by Geri Glenn
When the tears hit me this time, I don’t even try to stop them. For the first time, I allow myself to admit that through this entire ordeal, I have never been alone, not for one second. Bosco has been right there through it all, carrying half the load.
The familiar smell of his cologne envelopes me as he pulls me into his arms. I wrap my arms around his waist and press my face into his muscled chest. This man has no idea how much this means to me.
“Why’s Momma cryin’?” Millie’s hand touches my leg.
Releasing me for just a second, Bosco leans down and scoops her up, this time hugging us both to his chest. “She’s just happy you’re finally home, Tink. Are you happy?”
“Uh-huh,” she says, and then squirms in his arms. “Can I play now?”
As he releases me to put her down, I scrub at my face with my shirt sleeves, drying the tears from my eyes yet again. It feels like all I do lately is cry.
“Bosco...” I reach out and place my hand on his arm. “Thank you. Thank you for the house. Thank you for taking care of Millie. Just...” Tilting my head to the side, I give him a small smile. “Thank you.”
A kiss pressed to my forehead is his only response.
Bosco
“I’m on Tink duty tonight,” I declare, nudging Sarah, who sits beside me on the couch. “Go to your bed and sleep.”
Sarah opens her tired eyes. “You don’t have to do that. I’ll be fine.”
Drawing in a deep breath, I attempt to rein in my frustration before releasing it. “Can you please, just this once, let me help you without putting up a fucking fight?”
I watch, bracing myself for a fight as her mouth falls open and she turns to me with an incredulous stare. “I’m not putting up a fight. I said I’ll be fine, and I don’t like your tone.”
“Jesus,” I mutter, my decision made before she even finishes her complaint. Standing, I turn to her and lean down, ignoring her wide eyes as I shove my hands behind her back and knees. In one swift motion, I lift her, cradling her small frame in my arms and head for the stairs.
“Put me down!” Sarah’s hands push against my chest as she struggles to get out of my hold. “What do you think you’re doing?”
With a clenched jaw, I hold her tighter, careful not to drop her as we climb the narrow staircase. “I’m putting you to fucking bed and forcing you to let me keep an ear out for Millie.”
“This is ridiculous! Put me down!”
By the time I get her to her bedroom, her face is red with anger and exertion, and I’m fed up. I walk right up to her bed and plop her down onto it, watching her with narrowed eyes as she bounces twice and then stops. “Sleep.”
I’m halfway out the door when her fingers bite into my arm, yanking me back into the room. “Who the hell do you think you are?” Her nostrils flare and her eyes spark as she glares up at me. “You have no right to carry me up here like I’m some kind of naughty child.”
Gritting my teeth together so hard my jaw aches, I take a step toward her, my nose almost touching hers. “Then stop fucking acting like one. Let me help you.”
It happens so fast. I don’t even recognize the change in the air before it happens. The anger burning in her eyes disappears, and suddenly, instead of rage, she stares up at me with a need so raw, it burns me deep inside my soul. One minute we’re glaring at each other, and the next, her fingers are tangled into fists in my hair, our lips mashed together in a kiss that makes the world stop turning around us.
Like a tiny little spider monkey, she climbs me, her arms wrapping around my neck as her legs encircle my waist. Our lips slide together in a frenzy, our hands pawing at each other, touching anything and everything all at once.
I glide my palms down her back and over the curve of her ass, cupping her and holding her to me. Her head angles down toward mine, and I revel in the fact that it’s her controlling this kiss. Her tongue slips into my mouth and she groans.
Walking deeper into the room, I reach the edge of the bed, and without breaking our kiss, I lay her down, positioning myself between her legs. Sarah’s hands slide across my chest, tiny whimpers escaping her lips as I roll my hips against her center.
Her fingers grasp at my shirt, yanking it from the waistband of my pants. Her fingers against the bare skin of my stomach has my cock jumping inside the confines of my jeans. She pushes at the material, desperate to get it out of the way. I don’t make her wait. I reach back behind my head, and with one smooth move, I pull the shirt off and toss it to the floor.
Her gaze is hungry as she takes in my muscled torso, her hands sliding over the planes of my stomach. She lifts her lashes and her brown eyes meet mine, her teeth sinking into her lower lip as she tugs at the buckle on my belt. My breathing hitches as I look down between us.
Skin. I need to touch her skin, to feel her skin on mine.
Her shirt is gone in an instant and I fling it away, my lips already tracing her collarbone, my tongue slipping along the edge of her lacy pink bra. Her breasts heave, the tops of them spilling out of the cups, begging for my attention.
For the first time since our lips collided, I pause and stare into her eyes. Slowly, I reach behind her, my fingers zoning in on the clasps of her bra. I watch her for any sign she wants me to stop. Any sign at all.
Her hooded eyes stare brazenly back at me, and when she rolls her hips against me, her core rubbing against my already strained cock, I know she isn’t going to stop me. Her bra is undone in an instant, and as I pull it from her arms, I stare down at the glorious mounds below me.
Her upswept nipples are dusky and peaked, her breasts full. I lean down and press a light kiss to one, and then the other, my eyes watching her face, my ears reveling in the hitch in her breathing. I cup one in my hand, and with my tongue, I drag slow circles around her nipple. She whimpers beneath me, her eyes focused on my mouth.
“Your tits are fucking beautiful,” I tell her, blowing on the skin I’d just soaked with my tongue. It tightens in the cool air, and when it can’t get any tighter, I nip the tiny bud between my teeth, flicking the tip back and forth with my tongue. Fingernails claw at my back as he she arches her chest toward me.
Dropping my hand, I slide my fingertips down her belly and undo the button on her jeans. I suck her taut nipple deeper into my mouth as my hand slips inside her pants and under her panties, my finger searching out her silky heat.
“Bosco,” she cries, her hands gripping my shoulders. She’s so fucking wet already and I’ve barely touched her.
Dipping lower, I find her slick wetness and come back up, spreading it on her clit as I roll the hard nub under my fingertip. She moans, her back arched. “You like what I’m doing to you, baby?”
I barely recognize my own voice. It’s deep and raspy, and commanding. It’s amazing I can talk at all. Sarah spread out before me, her bare tits within reach of my mouth and her greedy pussy grinding into my hand. Fuck.
“Answer me,” I bite out, pinching her clit between my thumb and finger.
Sarah’s strangled cry is one of the sexiest, most feral sounds I’ve ever heard. “Yes! Yes, I like it. Don’t stop.”
I have no intentions of stopping; I’m just getting started. Pulling away from her, I tug her jeans down and over her hips, my eyes glued to the way her tits bounce and sway as she wiggles out of them. Once her feet are free, I settle on my knees, between her legs, and use the palms of my hands to spread her legs wide.
Her pussy is bare and wet, glistening in the light filtering from the hallway. Slowly, I run my palms down her soft, creamy inner thighs, and then sit back. Never taking my eyes from her face, I slide one finger deep inside her. Her expression twists with need, and the soft mew of pleasure she gives me is all I can take.
Another finger joins the first, and I thrust them in and out, searching for the place inside that I know will drive her wild. Bending forward, I bury my face between her lush folds. I lap at her pussy, devouring her, memorizing the smell, the taste, and the softness of it agai
nst my face. She’s so fucking responsive, I fear I’ll never get a chance to feel my cock inside of her.
It’s been a while since I’ve had sex. Part of my sobriety has been respecting myself and not having any desire to taint my life with the women at the clubhouse. Besides, I’ve been devoted to Sarah for a long time, even though she was never really aware of it. I’ve had eyes for no one but her.
Swirling my tongue around in circles, I fist my free hand around my cock and slowly stroke it, frantic to relieve the steadily building pressure. When her body starts to quiver beneath my lips, and I feel her walls pulsing around my fingers, I have to pinch the tip of my cock to keep from embarrassing myself.
Her hands come up, gripping the sides of my head, and her hips sway in tandem with the motion of my tongue. Her moans get louder and bolder, and I can feel the storm building inside of her about to break free.
Her release hits her in a tidal wave. Her walls clench around my fingers, immobilizing them inside of her. Her entire body shudders and shakes, and when her gasps and moans get too loud, I cover her mouth with my free hand, my tongue continuing it’s frenzied and carnal assault on her throbbing pussy.
When she settles beneath my touch, I sit back on my heels and grin, wiping her desire from my face. She doesn’t grin back. Her stare is filled with hunger as she reaches forward and tugs on my jeans, yanking me over her until my chest presses against hers.
“Fuck me,” she whispers, her lips grazing the shell of my ear.
Sarah
The morning sun is just starting to rise when I become aware of the arm draped over my side. For a split second, just a blip, really, I forget about everything that’s happened to me over the last three years. I forget about Mouse dying and about delivering Millie, alone and scared. I forget about the cancer, the desperation and the fear. Mouse’s arm over my waist takes me back to a time before all that.
As I snuggle back against him, ice races through my veins. Not Mouse. Bosco.
Oh my God. What did I do? Conflicting images flash through my mind. Losing my virginity to Mouse, his kind eyes never leaving mine as he thrusted gently inside me for the first time. Last night with Bosco, his muscled arms flexing above me as he made me come over and over again. Mouse’s hand on my belly, a grin taking up his entire face as I tell him about the baby I’m carrying. Bosco at the hospital the day Millie was born, the tiny baby nestled comfortably in his arms.
Too much. All of it is just too much. Confusion churns my stomach and I leap from the bed, running to the bathroom, sure I’m about to throw up. As I grip the edge of the toilet, heat burns me from the inside out. My mind races, trying to get a handle on my memories and my thoughts.
I’d slept with Bosco. And I’d liked it. God. I’d liked it so fucking much.
After nothing happens, the nausea passes, and with shaking legs, I stand. My naked, freshly fucked body aches and throbs in the most delicious way, and I can’t bring myself to enjoy it. Instead, I hurry out of the bathroom and peek in on Millie. She’s still sound asleep, the blankets rising and falling with each steady breath.
I have to get him out of here.
As I reach my bedroom, I snatch up my robe and stuff my arms inside, quickly wrapping the tie around my waist and knotting it into a bow. I bend forward and start gathering up Bosco’s clothing, my breathing harsh and rapid, almost to the point of hyperventilating. “Get up,” I whisper, shoving his shoulder, and then leaning forward to pick up his shirt.
Bosco’s sleep weary eyes blink open, his smile slow and flirtatious. As his gaze focuses on me, though, his smile fades and his brows draw together. “What’s wrong?”
“You have to go,” I snap and turn, rushing down the stairs. Part of me knows this is ridiculous. Who kicks a naked man out of their house before the sun even rises?
I can hear him clambering down the stairs behind me as I yank open the front door. One piece at a time, I throw his clothes onto the front lawn, not bothering to watch where they fall.
“Sarah, don’t fucking do this,” he says as I toss one boot, then the other out into the yard, where they fall about three feet away. He rushes out to pick them up and for the first time, I realize that I’m crying.
“Just go, Bosco. This was a mistake.” Tears roll down my face as I move to shut the door. “We never should have...oh, God.”
He storms up the stairs to my front door, not giving one single shit about the fact that he’s standing in his boxer briefs first thing in the morning, outside my house where all the neighbors can see. “It wasn’t a mistake.” His hand grips the edge of the door so I can’t close it. “You might not want to admit it, but this wasn’t a fuckin’ mistake. You know it, and I know it.”
My heart stutters in my chest. “Bosco, I can’t do this. Please. Don’t make this harder than it already is.”
Yanking the door from my grasp, he steps closer and touches his forehead to mine. Dizziness washes over me. “You wanna lie to yourself and say it’s a mistake, go for it, but don’t try to convince me. I’m all-in here. I’ve been all-in for more than three goddamn years. That little girl in there loves me, Sarah. You love me too, you just can’t fuckin’ admit it.”
His words are like knives to my soul. I know he’s right, I know he loves us, both of us. But being with him feels like nothing short of a betrayal to Mouse, and I can’t do that to the father of my baby. I shove at the door, needing to put a solid barricade between us, but my strength has nothing on him.
Finally, he steps back and lets the screen door fall closed. I watch, my heart breaking as he backs down the steps, his hands up and his angry gaze pinning me on the spot. “Fine, I’ll go, but I’ll be back. I’ll be back every fuckin’ day if that’s what it takes for you to admit that you love me. Fight me all you want, but you’re not gonna win this one. I’m not gonna let you.”
Frozen in place, we stare at each other. “Oh,” he continues, his voice almost as hard as his gaze. “That car,” he motions to the little sedan in the driveway that he had picked us up in yesterday, “is yours. I worked out a deal with a buddy. The keys are on the kitchen table.”
Watching him stalk down the driveway and around the corner, his clothes clutched in his hand, is both a relief and the scariest moment of my life. Why did I do that? What the hell is the matter with me?
As the door closes with a resounding thud, I rest my back against it and slide down until I’m in a heap at the bottom. I sit there, stunned, detached. I’ve just thrown away the best thing that had happened to me in three years.
Bosco
Angry. Betrayed. Pissed at the fucking world. Those are just a few of the emotions eating away at me as I yank my clothes on around the corner from Sarah’s house. Last night, she’s given herself to me in a way that I’ve only dreamt of. I finally got to kiss her lips and touch her skin, to sink inside of her until we became one.
I thought we’d finally had a breakthrough. I’d given her fucking everything last night. I’d practically ripped my own heart out of my chest and laid it at her fucking feet, and she’d tossed it onto the lawn with my clothes as if none of that shit mattered.
Looking around, I try to come up with a plan. I’m miles away from home and from the clubhouse where my motorcycle is. I’d left it there when I’d picked up the car from my friend at Jase’s garage. It’s just after six o’clock in the morning, and thank fuck the rest of the world seems to be asleep.
Yanking out my phone from the pocket of my jeans, I curse at the crack I find on the screen. It must have happened when Sarah had chucked my pants out onto the driveway. Thankfully, it still works fine. I scroll through my contacts, trying to decide on who to call to pick me up.
Jase lives not too far from here, but there’s no way in hell I’m calling him. The last thing I need is for this to become the focus of weeks of ribbing from Mr. Funny Man himself. Reaper’s not far, though. My finger hovers over his name, unsure if he’s the best choice.
Sure, Reaper won’t give me a ha
rd time, but our friendship is solely club based. We’ve never connected, aside from both of us being members of the Kings. In fact, we haven’t always seen eye to eye. I know that some of that’s my fault. His wife, Anna, and I are friends, and have a connection that he just can’t understand.
We’re both recovering addicts, and have bonded because of that. Since the club doesn’t know about my past, I’ve made it clear to Anna that she’s not to tell Reaper about me being at the meetings we both go to each week. Not telling him has been hard on her, and I know that if he knew, he’d be a lot more understanding, but so far, she’s kept my secret.
He’ll come, though; I know he will. Reaper is loyal and would never leave me stranded. He also won’t ask a lot of questions.
The phone wakes him up, but he doesn’t ask questions. I just tell him I need a ride and he asks where, then tells me he’ll be here in five minutes. I take a seat on the curb and wait.
I try to understand where Sarah’s coming from. Maybe I pushed her too hard, too fast, but even as I consider that, I know it’s not true. I’ve been a fucking saint when it comes to giving her the time she needs to heal, and it had been her that kissed me first, both fucking times. Last night, it had been her that had begged me to fuck her. I hadn’t forced myself on her. She’d wanted it.
In all the time I’ve spent with Sarah and Millie, I’ve never really been angry with her, until now. Now I’m not just angry, I’m hurt and confused, and livid. I get that she’s hurting. I get that she’s confused about her feelings and that Millie’s cancer mixed into that doesn’t make things any better. But what about me? When she was throwing my shit on her front fucking lawn, did she once stop to consider what I was feeling? What her actions were putting me through?
The rumble of Reaper’s souped-up truck tears me away from feeling sorry for myself. He doesn’t get out, but he does pull up alongside me and leans across the seat, shoving the passenger door open for me.