Protecting Mine (Unforgiven Riders Book 2)

by Amy Davies

  “Brother,” EC greets, looking sheepish.

  “Do you know what you two are doing? What would have happened if it was Click who walked around the corner?” Both of their faces pale. They genuinely look like they will spew their guts up any second.

  “I didn't think. Levi makes me forget everything.” Oh, so the kid’s name is Levi. Good to know.

  “You did think, but with the little head you have. Fucking hell, Mat,” I say, using his birth name. His eyes go wide when I use it. Not many people do. “You say she means something to you, but—”

  “She does. She means everything to me.” He looks down at his feet. “But so does Levi.” I see their hands touch, and I sigh. He cares for them both, but he has some things to think about, things more important than getting his dick wet.

  “You both need to think about what happens if she doesn’t want to get between the both of you.” I raise an eyebrow at them, hoping they get my meaning. Levi looks puzzled. I shake my head.

  “I mean share her, Levi. You know, like a permanent threesome. I can see you both care for her, but the decision is with her. You both need to take some time to think about what will happen if she only wants one of you—or neither of you, if she finds out that you two are fucking around behind her back.” I leave them with that and head to my room.

  I kill the engine and climb off, leaving my helmet on the handlebars of the bike. I run my hand through my hair, before scrubbing it over my beard. Fuck, it needs a trim. Thank fuck today is Sunday. The Silver Bowl doesn’t open on Sundays.

  I knock on the door and look round, taking in the peacefulness of the area. I like the quiet when I’ve worked a shit day or I’ve been on a long run for the club. I could see myself sitting out here in the summer, watching the animals in the nearby farm graze.

  My head snaps to the door when I hear the lock being opened. I smile to myself, thanking fucking God that she listened to me about her safety.

  My heart jerks in my chest when I see her standing before me. She’s wearing a white, V-neck t-shirt and red, chequered pyjama trousers. Her hair is pulled up on top of her head. She has no makeup, and I can see the bruises on her face.

  “Oh, baby.” I step closer, but she steps back. I frown at her. Why is she stepping away from me?

  “What are you doing here, Dyson?” She uses my road-name, proving she’s pissed at me.

  “I needed to see you. I heard about what happened.” I run my hands over my face again and sigh. “No one told me about what happened until this morning, otherwise I would have come to you. You know that.”

  “No, I don’t. Clearly getting your dick sucked by a club whore and fucking off to God knows where is more important than me. So we need to end this now, before I get hurt any further.” How the hell did she find about Yanna? She’s trying to stay strong, but I can see the tears that are fighting to break free.

  “I fucked up, okay. I was coming to tell you. Nothing happened, I swear.” She shakes her head and goes to close the door. My chest aches at not having her in my life, so I stop the door. She needs to listen to me.

  “Go, Dyson.”

  “I bet you would wanna see Maze, though, right?” The words come out before I can stop them. Her face goes from soft and hurt, to hard and angry.

  “Well, at least he was there when I was hurt. He was there to help sort through any damage there was at the pub. Where were you, Dyson, huh? Getting your dick sucked or shagging some other girl. He was there for me!” she yells at me, and I am sure anyone in a ten-mile radius heard her. Having this shit thrown in my face pisses me off. It wasn’t my fault I wasn’t there for her.

  I step closer to her, forcing the door open more, then closing it behind me. She will damn well listen to me. I will get my side of the story across. Her face is a perfect picture of someone who is ready to rip my balls off and pin them to my chest, and I really shouldn’t find her sexy as fuck, but I do. I love a pissed off Jamie.

  “Are you going to let me explain, or are you going to end this now and jump into the next brother’s bed?” I know it’s coming, but I don’t stop it. Her palm connects with my face. She slaps me so damn hard my face shifts to the side. I turn to look back at her and see how angry she really is. Her face is red, she’s breathing heavily, and tears are streaming down her face in a mixture of anger and hurt from my words.

  Foot meet mouth—again.

  “Get. Out,” she tells me after a few minutes of us staring at each other. I smirk and shake my head. “Leave!”

  “Not happening, babe. We need to sort this shit out.” I walk around her and into the kitchen. I flick the kettle on, ready to make us come coffee. Alcohol would make shit worse at this point. I feel her before I see her. The hair on the back of my neck always reacts to her being near me. I ignore her anger and speak anyway.

  “Tea or coffee?” I ask. I wait but get no reply from her, so I turn my head to look at her. Her arms are folded, and she’s leaning against the doorframe, glaring at me. I shrug and make her a cup of tea.

  Once they’re done, I place the two mugs onto a tray and add some biscuits. Can’t beat tea and biscuits. I fucking love dunking my biscuits in my tea—childhood memory much. Setting the tray on the table, I sit on the sofa and remove my boots and cut, before relaxing into the cushions.

  “Why won’t you listen, Wesley? Please… leave.” Her voice is softer now. She’s trying the whole heartbroken routine with me and it’s not gonna work. It may make me soften towards her, but we are dealing with this shit now.

  “Come and sit. Let’s talk, yeah?” I pat the seat next to me, but Jamie, being the stubborn-arse woman she is, sits on the far side of the sofa, out of reach of me.

  “Drink.” I hand her a mug of tea.

  I let her drink some tea and have a biscuit before I start. Getting sugar into a woman is always a good thing. Fuck, why didn’t I get Jamie her favourite chocolates?

  “I’m going to explain some shit to you, and I want you to listen to me, okay?” I wait for her to look at me and agree. She nods and sips her tea, adjusting her body so she’s facing me but still out of arm's reach.

  “You are mine. Plain and simple. No more temper tantrums. You, Jamie London, are my old lady, my girlfriend. My wife one day in the future, but not yet, because we are nowhere near that shit yet.” She goes to speak, but I lift my hand, stopping her. “No, you listen. I made it clear before how I felt, and I thought you were on board. But now you know for sure. You. Are. Mine.”

  Jamie

  “You. Are. Mine.”

  His words bounce around my head. Even though I’ve heard them before, I thought we were done after everything that happened. Us fighting, him getting a blowjob from a skank at the club, then him taking off.

  I watch as he stands up and moves over to me. My heart is going crazy in my chest. I’m trying to seem unaffected, but I know I’m failing; epically.

  I keep my gaze on him and take him in. I haven’t seen him in a week. He looks good, as always. His grey t-shirt has a rip on the bottom, but it looks stylish, even though it wasn’t bought that way. His dark blue jeans hug his thighs perfectly. The chain that always hangs from his back pocket to his front belt-loop, sways as he moves.

  He says he wants to talk, so maybe this is the time we clear the air and move on, with or without each other. I know he’s saying that I’m his, but he said it before, and look what he did.

  “You say this now, Wes, but you can’t keep your dick away from other women. I will not put up with that shit. It’s not in me to look the other way.”

  He rests his hand on my knee and looks me in the eye.

  “I fucked up. I can say it until I’m blue in the face, but it doesn’t change anything. When I left here after helping fix everything, I was fucked off that you could disrespect me and the club after everything we did for you.” I cut him off.

  “I didn’t disrespect you or the club, Wes, and you fucking know it. I was, and still am, grateful for everything you have done
for me.”

  “I see that now, but with you in bitch mode, all I saw was you being ungrateful to me and the club, and I was pissed. I went back to the clubhouse and drank myself stupid, even though I knew I had a run the next morning.”

  Oh fuck, I know what’s coming. Do I really wanna hear it from him? It was bad enough hearing it from the skank who did it for him. I lean forward and place my mug on the coffee table. I can feel his eyes on my tits when I lean forward. Such a fucking man, but I love his eyes on me.

  Since we reconnected, Wesley has always made me feel sexy and beautiful, even when he’s fucking my brains out. My cheeks heat up, and Wesley chuckles.

  “You thinking about my cock in you?”

  “Shut up,” I bitch back, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

  “I will always love you thinking about my cock in you, baby. It’s where he belongs.” His word have me sucking in a breath. My eyes go wide, and he laughs at me. Bastard. I take a deep breath and relax my shoulders.

  “You gonna finish this story? I have my TV show to get back to,” I ask, making damned sure I sound bored with him being here now.

  Wesley takes a deep breath and shifts slightly on the couch. Now he looks nervous, but he can’t be. This is Wesley-fucking-Taylor we’re talking about. Dyson, VP of the Unforgiven Riders. Why would he look nervous?

  “Like I said, I drank myself stupid the night I left here. I should have locked my room door, but I didn’t. I woke up the next morning with someone sucking me off.” My stomach rolls. I swallow, trying to stop any bile making an appearance. I dig my nails into my palms to stop me from knocking this fucker out. He never takes his eyes off me, assessing me.

  “I thought it was you. I thought you had come over to apologise to me for being a bitch. When I saw that she had brown hair and not blonde, I—Fuck, I pushed her away. She tried again, and I threw her off me and told her to leave.”

  “Seriously?” I ask, my voice stronger than it was before. He nods and looks at me with what I think may be hope in his eyes. I have never seen that look on him before.

  He inches forward, pulling my legs across his lap. His large hands slide up and down my shins. Now I wish I had worn shorts instead. Bugger. I shiver when he slides his hand up under the material, as if knowing I want the skin to skin contact.

  “I haven’t touched anyone since I’ve been away. I know that doesn’t mean fuck all to you after what happened, but I swear on the club. You can ask Beats.”

  “Who the hell is Beats?” He chuckles at my confusion, which, by the way, isn’t funny at all.

  “Beats is my cousin. His mum and mine are sisters. His family isn’t in the club, but they never stopped him joining us. He’s like a real brother to me,” he explains. I can see the pride in his eyes when he talks about this Beats bloke. The excitement in his voice tells me he’s happy his cousin is here. But what I am about to say will burst that little happy bubble, yet I need to get shit off my chest too.

  “You hurt me, Wesley. I may put up this tough exterior to everyone, but inside, I’m still human. I’m still a fucking woman. I hurt both physically and emotionally.” I sigh and look away from his intense stare. “I heard all about your little fun before you left. I—”

  “Let me guess, Maze couldn’t wait to tell you I fucked up, right?” He looks pissed again, but he has no right to be pissed. Not at Maze, anyway.

  “Maze has nothing to do with this. Maze isn’t in a relationship with me and almost got a blowjob from another woman. You did, Wesley. You need to stop being pissed at him. He’s my friend, and he will remain my friend. He’s your brother, for fucks sake.”

  “No brother of mine would make a move on my woman,” he growls out.

  “Oh, grow up, Wesley. You haven’t claimed me. You don’t own me,” I snap and climb to my feet. I start to pace in front of my open fire, taking deep breaths. My head is trying to sift through everything that has happened lately. The way we talked sometimes after we had been together, learning things about each other. The time he got his first bike; when he fell off said bike. The first tattoos we each got. That sort of thing.

  The shit I heard in the shop from the club girl. The way Dyson makes me feel. I never thought I was the jealous type, but here I am. But it was nice to be normal for a change. It can be exhausting putting up the hard-bitch mask at times.

  “Maze didn’t say anything to me. It was the cunt that sucked you off—” He cuts me off.

  “Almost,” he grinds out. I shake my head, carrying on.

  “She was bragging about it in the shop in town. Talking about how you like it a certain way. How she pleased you because I wasn't enough for you, and you clearly needed more.”

  “Fuck,” he mutters from his seat. I turn to face him. He’s scrubbing his hands over his face. That’s when I notice his beard needs a trim, and he could do with a haircut too.

  “She also made it known to anyone who would listen, right there in the local shop, that you weren’t claiming me as your old lady because I couldn’t give you what you want, and she can.” I place my hands on my hips, throwing him a defiant look. The upset is pushed to the side as I explain what I heard that day.

  “She’s full of shit, baby. You are my old lady, not her. Never her or anyone else.” He comes and stands in front of me, pulling my hands to his chest. His muscles bunch under my touch, and he shivers, making me smirk at him. I love the effect I have on him, but I know he has the same desired effect on me.

  “It’s you. Always you, babe.” He leans in and kisses me, softly at first. “I need you to forgive me, so we can move past this and get to the fucking. I miss pounding that sweet cunt of yours. I haven’t been in you in a week. Seven-fucking-days.” His lips travel down from my mouth to my jawline, then across my neck and collarbone.

  “Wesley.” I say his name, all breathy, like I had just run a marathon. The kisses continue down to my breasts. The straps of my top slide down off my shoulders, before the material slides down and over my girls, flashing Wesley.

  “There they are. The best pair of tits ever made. Fuck, I missed you babies.” I giggle, then he’s covering them in kisses, licks and bites. I moan, gripping his hair, holding him to me.

  Any ill feeling that has happened between us becomes forgotten as his mouth makes my body arch, begging for more. My nails dig into his scalp, gripping on for dear life.

  “More,” I beg.

  “You want me, baby? You want my cock inside you, making you scream?”

  “Yes,” I cry out as he bites one of my nipples. Oh fuck, that felt so good. The bite sends a bolt of desire to my clit, causing it to pulse with need.

  “Fuck me already,” I growl. I need him to know how much I want him. I want him to fuck me raw.

  “You sure?” His head comes up, his gaze settling on me, checking to see if I want this, want him. He’s looking for confirmation that I forgive him.

  “Yeah,” is all I say. He doesn’t hesitate. He pushes my top from my waist down, taking my pyjama bottoms with them. I’m now standing before him naked as the day I was born, the flames from the fire warming my arse cheeks. His eyes rake over me, making my body pulse with need. His intense gaze would make a normal woman blush and cover herself, but me? Oh hell, no. I love him looking at me, love seeing the lust darkening his eyes.

  The way he takes in every inch of me, focussing on my tits and pussy… I worked hard on my body, and it should be appreciated by a man of Wesley’s calibre.

  “You are wearing way too many clothes, Mr Taylor.” Resting my hands on my hips draws his attention down to my lower half, before he looks back up at my face and begins to strip.

  He grips the back of his t-shirt and pulls it over his head, dropping it to the floor. Next, his large hands slowly open his belt, leaving the two ends hanging open on his thighs. His long, thick fingers pop open the button and lower the zip. He’s going commando, as usual. He hates wearing boxers. He says they get in the way of getting his dick in me quicker.
His jeans drop to the floor, joining our clothes.

  I take in his tattoos, like I always do. They are a work of art, just like his body. I step close him, tracing the quote he has across his collarbone—‘You live what you learn’. His skin pebbles under my touch.

  “Keep touching me,” he commands. I lift my left hand and brush it over the rib tattoo he has. The compass is stunning. The dark ink against his tanned skin is simply beautiful to look at. I walk around him, making sure that I’m touching him at all times.

  I stop at his back and take in his back piece. There, staring at me on his left shoulder, is the club’s patch, their logo to some people. The ring of a chain with a skull in the middle, wearing an old-style bike helmet and goggles on its head. The club’s name stands proudly at the top.

  I lay a kiss in the centre of his back. He groans my name, making me smile against his skin. My hands slide down and around his trim waist, loving the way his skin feels under my fingertips. The bumps and grooves of each ab muscle he has. He has a fucking eight-pack.

  “Baby, you need to get that mouth or pussy wrapped around my cock before I bust a nut right here on your fur rug.” I smile and move to stand in front of him.

  “You mine, Wesley?” My question startles him, and he looks down at me, his gaze bouncing between my eyes.

  “In every fucking way, babe.” His voice holds no hesitation, only truth. I nod and step closer, gripping his dick in my hands. He moans my name, closing his eyes, getting lost in the feeling.

  “Bedroom,” I say against his lips. He bends at the knees and lifts me up. I wrap my legs around his waist and kiss jaw and neck as he walks us to my bedroom. His cock is poking at my arse with every step he takes. I can’t stop the giggle that breaks free. Dyson pulls back, staring at me with a puzzled look.

  “Are you laughing right now?”

  “Yeah, your cock is hitting my bum when you walk. It’s funny.”