by Ivy Fox
No. This way is better. I’ll go this afternoon like I planned, and start getting down to business. I’ve waited longer than I should have, but each day that’s passed has made it harder and harder to leave. It’s still hard to wrap my head around what I might find, but like a band-aid, we just have to rip that fucker off and deal with what’s beneath.
I give her one more longing look without her knowing, and walk out of her room, intent on saying my goodbyes and getting this over with. I walk out to the backyard, and it surprises me I didn’t hear the soft melody before when I parked my bike out front. But I guess I was too excited about seeing her, I didn’t pay attention to anything else.
She’s still shaking her ass, hanging a long white sheet on the clothesline, when I place the paper bag in my hands on the ground and walk behind her, placing my palms over her eyes.
“Hmm, I wonder who this could be?” she asks, her grin brilliantly shining through every word. I don’t make a sound, and I find myself growing more anxious by the minute. Maybe this game isn’t what I should be playing with her. If she names one of my brothers and her face falls when she looks at mine instead, well, I don’t know how well I’ll react to that.
“Michael, are you seriously not going to say anything? How long do you intend to keep me blind for?” She laughs, slapping her hand over mine. I let her go, my chest now full and content with her answer, and the knowledge that it wasn’t a guess by any counts. She knew it was me. Felt me a mile away. Just like I feel her presence everywhere I go. She turns around and gasps, covering her surprise with her hands.
“You trimmed your beard,” she states huskily.
“Yeah, well, I know how you hate when it’s gone to shit.” I wink back at her.
“I really do. Can I touch it?” she asks, and I nod my consent, thinking she’s going to take her hand to feel how soft my blond beard is now, trimmed closer to my chin, but instead, she surprises me by running her cheek against mine, making me freeze in place, fisting my hands to the side. When she’s done with her inspection, she takes a step back, pleased with the outcome.
“All good?” I say, feeling my voice go thick in my throat.
“Better than good,” she hums, her lids going a little heavy with an emotion too close to the one she left me with.
“Glad I could be of service, then,” I jest, trying to shake the triggers of lust this girl gives me.
“Well, if you’re offering more of it, can you pass me that basket over there?” she asks with a sparkle in her eyes, pointing to a basket on the ground next to the outer wall of the house.
I shrug and walk past her to get it. Hell, she could have asked me to go to the moon and get the damn thing, and I would have gone without complaint. I leave the basket on the ground and step behind her, letting her continue her chore. I know I came with a purpose at hand, but right now, I’m loving how she’s enjoying the song playing on the radio and reminding me of our fourth of July dance, where I had her in my arms all to myself. Last week when we went out dancing, there were too many eyes on us for me to try anything, and with Cam and Gabe there equally in need, I just didn’t want to start something none of us three was ready to finish.
“You do owe me a dance, you know?” she singsongs in front of me.
“I do, do I?”
“Hmm, don’t think I don’t remember,” she playfully scolds.
“Sweetheart, I’d dance with you now if you’re so inclined,” I provoke.
She turns her head over her shoulder, looking at me, and gives me a knowing look. She places the linen onto the basket, and I follow like a lost puppy. I get just a little bit closer to her, and she stills in front of me, yet again. She looks to the ground and then to her sides, and grabs my hands and settles them onto her waist.
“If you want to dance now, you’ll just have to do it while I work,” she teases me back. “However, I don’t want to feel cheated out of the full experience. You need to make it worth my while.” She continues to taunt. I go in closer, leaving no room between us whatsoever, and lower my mouth to her ear, loving how her skin reacts to my breath alone.
“I would never dream of leaving you hanging, baby,” I coax, and she closes her eyes, leaning back onto my chest and starts dancing. Real slow at first, seductive-like, and her hands are on mine, leading them to exactly where she wants them to be. First onto her waist, then moving them over to her little baby pump, making me travel higher and higher, deliberately slow, until I feel both hands full of heaven. Breasts so full they can’t be contained in this little number she’s wearing. I grab her carefully but make it known that if she puts my hands there, then I’m going to play. My fingers start to tease her puckered nipples through the thin material, and from where I’m standing, I can see they are perfect pink buds.
“Mmm,” she murmurs, her teeth biting into her lower lip, preventing me from hearing her moan out like I want her to. She starts rubbing her ass cheeks against me, and now I’m the one who needs to close his eyes for a minute to keep from losing his cool. She’s swaying her ass against my damned crotch so well, that my cock is fucking shouting for me to unzip and set it free. Making him so hard that all he wants to do is have at her now, and damn the consequences.
“Hope? What are you doing?” I ask, unsure of what has come over this angelic creature and myself, between a few bar notes over the radio.
“I’m not sure,” she responds, turning her head to the side and looking up at me. The fucking want in her stare just makes my dick ten times harder, and I let out a groan in agony as she continues to slowly rub her ass on me.
“Hope, baby, I need you to stop,” I say, trying to simmer my hammering heart.
“Michael, please don’t be mad at me,” she says, lowering her eyes almost bashfully. I quickly turn her chest to hit mine, grab her chin and force her to look up at me again.
“Hope, nothing you could ever do would make me angry at you. Okay, sweetheart?” Her lashes flutter like butterfly wings, and I swear I feel my own heart take flight. Her face blushes a soft red, and her perfect pink tongue peeks out to lick the seam of her lips.
“I ache,” she says breathlessly.
“Where do you ache, baby?” I hear myself say. She grabs my arm and, ever so gently, and places my hand over her heat-filled cunt.
Sweet Fucking Christ.
“Fuck, baby. Don’t do this to me.”
“You asked,” she says, with her dainty hand still covering mine over the place I have dreamed of devouring since that fateful night, putting enough pressure so she can get some sort of friction from the contact alone.
“Yeah, I guess I did, didn’t I?” I hush, my own voice rasped with pent-up desire. I look over to the linen she had folded onto the laundry basket and get an idea.
“Maybe I will leave you hanging after all.”
“Huh?” she asks, disappointed with my answer and the withdrawal of the hand she was rubbing against.
“Give me your hands, baby. I promise I’m going to make everything better.” Although confused, she follows my instructions and gives me her hands, palms down. I grab the linen, turn her wrists over, so her palms are facing up, and tie both of them together.
“Michael?”
“Patience, baby.”
I throw the rest of the sheet over the line, creating a loop, and then tie the end over her wrists again, stretching her arms nice and high for me and leaving her body completely vulnerable to my desire.
“Humph,” she groans like an impatient child on a Christmas morning, but I want to take my time.
“Now, this is much more like it,” I say, taking a step back and reveling in my masterpiece, but not yet satisfied with the outcome.
“Just one thing missing, though,” I tell her, and grab my ankle knife, throw it in the air, catching the handle before she has time to blink.
“Michael…”
I shake my head from side to side and place a finger on the center of her mouth, preventing her from saying another word. With
lightning speed and the same precision which I’ve mastered over the years, I cut off the flimsy straps that hold her dress to her body and watch it fall to the ground.
“Yes, much better.”
“Michael,” she stutters, “someone might see us.”
“No one will see us, sweetheart. Cam and Gabriel won’t be back for hours, and no one comes over without my knowledge,” I express confidently.
Well, except for her on that first night, but I don’t want to bring up that night of horror when there is too much fun to have now. Her full breasts are bare, just like I knew they would be, but her little mound is covered in a lacy pink thong. I almost take my knife to that, too, but reconsider and just rip the material myself with my bare hands. Nothing is going to get between my mouth and her sweet cunt.
“You won’t be needing this either, sweetheart,” I tell her, displaying the ruined panties in my hand and then pocketing them as a keepsake. Her eyes go wide with my action, and if she has an active enough imagination, she probably knows exactly how I’m going to be using them. Taking advantage of her stunned state, I put my hands on her waist, making her gasp when I lift her ass up high and wrap her legs over my shoulder.
“Michael,” she shrieks.
“Let me eat you out first, baby. Then you can talk my ear off all you like.” I hear a giggle leave her mouth, followed by a long moan once I attach my tongue to its rightful home. All I hear after that, even with her legs tightening my ears to my skull with the intensity of my kiss, are her moans, cries, and wails. A better sound than anything the radio on the windowsill could play. And just like I remembered, the damned woman is as succulent as the sweetest, ripest peach a man can sink his teeth in. And by God do I sink my mouth into everything she has to offer, just to taste her sweet surrender burst on my tongue. I understand now what it must feel to be deprived of true nourishment, because I’ve never had this much hunger or thirst for anything in my life up until this moment. The need to take and take and take, until she gives me her explosion, permitting my own to follow.
“Michael, please…” she begs as her whole body dangles back, her hair wild in the air, her lids shut tight, and her fingers clawing on my hair to keep my tongue fucking her into insanity. I fear for the safety of the two posts holding the clothesline intact, since she’s intent on having her hands on me in any fashion she can muster. Even if everything falls on us, I don’t think she would notice it. I feel my own boxer shorts wet in the front, since my cock can’t keep itself from spurting every time she thrusts her sweet pussy back into my mouth, begging for it to fuck her to exhaustion.
“Oh, God!!!” she cries, her body trembling in my hold, wanting to break free from the intensity of it all, but I hold her even tighter, drinking up all of her glory and prolonging her climax that much longer. When I feel her come back from the high heavens and back into her body, I finally unlatch her legs from my shoulders and put them on my waist.
“We ain’t done,” I warn, unzipping my jeans and lowering them along with my boxers, just enough for my cock to spring free and join the party.
Hope’s breath is still erratic, and I doubt she even heard me through it, but when I slide myself into her warm, wet folds, she plunges her nails into my right shoulder, right through my t-shirt, and only then does she pay attention to me.
Sweet Fucking Christ.
If I thought her pussy was a delicious treat for my taste buds, then having it wrapped around my shaft is just pure fucking paradise. No longer is her song a solo act, as I join in with my own grunts and moans to carry us through this ballad. I have no mercy since she unleashed the beast I was so carefully keeping away from her. I dive deep into her, so deep, I hit all her walls, repeatedly touching on her sensitive G-spot, causing her whimpers to turn into loud cries, begging me for more.
“Oh, God! Michael! Yes!”
When I feel her clamp down on me, threatening a second orgasm to take over her body, I let it all detonate—fucking her so hard, she won’t be able to stand straight afterward. And when it hits her, I let go, releasing all of me, my pleasure, my body, my heart, even my fucking soul into her.
Fuck, I love you so much, I almost say, but I bury my head between her breasts, hoping her heart hears my silent confession instead. Once I’m semi-recovered, I untie her wrists, kissing them both tenderly over the evidence of her bondage, and she wraps her arms around me as we both fall to the green grass, locked in each other’s embrace. Her naked as the day she was born, and me in my riding gear.
She nestles her head in the crook of my neck, and I don’t have to see it to feel the smile that decorates her sated face.
“You’re happy,” I state, brushing her hair, loving the feel of her chocolate waves running through my fingertips.
“I guess I am,” she confesses into my chest, placing a chaste kiss on the small trail of blond curls there.
“I like seeing you happy,” I tell her truthfully. That’s all I ever want for her—to see her happy. I just hope fate lets me be a part of that happiness and not merely a spectator. The pang which runs through me at that thought is crueler than any gash or cut I’ve ever inflicted with my knife. I try to shake those thoughts away, not wanting to taint the moment with doubt or fear.
“Give me those eyes, Hope,” I plea, knowing exactly what can make me forget anything, even my own name.
“Fuck, how I love those big brown eyes of yours. I can get lost in them for days.” An unexpected, shy smile tugs at her lips and I make a mental note to compliment her more often.
“I promised myself I wasn’t going to take you. I guess you made me a liar, sweetheart.” She turns toward me, putting her clasped palms under her chin, taking stock of the man under her.
“You didn’t take me, Michael. I was a more than willing giver,” she informs me matter-of-factly, reminding me how both of us wanted this to happen.
“Still, when I came out here, my intention wasn’t to get you on me, but can’t say I’m sorry about it, either.” I give her my most mischievous wink.
“What was your intention, then?” she asks.
“Needed to tell you I’m leaving for a while,” I tell her, kissing her bare shoulder. I don’t think I could go for long without kissing or fondling this woman when she’s this open, completely unclad on top of me, no matter how spent I am.
“Again?” I hear the disappointment and, I believe, even sadness in her tone. I nod, not wanting her to hear me mimic her sentiment in mine.
“Is it Uri? Is he the one making you go? Aurora told me he doesn’t like me much and would prefer if we stay clear of each other. Is that why you have to leave again? Because of me?”
I never thought I’d say this, but my aunt talks too much. I know what my aunt, and my uncle for that matter, think in regards to Hope. He believes she’s a dangerous distraction who will end up ruining my reputation and any possibility I can have of ever being Prez of my club.
Thing is, my uncle is wrong on all accounts. He always had this notion that the gavel was mine and mine alone, and although it’s an enticing idea, it’s never tempted me in any way. Yes, I love my club, I would bleed for my club and its members, but I would die for my family, and they are my only priority. The three people that I’m leaving behind this afternoon are all I truly care about, and in a couple of months, our little family will grow into five. But before then, I have to make sure we are living on solid ground. No doubts and no uncertainties can shadow our happiness. I need to establish whether what we saw on the news that day has anything to do with the woman who commands our every thought. If it is, then she’ll have some decisions to make. Decisions we might never recover from since none of us three have ever experienced this feeling. I try not to name it again, but it’s so ingrained in us, there isn’t any point in hiding from it, either.
“Well, is it, Michael?”
“Aurora shouldn’t be worrying you with such things.”
“Why not? If it affects you and it affects me, I should know,” she qu
ips, eyebrows in the air, daring me to contradict her.
“Yes, you should, shouldn’t you?” I say, strumming my finger over her face, down to her chin. “I promise when I come back, I’ll tell you everything you need to know. Can you hold off until then, sweetheart?” I hush into her ear, promising to tell her all I know, the whole sordid truth, the minute I get back, and from that moment on, never to keep anything hidden from her again.
“Do I have a choice?” she mumbles into my chest.
“You always have a choice, Hope. I’ll never want you to feel that you don’t,” I tell her firmly. She nods her understanding and gives me a weak smile. I pull away from her and pick up the paper bag I had left a few feet away from us. I walk back and pull her on top of me again, but in those few seconds apart, the need to touch her sweetness is too strong to ignore.
“Come here,” I order, and start kissing her lips and only let go once she’s no longer tense, but nice and soft on top of me.
“I got you something,” I tell her, handing over the bag containing my departing gifts to her.
“What’s this?” she asks, her interest piqued.
“A present. Well, two actually,” I tell her, as she opens each small box.
“Gabriel told me you’re a natural with a blade, so I thought I’d get you one of your own,” I explain, as she holds both daggers in her quaint hands.
“They are beautiful, Michael. I don’t know what to say,” she whispers under her breath, genuinely touched by the simple gift.
“Don’t need to say anything, baby. As long as you wear them, I’m satisfied.”
“Wear them? Where could I possibly keep them?” she asks, intrigued.
“Well, that’s why I also bought you this. Thought if you’re wearing jeans, you can easily hide the knife under it and around your ankle. But this garter hold right here is for my own enjoyment. Since you’ve been wearing dresses more often now, this one goes right up your thigh, making it easier to grab. Sexier too,” I smirk, hoping she’ll let me see it on her before I leave.