by Rhona Davis
I weep with joy as I feel him cum inside me. It’s naughty and risky, but feels so incredible. It’s the closest two people can ever get to each other. I know it’s crazy, but I think I love this man.
When he’s done, he rolls off me and pulls me in for a hug. With the aftershocks of my climaxes still shooting through me, and his load swirling around in my fertile womb, I rest my head on his wide chest and smile as he holds me tight.
A baby is the last thing I need right now…but maybe with him, it wouldn't be such a bad idea!
Chapter 8
Emma
Still tingling from the multiple orgasms that the hottest guy on the planet gave me, and just as my eyelids get heavy, I suddenly jolt upright. My phone blares out and I know it could be only one person ringing me so late—Beth.
I roll off the bed and look down at the sleeping hunk who almost cradled me to sleep. He’s fast asleep and hasn't stirred. I run through to the living room where I left my bag, and quickly fish out my phone before my stupid barking ringtone wakes him.
My eyes narrow when I see exactly what the time is. I knew it was late, but not this late. It’s way past midnight.
Damn, I must have dozed off without realizing.
Beth is normally early to bed, so it’s a surprise that she’s calling me.
Squinting, I answer. “Beth?”
There’s no response. I start to feel frightened. This isn't like her.
“Beth? Can you hear me?”
“Help! He—”
The line goes dead.
With the phone still pressed to my ear, my blood runs cold. What I feared would happen after I rebuffed Scott has happened. He’s gone to her. But normally it’s just another warning. Another slimy proposition. Would he really hurt her?
Panicked, I quickly get dressed, snatch up my bag, and leave Brandon’s apartment. He’s still sleeping.
I curse at myself when I think that I’ve probably made things ten times worse for us. If anything happens to my sister, especially after I’ve been so shitty to her lately, I’ll never forgive myself.
Feeling a poisonous cocktail of fear and anger twist at my gut, I race upstairs to my apartment on the top floor and rush to my door at the far end of the corridor. As soon as I get there I break to a stop and gasp in horror. The door is hanging on its hinges. I’m soon snapped into action from the screams coming from within.
“Beth!” I shout.
Bursting in, I run toward Scott, who has Beth pinned against a wall by her throat, and launch myself at him. “Get off her!” I scream, raining my fists down on his back.
He shrugs me off like I’m nothing but an insignificant annoyance and then drags my sister over to the sofa by her hair. As soon as he lets go of her hair so he can push her down on the sofa, she makes a break for it. She doesn't get far, though. As soon as she tries to flee he strikes her across the face with the back of his hand.
Seeing red, I rush for him again and punch him as hard as I can. “You bastard!”
His attention turns to me. Just as I begin to fight him off, I suddenly freeze. My eyes round on the small pocket knife in his left hand.
He waves it at me. “I told you bitches to have my money.”
“You said Saturday!” I glance over at Beth who’s crumpled up into a ball next to the sofa. She is in floods of tears, wiping the blood from her mouth.
Scott violently shoves me back against a wall and holds the point of the sharp knife up to my throat. “Maybe if you opened those legs of yours then I would’ve given you until Saturday. But no, you had to act like a fucking tease. After all the patience I’ve shown you girls.”
With no way to fight him back as the knife presses firmer against my neck, he reaches between my legs and tears down my panties. I screw my eyes shut tight and weep.
Just before he finds what his slimy hands are after, though, he falls to the floor and shouts out in pain. I stagger away, making space as Beth tries to bring a glass ashtray down on him again. But Scott is twisted with rage, and as soon as he sees that she’s about to strike him he grabs her by the ankle and drags her down to the floor.
I try to fling myself on him again, praying that he doesn't use the knife, when the door—which was just about on its hinges—comes fully flying off. The hulking mass of my savior, my lover, comes speeding in—darting down for Scott like he’s about to kill him…
Brandon
I drag the cocksucker up to his feet and punch him in the mouth. The impact of my large fist on his brittle jaw sends him flying across the length of the apartment. Although I’ve almost sent him into the next world he somehow manages to stay on his feet.
Wanting to make quick work of him, and cause him even a shred of the pain he’s brought on Emma and her sister, I run over and tackle him to the ground. Just as I mount him, ready to unleash a thousand blows on his weaselly face, I abruptly roll off him and cry out in pain. The bastard slashed me!
I glance over at Emma and her sister and shout at them to run. Just as they scramble away with fear etched on their faces, the guy lunges for me.
Even though pain courses through every cell in my body, I find another gear and kick him right in the face. He crashes to the ground and I take my chance to disarm him. When the knife is safely out of his grasp, I lift him up by his neck and strike him as hard as I can in his stomach. He doubles over and screams out in agony—vomiting and choking as he drops to his knees.
“I’m gonna kill you!” I rage, looming tall over him. Just before I can stomp on his head, blinded by anger and the overwhelming urge to end him, Emma pulls on my good arm to stop me.
“No, Brandon,” she cries, “that won’t help!”
By some kind of miracle, Emma snaps me out of the red mist that’s possessed me. As I try to control the adrenaline shooting through my veins, I reach into my left jean pocket, pull out a pile of money, and chuck it down at him. He looks up at me with a bloody face, looking scared shitless as he should be.
“There’s your money. And if you ever think of bothering these girls again, or any one else in this town, I’ll have my biker gang use your body for a piñata.”
He sniffs back tears, counting the money I threw down on him like the rat he is.
“Did you hear me?!” I bellow.
He quickly nods.
“Count yourself lucky that I don’t call the cops or use you as a permeant punch bag.”
Just as he struggles up to his feet, I grab him by his collar and march him out of the apartment. Just before I toss him out like the garbage he is, I pull him in once more and lock my eyes to him. “I’m warning you…any more trouble and you’ll regret it, understand?”
He quickly nods again, his eyes wide and fearful. With that said, I let him go.
Surveying the mess inside Emma and Beth’s apartment, tears well up in my eyes. The place is trashed and the girls are both crying and hugging each other.
“It’s over now,” I softly say, whipping off my vest so I can use it to apply pressure on my cut. “You're both safe now.”
Emma peels herself away from her sister and looks up at me, sobbing. I want to hold her so badly right now, but I know that they both need each other. They've been through so much.
Just as I go to walk away, Emma jumps up and runs into my arms. I wrap my arms around her and softly cry into her shoulder. I can’t believe I almost lost her.
“I love you,” she whispers.
I hug her tight. “I love you too, baby.” When I pull back from our embrace, I wipe her tears dry with my thumbs and shoot her a smile. “I told you we could fix it.” Looking over her shoulder toward her sister, I grimace. Beth has been beaten up pretty bad. I find Emma’s eyes again. “We should call her a doctor.”
Emma nods. I study her from head to toe, making sure she isn't hurt too. “Are you alright?”
She pauses for a beat before a cute smile pulls at the corners of her lips. “Yes, but you're not.” She runs a hand along the bloody wound on my arm.
<
br /> “ER are gonna busy tonight,” her sister says, forcing a smile.
We all laugh, temporarily breaking the atmosphere of one of the craziest nights I’ve ever known. I’ve tried so hard to put my fighting days behind me, but tonight I had no choice but to revisit my ugly past as an ex-biker gang member. I don’t regret what I did, though. The difference about my past and tonight is that I had something worth fighting for…
Emma.
Epilogue
A Year Later…
Emma
What a difference a year makes. Business at the shop is through the roof, Brandon’s beloved Harley hasn't broken down once since I fixed it, and Beth and I are doing just fine, having moved into a nicer part of town…
There’s also the small little detail of me being six months pregnant, and it’s starting to show.
Waddling into the garage, I groan and take a seat on a crate as Brandon tinkers with a new bike.
“Hey babe,” he says, keeping his focus on the engine he’s fixing.
I hold up a meatball sandwich and shake it. “I brought you your favorite.”
His glance doesn't move from the bike. “Thanks. Leave it on the side, sweetheart. Just want to finish…this—“ He suddenly jumps back as motor-oil squirts him in the eyes. “Shit!”
I chuckle.
His gaze snaps to me and he stares at me blankly. “Not funny.”
I shake my head and bite back more laughter.
As his attention returns to the leaking engine, I press my legs together and try to resist the urge to take over.
“Are you okay there?” I ask, seeing him try desperately to stem the flow of oil.
“I’m fine,” he grumbles.
“You sure?”
Pressing an old rag up to the leak, he turns his head my way. “Not in your condition.”
“I’m pregnant, Brandon. I still have the use of my arms and legs.”
“Yeah, you're pregnant with my son.”
I grin. “How can you be so sure it isn't a girl?”
“No way. My first born will be a boy, I can feel it.”
“First born?” I snort. “You reckon I’m gonna go through this again, do you?”
He pushes to his feet, keeping the rag pressed to the leak. “Oh, I know it. When I’m done with this mess I might even treat you to some practice.”
“You keep that cock away from me, Brandon Marshall. That’s how you got me into trouble in the first place.” My brows meet. “Anyway, wouldn't you be happy if we had a girl?”
“Of course I’d be happy. I never dreamed I’d have a family at my age.”
“Wow, all of forty-one years. So old.”
“Older than you.”
“True!”
“Right!” He dashes for me and scoops me up into his arms, kissing my neck like he wants to eat me up.
I shriek. “The bike!”
He pulls away and curses, scrambling back over like all hell’s broke loose.
I snigger and casually follow him, grabbing a spanner and another oily rag. “Make me some coffee and I’ll sort this mess out.”
“Uh, who’s the boss around here?”
“I’m pregnant, remember?”
He flashes me a warm smile—the same smile I fell in love with twelve months ago—and then walks away to fix me my drink.
I grin as I make light work of the leak. How a girl like me got so lucky I’ll never know, but I’m damned thankful. My hunky boyfriend, the father to the baby growing inside of me, has given me hope—hope that I thought I’d never know again.
Just as he comes back out, he stops dead. “I should have known it.”
“Known what?” I smirk as I wipe my hands clean.
He nods to the motorcycle, its engine running as smooth as the day it left the factory line. “That you're some kind of magician. I’ve been toying with bikes all my life and I still can’t patch one up the way you can.”
“Then I’d better train you before this bump gets any bigger.”
He walks over to me and kisses me. Just as I lurch forward from the tenderness of his sweet kiss—still amazed at how giddy I feel whenever our lips meet—he pulls back. “I have something for you.”
“What is it?”
“Wait here and close your eyes.”
I tut. “Just tell me. I’m starving.”
“Just close your eyes and wait. I won’t be long.”
I do as he asks. When he comes back a few seconds later and tells me to open my eyes, I look down at his hand and frown. “What’s that?”
“Our future.”
Dropping to one knee, he holds out a small piece of copper wire. “Emma, will you marry me?”
I laugh.
He looks at the wire in his outstretched hand for a moment and then bends it into the shape of a ring. “I’ll buy you a real one as soon as the next invoices get paid.”
“Why didn't you wait until then to ask me?”
“Because now feels right.”
I pause.
“Come on,” he says, “you're killing me here.”
I pause again, just to tease him a little, before nodding. He springs up to his feet and scoops me up into his big strong arms, flooding me with overwhelming happiness and joy.
I never dreamt that we’d would come this far, but like his classic Harley—the one I fixed twelve months ago—I guess we were always built to last!
About the Author
Rhona Davis is a steamy sweet romance author. From bad boys to billionaires, ménage to second chances, the heroes are always alpha and the heroines are always smart and independent. HEA guaranteed!
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