Wicked Ever After

by Shayla Black

  Cutter looked reluctant. “I won’t leave you when you need me.”

  “Yes.” She took his hand and squeezed it. “You will. You and your wife have two amazing weeks in paradise at the most beautiful little bed-and-breakfast in Maui, ignoring the rest of the world, including me. I’ll talk to Pierce. Josiah and Logan are nearby, just in case.” She wouldn’t need them, but it seemed to make everyone feel better if she had “bodyguards.”

  “Are you sure?” Cutter still looked reluctant to leave her.

  He needed to stop being overprotective.

  “Really.” She hugged him. “I’ll text you later.” At that point, she lost all patience for everyone’s well-meaning interference. “Excuse us.”

  People mercifully backed off. Pierce didn’t waste any time taking her hand in his. He felt so warm and big and alive. It was all she could do not to cry tears of joy.

  Then he dropped to his knees and placed a hand on her belly, cradling their baby. Around them, the small crowd gasped. She ignored everyone else as he touched her with such tenderness. Then there was no stopping the tears from welling in her eyes.

  “Come on,” Shealyn murmured to Cutter. “Let’s give them some privacy and get started on our married life.”

  “All right, sweetheart,” Cutter conceded. “Brea, call if you need anything at all.”

  Nodding absently, she fisted a trembling hand at her side, trying so hard not to throw herself against Pierce in a sobbing puddle, ask him a million questions, and make him promise he’d never leave her again.

  He settled her into a chair and crouched in front of her, his hands in hers. “You okay, baby?”

  She nodded. “Are you?”

  “Yeah. Don’t cry. I’m fine. I promise.”

  She pressed a hand to her mouth to hold in a sob, but it was useless. “Another month with no word from you… It scared me so much. Then I heard this morning that Montilla is dead. Is it true?”

  He nodded. “I killed him last night and I started making my way back to you as soon as the deed was done.”

  “So it really is over?”

  “Yeah. I’m home for good,” he promised. “We can finally be together without you being in danger, and I don’t give a fuck who knows. No, I hope everyone knows. I’m here to finally make you mine.”

  Relief crashed through her. Happiness flooded in, destroying the last of her composure. Tears fell in earnest.

  He cupped her shoulders and pressed his forehead to hers. “That shouldn’t make you sad.”

  She shook her head. “It makes me so happy. But I was scared. I didn’t know what I was going to do if you didn’t come back and—”

  “Shh. You’ve got nothing to worry about.” He gave her belly another stroke. “Neither does the baby. Everything okay?”

  She nodded. “Fine.”

  “Boy or girl?”

  She’d kept the gender of their baby to herself, wanting him to be the first person she told yet so afraid she’d never get the chance. Now she was bursting to deliver the news, but… “Not with an audience. I’d rather tell you and you alone.”

  He glanced around at the wedding guests still gathered, pretending to be interested in the reception, but too close to be paying attention to anything but them.

  “I’d like that.”

  “All right. I have to have a glucose screening next week. You can come with me to that.”

  He tensed. “There a problem?”

  “I don’t know. The test is standard. I get woozy when I forget to eat, so…” She shrugged. “But I’m otherwise okay.”

  “Forget to eat?” He raised a brow. “You won’t be doing that anymore. Do you feel okay now? Do you need food?”

  He’d been in a foreign country for the better part of two months, dodging thugs and criminals as he plotted to single-handedly take down the overlord of a drug cell, and he wanted to know if she’d eaten? “Josiah brought me a snack after the ceremony, and I nibbled a little more during dinner. I just…haven’t been able to eat today for worrying about you.”

  He cupped her face. “I love that you think of me, but don’t ever worry about me. My job from here on out is to take care of you.”

  Brea didn’t think she would ever stop worrying about him, but the white lie would make him feel better. “Okay.”

  Then he stood and hooked a finger under her chin. She blinked up as she followed his penetrating gaze. He stared down at her with something dark and dirty in his eyes. She shivered.

  “It’s been a fucking month since I’ve touched you, and I’m dying to show you how much I appreciate you in that sexy-as-hell dress—”

  “Sexy?” It covered her from her shoulders to her shins.

  “Oh, yeah.” His thumb brushed her lower lip. “I’m looking straight down and I can see your lush tits. And it shows how much your baby bump has grown. But I need to see it naked. Touch it. Just like I need your pussy, too. And I need to fuck you so I can remind you that you’re mine forever. I need you now. Where can we go?”

  Brea’s heart started thudding. Everything inside her tightened and tingled with desire. But she had one concern. “Everyone is already gossiping about us. If I leave with you, they’ll know exactly what we’ll be doing, and I’d rather not give them more fodder.”

  Pierce shook his head, but he wore a fond smile. “Always the good preacher’s daughter.”

  Warmth climbed up her cheeks. “Not always. You know that.”

  “Yeah, you’re a bad, bad girl when I fuck you.” He was breathing heavily now, and his entire body had gone hard. “I’ll give you a thirty-second head start to find us some privacy around here. If you don’t, I’ll haul you onto the next available surface, shove your skirt up, and prove how much I’ve missed you. And I will give zero fucks about who watches.”

  The warmth in her cheeks turned scalding, and she tsked at him. “You wouldn’t.”

  He raised a challenging brow that dared her to try him. “I’m going to start counting now.”

  Oh, goodness. He really would.

  Brea jumped up and dashed through the crowd, past a frowning Josiah, then out of the tent.

  Running across the dusty yard and up the driveway, she tore into the empty house and slammed the door behind her, panting all the while. She wasn’t sure where to go next. She’d only stepped inside long enough to get dressed and have her hair fixed. But she was excited. She was eager. And she was so wet. Pierce had always thrilled her. No use denying it.

  Through the big window in the living room, she watched him march from the tent, his face full of resolution, and hop into his Jeep before he fired it up and skidded out in the dirt. Then he hit the paved road with a squeal.

  Her heart dropped. He was leaving? Why? Where was he going?

  Brea stood rooted in place. Had she misunderstood? Had someone tossed him off the property after she’d left? After everything he’d done so they could be together, she knew he wouldn’t simply walk away.

  But one minute turned into two, then into five. After that, she had to face the truth. For some reason, he’d gone.

  She bowed her head and tried not to succumb to confusion and more tears. Both were useless.

  “How attached are you to that dress?” His voice suddenly rumbled in her ear and his hot breath spilled down her neck.

  She gasped and whirled to face him. “How did you get in without me hearing you?”

  “You really don’t know what I’m capable of. But you will.” He eyed her up and down. “Make a case to save the dress now or it’s toast.”

  Would he really rip her out of it? That had her panting. “I don’t care about it at all.”

  She had another change of clothes upstairs.

  His smile was filthy. “Perfect. Anyone else in the house?”

  She hadn’t thought to check. “I-I don’t know.”

  Pierce cursed under his breath. “Oh, well. I don’t care anyway.”

  He lifted her and carried her up the stairs, kicking in the doo
r to the first bedroom at the top and flipping on the light switch, illuminating the soft recessed lighting overhead. The walls were gray except for one, which was decorated with a big photographic mural of a pink rose. He set her down on a black-and-white geometric rug, less than a foot from a rumpled bed. Since she’d changed in here earlier, her bag sat in the corner.

  She’d barely found her footing when she heard fabric rip and felt a draft of cold air rush along her back. Suddenly, he spun her around, jerked on the sleeves, then tore her bra away. Less than ten seconds, and she was bare from the waist up.

  If she helped, she could get the other half naked in less time.

  “Holy shit.” Pierce groaned as he cupped her breasts in his big palms. The feel of him cradling her was electric. She needed to be naked faster.

  As she reached behind her middle to untie her sash, he dipped his head, seized her lips, and tasted her tongue. Just as she lost herself in the purely masculine flavor of his kiss, he jerked away and bent to her breasts. “Fuck, you have the prettiest nipples. I could suck them all day and still want them in my mouth more.”

  She’d feared she would never see him again, so having his hands on her and his dirty words filling her head felt more like a fantasy than reality. But he was here with her. For her.

  Never in a million years had she imagined she would fall in love with a man like Pierce. Over the last month, insidious fears had forced her to imagine her life without him.

  It had nearly killed her.

  He laved her nipples. Her back arched. All thought stopped.

  “Please…”

  “Hmm, you beg so pretty in that sweet little voice.” His tongue circled the other bud before he dragged it deep into her mouth, eliciting a moan that rushed from her lips and dipped straight between her legs.

  “Pierce!”

  He didn’t answer, simply kept plundering her nipples, alternating them into his mouth, against his tongue, as he yanked at the zipper near the small of her back, holding up the rest of her dress. After it fell with a quiet hiss, the flouncy fabric began to slide down her thighs. Pierce gave it another brute-force shove. It puddled around her ankles, leaving her in nothing but her kitten heels and her plain cotton underwear.

  “Step out.” He held out his hand, his gaze utterly fixed on her belly.

  When she did as he demanded, he tossed the dress to the other side of the bedroom—never taking his eyes off her. Then he grabbed a fistful of his T-shirt behind his neck and shucked it off. He was so shredded now that every muscle stood out, hard and delineated.

  Brea couldn’t keep her hands off him.

  As she brushed her fingertips over his steely pecs, he caught her wrists. “Don’t. If you touch me, my restraint won’t last.”

  She blinked up at him, falling into those black eyes she wanted to lose herself in forever. “I don’t need your restraint. I just need you.”

  He groaned and shoved her back onto the bed, his body big and hair-roughened and smelling like man covering hers. “And I need you, pretty girl. So fucking much. My life meant shit before you.” He dropped his hand to her belly and knelt between her legs. “And this one. Boy or girl?”

  Brea lay back on the mussed bed, her eyes misty and full of love, her lips softly pouting, her breasts ripe. He’d never seen her look so beautiful, and his cock was screaming at him for relief. But One-Mile palmed her belly and waited for her answer, breath held.

  A primal urge way beyond sex filled his veins. Because he could finally see that she was pregnant? Unlike the last time he’d laid eyes on her, there was no denying it now. He couldn’t stop touching her bump, couldn’t resist the need to press his lips against their child. The baby was months from birth, and he already loved their little one. Would gladly lay down his life to keep him or her safe.

  That blew his mind. He’d never wanted to ever become a father. After a shitty role model like his, what sort of lousy-ass excuse for a dad would he be? He’d always refused to put a kid through the hell he’d endured to find out. But somehow, learning that Brea was pregnant had changed everything. And during his long two months in Mexico hunting that violent motherfucker Montilla, thoughts of Brea and their baby—of their future—had fueled him when nights were long and cold, when food was scarce, when he felt so fucking lonely he’d wanted to scream.

  Looking at her now, he was more than ready to conquer his fears and slay his demons.

  “You going to keep me in suspense?”

  Tears filled her eyes as she laid her palm over his, linking their fingers. “We’re having a boy.”

  Those four words crashed into his chest like a battering ram, stealing his breath. “Yeah?”

  “A son.” She sniffled. “During the ultrasound, he looked so amazing. I got to see his face. He had his thumb in his mouth. His little eyes were closed, then he wrinkled his nose and…he was beyond precious.”

  Jesus, One-Mile wished he’d been there. Montilla had taken so much from him, including the chance to see his son for himself, and he hated the asshole’s guts for it. But that SOB would never take anything from him again.

  “Oh, pretty girl. He sounds amazing.”

  “And he’s strong like you. Just this morning I felt him kick for the first time, like he knew you were coming for him. I was lying in bed, half asleep, then…I felt him. It’s not like anything I can describe.” The tears in her amber eyes pooled and threatened to fall. “I rubbed him and he did it again. It filled my heart.”

  Their son. The notion was a fucking marvel, but hearing her talk about the baby and feeling him growing inside her… Even her description bulldozed his heart.

  One-Mile couldn’t speak. He hadn’t cried since he was five, but he felt his throat begin to close up and his eyes sting.

  “Having you here filled it even more.” Her words cracked.

  “Oh, pretty girl.” He held her closer and tried his best to keep himself together. “I can’t wait to hold him.”

  “Me, too.”

  “You don’t know how much I missed you…”

  “I do. Love me?” Brea pleaded, her eyes so earnest.

  “There’s no way you can stop me,” he quipped, trying to lighten the mood.

  A watery smile crossed her face. “There never has been.”

  “That won’t change. Take those off.” He pointed to her underwear. They were the only thing keeping him from Brea, and he wanted them gone. “Show me your pussy.”

  With a catch of her breath, she nodded, then pushed them down her hips. He hooked his fingers inside the elastic to help, dragging them down her thighs, exposing her puffy cunt as he kissed his way over her belly. Then he peeled the white cotton away, impatiently tossing her fancy footwear with it.

  “You don’t like the shoes? I thought men had a fetish for sexy heels.”

  He scoffed. “I’m not evolved enough for that. I’m always going to prefer you barefoot and pregnant. In fact, I like it so much I want to keep you this way for a while.”

  A pink flush stole up her cheeks as she laughed. “It’s a good thing I like children.”

  “You’re going to be a great mom.”

  Something pensive crossed her face. “I hope. I didn’t have one, so I’m not really sure how to be one.”

  “I already know you’re going to be the best.”

  She bit her lip. “I’m worried about childbirth.”

  “I’ll be there. I won’t let anything happen.” One-Mile was painfully aware that he could handle many crises, get them out of tons of scrapes. But medical emergencies, especially involving babies, were way beyond his area of expertise. And if he lost Brea, he would never forgive himself.

  She nodded bravely. “I keep telling myself it’s going to be fine.”

  “It will.” He had to believe that.

  Or he would go completely batshit insane.

  The best way to help her from borrowing tomorrow’s trouble and forget the last terrible two months was to give her something to focus on now. God
knew he didn’t merely want her. His heart had become a slave to hers the minute he’d touched her.

  One-Mile rose back up her body, but her splayed thighs and her pussy in between were too much temptation to resist. He pressed his lips to the inside of her knee, then worked his way up as he cupped her hip and positioned his shoulders between her legs.

  “Pierce…”

  “Oh, this pussy.” He breathed against it, and she shuddered in his grip. “Baby, I dreamed about you.”

  She twisted under him, arching, unconsciously spreading wider for him. He dragged his tongue up her thigh, let his fingers graze the soft curls above her secrets, then took a little nip at her hip bone. Her cry gratified him.

  “You’re already wet for me.”

  Brea nodded frantically. “Every time you come near me, I ache. I always have.”

  He skimmed his thumb over her clit, toying with her. “I like you aching for me. But not when I’m gone. Did you use the skills I taught you before I left last time? Did you put your fingers in your pussy and make yourself feel good?”

  Her head fell back against the pillow, her brown hair spreading out across the sheets. “Yes.”

  God, he would have loved to have seen that. “More than once?”

  “Yes.” She writhed.

  “Good girl. Want me to make you feel good now?”

  “Yes,” she moaned. “But I want to make you feel good, too.”

  “Don’t worry, pretty girl, you will.” He dropped a kiss on her plump mound.

  Funny, when he’d been a kid, his old man had always warned him against being led around by his dick. He’d railed about the evils of women, especially when he’d been deep into his Crown and Coke. But One-Mile didn’t mind at all that his world seemed to revolve now around this one woman and her pussy. She was his life. His pleasure would come from her. His children would be birthed from her.

  This pussy was his, just like she was.

  With a hungry hum, he raked his tongue up her juicy slit, gratified when she bent her knees wider for him as he continued kissing his way up her body. He lingered on her belly, letting her know that he loved her and he loved their son. Then he wended his way back to her breasts, curling his tongue around them as he pressed a pair of fingers inside her and teased her distended clit with his thumb.