Beyond Her Words (Corrupt Chaos MC)

by Bink Cummings

  Spinnin’ back around, I scowl at her for the misplaced sympathy. I dinnae need it from her. Not when I shoulda divorced her years ago. That’s my own damn fault.

  “I was pregnant, Lachlan!” On her tippy toes, Meredith screamed in my face. “And it’s all your fault!”

  I hadn’t asked her tae fuck around, and had bloody well tried tae be a lovin’, dotin’ husband. I must admit I didnae know the first thing aboot the job. I’d never had a serious relationship before her. And with her, I kinda fell into it, because I love my daughter. Meredith fuckin’ another man wasn’t my fault, but it didnae keep the guilt from eatin’ away at my soul.

  She’d cheated on me, because of me. If I coulda provided what she had needed, I would have. It never stopped me from tryin’ tae make up for all my downfalls, and the bloody fuckin’ things I lack. I know I’m not perfect. I know my cock’s ugly, and a turnoff. I dinnae even like touchin’ it myself.

  Hell, I’d only fucked two lassies before I’d ever been with Meredith. My focus back then had been on joinin’ the military and workin’ hard at that, the lassies never caught my eye. Not sure why, but I’ve always been uncomfortable around ‘em. I cannae talk tae them, and they cannae understand me. Takin’ my clothes off in front of the lassies could never work either. That’s why admirin’ Mags is the most I’m ever gonna do. She cannae see what’s in my pants. Na one but Meredith has. All the other lassies I fucked once, at night, where they couldn’t see it. Tae this day, I’m relieved that they hadn’t gotten the chance tae be appalled by it.

  Mags tone softens. “Did ya. . .hear me?”

  Bloody hell. My nuts draw up as the ache tae release unfurls in my groin. If she doesn’t stop soundin’ so damn cute, I’m gonna have tae fuck my fist in the bathroom. Then I’ll purge myself of guilt into the toilet. I’m such a goddamn mess.

  Lachlan returns to leaning against the wall, arms across his chest—his go-to stance.

  Right now, it’s impossible to overlook the erection he’s sporting. It’s huge! I try not to stare, and find my efforts paying off while I keep my hand busy petting Pirate. But, can you see that thing, and stare at it for me? I mean. . .umm. . .yeah. . .it’s huge. Or, at least, I think it is. Could be that I haven’t had sex in a while. That greedy part of my anatomy is seriously begging for some attention. Not that I’m going to get any action, or want any attention. Pretty sure I’d faint or die, or a combination of the two if he even tried to come near me with that thing.

  Did you look? Are we on the same page? It’s huge, right?

  Not that I’m surprised by that or anything. His feet, his arms, and the rest of him are gigantic, so why shouldn’t Little Lachlan be proportionate?

  Shitty-crap-crap-shit! I can’t believe we’re sitting here having this conversation, and I’m even confiding in you about that. Pretty sure I’ve never discussed a man’s woody with another human being in my entire life. Confessing to flowers and vegetables? Probably, since I do love to garden and they can’t talk back. Female to female, interaction, though? That’s never been my thing.

  “I heard ye.” Lachlan recaptures my attention. It’s better than focusing on you-know-what. “What I dinnae understand is why ye keep focusin’ on Meredith.”

  That’s easy. “’Cause you’re. . .a. . .good person. . .and she’s not.”

  Not liking my reply, Lachlan grumbles in his throat and his nostrils flare. “I’m not a good person,” he argues.

  Now that’s where he’s dead wrong. I could give him 101 reasons why he’s a good person, but I don’t think he’d let any of that sink into his thick skull. And here I thought I was the stubborn one.

  Time to go in for the kill. “You’re. . .good. She’s not. Why’d you. . .marry. . .her, you. . .know, anyhow?” I can’t get Whisky in trouble if he admits it to me himself.

  Shaking his head in obvious exasperation, Lachlan’s accent thickens. “Pip was born when I was on deployment. Came home and found out. Decided, even if I dinnae love the lassie, that I loved my bairn enough tae suck it up and take care of what’s bloody well mine. Dinnae regret a fuckin’ thing doin’ that. Got me a daughter, and that’s more than I coulda hoped for....” He tilts his head to the side, his face expressionless and tone sharp. “Now does that answer yer nosy question?”

  My nosy question? Geeze, he’s acting like an ass.

  Fine. Two can play at this game.

  “Nosy question? That. . .is a question. . .I think I’m entitled. . .to ask.” I throw out my sass, take a deep breath, and hope to God that his reaction doesn’t cause me to pee my pants. To aid in distraction, I return to petting Pirate, even though my heart is about to pound its way out of my chest. I can’t believe I actually threw sass at him. Since when do I have sass? Son of a biscuit eater!

  Lachlan curses under his breath. “Why in the bloody fuckin’ hell do ye think ye deserve tae know a damn thing?”

  Uh-oh, I’ve awakened the scary Scot.

  Guess, if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em. My nose bunches, wrinkling between my eyes. “I think. . .I. . .deserve. . .to. . .know...because I barely. . .know. . .you. And, I live. . .under. . .the. . .same. . .freakin’. . .roof.”

  Not of like mind, Lachlan overzealously twists his thickly corded neck along with his obstinate head, back and forth. “Ye dinnae have tae know me tae live under the same roof, lassie.”

  Seriously?!

  “Yes! I do. I’ve never lived. . .with. . .a. . .man. . .ever.”

  If that’s not reason enough, I don’t know what is. I never lived with a dad, or with Brian. This is the most I’ve ever slept under the same roof with a man in my entire existence. Now, can you see why being here makes me feel weird? And the only person I have ever lived with was my grams. I can’t help that I’m mostly a loner; it’s how my cards have been dealt.

  “What?” Lachlan stops shaking his head and cocks it to the side, his eyes rounding as he takes me in. Not sure what he expects to see. “Ye have two rings on yer hand.” He nods to my left hand where a small engagement ring and wedding ring encircle my finger. “Aren’t ye married? Divorced?”

  Ha, I will not answer that question. He wants to bark at me about being nosy, now look who’s the nosy one. Like my grams always used to say, “What’s good for the goose, is good for the gander.” Well, this goose isn’t allowed to know jack, so he’s not gonna know jack either.

  Strengthening my spine to appear tough, I reply as levelly as possible. “I will. . .not. . .tell you. . .any-thing.” Then I swallow thickly to keep from throwing up. My hands start to tremble, so I tuck them under Pirate to hide the evidence.

  Growing scary quiet, the palpable tension floating in the air turns dense.

  Arms still folded, Lachlan scratches his chin in contemplation. The scritch-scratch bellows in my ears. “Fine,” he eventually huffs. “How aboot we cut a deal?” His brow quirks in question, those intense teal eyes strangely soft. I’ve never seen anything so sexy in my entire life, other than maybe his smirk─a smirk that would make any woman weak at the knees. I’m just glad I was sitting down when he first laid that bad-boy on me.

  “Go on.” I nod while continuing to hide my shaking hands.

  “How aboot I won’t be an arsehole tae ye, and let ye ask me a couple questions. If, ye answer mine, too.”

  Sounds fair enough.

  “Fine.” I shrug noncommittally, as my insides jump up and down in tactile triumph. On the outside, though, I remain poker-faced. Don’t want to show all my cards at once.

  Firmly, his head inclines. “Rings?”

  “Grams’s wedding ring. . .and my. . .old. . .engagement ring.” That’s simple enough.

  “Old—” He starts on another question, no doubt about my rings, but the stern shake of my head and the tsking under my breath makes him stop.

  To provide him some reprieve, I go with something lighter. “Why. . .the. . .nickname, Pip?”

  That heart-stopping grin returns, curling at the corner of his lip. My insides so
mersault, delighted by the gift.

  “She’s a ginger,” he states the obvious. “Not many ginger stories, so Whisky got her hooked on Pippi Longstocking. We ended up readin’ all the adventures tae her.”

  By we, I assume he’s talking about Whisky and himself, not Meredith.

  Pausing for a beat, he then tacks on. “Now, tell me aboot that old engagement ring.”

  Sighing, I slip down the wall, wanting to disappear into the mattress. I’ve never told anyone about my rings. Not that they haven’t asked; I just refused to disclose. Nevertheless, I’ve made a deal, and as painful as talking about Brian is, I know asking Lachlan to talk about Meredith can’t be much easier. At least I know I’m not alone in some sort of the torment.

  Here goes nothing. It’s like ripping off a Band-Aid, right?

  Looking away from Lachlan, my eyes fixate on the wall. I don’t think I can watch him when I voice this. God, my heart already hurts. I don’t want to do this.

  Digging my nails into my palms, I take a deep cleansing breath as tears that I wish wouldn’t come—well, in my eyes.

  Why is this so hard?

  “Mags?” Lachlan’s voice is soft, sweet, and so painful to hear that it forces a hiccupped cry to tear from my throat. Tears run, slipping down my cheeks as my bottom lip waivers, and my pulse rushes through my ears.

  I can’t do this. I just can’t. I can’t tell him about Brian. I can’t share something I’ve never shared. That’s too much, too soon. I barely know the man. Kind or not, Lachlan and I can’t speak about—another hiccupped tremor racks my system.

  The bed dips, and I keep my eyes on the wall as my vision blurs. The weight in my lap lifts and the warmth is replaced by a massive furnace of heat, curling around my shoulders, dragging me closer. I close my eyes. Thick bands of steel lift me and set me crossways on hard planks, pulling another tumbled cry from my lips. I raise my fists to my eyes to wipe away the salt before my head sags in emotional exhaustion, dropping to my chest. A strong heat presses to my cheek, coaxing it to rest on the best smelling, soft, smooth granite that I’ve ever felt. Then a charming thud methodically resonates in my ear, and I curl closer, clinging to the force of comfort.

  Fighting to breathe through my anguish, five thick prongs soothingly glide through my hair.

  Brian. How. . .can I talk about him? He died. He was my everything. He was it. The one. The man who sang stupid songs to me, and made love to me. Brian made me feel so much more than I could have ever thought possible. How can I talk about him? Why does Lachlan want to know?

  Moving my fist to my chest, I rub over the painful shredding behind my ribs. It’s tearing me apart inside.

  Why me?

  Twisting my head toward the heat, my nose buries into a patch of soft and fuzzy perfection. The rich scent of man intensifies, flooding my senses. And the prongs in my hair gently glide down my back, stopping just above my butt. They flatten there, anchoring me in place, before injecting a sense of peace and serenity into my veins. Instantly, my body relaxes, mind clears, and the tears run dry as the vice surrounding my heart slackens.

  Oh, sweet relief, I can finally breathe again.

  “Ye’re gonna be all right,” Lachlan whispers, and I snuggle deeper, clinging to the person I know I should be running from, but can’t.

  Prying open my eyes, I come face-to-face with the knowledge that my nose is pressed into the soft patch of rusty hair between his pecs.

  That funny feeling in my gut sprouts once more.

  Not daring to glance up at his face, I do the only thing I want to do, and give in to this strange temptation. I run my nose through his hair, smelling him, enjoying him, relishing in his heat, and all the things I didn’t even know I crave. It settles a warmth deep within, and excites an untamed wetness to dampen between my thighs.

  Up and down I rub my nose, as he grumbles in his chest, his arms tensing, turning to stone around me.

  I don’t stop until he groans thickly as if he’s in real pain. “Ye gotta stop doin’ that, Mags.”

  “Why?” I whisper daintily, running my nose in circles, gliding further into his meaty, tattooed pec. When I expect to feel a sense of dread and need to run, I don’t. The heat ignites hotter, deep-down, fueling my nonexistent courage.

  I strike gold and circle his small, firm nipple.

  Growling lowly, like a gravelly purr in his throat, the hand on my back presses harder, fingers gently digging into my flesh. His breathing grows heavy, chest noisily pumping for air.

  Dormant flames of desire lick my spine, and I grow bolder. My tongue lashes out, striking his nipple, and I’m rewarded with a short, grizzly moan before his fingers slip through my hair and tighten on my scalp. Then he yanks my head back, stealing me away, unable to taste his succulent flesh.

  My eyes are met with teal ones laden with desire. I swallow thickly, and he laps at his bottom lip, his eyes still locked on mine.

  I squirm at the sight, my brain catching up with my actions.

  I can’t believe I’m touching him! I licked his nipple! I. . .Me. . .Magdalene. . .I did that! How is that possible? Holy hot damn.

  “Mags,” he drawls. The sound of my name coming from his lips in that husky tone makes me melt like ice-cream on a hot summer’s day.

  “Uh?” I squirm again, unintentionally grinding my butt into his thighs.

  The erection that I’ve desperately been trying to forget is there, twitches against the outside of my leg.

  Lordy, I can’t do that again, I think as the wanton clenching in my core objects to my decision.

  “Mags, ye cannae be touchin’ me with yer tongue.” He gives me a stony look. “And I dinnae want ye tae be bloody cryin’.”

  Fine. Consider me well scolded.

  Now please excuse me while I crawl in a hole and flippin’ die!

  Shaking my head to make him release my hair is a futile effort, because he won’t let go. Next, I reach on top of my head to pry his fingers off. Still, he doesn’t release me. The man is too damn strong.

  “Let go,” I snap in frustration this time. Still, he doesn’t budge.

  “Lachlan!” I whine, going for desperate. Still, nothing. It’s like I’m talking to a wall.

  Relenting, I expel a defeated ‘humph’ and my body deflates. In silent retort, his fingers slacken, but don’t let go.

  “Now, tell me aboot the ring,” he commands gently.

  Stubbornly, I glower and shake my head. Not gonna happen.

  “Mags, a deal’s a deal.” He blows out a breath. “I can see it’s not easy. But ye’re gonna tell me anyhow.”

  “Nope.”

  “Ye got two choices,” he grumbles. “Tell me, and I’ll let ye go back tae sleep. Or dinnae tell me, and I keep ye up, holdin’ yer hair.” His fingers tighten on my scalp for a moment, displaying his dominant upper hand.

  I don’t know what possesses me, but one second I’m giving him a dirty look, the next I’m smacking his chest, hard. It stings my palm, spiking pain up my arm.

  Struck with shock, I look at my hand and to the red mark I’ve left on his pec. Guilt tramples forward, carting my instincts with it. Like my grams always used to do, my lips crash down on the damage and I try to kiss it away.

  What was I thinking? Who hits someone? Meredith does. Uh. . .I’m such a bitch!

  Guilty tears spring forth and tumble down my cheeks, as I continue to kiss the violence away. What is wrong with me tonight? I’m such a horrible person. I licked his nipple without permission, then I hit him. I’m so messed up. A nutcase.

  The hand on my head grips my hair, yanking me off his pec, now damp from my lips. “Ye didnae hurt me,” he states.

  My bottom lip trembles, meeting his eyes. “I. . .hit. . .you.”

  Lachlan shrugs, unaffected. “So what. I dinnae care. Now, be a good lassie and out with the fuckin’ story.”

  Well, if he insists.

  If she doesn’t start talkin’ aboot this bloody fuckin’ story soon, I’m gonna have her
on her back with my cock buried in her pussy. Not that I want that, but my body’s whistlin’ a whole other tune at this point. Those lips kissin’ her wee slap had me close tae comin’. Now, I’m so bloody wound and my adrenaline’s poundin’ through me so fuckin’ hard, that I dunno if I can keep a grip on this ache much longer.

  What was I thinkin’ tryin’ tae console her in the first place? She stuck her nose in my chest hair and licked my fuckin’ nipple, for Christ sake. I cannae believe it. Let’s not forget I can now see down her silky dress that feels like butter glidin’ over my skin.

  Inhalin’ a lungful of her scent, I feel my control slip a fraction further as my ravenous cock throbs painfully in my sweats. With considerable strength, I force myself not tae thrust against her leg. The friction makes my fuckin’ blood roar, and all thoughts move tae one carnal need; tae release inside somethin’ wet and warm.

  “I. . .really. . .don’t want to. . .tell you.” She sighs, tearin’ me from my horny fuckin’ thoughts. Shame forms into a boulder, knottin’ in my gut.

  “But I will,” she finishes, and a sweet relief washes over me. A distraction is exactly what I damn well need. And I truly do wanna hear all she has tae say. I love her voice. If only my cock would shut the bloody hell up sometimes, and give me a chance tae think straight and pay attention tae the important shit.

  My focus settles on her face as she opens her perfect mouth tae speak.

  Thank fuck.

  “His name. . .was. . .Brian,” I start, and Lachlan exhales like he’s content to be where he is, like he’s comfortable. “He asked. . . .me to marry. . .him. . .after I graduated. . .high school.”

  “That’s young,” he mumbles, not trying to deter me.

  “Yes,” I agree with a nod, because he’s right; it was young. Too young for most people. Just not Brian and I.

  I continue. “He was a few. . .years older. A farm. . .boy. We fell in love. Planned to be married. . .after he. . .finished college.” I sigh with sadness. We had great plans to buy a farm, get married, have three kids, and grow a giant vegetable garden that I’d tend. So many beautiful plans ruined by the dark cloud that looms over my life, turning everything good to shit.