Ignite (Savage Disciples MC Book 4)

by Drew Elyse

  We answered, and he stood there for a long moment before shrugging and taking a slice.

  “You’re gonna eat that shit?” Ham asked.

  “Still food. Besides, pineapple’s supposed to make your cum taste better,” he replied.

  “See?” Max cried.

  “We both need new friends,” I declared, and Ace laughed. “I’m only kind of joking,” I informed him.

  “Think we’re stuck with the ones we’ve got,” he replied, just as Max shouted, “Bitch, you’re stuck with me!”

  “So much for being able to pick your friends.”

  Ace pulled me in close to his side, until I had no choice but to settle my head against his shoulder. As he did, I watched Max’s face get soft.

  Maybe my best friend wasn’t so bad after all.

  A week seemed like a good span of time until I told Quinn I’d sign those fucking divorce papers if I couldn’t win her back in the course of one. Now that day two was closing out, I was feeling the strain of the deadline I’d given myself. The bright side was Quinn wasn’t pushing me away. She’d agreed to one week, and she was giving it to me without erecting those shields around herself. It was a start, and it was up to me to make sure we didn’t stall out now.

  If only I could figure out how the fuck to do that.

  I looked from the TV showing the Mecum Auto Auction I’d barely been watching to Quinn. We were in my bed. I was sitting against the headboard. She was lying on her stomach reading, her head facing the foot of the bed, her feet kicked up in the air. It was a familiar position, one we’d been in almost daily before. It felt fucking great to be back.

  Not the least of that great came from her ass being right in my line of sight. She was wearing one of my shirts again, but it had bunched up and left the perfect view. The only way it would be better was if I peeled off those panties cut high across her cheeks so I could see her sweet pussy.

  Fuck. It was the same thing that happened every time I looked at her, and I was looking every couple seconds. My dick had been hard since she’d settled in with her kindle half an hour ago. I wanted to touch her more than anything, the torture was worth it.

  I forced myself to watch the TV and tried to make a game plan.

  We’d spent that day right where we were. Quinn hooked up her laptop to the TV and caught up on her shows, which I watched without complaint because she knew the drill. She could put her sci-fi, ghost story, historical whatever on so long as she was right at my side from start to finish. It was a stipulation it took me about two hours of watching TV with her to set.

  It was cute as hell how into the stories she got, but my girl watched some crazy shit.

  I wondered whether I should have been taking her around Hoffman, showing it to her to try to convince her to stay. I thought about taking her to some fancy dinner or out for drinks, but that wasn’t my Quinn. My wife was at her happiest staying in with a book or a show to binge watch. That had been our version of dating. It wasn’t about going places; it was about being together. The only exception being getting her out on my bike when the mood struck.

  I sure as fuck would rather keep her at home to myself. At home, she didn’t keep pants on all day. Alien invasions or awkward kids with superpowers didn’t faze me when I had her bare thighs under my hands.

  The next day, I was going to have to go in to work for a while at least. I’d see what she wanted to do, let her decide whether she wanted to chill with Max or tag along. Maybe we’d go to the library. I hadn’t been there, but she’d like it. On our trip to California, where we got married, we’d stopped at three fucking libraries, just so she could take a look.

  Since she was a librarian and went to college to do just that, “taking a look” was more than walking through once. No, she assessed the catalog, critiqued the building layout, read up on programs they hosted. It was like going to dinner with a food critic. She’d apologize when she realized how long she took, but I always shut that down.

  Quinn could waste every minute of my life, so long as she was right there for all of them.

  My attention fractured again when I saw Quinn’s hips roll. I told myself she was just shifting, but my dick didn’t listen. It pulsed, responding to her.

  Unable to keep my hands to myself, I ran one down her calf, then followed up the side of her thigh. Goose bumps radiated out from where I touched and my pulse picked up. For what felt like fucking hours, I remained still.

  Then, like a damn miracle, she moved her hips again.

  I moved down the bed where I could reach her better, and her back arched. I needed no more signs. I ran my fingers down the crease of her ass, between her legs. Even through the fabric, she was burning hot. I rubbed a few circles against her clit until she pushed into my touch, then I used my other hand to pull her panties to the side.

  She was wet already, more than I expected her to be. I had no clue what she was reading, but I was tempted to tell her to start reading it out loud. If I thought she’d do it and not clam up on me, I would have. I’d fucking love to hear her reading something dirty to me while I fingered her.

  I skimmed my fingers across the damp lips of her pussy and she moaned. Her head was dropped, forehead to the mattress, and her kindle was discarded beside her. I pressed two fingers inside her, and she threw her head back before swirling her hips against me.

  “Keep reading, babe,” I coaxed as my hand moved back and forth.

  She didn’t listen. Her head stayed down, her focus entirely on what I was giving her. That was great, so fucking great, but I wanted something else from her.

  “Your book,” I pushed. When she didn’t grab it, I stopped what I was doing, keeping my fingers halfway inside.

  “No,” she moaned, trying to press her ass against me to take me deeper, but I pulled away from her movements.

  Giving up the fight, she patted around with clumsy movements until her hand hit her kindle. When it was back in front of her, only then did I continue sliding my fingers in and out of her wet pussy.

  “What’s happening?” I asked.

  “What?”

  “In your book, baby. What’s happening?”

  “She’s…” Quinn didn't manage to finish the thought.

  “She’s what? Is she getting finger fucked like you?”

  “No.” The response was clearer. I didn’t want clear. I wanted her head spinning from what I gave her.

  I sped up my movements, thrusting my fingers in harder until I had to move my whole arm.

  “She taking a cock in her pussy?”

  Quinn groaned, a flood of wetness rushing across my fingers. Fuck yes.

  “Yes. And…”

  And?

  Fuck. What was she reading?

  “And what, baby?”

  “He’s got a toy.”

  I pulled my hand away, eliciting a keening cry from her that died as soon as I filled her pussy again and circled her other hole with a wet finger.

  “Back here?”

  “Mmmhmmm,” she moaned.

  We’d never done this. I hadn’t gotten the chance to feel out how receptive she was. Now, I was going to find out. However she reacted once she felt it, she was definitely up to giving it a try.

  I didn’t penetrate her right away, just rubbed in circles. I waited for her to give me a sign, which she did after a minute by lifting her hips up and toward me. I pressed in, slow and careful, and she stiffened.

  “Easy, baby.”

  She breathed in and out, her body relaxing to let me in. Groaning at the sight of both her holes stretched around my fingers, it took everything I had not to come in my fucking pants.

  Quinn moaned unabashedly as I worked my hands opposite of one another, always keeping her filled. I heard a thump and looked up to find her kindle nowhere in sight. If the fucking thing broke, I’d buy her a new one. I didn’t give a shit. The only thing that mattered was how absorbed she was in what I was giving her.

  She was magnificent, but still, I wanted more.
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br />   “Spread your legs wide for me.”

  She did. It was slow as she fought the inclination to close herself off, but she spread as wide as she could. I took my hand from her pussy, but kept the single digit in her ass, thrusting slow but steady as I hurried to release my cock.

  Sliding in slow, I filled her up, relishing the relief of finally being inside her. She gave me my sigh as I held still there, thrusting just my finger in her ass. She was spectacular, taking it all with ease—no, not ease. She took it and fucking relished what I gave. I knew it with how the walls of her pussy spasmed against my cock.

  When I couldn’t take another minute, I pulled my finger free, leaned over until my chest was flush to her back, and fucked her hard. Her legs flew back, locking around my upper thighs. Her fingers dug into the mattress until her knuckles paled. Her face dropped down, muffling her sounds of ecstasy as I drove us full speed right up to and over the edge.

  “Oh God,” Quinn breathed out in the aftermath.

  Pulling out, I picked up my girl and moved us to the top of the bed. She collapsed right into me, her body wrung out.

  I asked a question I knew the answer to. “That good for you?”

  “Mmmm,” she hummed. Good enough.

  I got up to grab a washcloth to clean her up since it was clear she wasn’t moving until morning. As I did, I decided, since she got off that hard from ass play, we would be exploring it more. Tomorrow, I’d get us the tools to do that properly. Coming so fucking hard just minutes ago was the only thing that kept the thought of stocking up with toys to use on her from making me rock hard.

  With everything sorted, the lights off, and the TV programmed to turn off in a while in case Quinn woke again, I settled into bed beside her. She wasted no time, even half asleep, curling up against me.

  Five days.

  I had five days left to secure this or lose it forever.

  No, fuck that.

  I had five days to convince her we were it. Everything. End fucking game.

  I loved her, and whether she was ready to give it back to me yet or not, she loved me.

  That was enough.

  It had to be enough.

  “Hi there,” I heard, and turned to face the man who had approached. He smiled warmly, an expression I guessed got him plenty of attention. It was a good smile, and I could even admit he was an objectively attractive individual, but he wasn’t my husband.

  My husband. That phrase was cropping up in my head a lot again. Just like before, settling in with one another was effortless. This, more than anything, frayed my nerves. I didn’t want to fall back into our old relationship. We’d kept things from each other, kept parts of ourselves From each other. Why? I feared it was because we were both so accustomed to the ease of being together. Instead of threatening that with vulnerability, we kept secrets.

  Repeating those mistakes would destroy anything we tried to build. And I feared it would destroy me in the process.

  I’d agreed to a week, but it had to be a week where we built something new, not slipped back into the same roles we’d once had. What wasn’t dawning on me was how to accomplish that.

  My head had been filled with those thoughts all morning.

  We were at the garage. He’d been apologetic when he told me he needed to work for a while today, but I understood. I might have been eating up all of my vacation time, but that didn’t mean he could clear his schedule for two weeks simply because I’d shown up without warning. He’d insisted it would only be a couple hours. It was me who asked if I could tag along. Although I’d been to the building when I’d first arrived in Hoffman, it wasn’t the same as getting to see him there, working, learning more about his life.

  So, I’d been sitting on a chair he had scrounged up for me, watching while he worked and listening while he told me all about the restoration work they did there. He explained that they were attempting to open a second location because of demand, splitting the motorcycle and car business up, but had hit a variety of roadblocks in getting a good location.

  He’d gone quiet a bit ago, seeming to need his focus on whatever he was doing, which was my mind’s cue to wander again.

  It was also when the man next to me came in, surprising me.

  Before I could answer him and explain that I definitely did not work there or know anything that could make me remotely helpful, Ace was standing there.

  “My wife,” he said to the potential customer, drawing a very clear line in the sand. “What can I help you with?” His question wasn’t all that welcoming, and I had to wonder how the garage did good business if he spoke to customers that way. I rose to my feet without thought, getting close to him.

  The man, who had paled a touch now that he was facing off with full-on-biker-mode Ace, stammered, “I wanted to see about getting my truck detailed,” while pointing with a thumb over his shoulder.

  I didn’t look at his truck. To be frank, I had no interest whatsoever in cars. Beyond getting me from point A to point B, they were inconsequential. What I was interested in was my sweet Jack devolving into a living specimen of the homo erectus. If the poor man in front of him stuck around long enough, I wondered if the rest of Ace’s body would undergo the same transformation his brain was clearly experiencing. If so, I knew a few biologists who would appreciate a call from me before such an event occurred.

  Ace lifted an arm, pointing toward the main building. Though, he followed this with words, so we were not quite to the point where communication was solely grunting and pointing.

  “Office door is that way. Woman behind the desk there will get you on the schedule.”

  Alright, that was not much of a step above grunting.

  I was surprised the man didn’t just get back in his truck and leave. However, I was not shocked at all that he took off to talk to Cami without another word.

  “Need to get you a fucking patch,” Ace muttered when he was gone.

  “A what?” I asked.

  “A property patch. You saw Cami wearin’ one when everyone came over.”

  Oh, yes. I’d even asked her about it. Honestly, it seemed a little crazy to me to wear a black leather vest with “Property of Gauge” stitched on the back. The girls informed me it was important. Cami even went so far as to say it was one of her most prized possessions, along with the one her dad, Tank, had given to her mother. I still wasn’t sold on the whole idea.

  “I’m not sure that’s necessary,” I retorted.

  “Babe—”

  “No, really,” I cut him off. “Why get me a piece of clothing when you could just tattoo your name on my forehead? Or, I don’t know, pee in circles around me every time we go out?”

  “Quinn,” he said in warning.

  Heck. No.

  “Is that seriously how you treat your customers?”

  “It’s how I treat assholes who want to fuck my wife.”

  “You’re being ridiculous,” I maintained.

  Ace shook his head, then snatched a rag off a table nearby and started wiping grease from his hands. “Which part do you think is ridiculous? That I’m saying the fucker wanted you, or that I got him the fuck away from you because of it?”

  “Both!”

  The rag went flying and my face was between his hands. He kissed me. Hard, fast, fierce. Lips and teeth clashed, but I gave as much as I got until he yanked himself back. I had been wrong before. He wasn’t turning into a caveman, he’d become pure predator.

  “Trust me when I fucking tell you every other man who sees you wants you in his bed. I know that shit. I saw you through a fucking bookshop window and was so possessed by you from one look, I couldn’t walk away.”

  “Jack—”

  He didn’t let me interrupt him. “You don’t see it. You never have. I charged into that store after you and you assumed I was a customer looking for help. I couldn’t believe it. Thought for sure I’d get shot down, that you’d be a fucking pro at it from years of practice. I’m still feeling lucky that wasn’t the cas
e.

  “I fucking love that you aren’t the type of woman who trots around thinking she’s God’s gift to anything with a dick, but you gotta open your eyes. You’re fucking gorgeous, and any goddamned man who thinks he can get the time of day is going to take a shot.”

  “Honey—”

  “No, Quinn. I know you wouldn’t give a shit even if you could see how much they want you, but that doesn’t make it any fucking easier to see men after you, to picture all the times that happened over the last—”

  God, that’s where his head was? Before he could finish that thought, I threw myself at him. He let me. I didn’t kiss him. It wasn’t about distracting him. I wrapped my arms around him and buried my face in his chest. There was a beat of hesitation before he held me back.

  “You’re gonna get grease on your clothes,” he warned.

  He was right. “It doesn’t matter,” I muttered into his coveralls.

  “Fuck.”

  I gave it a bit before I said, “You know you’re being kind of crazy?”

  “Can’t help it, little bird,” he responded.

  “You could try.”

  He gave me a squeeze, but argued, “You could wear a patch like the other old ladies.”

  I leaned back, but he held firm enough that I stayed in his arms. My nose scrunched as I said, “The ‘old lady’ thing isn’t my favorite either.”

  “Babe.”

  Rolling my eyes, I said, “Isn’t my ring enough? Leather isn’t really acceptable work attire for a librarian.”

  “You sure?” he teased. “I think I’d read a lot more books if going to the library meant I saw you in leather.”

  I smacked his chest, then face-planted back into it. “You make me crazy.”

  “I’ll work on it, babe,” he promised. “Can’t promise that shit won’t ever happen again, or that I’ll ever stop being possessive over you, but I’ll try. Just give me some time. Yeah?”

  “I can do that.”

  After another minute, he sat me back in my chair and returned to weaving his mechanic magic. Meanwhile, I was thinking maybe things were changing after all. It was conventionally ridiculous to be more optimistic after a fight, but there was no denying the confidence that exchange had instilled in me. And it wasn’t what he said about my appearance. It was the fact that I had spoken my mind and stuck to my guns even when he got intense. It was the fact that normal, healthy relationships meant arguing from time to time, but they also meant talking things out together.