He worked her with skill and patience. His groan against her pussy drove her hips up. She wanted more.
She wanted it faster.
She wanted to come.
She wanted him filling her up with his cock, driving her beyond sanity to the point where she’d lose her mind.
She gave in to the movements of his mouth and fingers. Along with the sounds that came from him. Like he hadn’t tasted anything that good in his life.
Her breath caught and her hips shot up... “I’m coming.”
He said nothing, nor did he slow his pace. He continued until the orgasm hit her so intensely, she dislodged him herself.
Seconds later when she hadn’t even landed from her free fall, he moved quickly, flipping her over onto her belly, covering her body with his, pinning her hands to the bed with their fingers interlaced.
Was he going to try...?
No.
Air escaped her lungs as he slid easily inside her. His hips beat a hard rhythm against her ass as he pounded her, driving as deep as he could.
“Gonna fill you up, Jem,” he growled in her ear. “With me. Gonna still be inside you tomorrow mornin’. When I think of me inside you, gonna get hard all over again. Will wanna come home and fill you up some more.”
Jesus.
She’d be thinking about that all day tomorrow. Until he came home and did what he said.
She had no idea how she’d survive the day. How she’d survive the wait.
He kneed her thighs open even wider, adjusted his angle, and rasped, “Tip your ass.”
She did and his hand snaked between her and the mattress, finding her clit, finding their connection, as he powered forward. Sending her to the edge of madness before reining her in sharply by sinking his teeth into the tender spot where her shoulder and neck met. The bite. The deep grunts. The relentless plunge of his cock. It all continued until his body hiccuped, he ground deep and spilled inside her with a guttural grunt.
Wrenching another orgasm from her, the intense pulses of her pussy and his cock blended together. She didn’t know where one ended and the other began.
His teeth and hands held her in place as they both rode out their orgasms. Until every throb, every twitch, faded away.
Fuck yes whispered through her as she imagined him coating her inside. Marking her. Claiming her.
Even though that didn’t—couldn’t—really happen, it drew something from deep within her.
What she was desperately trying to avoid.
She knew sleeping with him would be dangerous. So, it shouldn’t be a surprise what having sex with him would invoke.
But she couldn’t explore it. She needed to stay focused. She couldn’t allow her future to become derailed simply due to a man.
No matter who he was.
She needed to remember, above all else, what he was. What he was a part of. Something he stepped back into willingly. Unlike her.
He unclamped his teeth from her flesh, licked the spot slowly, sensually, then whispered, “Want you to be my dessert after dinner every fuckin’ night.”
Yes, she wanted that, too.
For however long she had left here.
For the time they had left together, she reminded herself once more.
Only until then.
“Don’t wanna move,” he said softly, still draped heavily over her back.
She didn’t want him to move, either. Not yet.
However, it was inevitable and she could only take his crushing weight for so long. Plus, physiology had proven their physical connection would be broken soon anyway.
“Fuck,” he muttered when that happened, separating the two of them. He sighed and shifted his weight off her and rolled from the bed to his feet.
Unmoving, she only turned her head on the pillow to watch him, his hair disheveled more than normal, his cock slick from their combined cum and a flush from exertion flaring up his tattooed chest.
“Gonna clean up and bring you somethin’, too. Don’t move. Be back in a few.”
He wasn’t asking, he was telling. Normally that would bother her, but satisfaction caused a deep-seated laziness within her bones. She was in no rush to go anywhere.
A few minutes later he was back. Beads of water still clinging to the short, dark wiry hairs from which his now soft, but still impressive, cock was showcased.
In one hand he held a wet washcloth, in the other one of his T-shirts. “Roll over.”
With a soft sigh, she did.
“Prefer you naked. But if you gotta wear somethin’...”
He tossed the cotton tee onto her belly. At first, she actually thought he’d toss the wet cloth on her belly, too, expecting her to clean herself up and was surprised when he did it himself by gently parting her thighs and wiping her clean.
She would head to the bathroom soon, anyway. Otherwise, Cage would be leaking from her all night. A reminder that, once again, they were relying on her birth control pill to not get her pregnant. She hoped to hell she wasn’t playing Russian Roulette with any other possibilities.
He could say he wrapped it tight with every female he’d ever been with, but Dyna was proof of prophylactic failure.
Well, there went her afterglow from being sexually satisfied.
He didn’t join her in bed, but instead, once again, told her they were sleeping in his.
She doubted the night would only be filled with sleep. It was early yet. And she had a feeling he wasn’t done with her for the night.
Dyna would most likely wake a few times, too. Another good reason for her to sleep in her own bed.
When she told him that, he wasn’t having any of it. She could force the issue, but decided it wasn’t worth it. And, for fuck’s sake, she wanted to curl up next to him and sleep. To feel his presence within arm’s reach.
To maybe even spoon.
Again, she reminded herself, for only as long as she stayed in Manning Grove.
She tugged his shirt over her head and let the worn cotton fall around her. His cum was planted deep, his scent encompassed her.
He was claiming ownership inside and out.
It’s only temporary. Let him have this.
Let yourself have this. It isn’t forever.
On their way out of her bedroom, he snagged the old Rolling Stones T-shirt she’d been wearing previously and balled it within his fist.
“What are you doing with that? It’s my favorite.”
“Burnin’ the fuckin’ thing. You pick any of my shirts to wear. Whatever it is will be your new favorite.”
She glanced down at the one he’d picked for her. She wondered how much thought he’d put into it, if any at all. The shirt she wore only covered her to the top of her thighs, but on the front it read Life Behind Bars with a skeleton torso behind the handlebars of a motorcycle.
Yeah, she wasn’t sure if he thought that one through. Ox would’ve spent life behind bars if he hadn’t been killed in prison. Another reminder of why she had no desire to be a part of this, or any, club. Why she worried for Judge and Deacon.
Now, even Ry.
Her only hope for her nephew was that he’d continue on his current path, just like Jemma planned to continue on with hers.
If Cage insisted on her wearing one of his shirts to bed, she’d pick out a different one in the morning. Tonight she’d ignore that play on words.
Tonight...
Jemma started as she was pulled from her memory and returned to the present. To her current reality.
Brush burn on her inner thighs from his beard. Soreness in places that hadn’t been sore in a long time. And not because she hadn’t had a sexual partner in a while, but because she hadn’t had one like Cage, who was trying to cram it all in in a short amount of time.
She somehow made it back to the municipal lot with both her and Dyna in one piece. How? She had no idea. But her panties were now soaked from reliving the other night.
Maybe she could talk Cage into coming home at lunchtime for a qui
ckie. If not, she might have to take Dyna home, settle her down for a nap and do a little self-service to tide her over until he walked through the trailer door.
Dinner might be delayed.
Dessert before dinner sounded like a plan she could get onboard with. She doubted Cage would complain.
At the back corner of the municipal lot, she’d parked the Volvo under the shade of a tree. While it was the farthest spot from Main Street, she didn’t mind walking the extra steps. In Pennsylvania, summer days could be unbearable with the heat and humidity, but today was bearable. Pleasant, actually.
Things were looking up. Her hair, her interview...
All the orgasmic sex she was having with Cage...
She parked the stroller, unlocked the doors, leaned in and started the engine to blast the A/C to chase out the heat. She steered the stroller to the rear door on the passenger side, buckled in Dyna and the car seat, and left the door open since the interior was still too stifling to close her in.
She moved to the rear hatch, powered it open, collapsed the stroller and loaded it into the back storage area. Before she could close the back, a crunch of stones on blacktop came from behind her. That wasn’t the last thing she heard.
Hell no.
That was, “You took what was ours. Now gonna take what’s yours.”
The bright July sky suddenly went dark. And everything in her world around her disappeared.
Chapter Nineteen
Jemma breathed.
Breathed again.
Her head throbbed so painfully, she was having a difficult time catching her breath.
Beneath her, the hot blacktop burned her skin, even under her clothes.
She needed to move. To get up. To figure out what the hell just happened.
She had heard a voice and then nothing. Everything went black.
Did she get hit by a car? Was she mugged?
She had no idea.
With a groan, she forced open her eyes, and a trickle at the back of her scalp had her pressing her fingers there. Warm liquid. Tenderness. Sharp pain. A possible gash.
Holding her fingers in front of her face, she saw what she suspected.
Blood.
She had been struck from behind.
She heard the crunch of stones on the pavement again.
Fuck!
This time it wasn’t from feet, it was from tires.
A door opened.
More crunching but now under heavy footsteps.
Shit.
The gash on the back of her head began to throb as fast as her racing heartbeat.
A squawk and a voice came over a radio nearby.
Fuck.
Cops.
She forced herself to her hands and knees, the tiny stones digging into her palms. Her head pounded and began to spin, her knees wobbled weakly, but, by grabbing the rear bumper of the Volvo she managed to pull herself to her feet. Blood trickled faster under her hair.
She wondered how bad the gash was and if it would need stitches.
Stitches or not, she had a situation to deal with first. One she was fuzzy about the details since someone had scrambled her brains with something a lot harder than a wire whisk.
Her first instinct was to ask the approaching cop for help. But that instinct was quickly squashed by an older memory. By a strict rule the Originals had lived by. A rule taught since birth.
Men in uniform weren’t there to help.
The pigs were there to hurt. To harm. To steal children away.
To split up families by throwing them behind bars.
To point guns at innocent people.
“What happened? Were you attacked? Did someone hit you?” The voice was deep, calming.
Her vision was a bit blurry yet, and spots came and went. She blinked to try to clear them away. Unsuccessfully.
She took a couple of full breaths before answering because she was trying not to panic. Trying to look natural. Like she had been a klutz or something.
She glanced at the dark-haired cop who wore a concerned expression. His steel blue eyes assessed her as she tried to focus on his name badge.
A. BRYSON
Didn’t Teddy chatter on and on about his husband who was a local cop? Her brain was too muddled to remember his name. She swore his first name started with an A.
It didn’t matter. She wasn’t there to make friends. She needed to leave and take care of her wound. “No, I... I accidentally cracked my head on the corner of the hatch. It was dumb of me... Rushing and being careless...”
He stared at the folded-up stroller in the back, then his gaze slid through the interior of the Volvo. “Did you have a baby with you?”
Jemma blinked. Ringing began in her ears and not from the hit. She moved as quickly as she could, without face-planting in front of the cop, to the side of the car, where the door still hung wide open.
That was how she left it, wasn’t it?
But that didn’t matter.
Not fucking at all.
Because she realized what she was staring at.
Her heart was ripped right from her chest.
The car seat was empty. Dyna was gone.
Cage’s daughter was fucking gone.
She bit back her scream, barely containing it.
She should ask him for help.
She should ask him for help.
She should...
Fuck.
Dyna belonged to Cage.
Cage was BFMC.
Dyna was Fury property.
“No. I...” Fuck! “She’s with her father. I have to go. I’m fine... officer. I just clunked my head by accident. I’m clumsy like that.” She pretended to rub her head above the gash, trying not to wince and forced out a stilted laugh. “I’ll be fine. Thank you for checking on me.”
He stared at her a little longer. The concern turning to suspicion.
Her blood was rushing, which made her scalp bleed faster under her hair. It would soon soak her shirt if she didn’t get the hell out of there. If he saw how much she was bleeding, he’d call for an ambulance. And things would go to shit.
She didn’t need cops or an ambulance. Every minute she was delayed was one more minute Dyna was missing.
She tried not to scream in panic. She needed to appear as cool as possible on the outside even though she was completely unraveling on the inside. “I... I have to go, officer, I’m going to be late.”
He stared at her a few seconds longer, his eyes narrowed, and finally nodded. “Get your head checked if you feel any worse.”
Oh, thank fuck. “Will do.”
He closed the hatch for her and stood there as she climbed in the driver’s seat. She glanced into the rearview mirror at the empty car seat, then at the cop still standing behind the Volvo.
She needed to call Cage. She needed to call Judge. She needed to call someone.
She was about to lose her shit any second now, but she couldn’t do it in front of the cop. If she did, they’d get involved.
One thing instilled in her at an early age was club business remained club business. No outsiders.
As her shaky finger stabbed the Start button, Ox’s deep voice bellowed through her head, “Fuck the pigs. We handle our own shit.”
The Fury needed to handle this.
For fuck’s sake, they needed to handle this right now.
Fire ants marched like soldiers under his skin. He couldn’t stand still. One hand gripped the back of his neck, twisting it back and forth to keep himself from exploding. The other was balled into a fist as he paced the lower level of The Barn.
A clear path had been left for him to do so. Though, Sig stood nearby. Just in case.
In case of what, Cage didn’t know. He didn’t care.
He only cared about one thing right now.
His fucking daughter.
His fucking daughter.
His. Fucking. Daughter!
He stopped, raised his face and tried to release the tension in his chest wi
th a loud roar.
The crowd around him froze.
But he didn’t care. He ignored them.
He needed to find Dyna.
He needed to get his baby girl back.
Alive. In one piece.
Without one fucking scratch.
They had no time to waste.
All those months ago, they had gone up that mountain to get Red and while there, they had taken out a bunch of Shirleys.
Now the Shirleys who they left breathing took Dyna.
They took her.
They had her.
They had warned those motherfuckers not to touch anything belonging to the Fury.
And that clan dared to do just that.
They stole his flesh and blood.
“You took what was ours. Now gonna take what’s yours.”
Those were the words they uttered.
Those were the words Jemma barely remembered. Before they struck her from behind.
Before they injured his goddamn woman and stole his fucking baby.
They could’ve killed Jemma.
They could still kill Dyna, if they haven’t already.
His brothers needed to move.
But they weren’t. Not yet.
They “needed a plan first.” Just like the plan they made to recover Red.
They “needed to be smart.” To “use their heads.”
But he lost his.
He lost his the moment Jemma sped into the garage lot, the Volvo’s tires squealing. She had barely put it in Park before exploding out of the driver’s side, almost stumbling to her knees, her shirt drenched with blood.
She was screaming, crying.
How she was reacting, how she looked, the panic in her eyes, made his heart seize.
Everyone in the garage rushed outside to her and she talked so quickly no one knew what the fuck she was saying.
They pieced it together and figured it out.
His blood had turned to ice. Invisible hands crushed his heart and squeezed his throat.
His thoughts spun with the horrors that could be happening to his baby girl at the hands of those motherfucking inbred hillbilly goat fuckers.
Sig had wanted to burn down that mountain. They didn’t.
They should have.
A mistake they would regret.
Dutch got on the phone, Rook on his cell. Everybody but him began to make calls and close up the garage.
Blood & Bones: Cage (Blood Fury MC Book 5) Page 26