Son of a Beard

by Lani Lynn Vale

  “Take care of her,” I ordered Big Papa, gesturing toward Ilsa.

  Though, I needn’t have bothered. Ilsa was being looked after by Dixie, of all people. Dixie, a large, older man with a shock of white hair and a matching beard that nearly came all the way down to his chest. He was a member of the Dixie Wardens MC, Benton, Louisiana Chapter. He was one of the funniest guys I knew, and I had not one single worry that he wouldn’t take good care of Verity’s GG while I couldn’t be there with her.

  Big Papa nodded and followed me down, Tough and McClain at his side right along with me.

  I walked stiffly over to my bike, through the sea of bikers that were still hanging around and mounted it.

  When Big Papa went to follow suit, I held up my hand.

  “I need some time,” I said gruffly, leaning sideways slightly to kick the stand up.

  Big Papa stopped, turned, and studied me.

  “I’ll come check on you in a few hours.”

  I didn’t bother to reply. I just got on my bike and rode to the only place that felt like her.

  Home.

  Two hours later, I found myself in the middle of my workshop.

  I couldn’t breathe.

  Everything was closing in on me, and I could do nothing but stand there in the midst of everything that Verity loved, and…break.

  And I did…completely.

  So thoroughly, in fact, that I wasn’t sure how many hours had passed as I did so.

  The ring of my phone was what broke me out of my thoughts.

  I hurried to answer the phone, not caring enough to look to see who it was before I yanked it up and slammed it against my ear.

  “How is she?”

  “She’s stable…ish,” Big Papa sounded so tired. Not as tired as I felt, though. “I called about Tank. He made it through surgery. Has a broken hind leg and a few cracked ribs. They expect him to make a full recovery.”

  Was it bad that I didn’t care?

  I should. If it wasn’t for him, who knows if we would’ve found her in time.

  But I couldn’t find it in me to scrounge up the urge to give a shit.

  Not when my woman had nearly been killed right before my eyes—twice on the same fucking day.

  Right in front of my eyes!

  My breath was coming in and out of my chest at an accelerated rate, and each time I breathed in, it felt like I was doing it through a straw. My throat was tight, and I felt like I couldn’t catch my breath.

  Something clattered to the floor at my feet.

  When the hell had I ended up on my knees on the floor?

  Judging by the way my legs were tingling as blood flow tried to get to where it needed to go, it’d been a while.

  Eyes flicking to the piece of metal that’d fallen, my heart skipped a beat.

  It was the pre-cut metal of Verity’s father’s yet-to-be-forged sword.

  The one I’d cut before this whole fucking disaster had started.

  I leaned forward, closed my fingers around the cool metal, took a few deep breaths and tried to compose myself.

  I still couldn’t breathe, but I could focus on this while I tried to pull myself back together.

  Getting up, I fired up the forge and shoved the piece of metal into the fire.

  After donning my gloves, I picked up my tongs, yanked the metal out of the fire and placed it on the anvil. I picked up my hammer, and proceeded to whack the ever-loving shit out of the metal.

  I didn’t know how long it was before the sword finally started to take shape, but I’d just put it back into the fire for round ninety-five when I heard someone’s knock at my door.

  Moving to the flimsy door that separated me from the outside world, I came to a halt when I saw her.

  “Yes?” I rasped as I opened the door, voice gruff from disuse.

  My eyes were blurry.

  My body ached.

  My head was a pounding mass of flesh that would likely hate me very much the next time I decided to try to sleep, and to put the icing on the cake, I still couldn’t breathe.

  Ilsa stared back at me the moment I opened the door, and I couldn’t read her face.

  “She’s asking for you.”

  The hammer dropped from my hand to the floor, and my body followed it down.

  I fell to my knees and stayed there so long that Ilsa placed her hand on top of my sweaty head.

  “Hurry,” she ordered. “Go take a shower, and let’s go see her.”

  I did as she instructed, and the moment I saw Verity’s eyes on mine thirty minutes later, I found the ability to breathe correctly again.

  My heart, however, would never be the same.

  Chapter 25

  I wouldn’t do anything for a Klondike Bar, but I’d do some sketchy shit for a cup of coffee.

  -Text from Truth to Verity

  Verity

  “You’re fucking crazy,” I told my husband. “Get the hell out of here so I can get dressed.”

  “We need to sell one of our houses. Mine is the logical choice.”

  His was the logical house to put on the market, but I’d grown to love it here.

  “Did you give your dad his sword?” Truth asked, ignoring my instructions and lying down on the bed where all of my clothes were laying.

  “Yes,” I grumbled. “You’re on my shirt,” I yanked it out from under his head, causing him to curse. “Does this make me look fat?”

  Truth, not a stupid man, denied my words.

  “No,” he said. “You’re pregnant…not fat. They’re completely different things.”

  That was true.

  Apparently, nobody had shared with him that I was pregnant, or me, for that matter. Though, everyone swore they did.

  I was chalking it up to my pain killer-induced haze.

  Who knew what Truth’s excuse had been.

  My lips twitched as I remembered Truth’s reaction to finding out what I suspected to be a pregnancy.

  ***

  “Oh, God,” Truth dropped to his knees beside me, his hand on my back as he ran his large palm up and down the length of my back. “You’re not dying, are you?”

  “No,” I said.

  It came out more like ‘Nlooogoooooooarghhhhh,’ though as I tried to speak and throw up at the same time.

  That was the last time I would ever eat eggs again!

  “Then why are you throwing up?” he asked, panicked now.

  I gasped.

  Then stopped throwing up.

  The minute I sat up, I narrowed my eyes at him.

  He picked up a piece of toilet paper, wiped my face, and cringed a little before throwing the paper in the toilet and flushing it.

  Oh, God. He’d just wiped puke off of my face.

  Now that was love.

  “We’re getting a divorce,” I decided right then and there.

  His brows furrowed.

  “What?” he asked in confusion. “Why the hell would we do that?”

  “Because I draw the line at you sitting on the floor next to me, wiping puke off my face,” I informed him.

  I was being irrational, but I couldn’t help it.

  “And,” I snapped. “I can’t have your baby right now. I can’t even take a shower by myself!”

  I held up my casted arm, waving it in his face.

  His face that was currently being overtaken by shock.

  His face was pale, and his beard was quivering as he tried to figure out how to speak.

  “Say something,” I snapped at him.

  He ran a hand down his face, stopping to tug lightly on his beard, before he cleared his throat.

  “I…good?”

  “Good?”

  “Yeah, good.”

  I blinked.

  “That’s it?”

  He licked his lips.

  “What’s it?” He fell backwards onto his ass, and let his large back rest against the bathroom cabinets.r />
  “That’s all the reaction I’m going to get?” I asked him. “I told you I’m carrying the heir to your throne!”

  “The heir to my throne?”

  “Yes!” I snapped.

  He held his hands up in defense.

  “I’m fucking happy!” he said. “Though, I gotta admit, I’m scared as fuck. We could really fuck some kids up.”

  That was true. We could.

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “We could.”

  We sat in silence for a few long moments.

  Then Truth opened his arms, and I dove into them.

  “We won’t fuck them up,” he promised.

  “Okay,” I said.

  I hoped that my voice was more confident than what I was really feeling.

  He squeezed me tight.

  “I love you.”

  I buried my face into his neck, and I felt him harden underneath me.

  “Is there ever a time when you don’t think about sex?” I asked him, a laugh bubbling up my throat.

  “Just a minute ago, when that puke and a piece of egg was on your lip, I wasn’t thinking about sex.”

  I smacked him before I got up and brushed my teeth. Then I showed him just how excited I was to be carrying his child.

  ***

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked.

  He was looking at me, gauging whether I really was okay despite my assurances that I was, and I wanted to strangle him.

  I didn’t answer him.

  He would’ve stayed, but the mailman rang the doorbell, causing him to sigh and get up.

  I tried on the very last thing I had yet to try on, and sighed.

  This would have to be good enough, at least until I could admit defeat and go to a fucking maternity store that sold clothes for big girls.

  “What is this?” Truth asked from the doorway, startling me.

  I looked up, saw the long box, and smiled.

  “Open it.”

  He did and paused at the sight of the bike seat.

  “I just thought, you know, since you like the other bike better, that you’ll start riding it again if you have a different bike seat,” I said softly.

  Truth’s eyes were shining with happiness.

  “Yeah,” he said. “And how did you know what kind to get?”

  Dare I tell him that I’d just sent his old one to get reupholstered?

  When I’d had the conversation over the phone about the bike seat after I’d gotten home from the hospital, the man that’d done the work had spoken to me like I was a complete lunatic.

  The leather work that Truth had done himself was phenomenal, and the upholsters hadn’t wanted to cover over it. Even after I’d offered him a shitload of money.

  What had finally convinced him to do it, though, was the explanation of Destiny and Kenneth, and how they’d done some nasty things on the bike seat, and that my man refused to ride it anymore.

  “I asked a few of the boys where they recommended I take it. It was actually Silas, that sexy, older man who gives Big Papa a run for his money…”

  “Wait,” Truth held up his hand. “You think another man besides me is sexy?”

  He tried to reach for me, but I stepped out of his grasp and turned to survey my fourth outfit in the floor to ceiling mirror.

  “Yes,” I confirmed. “Both men are sexy as hell. Big Papa is sexier, though. Oh man, he is beautiful.”

  Though, that was only because Silas still scared the shit out of me.

  Big Papa was like a sexy, older teddy bear. He was a really good friend who I could talk to about pretty much anything.

  “That’s just wrong,” Truth muttered, holding the bike seat above his head and inspecting it. “This detail work is amazing.”

  It was.

  The upholsterer was amazing, and I was contemplating stealing Truth’s other bike seat so I could do it all over again.

  “Kind of presumptuous of you, though, to get the back seat done, too.”

  I grinned.

  “Yeah,” I said. “But I figured why not.”

  He snorted and set the seat down on the bed, right on top of my white halter top, and I rolled my eyes.

  “Looks good, baby.”

  I looked down at the seat where he was fingering the lettering.

  His seat said ‘Mr. Truth’ while mine said, ‘Mrs. Truth.’

  The rest of it was decorated with words. My words to Truth.

  I wasn’t sure he was going to like them at first. I was convinced that he would be mad that I desecrated his property, but he seemed genuinely happy that I’d done it.

  “The bike seat or my outfit?” I teased.

  He didn’t look up from the seat.

  He was still reading the words.

  I love you. I love your face. I love the way your beard makes me shiver. I love the pretty words that come out of your mouth when you’re trying to make me laugh. One day, we’re going to part, and the only thing I want you to remember when I’m no longer of this Earth is that not a day went by that I didn’t thank my lucky stars for you.

  It was simple. Sweet. And just so happened to also have been our wedding vows.

  Something that I’d only figured out after I’d called the chapel for more photos from our wedding. Apparently, at the time, drunk me only thought that one 8x10 would be enough.

  It wasn’t.

  First, because my GG wanted one for her shop and for her house. Also because I wanted one in every single room of our home, something that Truth was still coming to terms with.

  Then, with unrushed movements, he placed the bike seat carefully down on the bed, walked over to me, and placed both of his big hands on my face.

  Gently, oh so fucking gently, he brought my face to his, and kissed me.

  It was sweet.

  But, just as suddenly, it wasn’t sweet anymore.

  Ever since I’d almost died, everything Truth did was with every bit of effort he could muster.

  His kisses were deeper. His hugs were just a little bit longer, a little bit tighter. The sex…well I couldn’t complain there. Everything was more intense, the feelings, the way he held me afterward.

  So yeah, me almost getting killed twice in one day was bad, but I couldn’t say I was completely dissatisfied with the after-effects.

  Unfortunately, I could tell that Truth was still haunted about it, though.

  But right now, with his lips on mine, his hand snaking down to part my folds, he didn’t seem haunted at all.

  In fact, he seemed focused on his goal.

  His goal being my orgasm.

  Something he accomplished seconds later as he dipped his fingers into the back of my pants, and thrust two fingers deep into my pussy.

  “Ohhh,” I breathed.

  My eyes closed as he started to suck on my neck, coaxing my orgasm to the surface.

  I arched, rubbing my aching nipples against his chest.

  The rasp of my lace bra dragging along the hard plane of his chest had a moan leeching out of my throat.

  My eyes crossed, and I yanked his beard down, bringing the rest of his face with it, and slammed my lips against his own.

  “Fuck,” he growled against my lips. “You want me, baby?”

  Of course I wanted him. What kind of a stupid question was that?

  I nodded anyway, though, just in case he needed the encouragement.

  He grinned his Cheshire cat grin, showing me his teeth, and then reared up off of me—all the while being careful of my belly as he moved.

  Our clothes were discarded. The bed was raked clean of the rest of my clothing, which likely were going to need to be vacuumed or lint rolled from all of the cat hair.

  Then he was maneuvering me onto my side, and crawling into the bed behind me.

  He brought his hand to the back of my thigh and lifted it, scooting even closer and allowing his hardened cock to drag deliciously through the lips of my
sex.

  I bit my lip, my head going back, and moaned—long and loud.

  I reached down between my legs and captured his hard cock, squeezing the tip lightly as I lined him up with my entrance.

  The moment he felt himself positioned, he gave a loud grunt and thrust inside of me.

  He didn’t fit.

  At least not yet, anyway.

  So he had to play with my clit, coaxing my body to produce more wetness to ease his way inside.

  Luckily, he didn’t have to do much more than look pretty, because the moment his rough fingers found my clit, I started to be pulled under.

  At first I was able to think.

  But it quickly became apparent that there would be no thinking when Truth’s cock was inside of me, so I gave up and just focused on how good it felt.

  I loved the way his hard cock filled me up when he thrust forward and even how it left me feeling bereft as he pulled away.

  I looped my hand up, tangling it in his hair, and started to move my hips as best as I could despite him holding me exactly where he wanted me.

  “Baby?”

  I ignored him, and he moved his large hand down between my thighs and went back to playing with my clit.

  “You okay?” he rasped against my ear.

  I bit my lip.

  I was so fucking close, and all he wanted to do was fucking talk to me.

  “Perfect,” I gasped. “Fuckin’ hurry!”

  He growled, leaned down, and drug his bearded jaw along the length of my shoulder that he could reach without moving.

  And I had to say, the man was a freakin’ genius. The faster and harder he thrust, the more I wanted to scream out with pleasure.

  But, alas, I couldn’t. Not and walk out of the bedroom with my head held high.

  Though, I guess, technically, Ghost wasn’t in a great mood lately, anyway. Hearing Truth and I have sex was the least of his worries.

  Seanshine, though, would happily make my husband feel bad for forgetting about them.

  Me, though, I didn’t care. One second I was contemplating the men outside, and the next Truth rolled me over onto my knees, holding onto my hips until I could get my knees and arms underneath of me.

  Once I was up and not squishing our baby, he returned to fucking me. This time it was rougher. Less sweet and more raw.