Vengeance MC Box Set - Volume 1: Call Me...Vengeance ~ Fury ~ Jonas

by Natasha Thomas

  Kissing the top of her head, I tilt her chin up until she’s finally looking at me.

  “I’m not good at this sort of thing, baby. I can give it to you if that’s what you need to be happy, but I can’t promise I’ll always get it right.”

  Knowing without asking what I mean, Blaine presses a soft kiss to my lips.

  “Don’t get me wrong, this is amazing, but I don’t need it, Jo,” she says using her nickname for me. “As long as I have you, I have everything I need.”

  “I’m glad you said that baby,” I admit, relieved she’s making this easy for me. “Because I don’t need anything else either. It’s taken us a long time to get here, but now I have you, I’d go through it all over again if it meant having you in my arms, carrying my baby. There’s something missing, though.”

  Praying she doesn’t turn me down, I shift Blaine to straddle me because I need to see her face to know what she’s thinking.

  “I love you, Blaine. Ever since the first time I saw you, I knew our lives were leading up to this point. You already agreed to move in with me, but I want more. Nothing would make me happier, baby, than if you’d do me the honor of being my wife.”

  Watching the play of emotions across her face, I lift her left hand and slide the ring onto her finger, holding my breath while I wait for her to give me an answer.

  Blaine doesn’t speak for so long I begin to worry I’ve fucked this up, and she’s going to say, no. Her eyes flick rapidly from mine to the ring and back again.

  Closing the distance between us, Blaine slams her mouth down on mine, kissing me like her life depends on it. Deep, wet, but nowhere near long enough, she pulls back to whisper,

  “Yes. A million times, yes.”

  Jesus, I love this woman. So to prove it, I take my time showing her just how much I appreciate her. In the end, once wasn’t enough, so I kept going until I was one hundred percent sure there was no doubt in Blaine’s mind she made the right decision.

  We don’t leave until the sun kisses the sky the next morning after little to no sleep, but I don’t regret a second of it. That night will be forever etched into my mind, just like Blaine is in my heart.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  ~ Blaine ~

  “Thanks, Mom and Dad for always being there to bail me out. This way I can focus on being the independent woman I’ve always wanted to be.”

  - Blaine’s text to Avery

  Just to say, living with a man regardless of how much you love him, takes some getting used to. It doesn’t matter how well you think you know him, I can guarantee you, you don’t know him that well.

  Beard trimmings clogging the bathroom sink, the inability to recognize a laundry hamper, dirty dishes left in the strangest place like under the bed, maybe par for the course, yet no less repulsive. However, my personal favorite to date was finding seven, yes seven, pairs of women’s underwear stuffed in various places around Jonas’ apartment.

  For years now, I’ve been used to taking care of myself. Sure, I occasionally, picked up after Avery when she was too busy to help out, and recently, while living with Bella, I did most of the cleaning because honestly, the woman is a sloth, but that being said, they have nothing on Jonas.

  Jonas claims he’s always been like this, but I’m not buying it. Wicked Skin is always clean, surgically so, and Jonas seems to forget, I was staying here with him while I recuperated. And not to put too fine a point on it, during all that time, not once, did it ever look like it does now after Tornado Jonas has blown through.

  Thankfully, his apartment is now a thing of the past for us because I don’t know how much longer I would have been able to put up with living there without considering committing an unforgivable act of violence.

  Jonas surprised me the day after he proposed by taking the day off from work, and driving us to a huge, half-finished house set on one of the most beautiful pieces of land I’ve ever seen.

  According to the real estate agent who met us at the front gate, the previous owners are going through a messy divorce. So instead of sinking more money into the house, they decided to try and sell it as is.

  Keith, a local contractor Jonas hired to complete the work on the house was also there when we arrived. He claimed that the bones of the house are good, but, at the same time said, that it would take a lot of work, and consequently money, to make it habitable. Jonas didn’t balk at the figure Keith threw out, telling him to put a rush on it. Then there was the promise that if he finished ahead of schedule, Jonas would see he earned a nice bonus to make it worth his while.

  This last one left me with several important questions to ask Jonas later. Namely, where the hell was he getting all that cash from?

  Aside from, asinine things like walls, flooring, insulation, plumbing, and electrics; painting, light fixtures, bathrooms, and bedrooms all needed to be done. Jonas had a plan, though. And when I say plan, I mean he sat Avery, Bella, Beth, his Mom, and I down with a bunch of home decorating magazine and told us to pick whatever the hell we wanted.

  Avery claimed the kitchen, second full bathroom, and the first guest room. Bella called dibs on the living room, dining room, and back deck. Beth wasn’t picky, so Bella, assigned her the second guest bedroom, and sunroom. Angie, Jonas’ Mom watched on in horror as my best friend and her daughter almost came to blows over which color is more appropriate for a kitchen, cream or off-white. So in order to distract her, I asked if she would be interested in taking care of setting up the nursery.

  Now, I know what you’re thinking; as a first time Mom wouldn’t I be the one to do that? Truthfully, I’m so exhausted that if it were left up to me, I would have no problem letting my baby sleep in a laundry basket if it meant I could get some much-needed rest and not have to deal with cribs, highchairs, and rockers.

  With our house all but divvied up, that left me with mine and Jonas’ bedroom, our bathroom, and the room downstairs I intended to turn into a Man Cave for Jonas.

  The first item on the agenda for me was our bathroom. I spent days researching, trolling the internet for ideas, and yes, I even flicked through the magazines Jonas helpfully provided us with. Deciding on a shower big enough for eight – after all, my man is not small – a corner bath overlooking the mountains, and slate tiles as far as the eye can see, I couldn’t be happier with the results.

  Our bedroom was a little more difficult, however. Seeing as the room has one full wall of picture windows, the entry to our bathroom and walk-in closet on another, it was a design challenge, to say the least. Finally, after almost having a nervous breakdown, I gave up and just did whatever the hell I wanted; screw atheistically pleasing and Feng Shui.

  A bright teal feature wall, behind our bed, the rest pale gray, Jonas’ only input was to demand I choose sturdy furniture that will stand up to all manner of sexually explicit acts he explained in detail and intended to christen as soon as humanly possible. With that in mind, Avery and I ordered two tallboys a long, low dresser which doubles as a TV stand, king-sized bed, and two side tables, all in solid oak.

  Standing in the space now, I’m glad I did.

  “Feel like home, baby?” Jonas mutters into my neck.

  “Mmhmm. But do you know what would feel better?” I ask, reaching behind me to run my hand over his already hard cock.

  Groaning his appreciation, he grinds his crotch into my hand.

  “Your pussy?”

  I throw my head back and burst out laughing, causing Jonas to grumble something about not fucking joking.

  “I’m so sure,” I stammer out. “I was thinking what would make today even better is if you drove us to the hospital.”

  Jonas’ hands tighten on my hips as he spins me to face him.

  “What the fuck? What’s wrong? Is it the baby?”

  I’ve been having contractions off and on all morning, but I didn’t want to say anything and ruin the celebration he had planned for when we signed off on the renovations to the house. The deadline had always been cutting it
fine, we just didn’t think it would be this close. Especially, since my due date was supposed to be nine days from now.

  “Calm down, honey,” I mumble soothingly. “Let’s just get in your truck, we’ll call Avery and Bella first, and they can take care of calling your Mom, and my parents. Everything is going to be fine,” I reassure him, knowing it’s not going to work.

  “It’s too fucking soon,” he all but shouts. “You’ve got over a week left for fucks sake.”

  Tugging on his arm, from where he stands frozen on the spot, I drag him toward the door.

  “It’s normal for women to go up to two weeks early or late, Jonas. The doctor told you this at my last appointment. Now, come one. We have a baby to meet.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  ~ Jonas ~

  “Father-in-law, without you, it would be impossible for me to fuck your daughter every night. So, for that, I thank you.”

  - A fact of life

  If one of your friends convinces you that watching your woman give birth is a beautiful thing, I suggest you get yourself some new friends.

  Screaming, crying, bodily fluids I don’t even know the fucking name of, cursing, broken fingers and one well-aimed shot to the balls is not beautiful. A new circle of hell it what it really is.

  I didn’t give a lot of thought about what it would be like when we got to this point. I thought about the baby – if he’d look more like me or Blaine – and how our lives would change afterward, but I didn’t consider the labor and delivery.

  “You’re doing great, Blaine,” Dr. Peters says from between her legs. “Two more centimeters and it will be time for you to start pushing.”

  “See, baby. You’re doing great, just like I said. Everything’s gonna be okay,” I repeat for the seven-hundredth time in the last hour, unfortunately risking another shot to my balls.

  Panting through a contraction, Blaine stares at me as if I’ve lost my mind.

  “Are you high?” She asks on a screech. “How is something the size of a watermelon coming out of something the size of a lemon, okay? I want drugs. I suggest you go find someone more sympathetic than her,” Blaine yells, stabbing a finger in Dr. Peters direction, “to give them to me, and don’t come back until you do.”

  “Blaine, sweetheart,” her Mom coaxes. “that’s just not going to happen. You made all of us promise we wouldn’t let you have them, even if you did beg, under threat of death. Remember?”

  “Yeah,” Blaine snarls. “Well, that was before his baby had a growth spurt and grew to be the size of a baby elephant, and tear apart my vagina. All bets are off now.”

  At that horrifying thought, my useless excuse for a sister bursts out laughing from her seat against the far wall.

  “It’s probably not the best time to say this, but I told you so,” she grins at Blaine who is shooting daggers at her.

  “You can go suck a bag of dicks, you bitch,” my demonically possessed woman shouts. “Just you wait. One day, you’ll be where I am, and I’ll be more than happy to remind you about the benefits of celibacy.”

  Another contraction rips through Blaine’s mid-section, stealing the breath from her lungs, causing her to double over in pain. Fuck me! If it wasn’t frowned upon, I’d be drunk off my ass four and a half hours ago.

  When Blaine told me she was in labor, had been all morning, I thought a few hours and we’d be holding our son. How fucking wrong I was.

  I managed to get her into my truck safely, granted, I almost fell down the stairs doing it, but we got there. Her contractions were only coming every eight minutes, so she assured me we had plenty of time to get to the hospital and checked in. But it was when Blaine’s water broke that everything went to shit.

  As if the fates had it out for me, my truck got a flat two minutes down the road from our new house, which is a good twenty miles from the hospital. When I went to change it, I remembered my spare was useless seeing as I’d taken it into the MC’s garage a week ago to get a puncture repaired ad forgotten to pick it up. Then, after asking Blaine to call Fury, Boss, fucking anyone, we realized both our cells batteries were dead.

  It can’t get worse, you say. Yes, it abso-fucking-lutely can.

  I was in the worst position a man and father-to-be could be in. It was only a ten-minute sprint to Fury’s from where we were on the side of the road, but that meant leaving Blaine alone and in pain. Something so fucking abhorrent to me, it took her literally kicking my ass to make me leave to go get help.

  By the time I’d hauled ass to Fury’s and back, Blaine’s contractions were four minutes apart, she was covered in sweat, and cursing me for having the audacity to put my cock anywhere near her. And unfortunately for me, the cavalry was all there to witness the show.

  Missing her pants, screaming, and pacing the length of my truck, dragging her hands through her messy hair, Blaine was still the most beautiful woman in the world to me. You mightn’t think it, but threats of hideous acts of violence to my precious balls and death aside, Blaine was stunning.

  Blaine only got more beautiful throughout her pregnancy. You wouldn’t know, looking at her from behind (which honestly, is one of my favorite views) that she was pregnant in the first place; she carried it all in front. Besides Blaine’s tits growing to twice their usual size, which has not gone unappreciated, the rest of her body has remained exactly the same.

  The last month has been hard. Blaine hasn’t been sleeping well, saying she’s too big to get comfortable, and that’s taken a toll on her moods. Mom took me aside a few weeks back, telling me that her recent change in behavior is more to do with a surge in hormones and that when my son is born everything will go back to normal. But while that explained things, it didn’t make a lick of difference when I was spending my nights comforting an inconsolable Blaine who could cry at the drop of a hat.

  “How you holding up, son?” Tank asks, coming up beside me.

  Scrubbing my hands over my face,

  “Ready for this to be over,” I reply honestly.

  And I am. Never have I felt this helpless. There’s not one thing I can do to help Blaine, and that shit doesn’t sit well with me. Rationally, I know women do this shit every day, and everything works out fine, but it’s different when it’s your own woman going through it.

  “Got four kids, Jonas, so I know what you’re going through,” he commiserated, gripping my shoulder and giving it a rough squeeze. “They go through hell, but what you get out of it at the end makes it all worth it. I promise you that.”

  “That just might be,” I groan, looking back over at Blaine. “But how the hell am I supposed to stand here and watch her in that much pain, and do nothing the fuck about it?”

  Grinning at me, Tank tips his head toward his wife.

  “Strongest woman I know, still killed me to see her suffer through pushing out my kids, though.” Tank’s expression shifts to reflective when he says, “My baby girl was a stubborn one; she wasn’t coming into the world until she was good and ready. Put her mother through hell for thirty-seven hours, and it was touch and go there for a while if Priss would need a C-section to get her out.”

  Blaine didn’t tell me that. I remember her saying her Mom had a long labor with her and her oldest brother, Bryce, but she didn’t share it took nearly two goddamn days. There is no way in fuck, I’ll last that long without losing my fucking mind. It’s only been eleven hours, and I’m already close to tearing my hair out.

  “Jesus Christ,” I hiss. “Not sure if you’re trying to make me feel better or not, but you’re doing a shit job of it.”

  Tank chuckles, patting me on the back.

  “I’m not here to make you feel better, son. I’m here for my daughter, and to meet my grandkid, so if that means I’ve gotta talk you down off the ledge because my baby needs her man, that’s what I’ll do.”

  Dr. Peters joins our huddle, interrupting whatever Tank was going to say next, smiling widely at us.

  “She’s ready.”

  “Showtim
e, Jonas. Get over there and hold my little girls’ hand and help her through this. It’ll be all over soon.”

  Not bothering to answer him, I’m at Blaine’s side in seconds. She reaches out and takes my hand, thankfully, not the one she broke two fingers on, and places it on her stomach. I can feel every ripple, tightening, and cramp she has.

  “I’m sorry for being a raving bitch, honey,” her pained voice murmurs close to my ear.

  Stroking soft circles over her distended belly, I press a kiss to her forehead, brushing a strand of her damp hair off her face.

  “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, baby.”

  “Promise me something?” She asks hopefully. “Promise me you’ll rethink wanting to have six children. I don’t think I can do this another five times.”

  After convincing Blaine to move in with me and we settled into making a life together, we were busy with the construction on the house, work, and getting shit organized for when our boy came along, but we still made time to talk about our family.