by Drew Elyse
Then, she circled her hips against me, and all bets were off.
One roll of her hips was all it took for me to have her on her back, and she did not one thing to stop me, just spread her legs wide for me to fall between them. I rocked my hips against her, giving us both the pressure we needed. My hands moved up her sides to cup her breasts beneath her shirt, but Quinn did one better. Squirming around beneath me until her arms were free, she pulled the fucking thing off. I gave her the room she needed, stepping back to remove my boxers.
Settling back on top of her, I nestled my cock right against her pussy and nearly came out of my skin at the feeling. The heat hit first, but it wasn’t what really got to me. She was drenched. The damp fabric clung to her pussy lips, so wet, I could feel it on my cock. I wanted that. I wanted to taste it, to add to it—I wanted to feel it soaking me as I thrust into her.
“Tell me you want this,” I demanded, needing the words before I lost myself in her.
“I want this.”
I could swear her words were punctuated with the audible sound of my control snapping. I was kneeling between her thighs with her panties off, and before she could blink, my mouth was on her sweet pussy.
Quinn’s hips rolled and jerked as I flicked my tongue against her clit. Her gasps drove me faster and faster until her body tightened. I knew she was about to come, but it wouldn’t be from me licking her clit.
I grabbed her ass in both hands, lifting her off the bed a few inches, lining her up to thrust my tongue inside. She came on a cry, her pussy pulsing. I had her sweet taste on my tongue, her fingers buried in my hair. It was close to perfection, but it was about to get better.
“Please, Jack,” she whined as I continued to tongue fuck her after her orgasm passed.
I didn’t respond, just kept at her.
“Please,” she repeated.
I pulled back, using my hand to rub her clit as I looked up her flushed body and met her eyes.
“What do you want, little bird?”
“You.”
I grinned as I played with her. “You have me.”
She gave a grunt of frustration.
“You want a specific part of me?”
“Yes!” she cried.
“Which part? Tell me what you want.”
“Your cock!”
I was all too fucking happy to give it to her. Without delay, I climbed back over her and thrust right in.
Nirvana.
She was absolute and complete bliss.
Nothing in the world mattered but the small space of reality where she and I were joined. Two years, I’d gone without feeling that way. It was more than just the pent-up sexual desire—it was her. My Quinn.
And even as I struggled to come to terms with feeling that again, she made bliss sweeter. Right then, just as she had each time since the first, my wife sighed for me.
“Fuck, I love you,” I groaned into her neck.
She didn’t reply to that, but I hadn’t expected her to. Not yet. I’d take her not pushing me away for saying it.
I took her, steady and deep, savoring each thrust, each clench of her pussy around my cock. I fucked her like I had to savor this time for the rest of my life, trying not to let myself think about how very likely it was that I’d never get another chance.
“Faster,” she pleaded.
“Slow,” I replied.
“Please,” she tried again.
I cupped her face with one hand, focusing her attention on me.
“Slow, little bird,” I said, my voice firm.
She gave me a nod, and I took her mouth. Our tongues moved together in time with my thrusts. Steady, unhurried, savoring. Our hands explored each other, remembering and learning all at once.
It built without frenzy or desperation. Just feeling her, her feeling me, was all we needed. Even as I felt her pussy clench around me, her body tighten, her breaths speed up, I forced myself to stay steady. I clenched my teeth to the point of pain, but I didn’t let myself fall apart at the pleasure. When she broke, gasping and soaking my cock, I maintained that rhythm. I kept that pace until it came over me, and I planted myself deep in her as I came apart too.
“You can’t blame yourself.”
That was Quinn. We’d been laying in bed for a while. Me running my hands along the soft skin of her back as she lay across my chest. For the first time since she’d been back, the silence between us hadn’t been fraught with tension. That didn’t mean we didn’t have shit to talk about. It just meant it didn’t feel so fucking overwhelming.
I didn’t respond to her statement, just focused on the feel of her.
“Jack,” she called.
“Right here, babe.”
“You can’t blame yourself,” she reiterated.
“Easier said than done.”
She responded by tightening her grip on me before saying, “What happened to Damien wasn’t your fault.”
Maybe not, but she also didn’t know everything. She didn’t understand all that had happened that night. And if I could help it, she never fucking would.
“Either way, the shit that happened after is on me.”
Quinn didn’t reply to that. She knew that was true. Whatever Damien said to me, it was my choice to walk away. My mistake. I had no idea where her head was at, and it had me ready to burst out of my fucking skin.
“Talk to me, baby.”
She shifted against me, and I knew it was to pull away. If I weren’t selfish, I’d let her, but I fucking was, so I held on until she stayed put.
“I don’t know what to say,” she admitted. “I didn’t expect that to happen.”
Of course she didn’t. She came here to divorce my ass.
“Not going to tell you I didn’t want that,” I said.
“And now what?”
“I can tell you what I want. I want you right here every fucking day. I want you to be my wife again. I want to spend the rest of our fucking lives giving you everything to make up for what I did,” I told her. “But you have all the power here.”
She tried to move away again, and I let her have that. She sat up, dragging the sheet with her to cover herself. I wanted to rip the fucking thing away, but it wasn’t the moment.
“I have to go home,” she said.
No fucking way was I letting her leave like that. I grabbed her around the waist. “You aren’t going anywhere, Quinn. Not now.”
She didn’t fight me, which should have calmed me, but it wasn’t enough when she was talking about leaving.
“I didn’t mean right now,” she said, and a little more of that fire was doused. “But I do have to. I have a job. My vacation only lasts this week.”
“Then give me this week.”
“What?”
I pulled her down onto my chest and brushed back the hair that fell in her face. “Give me this week. I want forever. I’ll tell you straight up that’s my end game. But I know you aren’t ready to give me that. Not right now. So give me until next Sunday. Seven days, then we’ll figure out the next seven when we get there.”
Her teeth caught her bottom lip and I watched them sink in deep with her indecision. I smoothed my thumb across it to get her to stop before she hurt herself.
“I don’t know if it’s a good idea, Jack.”
It was probably a terrible fucking idea. She was still committed to the idea of ending things, and if I couldn’t turn that around, I was going to have seven days of falling back into her before I lost her forever.
“I’ll sign,” I choked out the words. It fucking killed me, but it was my Hail Mary. It was the only thing I had left. “Give me one week. If you still want to be done when you leave next Sunday, I’ll sign the fucking papers.”
The least I could say was she didn’t look happy about that either. She didn’t look like I’d finally given her the out she’d wanted. She looked nearly as devastated as I felt.
“One last chance to save our marriage,” I pleaded.
It was more than
I had any right to, but she gave it anyway.
“Okay.”
I kissed her. I had to. It could all still go to shit, but I had my chance. I had seven days to remind her how good we were, and I was starting right fucking then.
I kissed her until her body was soft, pliant against mine, then rolled her beneath me. I was rock hard already and could feel her heating up for me.
Then, the fucking front door opened.
I shut my eyes, hoping it was Daz or Stone who would leave us the fuck alone. I wasn’t that lucky.
“Anyone home?” Ember called up.
Fuck.
I gently pushed Quinn off me and got up so I wouldn’t yell right in her ear. Stomping to the door, I opened it a crack, and shouted, “Keep your ass downstairs. We’ll come down in a minute.”
“Don’t take forever!” she shot back.
“You’re lucky I’m coming down at all!”
She laughed as she moved around downstairs and I shut the door.
Quinn was still on the bed, still clutching the sheet up above her breasts. That shyness was another thing we would have to work through.
All in good time.
“Who’s that?” she asked.
“Ember. She was around a few times when you were sick,” I explained. “She’s a friend of mine.”
“Right, I remember her. Kind of,” Quinn replied, her eyes going a little unfocused as she tried to remember the last few days.
She was so fucking cute. I went over to her, dropping in to kiss her forehead.
“Get dressed, babe. No telling when Ember will come charging up here.”
“She wouldn’t,” Quinn whispered.
I chuckled. “Probably not, but I can’t make any promises. Could you if it were Max?”
Her eyes widened. “Oh, crap. Max. She’s got to be freaking out.”
The sheet still wrapped around her, she jumped to her feet. I could see the looming disaster just before she tripped on the fabric around her feet and lunged over to keep her upright.
“Careful,” I chastised.
“Oops, sorry. Leg went to sleep,” she laughed through a really bad accent. “Just had a quick left-leg power nap.”
She was making a reference to something. She did that a lot and I’d learned to just roll with it when she stopped making sense.
“What do you need? I’ll grab it.”
“My phone,” she answered as she plopped down on the edge of the bed. “Oh, and my bag so I can find some clothes.”
I got both and handed them to her. She went for the bag first, pulling on a bra and panties—which was a good show, but I preferred the one I’d had after the last pair came off—then she pulled out stretchy black pants and a t-shirt. When she was dressed, I saw the shirt was a cat face with a crescent moon on its forehead. I had no fucking clue what that one was from, but I grinned anyway. My wife and her quirky shirts.
She took in my grin and asked, “What?”
“You’re fuckin’ cute, babe.”
A bit of a blush colored her cheeks. I was about to kiss her when Ember started yelling.
“Keep it in your pants, Ace!”
Damn woman.
“Call Max, calm her ass down. I’m going to get dressed and deal with Ember.”
I gave my woman a kiss, and did just that. I walked down the stairs feeling like a fucking king. There was a ton of shit to figure out, but I had my wife back, if only temporarily.
Everything else would come.
Jack was out the door before I grabbed my phone. Part of me wanted to freak out right there about what I’d just agreed to, but I’d promised him seven days, and I was pretty certain that was supposed to be seven days of giving him a real chance, not seven days of freaking out every time he wasn’t right there distracting me.
So, it was up to me to distract myself.
When I checked my phone, I saw the barrage of calls, texts, and voicemails Max had sent my way over the last couple days. I didn’t bother going through them, though it was hard not to notice the abundance out shouty-caps on the most recent texts. Instead, I just went ahead and called her.
“Are you dead in a ditch?” she yelled by way of greeting.
“Would I be calling you if I were?”
“Well, you weren’t calling me even though you were apparently alive. And, just to say, I would totally call you even if I was dead. If I die first, I’m going to haunt your ass hard.”
I didn’t doubt that for a second. In fact, I was penciling in a conversation with Max later about the benefits of cremation. Getting rid of a ghost was dirty work, and if I found real life hunters, I was guessing they weren’t going to be half as attractive as the Winchesters.
I pushed us forward. “I’m fine. You can stop freaking out. I came down with something, but Jack took care of me.”
“Oooh. Did you guys play doctor?”
“You are the worst.”
“You love me,” she brushed it off. “Anywho, it’s good you called because I’ve been driving around for half an hour.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Well, I was pretty sure my best friend either died or got dragged off into her biker husband’s secret love den without her phone, so I was coming to your rescue.”
“You were going to rescue me if I was dead?”
“Maybe not, but the other one, I would definitely try. Not sure I can take down a biker, but I can be pretty sneaky.”
I wasn’t going to point out that Max’s loud mouth made her quite literally one of the least sneaky people ever.
“Are you saying you’re in Hoffman?” I asked instead.
“Yes, keep up. Now, where the hell are you?”
That was a great question I had no answer to.
“Ummm, I don’t actually know. Hang on, I’ll ask for the address.”
“You’re telling me your biker captor isn’t right next to you all naked and sweaty from claiming his wife?”
“He’s not my captor,” I told her as I went to the stairs.
“But you aren’t denying the claiming part,” she pointed out.
“No comment.”
She laughed her head off as I made it to the first floor and honed in on Jack and Ember in the living room. I was aware neither of them knew about the sweaty, claiming conversation, but I felt myself blush anyway. I hoped they wouldn’t notice, but Jack’s smirk told me he did.
Putting my hand over the receiver—why, I didn’t really know—I stuttered out, “Ummm…so, Max is like…in Hoffman. She’s just driving around. What’s the address here?”
Jack shook his head with a grin. Max had been my best friend since we’d roomed together our first year of college. He’d heard plenty of stories and met Max on multiple occasions, so he wasn’t surprised by her just driving up here after not hearing from me. He came my way, hand outstretched.
“I’ll give her directions,” he said.
With a silent prayer Max would respect the inherent cone of silence that was best friendship and not say anything I would want to kill her for later, I handed over the phone.
“Max?” he said into the phone. “You got Ace.” There was a pause. “Jack.” Another pause. “Yes, I go by Ace now.”
She was impossible.
Instead of listening to one side of their conversation, I was distracted by Ember coming up to me.
“Hey,” she greeted. “Good to see you upright and healthy.”
What did you say to someone you’d only met once when you were half-delirious with fever and had been temporarily convinced your estranged husband had feelings for?
“Um…yeah.” Well, that was one option, but not the best, so I tried again. “Thank you for…everything.”
“No problem. It’s just the way things are around here.” She shrugged. “The club’s like a big family.”
I had trouble picturing that. I mean, my knowledge of motorcycle clubs was more than minimal, but still. Though, that guy I’d met—Gauge? I think?—h
ad his little boy with him. Maybe they were a little tribe of sorts, a tight-knit group that took care of their own. What did I know?
Jack distracted me by wrapping an arm around my waist and handing me my phone. “Your girl’ll be here in twenty if she actually took in my directions between trying to bombard me with questions.”
Translation: Max would be calling in ten minutes saying she forgot how to get here.
I rolled my eyes and put my phone in my pocket. Best to keep it close. When I looked up, I saw Ember grinning at us. It occurred to me what she was seeing. Jack told me they were friends, so maybe she knew about us being married. And as vague as the memory might have been, I knew she’d been there when I confronted Jack. She’d been the one who rushed over when I’d shoved him. She knew where we’d been, and she was seeing Jack holding me close and me allowing it.
“You want to tell us why you came barging in, or you want to take a picture and stare at that a little longer?” Jack teased.
“Don’t tempt me, asshole. I will take a picture,” she warned.
Oh, lord. I sincerely hoped she was kidding. I’d been sick for days, fallen asleep on my hair after the shower last night, then had sex, and I wasn’t…
Crap.
I wasn’t wearing my contacts.
I dropped my eyes, as if Ember hadn’t already seen them. “I…ugh…need something from upstairs,” I muttered to the floor before moving to step away.
Jack grabbed my arm. “Babe?” I didn’t look up at him, and he read that. Moving in close, he spoke low. “We talked about this. I didn’t just mean no more of those fucking contacts when we’re alone. You don’t need them. Ever. None of the Disciples will think a fucking thing. And anyone else says shit, I’ll set them straight.”
My eyes went up to his. “You can’t beat someone up because they make fun of my weird eyes.”
“Not weird. And I fucking can.”
“Just to say,” Ember interjected, “he definitely can. And, if I hear that bullshit, I’ll shut them up.”
I looked at her. She had on a pair of tall, white heels, a blue halter dress with little white anchors on it, and a big white flower in her victory-rolled hair. She looked like the leading lady in a WWII era movie—a modern one since she was too sexy for it to be made back then.