by Isabel Wroth
“Mother…Athena!”
“What!? You’d just blown into my life and carried me off into the sunset. I wasn’t going to start our relationship off, however it was going to turn out, by asking you to deal with my shit. You’d have run for the hills and never looked back.”
“You knew that, huh? For sure?”
He was so pissed off he was considering throwing her back over his lap to spank her till she never went another day in her life without remembering the feel of his hand on her ass. “Raid, all I thought I had left was Cruncher. I didn’t want to lose you.” And now he was pissed off, because she wasn’t letting him be pissed off. He sighed and let his brow drop to hers, “What exactly haven’t I done, that’s made you think I haven’t committed to you?” She huffed a little sound and scooted higher into his lap, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.
The way the chair was shaped, was intended for perfect pelvic alignment between partners.
Say that ten times fast.
So when she scooted, it put her pussy in perfect position for him to feel every wet inch of it. Made it seriously damn difficult to properly focus on her answer. “I said that while I was still upset.” He drug in a deep breath and struggled to not let her creamy, wet slit distract him, “Unlike men, when women are angry, they usually say things they mean. And you’re right, we haven’t made any official statements, but believe me, baby, I’m happy to make it fuckin official. Make you an appointment first thing tomorrow at the Boneyard.”
He couldn’t take another second of this torture, he leaned back, the curve of the lounge supporting him perfectly and gave him just enough room to pull her forward and push her back to impale her on his dick. She cried out in surprise, but her pussy clenched tight around him and rippled like it was trying to suck him in deeper. “What…ohmygod this chair is amazing…what’s the boneyard?” She moaned, undulating and rocking on him, the way the chair was shaped giving them no room to do anything but give one another the ultimate stimulation. “Place the club goes to exclusively for ink. Fuck, baby…thought Nasa was tellin me lies about this chair. Gonna have to send Stone a fuckin thank you card, Jesus…do that again.”
She’d leaned forward, mashing her perfect tits against his chest, not so much as a hairsbreadth of space between their bodies, and churned her hips in a circle over his, her pussy massaging his cock in a tight, decadently wet clench. Every time he got inside her it was an unbelievable experience, but this felt different. Not just because the chair was perfectly designed for maximum pleasure for both partners, it felt different because it was more…intimate. Looking at her, eye to eye, heart to heart, he could watch her pupils dilate, her skin flush and see the minute, telltale signs of what pleasured her the most. Like how scooting down just a fraction made the angle change, made his cock rub harder at the front wall of her pussy and made her lashes flutter in reaction. Her lips part on a soft little whimper.
There was nowhere he couldn’t reach to touch her, ankle to ears, and when he gripped two handfuls of her spanked ass, her entire body shuddered. He pulled her hips back and forth, forcing her to grind down, bounce just a little, the resulting orgasm? If the neighbors hadn’t known his name before, they sure as fuck knew it now. “Babe, you’re not crazy, but you fuck like crazy, and I love it.” She snorted, giggled like a drunk, and melted against him in a replete heap.
TWENTY TWO
The sun was streaming down on her face when she woke up, the bed empty beside her, but the smell of coffee was rich on the air. And so was the scent of bacon. Her stomach rumbling had her trying to get out of bed, but she felt like a wet dishrag, with no bones in her legs left to support her. She saw the white leather chair at the end of the bed and smiled a goofy smile as she stumbled past it, her fingertips gliding over the smooth arch of the back on her way to the bathroom. Raid was sitting at the bar in the kitchen, a pile of her purple stationary beside him, a still full plate of breakfast and his coffee cup held suspended midair while his eyes tracked back and forth over the page.
He was so engrossed that he didn’t hear her walk over, or see her steal a piece of bacon, but he noticed when she leaned over and slurped some of his cold coffee. Gross. “What are you doing?” He straightened, growling at her when she tried to take his cup, “Its cold, honey.” He relinquished it, but not before he reached out and caught her around the waist, pulling her in to give her a soft, sweet kiss. “Reading your letters. You know what happens every time I open another one and read it?” She shook her head, “I get more pissed off that bitch broke all the little wax seals. That she read these words meant for me, knew you were in trouble and just sat back on her ass, lit up one of my candles and had herself a good time.” She huffed out a little sound, adoring him more and more as the days went on. She leaned in to kiss his wrinkled brow, “I’ll make you more,”
“Not the fuckin point. This one, right fuckin here, you’re tellin me about how you had to sit at the vet’s office and struggle to say goodbye to Rosie. I couldn’t have done dick to make that day go away, but if I’d gotten this letter, I’d have at the very least called you to do…something. Anything, just to be there for you.”
“Raid?”
“She fuckin took that away from me, and this one! You tellin me about seeing Dickhead Denny parked down the street in his car. That, I could have done something about. Got Nasa on him sooner, put half the club on your front doorstep so he knew you were off fuckin limits,”
“Raid.”
“What?”
“I love you too. Way more than Cruncher at breakfast time. Speaking of which, I want my dog back.”
His arm tightened around her waist, his expression intent, focused, his eyes glittering with what appeared to be a mix of smug triumph and sexy, yet boyish, happiness. Their lips had just touched, when a knock came at the door. After the events of last night, even knowing with 99.9 percent certainty that she was safe from Denny and his crazy, her brain still sounded the alarm and the shocking, breath stealing sensation of ice water being dumped over her was the first responder. “It’s the guy from IAB, baby. Go get dressed,” She felt stupid, and embarrassed by how quickly she pulled away and ran for the bedroom in half a panic now, slightly less than before, but her heart was still pounding, hard enough that her pulse felt like it was choking her. But she was safe, she knew that, her mind just wasn’t able to relay the information to her body, which was preparing to flee. Stupid body.
She was hopping into her pants when Raid’s confident, calm, totally unconcerned voice filled the house. “And don’t forget panties this time.” She paused with her hands on the snap of her jeans, totally confused. Why all of the sudden was he asking her to wear panties?
“What?!”
“We’re going to the Boneyard after, remember? Don’t want to have to gouge out Frankie’s eyeballs if he sees your ass with no panties on it.”
She was midway through saying, “What in the fuck-“ incredulously, when she heard the squeak of the front door opening, and Raid’s strong voice, “You the guy from IAB?” She hurried to pull on a tee, one that turned out to be one of Raid’s thousand and one black tees, and couldn’t help but hug her arms around herself until Raid could hug her instead. The pair of men that stood up from where they’d sat down on the couch, looked stern, serious, wearing pressed suits, in their mid forties and very well groomed. “Miss Williams, I’m Officer McMannis, my partner, Officer Oliveras. Thank you for seeing us this morning,”
Raid was amazing, he sat next to her with his arm around her shoulders, quiet through the whole interview process until he was asked questions. Questions that he answered clearly and with very little personal opinion to taint his recounting of last night’s event. At the officer’s request, she fetched her restraining order paperwork, and the two of them bent their heads over it, one at a time. She thought Raid was going to lose his cool when the officers told her that unfortunately, her restraining order was only effective in the state of Nevada. They didn’t seem pleased t
o deliver her the news, and offered to begin the paperwork for her to obtain another one. “I got her covered,” Raid stated coolly, and the officers cleared their throats, letting her know they’d be pulling her files, Denny’s files, but when she asked them where he was currently, how he’d been hired in the first place, they couldn’t say because, “The investigation was ongoing.” She opened her mouth to tell them that was an unacceptable answer, but Raid gave her a firm squeeze, “Do you need anything else from us? We have an appointment to keep.”
She sat there, in a bit of a stupor while Raid walked them out, chewing hard on her thumbnail, staring at nothing while the implications settled down on her like sandbags. Denny was on probation, not fired, under investigation, had to turn in his badge and gun and had been embarrassed by the department, by her. Last time, she’d gone after him in a personal fashion. Now, without having intended to ever see him again, he’d shown up in his uniform, several states away, and she’d hit back again, this time at his profession. She got that he was serious about making her pay, following her from Nevada, no matter what the IAB said about him getting a transfer, was a sure sign that he was not going to let this go until he was satisfied she’d paid for humiliating him. Like it was her fault he was a crazy ass-“Babe?”
She blinked and looked up at Raid, up into his steady, calm eyes and felt her chest expand with the deep breath she needed. “You got panties on?” Blink, blink. “What?” He rolled his eyes and pulled her up off the couch to rub his hands over her butt, which was still a bit tender. He explained slowly and gently, patiently even. “We’re going to the tattoo shop, I want you to wear panties, or your bikini bottoms, so that I don’t have to kill Frankie for getting a look at your ass.”
“Why would he be looking at my ass?”
His smile said she was being a bit dim, but that he was amused and found her adorable. She idly thought about being irked, but she was too busy mapping out all the psychotic things Denny could possibly be plotting to do to her right now. Or to Raid. Or to the brothers. To worried about the mess she’d unknowingly brought with her, “Babe,” She jumped at the hardness in Raid’s tone now, a blink bringing him back into focus to find him studying her face intently. “You with me?” She nodded, but he didn’t look wholly convinced. “Sorry, I’m just…I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner about Denny.” He crowded her, bending over her, around her, surrounding her with his bigger body, until everything was blocked from her thoughts, her vision, because he consumed her entirely. “Dickhead’s not your problem. Not now, not ever again.”
“But-“
“Athena, he is not. Your. Problem. I’ve got it handled.”
“Raid, you don’t know him.”
The hard glitter in his eyes took on a kind of nasty edge, a confidently masculine one of total control. His lips curled up and she saw the warrior he was begin to permeate every pore, every cell. It transformed him, made him seem about five feet taller, even though he was mostly bent around her. It was such a difference that she realized she’d been selling him short. Forgetting, stupidly, that he was a soldier that had survived odds few could have. Endured pain, unimaginable pain, and came out the other side of it stronger, like tempered steel. “That dickhead isn’t special, baby. There’s a million more just like him, and every single fuckin one of them is predictable. Almost laughably so, especially to someone like me and my brothers. You’re mine now, Athena. What that means is this: no one fucks with you. No one hurts you. No one frightens you, because they gotta go through me first. Me and fifteen other mother fuckers willing to shed blood to make sure you live free of all that shit. And we are going to the tattoo parlor, because I’m making it official. You’re getting my brand, baby.”
“Brand? I’m not a cow. Is this a biker thing?”
He sighed, half in amusement, half in exasperation, and touched a kiss to her forehead, rubbing it in while she clung to him. “I don’t think either of us is ready to buy the cow, but you gotta know how serious I am about keepin you around, not just takin the milk for free. So I gotta put my mark on you. Once I do, if any other assholes try to rustle you up like the pretty little heifer you are, I got proof you’re all mine.”
“You…asshole! Did you just call me a heifer?”
“Prettiest one I ever saw. Put some fuckin panties on, so we can go.”
“Raid!”
TWENTY THREE
He was watching her like a hawk while she hurried around to gather her stuff and put some panties on. Being away from her for the past two weeks had given him a bit of perspective, noticing the bruises under her eyes, how tense she seemed now that the IAB guys had confirmed without confirming it, that as of right now, her ex was off the leash pending review. Why the fucker wasn’t fired, or arrested, he didn’t know yet. But he would by the end of the day.
She was glancing at the door every few seconds, self-consciously tucking her hair behind her ears, one side, then the other in an almost obsessive pattern. Something he’d noticed her doing when she was nervous. Nervous, despite him explaining to her just how her asshole ex, was no longer her problem. She’d get with it eventually, but not when it was still so fresh on her mind. That’s just not who she was. She’d worry about it, examine it from several different angles, and in the end he knew she’d come up with something either ridiculous and full of woman logic, or hopefully, accept that he was going to take care of it. Of her, and stop the worrying.
He checked his watch, figuring he had just enough time to chill her out and get to the tat shop on time. Though, Frankie would wait around all day, getting paid like he was for this special job, so he could be quick, but not so quick as to not be thorough. Had to make sure that chair thing Stone had made for him was up to the challenge. Quality assurance. Yeah. “Okay, I’m ready. I can’t believe I’m okay with this. Should I take some Tylenol or something?” He found it amusing, and fucking thrilling, how easily she was going along with his decree of her getting his brand. Ever had fought with Roar, tooth and nail, and while he knew better than to think Athena would be any less willing to chew his nuts off for any sort of personal infringement, he was so going to lord this over Roar for years. Fucker. “Raid? Are you listening to me?”
She walked into the Boneyard with him, a sweet, silly little smile on her face, weaving like she was drunk and glowing from the quality assurance test of their lounge. The very, thorough test. There might be scratches on the floor, but by God, that thing was durable. Frankie looked up from his drawing board, a dude who looked so scrawny that if not for the way his muscles lay underneath his inked skin, you’d have thought he’d snap like a chicken bone. But the guy was Irish, ‘wiry’ he said, and no matter how he worked out, how much he ate, he naturally just had zero percent body fat. They’d been friends back before he and Bobby had opened the shop together, “Hey man, it’s good to fuckin see you again. Thought you’d gotten ghosted out there.” Frankie’s greeting was met with a manly bro shoulder bump and a one armed hug, another blast from his past made possible, because of Athena. “Thanks, Frankie. Can’t believe you actually pulled this shit off,”
This shit, being the shop. It was sweet, not too big, not too small, not out in the boonies somewhere or right smack dab in the middle of the city. And despite its size, the Boneyard had been claimed as home to the best artists in town, three years running. Frankie puffed up proudly, looking around at his place with pride, “Sometimes, neither can I. This your woman?” His arm tightened around Athena’s shoulders, introducing them quickly. “You got what I asked for, worked up?” Frankie nodded, winking at Athena and waved them over to his drawing board to show them the stencil he’d been working on.
It was sick. Exactly what he’d asked for. He’d spent hours online while they were apart, looking for just the right idea, just the right design style, and when he’d contacted Frankie, the guy had pretty much read his mind. Frankie had drew a Henna like design in the general shape of a wide belt that would sit over Athena’s hips. It was a meticulous
ly precise design, except for the flowers with five petals that would flow along through the design like they’d been blown in by the wind. “What are these?” She pointed to the flowers, looking up at him with a nervous edge to her smile, it was a big piece for her first one, but he wasn’t going to let her get away with anything small enough to be forgotten about. “Geranium flowers. If you’re game for color, Frankie could make them look like those ones you like. The ones that start orange in the middle and turn pink at the edges, like a sunset.”
The way she looked at him then, was like he’d just hung the moon for her. She rolled her lips together quickly, but not before he saw them wobble a little, and because Frankie didn’t know her, he couldn’t hear the subtle shift in her voice. The husky note that entered into it. The one that told him he’d hit her right in the feels. Home run. Shit yeah. “And it’s made to go where?” She asked, moving her hand to better lace their fingers together, “Across your back and hips. A more sophisticated, tramp stamp.” Frankie told her with a wink, and she gave a sniff, “Would it be a pain in the ass to put it here?” She traced her finger over her ribs, just under her boobs, “I’d rather look in the mirror and see it every morning when I brush my teeth.”
Right.
In.
The.
Feels.
Frankie grinned a salacious, delighted little grin and assured her it would be no trouble at all to shift the design. “It’s made to wrap around a little, you ah, won’t be able to wear a bra for about a week if we get it up under your tit…breasts.” Frankie must have seen the thunder brewing, and quickly reverted to a more professional tone, and less of an appreciative one. “I very much doubt that’s going to be an issue.” She drawled, hiking her eyebrow up at him when he pulled the neck of her tee, wait, his tee, out to peek down to look at what bra she was wearing. He tried, anyway, but she whacked his hand away and glared at him, “Raid! Get a grip, we are in public.”