Because Beards
Page 40
He touches me just right, his warm, wet tongue igniting a need that only he can fulfill. When I come, I don’t hold back my cry—knowing how much he likes to hear me scream. Not that it would matter. I couldn’t stay silent even if I tried.
Panting, I right my neck and seek out his gaze mere seconds before he takes me by surprise, driving into me with his bare cock. He feels sensational, as always, and I’m no longer worried about whether or not we’ll be late tonight. He’s taking care of me, as he promised me he would, and I adore him for doing so. With every thrust, he chases my anxiety further and further away, reminding me that no matter what—we’re Corie and just Ashley.
Just Ashley.
My Ashley.
My love.
When he reaches up and pulls down the cups of my strapless bra, instinct causes me to arch my back, offering him easy access to what he wants. I’ve been told that some men are tits men, and some men are ass men, but my sweets is a tits and thigh man.
I sigh as he wraps his lips around one of my nipples, sucking me hard into his mouth. I bury my fingers in his hair—trimmed just this morning, but still long enough for me to grip onto—and I arch my back even more. He groans and holds tight to each of my thighs as he pounds into me harder.
He swirls his tongue around my hardened peak before he lets me go, only to latch on to my other breast. I’m so wet, and the friction he elicits is so warm and perfect, I know it won’t be long before he brings me to my second orgasm. I can feel it building, the pressure so pleasurable I can think of almost nothing else.
With a grunt, Ashley frees my nipple and then crashes his lips against mine. I whimper in surprise, but hold him close anyway. His kiss turns me on even more, and I mewl when my climax sneaks up on me.
“Ashley!” I cry as my core tightens and my body trembles.
“Goddamn,” he mutters, burying his face in my neck. He thrusts into me hard and fast a few more times before he stills, filling me with his release.
Wrapped in each other’s arms, we don’t move for a few minutes. We’re silent as we work to catch our breath, and a part of me wishes we could stay here all night. I know that’s not a possibility, though. Tonight is too important. It’ll be Ashley’s first big appearance in months. He’s even performing the debut of a collaborative piece he was asked to do with the band Mountains & Men. Sage McCoy wrote a song that he was sure only Ashley could pull off with his electric guitar skills. He was right. The song is incredible, and I can’t wait for the world to hear it. Furthermore, it’s the perfect set up for his comeback.
Ashley got his start in the background. Tonight, he’ll get that feeling back. He’ll certainly never be hiding in the shadows again—not on stage, anyway—but he’ll get to do what he loves best, rock out on that guitar. Then, next month, he’ll be releasing his acoustic album. Just like that, no one will even remember the storm.
“Feel better, sugar?” he asks, pulling me from my thoughts.
I giggle, tightening my legs around him as he shifts to look into my eyes.
“Yeah, sweets, I do. Thank you.”
“Love you,” he says softly.
I reach up and kiss his lips before I reply, “I love you, too.”
Ashley
I look down into Corie’s lap, where she’s absentmindedly fidgeting with my fingers, and smile. We’re moments away from stepping out onto the red carpet, and she’s a mess.
The most beautiful mess I’ve ever seen.
Her long, red gown hugs each and every curve of her gorgeous body—a body I know as intimately as my guitar. She looks stunning, and while I’ve already been inside of her once this evening, I know that when the night ends, I’ll need to take her again. I can’t get enough of her. I’ll never get enough of her.
She’s still the ray of light shining down on me, warming me from the inside out. The last couple of months have proven that I was right that first night, when I was sure I wouldn’t be the same after I’d claimed her as mine. Now, my life is better. It’s full. The woman at my side has a way of keeping me grounded in just the way that I need, inspiring me to be exactly who I am every day. She’s taught me so much without even knowing it, and that’s just one reason of many why I love her so damn much.
With Corie, all the bullshit that comes with being in the spotlight fades away. She’s so quick to show me the ways in which my gift, my talent, and my music matter. Everything else is just background noise.
“Sugar?” I ask as the car comes to a stop.
“Hmm?” she hums, her head snapping in my direction.
“You good?”
“I’m at the Grammys,” she whispers, her eyes wide with panic. “I’m going to be on national television. I’m nobody, and I’m going to go out there on the arm of Ashley Hicks. What will people say?”
“Darlin’,” I start to speak, reaching over to grip the back of her neck. “I’m only going to say this once, you hear?” I pause, waiting for her to respond. When she nods, I stare into her pretty brown eyes as I tell her, “You’ve never been nobody. To me, you’re everythin’. We don’t give a shit what they say, remember? It’s just you and me. Corie and Ashley.”
She exhales, her shoulders sagging in relief before she leans toward me, resting her forehead against mine.
“You’re right. I’m sorry.”
I tilt my head up so that my lips graze her forehead as I mutter, “I love you. Don’t you dare forget it.”
“I love you, too. So, so much.”
“All right, sugar—then there’s just one thing you got’da do.”
“What’s that?” she asks, looking into my eyes.
“Be brave, Corie Flynn—be brave.”
About R.C. Martin
R.C. Martin is a dreamer of stories and a writer of words. Forever a Colorado girl at heart, the Rocky Mountains is where her characters come to life and their journeys begin. For more from R.C. Martin, be sure to visit her social media pages!
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WEST
Grease stares at me.
It isn’t a stare so much as a glare. I don’t look away. I don’t shift my eyes or back down, even though the dude is one of the ugliest motherfuckers I have ever seen in my entire goddamn life.
“I need you to be protection for my sister,” he announces.
“Protection from what?” I ask, arching a brow.
“Some fucker ex is harassing her. He’s followed her to her car a few times, harassing her outside of her work. I need presence there,” he shrugs.
“Okay,” I mutter. Easy job. Way easier than some of the fucking shit jobs they usually make us do around here.
I’m a prospect for the motorcycle club, the Notorious Devils—the original chapter. It’s a big fuckin’ deal, and I’ll do whatever this ugly bastard wants me to so that I can earn my patch.
At twenty-two, I’m one of the oldest prospects waiting for my shot to patch-in. I wandered for a while after high school, trying my hand at college, then working, and finally this. This is where I was meant to be, with an entire family of brothers at my back.
“Ivy is off fucking limits; do you understand me?” he growls.
I almost laugh in his fuckin’ ugly as shit face, but I don’t. No way in fuck is his sister going to be anything I’d want to sink my cock into, not if she looks anything like him.
“Understood,” I grunt as I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.
“She works at Carlotta’s, off at three in the morning. I expect you there at two, and I expect you to escort her home, following behind her car on your bike until she’s inside of her place, starting tonight,” he instructs.
I nod my agreement then stand and turn to leave.
“Off fucking limits, prospect,” he
growls before stomping away.
“You watching over Grease’s baby sister?” MadDog, the charter’s president, asks.
“Yeah,” I grunt, lifting my hand to rub the back of my neck.
“She’s feisty. Good luck with that one,” he chuckles.
I lift my chin as I walk away from him.
My assignment doesn’t start until two. I have a few hours, but I need to get out of this stuffy as shit clubhouse. I’ve been cooped up, cleaning up after these fuckin’ pigs since a big ass party they had a few days ago. Grunt work is a pain in the ass, but I know that the reward will be sweet once I’m patched in as a member.
I straddle my bike and start the engine, feeling her purr between my thighs before I take off into the pitch black night. Our clubhouse is in the middle of nowhere, between two towns, and about an hour away from the city.
Northern California is a gorgeous sight to see, day or night. Tonight, it’s fuckin’ epic. The air is crisp and clean. It smells like the trees that surround us and the lake that isn’t too far from here. Country living at its finest in the most beautiful part of the state. I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.
My bike hugs each curve as I wind down through the mountains toward my destination.
Carlotta’s is a little dessert place in the middle of the downtown area. It’s a hoppin’ little spot, especially during the summer and winter months when tourists come to our quaint area and pretend to be enamored by our little towns and villages.
There’s parking right in front, and I don’t hesitate to pull my bike into a vacant stall. I switch off the motor and stare into the shop’s front window.
It’s a cute little place, but nowhere I would go. They serve fancy ass desserts and coffees. My sisters and mom love it, and they’ve talked about it often; but seeing as I have a dick, I’ve never stepped foot in the place.
IVY
“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” I breathe as I glance up at the motorcycle that’s just pulled up and parked right in front of the shop.
The man straddling it isn’t my brother, so I guess I should be grateful for that much. I can’t see his face, but he has a full beard, and he’s much thinner than my brother is—like half his size. My brother has a taste for food and he doesn’t shy away from it, ever.
My eyes drift to the stranger’s thighs, and I swear my belly clenches. I love thick thighs on a man. For whatever reason, I attribute that to his strength, and this guy has thighs that make me weak in the knees.
“Who’s that?” Carlotta of Carlotta’s, my boss and the owner of the shop, asks from behind me.
“Someone my brother knows,” I sigh, turning away from the rough biker that’s darkening our front parking area.
“What’s he doing here?” she asks, arching a brow.
Carlotta knows who my brother is. I love her for not judging me because of him, but I’ve also warned him to keep himself and his shit away from my place of business. I don’t want anything to do with their illegal bullshit of a gang. Oh, he’d be all over my ass if he knew that’s what I thought of his little group. In my head, I scream the word gang all day long in reference to their club.
“Adam has been bothering me, following me around. I think this is my brother’s way of protecting me or something,” I shrug.
“Could be worse. He could not give a shit,” Carlotta shrugs before she turns to head to the back.
I think about her words. Yeah, it could be worse. Barry could not give one shit about me. I’ve given him plenty of lip to wash his hands of me, but he hasn’t yet. Maybe it was some dying wish of my father’s, to keep me safe or something?
I chuckle to myself. Yeah, right.
The only thing my dad probably wished for on his deathbed was another shot of whiskey and maybe some nasty slut to be at his side.
For the next two hours, I try to ignore the man on the bike. I can feel his eyes scanning the window. I know he can’t really see anything but shapes through the tinted glass, but I can still feel his presence. Something calls me to him, and I try to shake the feeling. He’s definitely not the kind of man I need to be around.
“Go ahead and go home, girl,” Carlotta says from the back.
The shop is completely dead, and it’s only fifteen minutes until closing.
“I’ll help clean up,” I shrug as I take a broom from the side of the counter and start to sweep.
“Seriously. Joey will be here any minute to get me; you can sweep up before we open tomorrow. Get out of here,” she urges.
I thank her and walk over to the counter, grabbing my purse before I remove my apron and hang it up. I walk over to the door and take a deep breath, unsure of who is waiting for me on the other side.
I would hope that my brother would send someone he trusts to protect me, but it’s Barry, so who knows. He’s always been a wildcard.
WEST
I watch the door open, fully prepared to see one ugly as shit chick—but that’s not who steps outside of the little dessert shop. The woman is tall, but her curves are plentiful. Fuck me, her tits alone make my mouth water. There’s way too much for me to look at. Waist, full hips, and her thighs—fuck, I could bury my face between them for hours. Everything about her is tempting. She was made to be fucked.
“So you’re who Barry sent, huh?” she asks. My eyes snap up to meet hers.
She’s gorgeous, with a round face and long honey colored hair. It looks soft as shit too.
“West,” I grunt, trying to keep my dick under control. It’s two seconds from finding its way out of my pants and inside of her cunt.
I stand and swing my leg over my bike, dismounting before I make my way to her side. She’s tall for a woman; but at six-foot-three, she still stands a head shorter than me.
“Where’s your car, babe?” I ask.
“Babe?” she scrunches her nose.
“Yeah,” I grunt.
“My name is Ivy,” she huffs as she starts to walk away from me.
I let her, not for any reason except wanting to watch her sweet ass move beneath her tight skirt.
“I’ll follow you home as well,” I announce as she unlocks her car.
It’s a little piece of shit Ford Focus, and I wonder what in the fuck Grease is doing. He’s obviously not taking care of his sister. I cringe when it sounds like metal scraping together as the engine starts. She needs a new ride and fuckin’ fast, winter is just around the corner and there’s no way in fuck this junk heap is going to last the harsh snow season that is on its way.
“I don’t live far,” she says.
“Wait for me. I don’t have your address,” I grunt.
To my amazement, she nods and doesn’t attempt to back out of the parking stall. I jog to my bike and snap my helmet on as I start the engine and then pull out and wait for her. She slowly backs up and then takes off away from downtown.
She pulls into a tiny little house on the edge of town and my eyes narrow. The street is black, not one streetlight in sight, and the house itself is also dark. It isn’t safe. There are trees and shrubs all around. Someone could just lie in wait for her, and nobody would probably even hear her scream. She’s pretty fuckin’ isolated out here.
“Thank you,” she calls out as she walks toward her front door.
I shake my head as I jog up to her. Ivy’s sliding her key into the door just as I catch up to her, and I wrap my hand around hers before I gently squeeze.
“Wh—,” she tries to speak, but I don’t let her.
I turn the key and leave her on the porch as I clear her house, turning on every light and checking every single room and closet for a possible intruder.
“Why’d you do that?” she asks from the living room as I make my way back to her.
“You live out in the fucking boonies. Anybody could be waiting for you,” I announce.
“Adam wouldn’t just walk inside of my house,” she balks.
“Adam?” I ask.
“My ex, Adam, the guy who’s b
een bothering me,” she explains.
“Grease didn’t tell me who it was, just said it was some guy bothering you after work,” I grumble as I rub the back of my neck.
“Barry doesn’t really listen to me,” she murmurs.
“Look, you want me to stick around for a while?” I ask, not wanting to leave her out here all alone.
“No, I’ll be okay.”
“All right, babe. You workin’ tomorrow night?” I ask.
“Yeah, I’ll be off at the same time,” she sighs. She looks beat to shit.
“See ya then. Lock up behind me,” I order before I turn and walk away from her.
I have to walk away. If I don’t, I’ll fuck the shit out of her right there on her living room floor. She’s the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. A fuckin’ hard-on in heels, and she’s off-fucking-limits. To do anything would be reckless as shit.
IVY
I press my back against my front door and pinch my eyes closed. Holy shit, West is beautiful. Like full on gorgeous. His dark, little-too-long and messy helmet hair, his full dark beard, and his eyes black as night.
I don’t even want to think about his body—about his height, or how wide his shoulders are, and how trim his waist is, or the way his jeans hug his thick thighs. I shake my head, trying to rid myself of his image as I make my way toward my bathroom to shower before bed.
I want him. I want the bad boy, and I’m not sure I give one fuck that he’s everything I’ve ever steered clear from.
I throw the covers off of my sweaty body and let out a huff of air. It’s not even hot, and yet here I am, covered in sweat. I’d like to say it’s because I had some creepy nightmare, but no—I had a sex dream.