FORSAKEN: The Punishers MC

by April Lust

  Then I twisted the keys and felt the thrum of the engine between my legs. Opening the clutch, I rolled back on the throttle. Gas combusted. Wheels spun.

  Natalia and I took off down the road, leaving behind everything we’d ever known.

  Epilogue

  Natalia

  Two Weeks Later

  Mexico was beautiful. The sky during the days we’d been here have been nothing but the purest azure shade, stretching unbroken from the mountains in the west to the Gulf in the east. The air was like a warm kiss on my skin. No more cold Chicago winters, no more snow. I never wanted to be anywhere but here, next to the beach, where I could hear the waves whispering as they slid onto the smooth sand and back out again, over and over, like a lullaby.

  I padded down the sidewalk with a bag of tacos and a cardboard container of rice and beans in my hands, dinner for two. The sun was just starting to nuzzle against the horizon. Beams of purple and bronze slinked between the low rooves of the white adobe buildings. The whole world was awash in color. I smiled, unable to help myself. It was just too damn pretty.

  I made my way to the cottage at the end of the street. It looked just like the rest. The roof was thatched with straw, a palm tree in the front yard held its leafy fronds out over the small porch, and the walls were daubed with streaky white paint. It, too, was perfect.

  My sandals made a shushing noise as I walked across the dry grass. I caught sight of myself in a mirror and paused. In just two weeks I looked like a new person. The bruises and scratches had faded and my once pale skin was beginning to look tan. It was an unfamiliar change but a welcome one. My hair was also lightening, the very ends of it turning from midnight black to a slightly lighter shade of brown, courtesy of the beaming Mexican sun. I hadn’t gotten it cut in a while and it was reaching nearly to the small of my back. I thought I’d keep it, though. The look was growing on me.

  “Gonna stand there forever looking at yourself, or are we gonna eat?” came a gruff voice.

  I jumped, startled. Nicholas was sitting on the porch looking at me with a wry smile on his face. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and I could see that he was tanning even faster than I was. The unmarked stretches of skin left between his colorful tattoos had become a rich brown. It made his eyes even more shocking than they usually were. Underneath his dark hair, they shone at me, twinkling and mysterious.

  “Coming,” I trilled, taking the steps in one bound. I set the food on the rickety table the previous owners left for us on the front porch. I started to move towards the unoccupied chair on the other side of the table, but Nico snaked an arm out around my waist and pulled me towards him.

  “Get over here, girl,” he growled playfully as he tugged me onto his lap.

  I yelped and giggled until he swooped down and locked his lips against mine. His tongue delved between my teeth while he slid a hand underneath my neck to support my head.

  I moaned softly. His taste never got old.

  He broke it off but kept his face close to mine. Up close, his eyes almost consumed my whole field of vision. I could see a thousand different shades of blue surfacing and submerging like dolphins frolicking in the oceans of his irises.

  “Took your sweet time coming home, didn’t ya?” he teased. He nipped at my nose.

  I shrieked and jerked my head away, laughing. “Well, if I’d known you were sitting around shirtless, maybe I would have hustled a little more,” I shot back with a grin. “Then again, maybe I should make you cover up. Can’t have all these local ladies thirsting after my man.”

  “I’ve been beatin’ them away with a stick since the minute you walked out the door,” he joked. “I told him over and over, ‘I love Natalia!’ but they just won’t listen. Probably ’cause they don’t speak English.”

  “Mm, I can see how that would be a barrier. Wait, do me one favor.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Say again what you told them?”

  He smiled, sun-chapped lips splitting to reveal a row of glistening white teeth. “I told them, I love Natalia.”

  “Say it again.”

  “I love Natalia.”

  “One more time.”

  He stood suddenly, hoisting me into the air by my waist like a ballerina as he bellowed at the top of his lungs, “I love Natalia!” A flock of seagulls in the palm tree out front took wing, startled by the sudden outburst.

  I laughed, reveling in the words as I heard them again and again. That part would never get old, either. Nicholas started to set me back down, but as he did, his leg failed beneath him and we both went tumbling to the ground. I landed on top of him. His body absorbed the worst of my fall, but I still managed to knock my elbow against the wooden slats of the porch. Pins and needles ricocheted along my forearm.

  Among all these sunshine and euphoria, it was easy to forget how little time had passed since everything we went through in Chicago. We were both trying to put it out of our minds, but sometimes our bodies refused to cooperate. Nicholas was still battered and his left wrist was still encased in a makeshift plaster cast. The cuts riddling both of us would no doubt turn into scars that would last for a very long time. Ignoring the past was easy, but forgetting it was much harder.

  I scrambled to roll onto my knees next to him. His eyes were closed but his chest was rising and falling slowly. As I stroked the side of his face, his eyes fluttered open. Thank God.

  “Nico, are you all right?” I questioned anxiously.

  He looked at me steadily, not saying a word for a few long seconds. Then he gently cupped my chin in his hand and pulled me towards him for a light kiss. “Never better,” he whispered.

  I helped him back to his seat. He grimaced in pain and I could hear the creak of bones scraping together, but he managed to settle back in somewhat comfortably. I hovered in front of him, still worried that he reinjured his wrist or his knees.

  “I’m fine,” he said roughly, not looking at me.

  I grinned, though the worry lingered. He wouldn’t admit he was in pain if his whole damn body was on fire. That was just how he was, though. I was going to have to get used to it. He pulled me back onto his lap and I sat lightly, careful not to press too much of my weight against his thigh, despite how strong and capable it felt beneath me.

  “Do you wanna eat?” I asked.

  He leaned forward and pressed his lips softly against the curve of my bare neck. “I’m sick of tacos,” he whispered.

  I pushed his chest away, annoyed. “Are you serious?” I squealed. “You were the one who said that’s what you wanted to eat!”

  He lurched to his feet again, scooping me up like a bride being carried over the threshold. “I’m just hungry for something else,” he said. He lunged inside and kicked the door shut behind him.

  “Oh yeah?” I retorted, barely suppressing a grin as he carried me through the small white living room and down the hall. “What might that be?”

  “Hmm, lemme get a taste and decide.” Entering the bedroom, he tossed me on top of the comforter and dove on top of me. His mouth found my collarbone while his right hand slid down my hip to my inner thigh where it was exposed below the hem of my simple cotton dress.

  “Oh, Nico,” I moaned as his fingers moved under my dress and began to stroke at my mound through the sheer fabric of my panties. His left hand slyly teased the straps of my dress off my shoulders and peeled back the top. Without a bra underneath, my breasts rose unheeded into the brown peak of my nipples. He shifted his mouth from one to the other and back again, suckling delicately. A delicious tremor passed through me.

  I encircled my arms around his back. He was brimming with muscle, and as my palms glided down his flanks, I could feel every fiber twitch and move beneath my touch. His scent filled my nose and the gentle downward pressure of his massive bulk on top of me was like a soothing blanket.

  I spread my thighs apart to let him explore further. Taking advantage of the extra room, he slid my panties to the side and ran a teasing finger from the bott
om of my slit to the top, then back down again, before slowly slipping inside of me.

  I clenched reflexively for a moment. He stopped, pulled back, and looked at me. “Do you trust me?” he says.

  Did I? For starters, I hardly knew him. It hadn’t even been a month since I was a shivering wreck underneath the glare of spotlights, fodder for the highest bidder to use and abuse at their whim. Did I trust him? He bought me, fought for me, then came into a cell adorned with whips and chains and ravaged me.

  But despite all that, the answer was an unequivocal yes.

  I nodded my head. He smiled and leaned back down to kiss me hard on the mouth. Below, his fingers resumed their slow push inward. I groaned again as he started to stroke in and out of me while his thumb brushed against my clit.

  He brought me to the peak of a quick climax. It was amazing how easily I responded to his touch. It took hardly any effort before I was riding his hand, thrusting hard against his strokes before tumbling over the edge and basking in the warm, suffusing glow of an orgasm.

  I quickly unbuckled his jeans and pushed them down his hips. He kicked them off completely before clambering on the bed on top of me. I pushed his shoulders to encourage him to lie on his back. He let me, his head coming to rest on the pillows as I swung my leg over him and started to kiss my way down his chest.

  I licked and bit between his pecs, over the peaks and valleys of his abs, until I reached his throbbing member. Nipping at the crease of his hip, I began to pull on his cock with my right hand. A slow pump up and down drew from him a low, satisfied growl. He pushed his head back into the pillows and closed his eyes.

  Transferring my mouth to his tip, I licked leisurely from top to bottom, taking my time and keeping my gaze fixated on his twitching face. I loved this part, knowing I could do to him something exactly like what he did to me. As I took his head between my lips and heard the growl increase in volume, I felt a shiver between my own legs.

  A steady bob of my wet mouth along his shaft while my two hands squeezed easily at the base of it added more strength to his groaning. He reached out to wind his fingers between the locks of my hair hanging around my head like a dark curtain.

  I increased the speed of my sucking and grinned on the inside as his moans kept pace with every slurp. After a few minutes, he leaned forward and pulled the back of my head towards him.

  His manhood was at attention as he gave me a deep kiss. Then he swung his legs off the bed and took to his feet. I lay back and let him peel the dress and panties off my body. When I was naked before him, he paused. “You’re a fucking goddess, babe,” he said without smiling. He’d never been more serious. “I knew it the second I saw you. I had to have you.”

  “Is that so?” I murmured.

  He nodded. “There was no way I was letting you leave that place as anyone else’s. You were mine.”

  I let my knees fall open, baring myself completely to his gaze. He drank me in. I could see the flame dancing in his pupils. It scared me and excited me at the same time, every bit as much as it did the first moment I laid eyes on him.

  He stooped to his knees and ran his tongue from my knee, up my thigh, to my hot center. Opening wide, he breathed heavily onto my pussy. The warm air felt incredible against my sensitive parts.

  He licked at the outer lips first, warming me up for the moment when his tongue plunged in to reach farther, deeper, more. I squeezed a pillow with one hand and my breast in the other as he brushed his mouth along my opening. Tiny outbursts of sizzling sensation rippled beneath his touch. The speed of their exploding picked up as he did, keeping time with every lick, every nibble, until before I knew it I was on the threshold of coming again. This one was a little bit deeper than the last, a little more toe-curling. Moans escaped my mouth as I held onto the bed for support and let it wash over me.

  “I need you,” I mumbled as it started to ebb. “I need you inside me right now.”

  Nicholas stood and lined his cock up with my tunnel. I closed my eyes and waited for the sudden thrust, the dramatic filling that I was craving so badly. But it didn’t come.

  I opened my eyes again and looked up to see him considering me oddly. “What is it?” I asked. Concern is replacing the heat that had just moments ago been raging in my core. “Is something wrong?”

  “I want to hear you say it,” he said.

  “Say what?” I asked, my brow knitted together in concern.

  “You know what to say.” He didn’t blink or budge. His member wavered just inches away from me, so close to giving me everything I needed and yet so far.

  I racked my brain, trying to think of what he wanted to hear. After all this time, what could be left unsaid? What needed repeating? Then it clicked. I looked at him, my eyes glistening with equal parts desire and love, as I told him exactly what he was looking for.

  “I’m all yours, Nicholas,” I said. “Now and forever.”

  Those were the magic words. He slid into me, and everything was right in the world.

  THE END

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  THE OUTLAW’S BRIDE: Skullbreakers MC

  By April Lust

  I’LL KEEP HER SAFE. I’LL KEEP HER CLOSE. AND I’LL KILL ANY OTHER MAN WHO TOUCHES HER.

  She should have stayed in my past.

  But now that she’s back…

  I’m going to make sure she never leaves again.

  I might seem cruel.

  Or overprotective.

  But if there’s one thing I’ve learned in this world, it’s this:

  You gotta find what you love and hold it close.

  She got away once.

  Never, ever again.

  Because when I learn what she took with her, I explode.

  No one – NO ONE – hides my son from me.

  It seems I’ve got to teach pretty little Angel a lesson or two.

  This won’t be the sweet reunion she might’ve been expecting.

  It’s going to be dark, sweaty, and brutal.

  Because I’m an outlaw.

  And when you’re my bride… you’re playing by my rules.

  Chapter 1

  Angel

  The hot, still air felt like a blanket around me as I walked around the Centerville Public Library, closing the windows. It had been a quiet July day — not many patrons, only the regulars. I loved my job working at the local library, but sometimes it left me alone in my head for too long. My favorite days were when students came in and asked for help with research projects. Then I’d be drawn into helping them and forget about everything else running through my mind.

  It felt strange that I’d wound up in Centerville. I’d spent the whole first part of my life trying to run away. I didn’t love the town — it didn’t suit me. It never had. Growing up, Mom and Daddy had taken me on vacations all around the world. I’d never gotten over the thrill of waking up on a plane and seeing a whole new world at my feet. I loved Europe. We spent our summers walking through old cities on older cobblestones, eating at sidewalk cafés, and shopping for the most wonderful things imaginable. I loved it. I was always depressed for weeks when I’d get back home. America, especially Centerville, always seemed so ugly afterwards. Even in our big house, with four stories and servants, I still felt alone. Usually I’d spend the next six months after a trip dreaming about the next one. I loved to travel. Back then, I thought I’d grow up and travel the world with my love and my family at my side. Back then it hadn’t seemed impossible.

  I always thought I’d grow up to be just like Mom and Daddy. They’d met in college — he was her professor — and fallen instantly in love. Even though they had a vast age difference, nothing came between them. The three of us were a perfect little family, and I loved it. When I was sad or scared, I just closed my eyes and imagined we were a royal
family, living in exile. That always made me feel better. I knew it was childish, but I couldn’t help it. It was the fantasy I’d always carried out.

  I thought I’d go to college and find a husband, then get married and settle down and have a lot of kids. I waited for that one special guy, the one who would chase me, the one who was desperately in love with me and told me all the time. But he never came. And by the time I was a teenager, things were starting to change at home. Mom was becoming obsessed with aging. Every day when I got home, she’d have some new mud treatment or mask on, or she’d been recovering from another round of facial injections. It was like she was terrified of becoming old. She lost her temper with me all the time and began to snap at me whenever Daddy would give into me about whatever I wanted. I was frightened; this wasn’t the Mom I’d always known. I still loved her; I desperately craved her approval. But no matter what I did, things between us got tenser and tenser with each passing day. Daddy wouldn’t interfere after I became a teenager. Whenever I went to him and told him Mom and I were fighting, he’d light his pipe, look me in the eye, and say, “Respect your mother, Angel. You know I raised you better than this.”