. I don’t care. I’m too old to deal with all that. Do Ryker and I have history? Yeah, we do. I’m the mother of two of his children. That’s the facts whether anyone likes it or not.” Kade rests a hand on my shoulder in support, as if he knows how hard this is for me. I welcome the boost of strength. “I’m thankful for being alive. Thankful that my father’s alive. That I have two beautiful daughters I’ve raised on my own, with only the help of my mother. Who, when I was growing up, wasn’t really a mother at all. I’m not gonna fight with anybody here. Maybe, for once, you and everybody else should stop going on the defensive and think about what I’m going through. What Kade’s going through...” I pat his hand reassuringly. “I had no clue Ryker, who I knew as Brent, was in a motorcycle club. Let alone, that my father wasn’t really dead. Have you lost anyone, Vanessa?”

  Emotionless, she shakes her head, slouching in her chair, huffing childishly. Last night, beneath the dim lights of the house, her age was hard to tell. But now, in the sinking daylight, I can see her tanned, unblemished skin and the lack of age lines on her face. Not even a crinkle at her eye, or a line across her forehead. If I had to guess, she couldn’t be any more than twenty-four. Probably younger. I’ve never understood a man's need to date women significantly younger than them. I get that they make one feel youthful and that their bodies which have endured less are enjoyable. There’s nothing wrong with that. On the same token, there is nothing wrong with bodies like mine, either. Women are beautiful regardless of age, the size of our waists, or wrinkles. It irks me when some men don’t see our value. I know that I am not that old. I just feel that way all the time. My mom says there’s an eighty-year-old woman trapped inside me. Apparently, I view life differently than others my age.