CeeCee
Right now, I feel as though I’ve fallen down a rabbit hole or something. Here I sit, naked, in the middle of my bed. Not something I ever thought would happen, that’s for sure. When Loki walks back in, my first aid kit in hand, I see what I’ve only felt before and my eyes grow wide. Holy smokes, he’s packing a weapon of mass pussy destruction! I feel my face flush further as he climbs onto the bed and settles behind me. My breasts feel heavy and even though I’m not looking down, I know my nipples are distended. What I wouldn’t give to be braver. I’d turn around and kiss him, then climb him like a tree. Granted, all I know is what I’ve read, but I like to think I’m a quick learner.
I can’t help the moan that escapes my lips as his hands gently glide over my back while he applies antibiotic ointment. “You okay?” he asks, his voice husky.
“Mmhmm,” I mumble.
“Okay, Angel, turn around so I can get the ones on your face and hands,” he instructs. Great, now he’s definitely going to see how turned on I am right now. Are we at that point in our relationship? I manage to turn around and come face to face with him. Seeing his rock-hard abs, as well as the impressive penis he was blessed with has me blushing even more. Then I giggle when I realize that I used the proper term instead of slang. “What has you giggling, sweetheart?” he inquires, reaching out to cup my face in his hand. I know he’s cataloging each and every scratch and scrape but as my heartbeat ramps up, I suddenly don’t care. I want him. All of him. For however long it lasts.
“Uh, um,” I stammer, dropping my eyes from his knowing gaze. He tilts my chin up so I’m forced to look at him.
“You know you can tell me anything, right?” The huskiness of his voice is my undoing as I shuffle closer until I’m so close I can feel the heat radiating off his body.
“Don’t laugh,” I whisper, my eyes never leaving his. “But seeing you in all your glory, I mentally used the proper name, not a slang one, which is what made me giggle.”
“So, you like my penis?” he asks, grinning at me.
“Yeah,” I mumble, my mouth suddenly as dry as if I had stood outside on the hottest day ever with my tongue hanging out.
“Well, I like your parts too, Angel,” he replies, pulling me so I’m straddling his lap. The feel of him against my core has me squirming, trying to find something to ease the ache growing inside.
“You do?”
“Oh yeah, sweetheart. Let me show you how much.”
“Mm, okay.”
“If there’s anything you’re not ready for, say the word and I’ll stop.” Instead of answering, I lean close and kiss him. As he falls back with me sprawled across him, he deepens the kiss, his hands cupping the back of my head and my jaw simultaneously. I’ve never felt more cherished, more desired in my entire life. Whatever happens, I’ll have this good memory at least.
“Okay,” I whisper against his lips when I pull back slightly in order to let my lungs get air. His smile against his dark beard is blinding as his fingers trace my features.
“So fucking pretty, Angel,” he states. His hands begin to roam, and I feel them now cupping my breasts, which have grown impossibly heavy. As his thumbs stroke over my distended nipples, a hiss of breath escapes when that touch turns into his lips closing over one of them. Holy hell, the feelings coursing through me right now have me squirming more, seeking something that’s just out of reach. He spends countless minutes licking and sucking on first one then the other until my writhing has both of us moaning. “Not gonna put you on your back, CeeCee, so you gotta scoot up some.”
“Hmm? Why?” My voice is languid sounding at this point, something I never expected.
“Because I need to taste you,” he advises, his hands now gripping my hips and urging me up his body. As I move closer, his fingers kneading my overheated flesh, he nips and kisses wherever he can reach. Any mortification I feel at being in this position disappears the minute his mouth closes over my dripping core. “Fucking ambrosia,” he whispers against my clit.
My head is thrown back, my hands seeking purchase on my smooth wooden headboard as he uses his very talented tongue and fingers to ramp my desire even higher. “Loki,” I breathe out, my hips undulating. When I feel one of his fingers enter me, I sigh in longing, my pussy clamping down on it as I begin moving faster, chasing the bliss I know is imminently ahead. A second digit entering me that presses down on something inside has me keening his name as I hurtle off a cliff, an explosion of sensations detonating inside me that has me shaking as though I touched an electrical current. He continues his pace, only slowing when I start to pull away.
Sliding down his body, I feel the head of his dick at my entrance and moan, my body already pulsing at the thought of him buried deep inside me. I continue my descent, cognizant of the fact that at this point, instinct is driving me, not practical knowledge or experience. He grips my hips and raises me slightly, causing me to pout. “Slow, Angel. I don’t want to hurt you any more than it probably will,” he soothes. “Now again, take a little more.” He sounds so calm and if I were going by the tone of his voice, I’d believe him, but I see the bead of sweat trickle down his forehead. Over and over, I raise and lower myself, feeling the stretch as my virgin pussy accepts him. “This may hurt, sweetheart,” he cautions. “You ready?”
I whimper, unable to form words. My body is on fire for him, even knowing this next little bit is going to be unpleasant. Finally, I nod, causing him to break out in one of his beautiful smiles. As he surges up, I bite the bullet and slide down, feeling the pinch of pain as I find myself straddling him with his dick fully imbedded. I hiss out as he moans and his grip tightens. I can feel him pulsing inside as I raise up slightly then lower myself again. “God, Loki, it feels so good.” He grins at me as we begin a dance that’s older than time itself, thrusting upward on my downward slides until I feel that fire flickering up my spine once again. “I didn’t know...oh God,” I whisper, letting the sensations course through me. When he spans my hips with his hands and glides his thumb over my distended clit, I ignite, grinding down on him as my pussy clenches around his length.
When his lips close over my nipple, the orgasm that I thought was over reignites and I keen out his name as his thrusts become erratic, his muscles straining as he chases his own release. “CeeCee,” he yells out as his dick pulses inside me. Finally spent, I practically collapse on him, breathing hard.
“That was phenomenal, Loki,” I murmur against his throat, my tongue snaking out to touch the pulse that is still pounding erratically.
His hands ghost along my back, being careful of not only my tattoo but the scrapes and cuts I sustained earlier until he has them buried in my hair, capturing my lips with his own. After long moments, he pulls back, kisses my nose and says, “Absofuckinglutely, sweetheart.”
Chapter Thirteen
CeeCee
We’ve settled into a bit of a routine, Loki and me. Two weeks after I had the back of my tattoo outlined, he went ahead and did the front, plus started some of the colorwork. Each time he does something, I’m amazed at how empowered I feel. It’s as if I’m finally taking back that part of me that my mother tried to destroy. Today he’s going to do the shading as well as the rest of the coloring, which has me grinning. We’ve gotten quite creative with our sex life because of my healing tattoos. Every position I’ve ever read about? We’ve done it, with awesome results. Right now, though, I’m trying to wrap up the work I’ve got so that I can play hooky for a few days.
Hearing a noise, I stop the recording and call out, “Patsy? Is that you?” She comes to the door of my office and once again, I notice that something’s not quite right with her. She’s been off ever since she returned from her trip, but when I try to push, she shuts down. “Hey, you want to go grab something to eat before I go to Loki’s shop?” I ask. I see an almost imperceptible shudder before she shakes her head. “You know I’m here for you, right? There’s not anything you can say to me or tell me that will change how I feel
about you. We’re sisters, maybe not by blood, but sisters all the same. If you need me, I’m there.”
“I know. I’m okay, CeeCee. By the way, the tattoo is looking pretty badass.” A ghost of a smile crosses her lips when I giggle. “And I know your biker man is taking good care of you.” Her comment makes me giggle harder. “I’m happy for you, CeeCee. You know that, right?”
“Yeah, I know. Definitely wasn’t anything I ever expected, Patsy, that’s for damn sure.”
“I bet. Well, I’m off. Appreciate the offer to go grab something to eat, but I’m not hungry right now. I’ll see you later, okay?”
“Okay. Be careful.” She nods but doesn’t say anything else, leaving me to my own thoughts as I return to work. I’m deep into transcription when the patient’s name fully registers.
Subjective: Breast cancer that has metastasized to bones, lungs, liver.
Objective: Keep patient comfortable and as pain-free as possible.
Assessment: Beatrice Morgan was seen in office yesterday afternoon. Chief complaint was all-over body pain. Due to prior history of breast cancer, scans were taken as was bloodwork. While bloodwork is still pending, initial scans indicated metastasis as related above.
Plan: Patient has been advised to make sure her affairs are in order. Unknown if patient has any family. Hospice has been called in for Beatrice Morgan. Plan of care is to make patient comfortable.
I log out of the recording and pick up my phone. When Dr. Patel answers, I say, “Dr. Patel, I have to advise you that I know one of the patients you sent transcription over on.”
“Which patient, dear?” Dr. Patel is close to Momma M’s age and she calls all of us who do this ‘dear’ so I take no offense.
“Um, Beatrice Morgan,” I reply. I can hear the discomfort in my voice; if just her name does this to me, what does that say about my overall healing?
“And how do you know the patient? Casually or otherwise?” she asks.
“Otherwise, ma’am.” My voice is now barely above a whisper.
“Can you tell me more?”
I’m not sure where it comes from, but I’m able to speak in a normal tone so I state, “She’s my biological mother, Dr. Patel. I’ve had no contact with her for years, but I don’t think I should be working on her file. Should I send it over to Shanda?”
“That would be best. Thank you for calling to tell me. Are you okay?” she inquires.
I nod even though she can’t see me. “Yes, I am. It was a shock, obviously and until I heard the name, I had no clue.”
“I don’t know why there’s been no contact and it’s obviously none of my business, but if you’d like to make sure you have any closure you might need, she’s at Angel of Mercy Hospice,” Dr. Patel advises.
“She was abusive to me,” I whisper. I’m not ashamed of what she did, they were her actions, but I’ve never shared it outside of the obvious circle I have.
I hear Dr. Patel’s sharp intake of breath at my words and a tear escapes. “CeeCee, I’m so sorry to hear that. I trust that you have done what you needed to do in order to heal.”
Pride swells inside when I think of what I’m doing to eradicate the visible reminders. “As a matter of fact, I am. I have. Thank you, Dr. Patel, for understanding. I’ll send my file and the clip over to Shanda so she can complete it for you.”
“It’s not a problem, dear. You take care of yourself and don’t work so hard!”
“I’ll try not to,” I promise. With that, she disconnects the call and I quickly send over the clip as well as the file I started to one of the other transcriptionists.
Glancing at the clock, I see I still have a few hours before I need to leave, but I’m feeling out of sorts right now so want to talk to Momma M. When she answers the phone, I ask, “Momma M? Do you have time to talk?”
“I always have time to talk to one of my girls,” she replies. “What’s going on, sweetheart?” she inquires when I don’t immediately say anything. “CeeCee? Are you okay?”
“I-I-I’m not sure,” I admit, my stutter coming out of left field. “I-I-I had to pass off a j-j-job to one of the other t-t-transcriptionists today but I’m not sure how I feel with what I heard.”
“Okay, I know due to patient confidentiality, you can’t tell me who the individual is, but I’m going to guess based on the fact you’re stuttering that it has to do with your mother.”
A small sob escapes me as memories of how my mother treated me rush to the surface. The nights I went to bed hungry, punished for some imagined infraction. How I learned at an early age not to cry when she would pinch me or burn me, because it usually resulted in her going into a rage, hurting me worse. Being thought of as a mistake, the reason her life was ruined. The tears fall as Momma M tries to break through to me, her tone soothing yet concerned. “CeeCee, honey, come back to me,” she pleads, finally breaking through.
“I-I-I’m s-s-s-orry,” I say, my voice low. “I d-d-didn’t mean to b-b-break down on you like that.”
“CeeCee, don’t apologize to me, sweetie. It’s been years since you saw a therapist about what she did, so I’m sure hearing her name brought it all back up.”
“Y-y-yes, plus t-t-today’s the last day for my tattoo work,” I reply. “I-I-I feel so raw right now, so exposed.”
“I hate I haven’t been able to see your Loki in action, but the pictures you’ve been sending me are beautiful, CeeCee. You’re taking your power back, please remember that, okay? Now, I imagine you either know where she is or what’s going on, so you’re trying to figure out if you should see her.”
“S-s-she needs to k-k-know she didn’t win, Momma M,” I state.
“She already knows she didn’t, sweetheart, because you came to live with me.”
“S-s-should I g-g-g-o see her?” I’m likely breaking protocol, but at the same time, she guessed, I didn’t tell her.
“That depends on you, CeeCee. I believe you’re strong enough to face her, but do you really want to put yourself in the line of fire again? She’s not a nice person.” Since I know this first hand, I guess the bigger question is why should I want to see her? Because she’s my mother? She was toxic to me and if Momma M hadn’t stepped in, God only knows what would’ve happened to me in the long run. Hell, I could’ve ended up dead, if not by her hand than one of her boyfriends.
Despite years of therapy, I still carry the residual effects of her abuse. I don’t like being around a lot of people or those that yell without provocation. I prefer my books to going out to clubs. My mind wanders and I think about how different I might’ve been had she been a halfway decent human being, but I quickly shut those thoughts down. I ended up having a good childhood once I moved in with Patsy and Momma M. Not only did she love me enough to deal with my attitude, she fought to get me the help I needed to heal. Maybe it’s time I seek out another therapist as an adult? Something to ponder.
“No, she’s not a nice person. But don’t I owe it to myself to let her know she didn’t win in her attempts at breaking me?”
“Only you can decide that CeeCee. Just know that whatever you decide, I’m behind you one hundred percent, okay?”
“Okay.” Just talking to her has calmed me enough that my stutter has dissipated. “Maybe I’ll talk it over with Loki as well,” I muse.
“That might not be a bad idea, CeeCee. I know he cares a great deal for you.” I smile even though she can’t see me. On one of our dates, I took him over for dinner so he could meet the woman truly responsible for raising me. She didn’t raise an eye at the fact he’s a biker or has tattoos. Afterwards, she called and gave her approval as well as her blessing for our relationship. A good thing, too, since he has mentioned making me his old lady several times now.
“I’ll think about it, Momma. He’s done so much for me already; I don’t know if I want to bring this up when things are going so well.”
“CeeCee, every relationship has good and bad. This is the bad in your life, he’s helping you to cover up what that w
oman did to you, so he knows you haven’t had it easy. Lean on him if you need to, he’s definitely strong enough from what I know of him.”
“Thank you.”
“For what, sweetheart?”
“For listening to me.”
“I’ll always be here as long as I have breath in my body, CeeCee. I promise,” she says.
I glance at my phone and realize I need to get moving so I can get ready to go to the shop. “Momma, I need to run and get ready.”
“Make him take pictures on your phone so you can send them to me,” she instructs.
I giggle before saying, “Yes, ma’am.” She says the same thing each time I go in for another session.
“And you two come to dinner again soon, you hear? I like him for you, sweetheart.”
“I like him too, Momma. A lot, actually.”
“I’m glad. Love you, sweetheart. Talk to you soon.” She disconnects so I quickly put the boys up then head in to take a shower.
While the water heats, I grab my tattoo uniform, a shelf cami, a button-up shirt and a pair of capris. As I wash, I think of Loki and my skin heats as the memory comes crashing in of our own shower at his place.
“Come for me, Angel,” he whispered, as he thrust in and out of me. My head was thrown back as tremors coursed through me and I keened his name. “God, yes!” he chanted, burying himself to the hilt, his head in the crook of my shoulder as he yelled my name.
Once we regained our composure, he lovingly washed then dried me before we fell into his bed to do it all over again.
“You’re so good to me,” I murmur, finishing up with my hair. “Now, when do I tell you that I’ve fallen in love with you?”
I finish my shower, then dress before drying my hair. My mind is still consumed with thoughts of my mother. Do I go see her? Do I ignore the fact that I know she’s dying? She can’t hurt me any longer, at least not physically. But she used her words to strike like a viper and I suspect that she’s still capable of doing that to me. Can I handle it? Should I even try?
Loki's Angel: A Poseidon's Warriors MC novel - Book 3 Page 10