Gunner

by Daniela Jackson

  He is ugly to everyone. Not to me though. Not to Nikko. Not to my mom. Shay called him daddy with very long legs.

  Shay loved our dad so much, loved being thrown over our dad’s shoulder, loved our dad’s mice. He loved everyone in the family as a wise old person would.

  I love my dad in my own fucked up way. I smashed a few friends’ faces for calling my dad names when I was a kid. I broke two arms of some motherfuckers who stared at my dad with disgust when I was a teen. For me, he’s been the best dad I could wish for.

  My mom grew up in a kind of dysfunctional family. Her parents were overprotective. Initially, my dad had to look after her like she was a child. He accepted and loved both her sons like they were his own. More than that—even though I was his only son by blood and Nikko and Shay were his stepsons, he treated them more leniently than me when we were kids so they wouldn’t feel bad because of me. It pissed me off then. Now, I know my dad is a good and wise man.

  He is gentle and caring even though I saw him kill. He once was an outlaw like the rest of my uncles and granddads.

  “So,” Dad says.

  “Sol, I...”

  “I know you love her and I know you just fucked her.”

  “You know?”

  Right. He really must have some kind of dirty secrets detector.

  He nods. “I knew when you fucked your first chick, remember?”

  I prop my elbows on my knees and rest my head in my palms. “Sol...”

  “It will be alright.” He pats my shoulder. “She needs time like your mother.”

  If my dad says it will be alright, I shouldn’t worry.

  “Let’s go inside,” Dad says.

  We rise to our feet and go to check on my mom. She’s lying on the coach in the living room. Two drawings of steam punk vampires hang above the white fireplace and two narrow bookcases guard its flanks.

  Mom likes reading romance, or she liked reading this genre before Shay’s accident.

  “You need anything, sweetheart?” Dad asks as she raises her sleepy eyes to him.

  “No, baby,” she murmurs.

  “Something to drink?” Dad strokes her hair. “A glass of orange juice? A kiss?”

  Mom chuckles. “A kiss from my personal knight.”

  Dad kisses her lips. This gesture brings a sense of painful beauty to my heart. Dad corrects the blanket around Mom and we go the kitchen to open two bottles of beer. We drink in silence.

  Sol

  Gunner comes late in the afternoon and acts like nothing happened. Good. Nothing happened. I will erase all the memories of this incident and all the feelings it has evoked from my head.

  My baby would never forgive me if I built something with Gunner. It would be like a sacrilege, like taking my baby’s identity, like killing Shay again.

  I don’t deserve happiness because that would mean I didn’t love my husband. Falling for Gunner would mean that I cheated on my husband.

  Gunner puts two plates on the table. “Supper is ready.”

  There is no emotion in his voice, no movement of the muscles in his face, only the violent blaze in his eyes, sending chills down my spine.

  “Thank you,” I say.

  “I’ll prepare a bath for you after you have your supper.”

  “Thank you.”

  I should tell him to leave and never come back again. Instead, I’m torturing him. I hate it when he’s around me and I hate it when he’s not.

  We eat in silence then he collects the plates and puts them into the dishwasher.

  “Can I look at your ankle?” he asks.

  “I’m fine. It’s healing. No need to be concerned.”

  He doesn’t listen. Instead, he squats down in front of me and unwraps the elastic bandage. His fingers examine the injury site expertly. Heat rushes to my cheeks as every brush of his fingertips sends an electric current across my skin. It’s a fucking examination, yet it feels so erotic my thighs quiver and my pussy pulses.

  “Looks good,” Gunner says.

  I swallow thickly. “In a day or two, there’ll be no swelling or redness left.”

  Gunner wraps the bandage around my ankle, applying pressure, and lifts himself. “Now, the bath.”

  “Sure, why not?”

  He backs up, and I want to scream. I want to scream my guilt, my anger, and my need for a good fuck.

  The front door of the house creaks, the sound of light footsteps follows, and my mom enters the kitchen as Gunner calls me from the bathroom. She kisses my head and starts bustling around the worktops. I go to the bathroom, passing Gunner in the corridor in silence like we’re occupying two different dimensions.

  When I walk out after a long bath, only my mom is sitting in the kitchen.

  My heart feels like a knife is stabbing it.

  I can’t breathe. I choke back tears.

  “You okay?” Mom signs.

  “You know how pregnant women are. Gunner…”

  “Went home a few minutes ago.” She tilts her head, her eyes narrowing. “I can make a braid of your hair.”

  “I’d love you to.” I drop into the chair as she goes to grab a hairbrush from the bathroom, returns to the kitchen and begins to detangle my hair just as Amanda, her mother-in-law, used to detangle hers.

  My grandma, Amanda, owns a very special place in my mom’s heart. This place is filled with pure love and gratefulness. Mom and Amanda do not have an average mother-in-law and daughter-in-law relationship. There is a mysterious, unbreakable bond between them, a bond that only two people who stood side by side in a real shit situation can have, love that’s been tested and hardened.

  My grandma Amanda, grandpa Boulder, his twin brother Blaze, and his lady, Maria, live in the Scottish Highlands. They love it there.

  Mom loves it here, in Cornwall. Her ancestors were Irish, but she was born in the US like every kid in the family. My grand granddad, Munroe, was a Scottish gangster who took his wife to America just after the World War 2 ended.

  My dad misses the desert. He dreams of going back where the Shadow Wolves MC was born. He dreams of jumping on his bike and speeding through the sandy hostile land of his childhood. Me too.

  Mom kisses the top of my head. “Lo-vve yyou, Gria-nn.”

  I love it when I can hear her voice.

  I stroke her hand with mine. “Love you too.”

  I like being with her in silence. She radiates an invisible warmth that soothes me and no words are necessary.

  She’s been waiting patiently for me to start talking. She’s been waiting since Shay’s accident.

  I’m not ready yet. I doubt I’ll ever be.

  I fucking can’t tell her the truth about Shay’s accident.

  Gunner

  I respect her wish, but I can’t stay away from her.

  That’s my fucking atonement for killing Shay.

  I’ll fucking love her until I die and she’ll hate me until she dies.

  It’s Sunday so I go to her house after 9 am. As I walk into her kitchen, silence envelops me. I throw my cut over the chair and go to check on Sol. She is still in bed. I prepare breakfast and hear her have a shower. As she walks into the kitchen and drops into the chair, I deliver the food and drinks on the table.

  “We could go for a short walk,” I say. “Around the house. I’ll help you walk.”

  “Fuck off. I’m not in the mood.”

  “You’re living in your own prison. You need to go outside—“

  “Gunner,” she growls.

  I raise my hands in a warding gesture. “Fine. No walks. Rot inside the house. I’m gonna check on your ankle in the meantime.”

  Right. I learned to be mean from the best in our family. Grandpa Dimitri was my idol for some time in childhood. I practiced his famous remarks to be as good as he was.

  Sol moves her foot forward, and I kneel to unwrap it. It looks good. The swelling is almost gone as is the bruising. It’s fading with a rotten yellow tinge.

  I take a deep breath and inhale her.
She smells delicious—green tea hinted with her own musk. Her scent clouds my head. My dick awakes.

  I lower my head and kiss the inner side of her knee.

  Sol

  I suck in a breath as he plants another kiss on my inner thigh and tugs the belt of my satin kimono robe, untying it. My foot jerks to smash his face, but I withdraw it as another hot kiss landing on my knee makes my insides melt. My body shivers. Heat surges through my veins, and I surrender to his touch.

  Gunner unfolds my robe and watches my breasts with the same hunger as previously.

  “You like what you see?” I ask.

  “Yeah.” He nods then glides his palm over my stomach.

  I have no panties on and my arousal dribbles out of my pussy.

  He spreads my knees wider and sinks his face between my thighs, pulling my ass towards the edge of the chair.

  As his hot mouth kisses my pussy, I dig my fingers into his shoulders and moan. God, he knows how to pleasure a woman.

  Shay was my first and I was Shay’s first. We learned everything together. It was really funny sometimes.

  Gunner knows how to make a woman feel delirious. It’s dark with him, wild, so erotic.

  I feel his tongue penetrating my pussy as he rubs his thumb against my clitoris. I sink my fingers into his hair and push my crotch against his face.

  He runs his tongue along my slit and sucks my clitoris gently. A jolt of pleasure surges through me.

  Gunner lifts his head as his hands travel to my breasts. I want to beg for him to work my pussy with his mouth and make me come. And the bastard must sense it because he teases me and circles my nipples with his fingers. He moves slightly to the side, squeezing my breast. His fingers roll my nipple then he draws my breast fully into his mouth and slides a finger into my pussy.

  I’m limp, my hands collapsing. I’m tense. I’m a primal need. My fingers sink into his hair, and I urge him to give me more, pulling at his wisps. I’m impatient and angry as his skilled mouth and fingers turn my body into one hot hyperawareness and make me almost reach my peak.

  He devours me and slows down alternately. I want to scream my frustration.

  “Gunner,” I growl. “For fuck’s sake.”

  His hot breath is like an incinerating flame. His tongue is like the cool drop of rain on a summer day. His need enhances mine.

  Chapter 3

  Gunner

  Her pregnant belly is a bit challenging, but she’s enjoying it.

  I try even harder. I try as hard as never before.

  No—

  I don’t need to try. It’s just happening like we’ve been together since forever. Every particle of my being is focused on making her feel good. She is my Sol, after all. My sun and my life.

  I sink my face between her thighs and lick her cunt. She smells right. She tastes right. She looks right.

  No—

  It’s so much more. Everything is absolutely perfect about her—her white flawless skin, her soft curves, the arousal dripping from her pussy.

  It’s madness I’ve never experienced before. I’m ravenous. I’m insane.

  I lap my tongue over her clit then suck it gently, sliding a finger in and out of her pussy, only knuckle deep. Sol moans and leans back in the chair, pushing her hips against my face. I massage her sensitive nub with my thumb, now harder, faster. Her muscles tense up. She clutches the edge of the chair with her fingers, her knees spread wide apart. Her heels dig into the floor as her head drops back. I slide two fingers into her pussy. I’m careful and slow. My thumb is still rubbing against her clit, and she comes, shivering and moaning. Her inner walls contract around my digits.

  Fuck yeah. I can’t wait to sink my aching dick into her hot wet cunt.

  I rise to my feet and scoop her into my arms. Her hazy glance sweeps over my face as I carry her to the bedroom. I lay her on the bed and tear the robe off her, tossing it to the flowery 50s armchair.

  She rolls on her side and her large tits wave as I strip in an instant and lie down beside her. My mouth captures hers before she returns to reality.

  Before she tells me to go away and never come back.

  I kiss her deeply but with tenderness, then move my mouth down, planting kisses on her jaw, and finally, I caress the sensitive area of her neck where it meets her shoulder. Her back arches against my chest so I know I’m on the right track. I stroke her nipples then roll one and push my hard cock into her drenched cunt.

  Sol gasps and throws her arm around my neck.

  “Good, baby?” I ask.

  “Good,” she murmurs.

  I brace her chest with one arm and thrust into her slowly, massaging her clitoris with my finger.

  “Harder,” she demands. “Gunner, please.”

  She can be sweet. Sweet like a kitten rubbing its body against the calf. I love that sweetness of hers.

  “After the baby’s been born, okay?” I kiss her cheek and massage her clitoris with more pressure.

  She snorts and purrs then arches her body against mine, our lips meeting hungrily. I punish her mouth with my tongue so thirsty for her sweetness and she comes again with a loud moan. Her body trembles. Her pussy contracts rhythmically, bringing me to the brink.

  I thrust into her hard and my balls tighten.

  A growl leaves my mouth. “Fuck.”

  A wave of liberating heat makes my toes curl, and I cum. Cum hard. I hear myself moaning as my mind fills with white nothingness.

  I’m deaf. I’m blind. I’m pleasantly exhausted.

  Sol drops off to sleep so I bury her in my embrace and cover us with the comforter.

  It’s good. She likes my cock. She likes it when I’m fucking her.

  What should I do next not to fuck it up?

  I listen to her steady breath and think feverishly. Maybe a nice meal? Or red roses?

  A thought hits me. I have just fucked her in my brother’s bed.

  Forgive me, bro.

  Forgive me, bro, for my lack of remorse, for my lack of respect. Forgive me, bro, for capturing your wife selfishly and only for myself.

  I will take care of your family, Shay.

  My mind drifts off to practical things. A house is a good idea. A sweet little house. Yeah, I’ll start looking for a house in the evening.

  The door of the bedroom creaks, and I see Auntie Sive walk in. She stops in the doorway and arches her eyebrows as I lever myself up on my elbow. We stare at one another as my heart pounds in my chest. Then she nods and winks at me, her lips curling into a mysterious smile.

  I want to say something, but she makes a shush gesture.

  I hope that means she’s not going to spill anything to Uncle Axel. Well, if I wake up with my face bruised and with my dick chopped off, I will know.

  Sive leaves the bedroom, and I hear the front door creak. I bury my face in Sol’s neck and inhale her. She shudders as I kiss the angle of her jaw and stroke her stomach. Then her breathing deepens and I know she’s fast asleep.

  I allow myself to rest for about fifteen minutes then I get up and cook for Sol. I wake her two hours later and we eat in the back garden.

  “Do you like it, baby?” I ask and squeeze her hand with mine.

  “It’s delicious as always.” Her eyes wander off to somewhere in the distance.

  I lean towards her and kiss her cheek. “More orange juice?” I correct the blanket around her and smooth all the wrinkles.

  “No, thanks.”

  I kiss her knuckles then kiss her forehead. “You want a bath now?”

  “I want to go to bed now. Is my mom coming tonight?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “She is tired so I told her to rest.”

  Like I said, I’m not a decent man. I lie like a professional.

  Sol nods. I can see that she’s tired so I pull her to me and carry her to her bed. I have a shower and return to the bedroom. I pull at the comforter, sliding under it and stretch my naked body beside hers.

  I ki
ss her cheek and stroke her arm, but she seems to be somewhere else, far from here. Iciness surges through my veins. I enclose her in my arms, kissing her shoulder.

  “You can go now, Gunner.” There is no emotion in her voice.

  “I can stay. That’s no problem for me. I don’t snore, I promise.”

  “I can manage on my own. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

  I don’t want to go, but maybe it’s better not to piss her off. “See you tomorrow then. I love you, baby.”

  Her sharp breath answers me. I crawl off the bed, rummage around the room to pick up my clothes and put them on. I walk out and silence follows me like a cold exhale of harsh winter.

  I walk to my house slowly like a magnet is pulling me back to Sol’s and I go straight to bed. My head pulsates with the images of Sol’s lush curves and I roll in bed the whole night.

  As I enter the garage in the morning, Axel grabs my arm and shoves me into the office, slamming the glass door shut behind us.

  “Where are they?” he asks with fury, his fist banging on the grey desk.

  “What?”

  “They took the car and left before dawn. Sive, Sol, and Carrie.”

  “What?”

  He hasn’t smashed my face yet, so Sive didn’t tell him anything about Sol and my time together.

  He grunts. “You heard me. My wife texted me they were going on vacation. A fucking vacation. You fucking tell me right now what the fuck is going on?”

  “I fucking don’t know.”

  Axel runs his fingers through his messy brown hair. “She’s never done something like this.”

  He means Sive. Sol was a rebellious kid. She did a lot of rebellious things in childhood. She sneaked into the bedroom I shared with Shay each time she had an argument with Axel. I had to sleep on the floor while she took possession of my bed. She once convinced me to get on a bus and go to another county. I was eleven then. Fucking hell. Our parents wanted to kill us or suffocate us with their hugs of relief, I wasn’t sure. Sol once stole a bottle of vodka. That was when I was thirteen and we got drunk together. We threw up like two sick cats for two days.

  We twisted our ankles together.

  We bruised our knees together.

  We saved a baby pigeon together.

  We faced a fox together.