I flick my tongue faster.
Oversensitive, her body slows and her fingers glide through my hair. She rotates her hips, circling her clit over my tongue.
“Slow,” she whispers. “It’s too much.”
Never enough.
Twirling my tongue in circles, my fingers tease her and she changes her mind again, deciding she wants more.
Needs more.
Loving my tongue, her legs quiver as she gets close. It won’t be too long before she loses herself. I glance up at her and find her lips parted, one hand playing with her tit, squeezing her nipple between her fingers as she stares back at me.
“Goddamn girl,” I grunt against her.
“More,” she demands, pulling my hair with the other hand. “Don’t stop. Don’t fucking stop.”
Shoving two fingers into her pussy, I give her back my tongue and get ready to send her to heaven. Crooking my fingers, I press against her walls.
“More, fuck,” she cries out as I flick my tongue over her clit repeatedly, wondering if my jaw will lock before she actually comes.
I give her a third finger. Fuck her hard, lick her fast and then my gorgeous girl goes off like a firecracker. Screaming out my name, she pulls my hair and pulses against my tongue.
That’s it, baby, get lost.
When she starts to come down, I pull my fingers out and look up at her, watching as she pushes the water away from her face.
“You’re going to kill me.”
“Best way to go, baby,” I hiss as I drop down onto my ass and lean all the way against the far wall of the tub. Wrapping my hand around my shaft, I give it a nice, long, strong pull before I crook my finger.
“Get on, babe, and fuck me like your life depends on it,” I grunt.
Pushing off the tile, she stumbles toward me and plants one foot on each side of my thighs before she lowers herself to sit on my cock.
“It’s your turn to beg, Cobra,” she whispers as she grips my good shoulder and takes me all the way inside her.
“Beg. Plead. Cry for that shit,” she says.
Yeah.
She was going to kill me.
Or we were going to kill each other.
Either way, we were fucking to our death.
Definitely not a bad way to go
.
-Twenty-six-
Celeste
Shower sex might be the best thing ever.
Whoever says it’s awkward and messy isn’t doing it right. They need to try it again. Over and over until they feel what I felt. No one should leave this earth without experiencing that.
“You’ve got that look on your face,” Cobra points out, lifting the chopsticks to his mouth to mask the grin he’s sporting.
“What look?”
“The look you get when you’ve just been thoroughly fucked,” he says proudly, popping the piece of raw fish into his mouth.
“You’re a pig,” I tease, taking my kid friendly chopsticks from my purse. You know the kind, the ones that have a piece of paper rolled between the sticks and secured with a rubber band at the end.
“What are you doing?” he asks before washing down his sushi with a hefty gulp of sake.
“What’s it look like I’m doing?” I pluck a piece of fish off the tremendous platter he ordered and bring it to my lips. Pausing, I frown as he looks at me. “Would you prefer I use my fingers?”
He cocks an eyebrow before bowing his head and smirking.
“I shouldn’t be surprised,” I say, popping the piece into my mouth. “Most conversations with you always lead to sex on the brain.”
Smiling, he shrugs his shoulders innocently and picks a piece of sashimi off the platter. Expertly he lifts it between the chopsticks and reaches out to feed it to me.
“Open up,” he says.
“See,” I tease, parting my lips.
His smile intact, he continues to watch me chew.
“Hey,” he says, clearing his throat. “Do you remember the first time we went on an actual date?”
Lifting an eyebrow, I tilt my head to the side and stare at him as if he’s lost his mind. Does he really think I don’t remember every single second we’ve ever shared? He may have tallied my smiles, but I counted the seconds, the minutes and every hour. My mind is a filmstrip of moments we spent together.
“Stupid question,” he answers, reaching across the table to pick up my fake chopsticks. “Of course you remember. You probably still have the salt and pepper shakers you stole from the table.”
Okay, so maybe I’m a kleptomaniac of sorts.
“Only the salt shaker,” I confess. “The pepper shaker broke.”
“And you didn’t save the pieces?” he laughs, lifting the chopsticks to stare at them for a moment.
“So, what’s the story behind these?”
“When Gina graduated college, we went out to dinner to celebrate. She insisted on sushi and it was my first time. The thought of eating raw fish was never appealing to me.”
His tongue peeks out and wets his lips.
Ignoring the dirty thoughts, he entices I roll my eyes and continue.
“We went to this place on New Dorp Lane in Staten Island. I think it was called Sushi Excellent. Anyway, she ordered half the menu and I barely got a morsel of food in my mouth. Halfway through the dinner, the waiter handed me these bad boys. We laughed for hours and when the check came, I felt cheated. A hundred and fifty dollars for dinner and I was fucking starving. I deserved something for my efforts.”
“So you took the chopsticks.”
“They’re lucky I didn’t take the fancy plates,” I counter with a grin.
I snatch my chopsticks back and watch him laugh.
“I really wanted the plates,” I add.
“Always gotta take something from a restaurant,” he teases, glancing around the table. “What’s it going to be tonight?”
Following his gaze, nothing catches my eye. Then I lift my head and watch as his lips quirk around the white porcelain cup before he takes another sip of sake.
“I’m taking the cup,” I answer, pointing a finger at him as he lowers it from his mouth. “That way every time I see it in my cabinet, I’ll remember tonight and the way you smiled at me.”
“You keeping a tally too?”
“Maybe,” I admit, leaning back against the chair. “How many do you have so far?”
“Not enough,” he rasps as he gives me a wink. “But the night is still young, gorgeous.”
And just like that he had another one to add to his list.
I gave him fifteen more smiles before we stumbled through the door of my apartment, laughing and tearing at one another’s clothes.
He got my smile.
I got another memory.
And before we both fell asleep, we vowed to keep them coming.
COBRA
I think I heard somewhere your ears ring right before you kick the bucket, and right now my fucking ears are singing. I guess too much fucking will do that to you. At least that’s my theory. If someone offered me all the tea in China and told me the only way to get it was to go another round with Celeste, I’d have to pass. My dick actually hurts.
Poor girl.
She probably won’t be able to walk until next Tuesday.
Eyes shut tight, I lift my hands to my ears and will the ringing to stop. When it doesn’t quit I force my eyes open and struggle to focus. The first thing I see is Celeste’s hair spread across my chest. A smile curls across my lips.
It’s the best way to wake up.
Well, second best.
First would be waking up with her lips wrapped around my cock, but there’s always tomorrow.
Shit, look at that.
When did I start living for tomorrow?
The ringing sounds again and this time I’m able to recognize the sound and it turns out I’m not dying after all. The fucking doorbell is ringing.
Glancing at the nightstand, I stare at the alarm clock and the offensiv
e red numbers that read too fucking early. I nudge Celeste gently but she’s dead weight.
She might have been fucked to death. The jury’s hung on that one.
Rolling her onto her side, I slip out of bed and glance around the room for my jeans. Pulling them on, I glance back at her naked ass and listen to her snore.
Cute as fuck she is.
How did I do this? How did I spend so much time without this? It’s easier for a man who doesn’t know what he’s missing, but that isn’t me. I had her. Lost her and kept on living. Now I’ve got her again and I can’t imagine ever surviving without this again, without her.
Crazy fucking shit.
Deep shit.
The kind of shit that makes you want to rewrite every fucking mistake you’ve ever made just to have more time.
Drawing in a deep breath, my lungs burn as I walk out of the bedroom, gently closing the door behind me before making my way to the front door.
Another buzz of the bell.
A fist against the door.
If it’s Deuce, I’m going to kill the fucker.
Pulling the door open, my breath gets caught in my lungs as I stare back at the two people who were like parents to me. Two people who welcomed me into their home when the one I was born into fell apart.
I abandoned Sal and Nancy Spinelli just as I had their daughter.
The man who taught me how to rebuild a car holds my daughter on his shoulders and stares back at me in shock, while the woman who made sure I had a warm meal every night gasps.
“Jagger?” Nancy whispers.
“Kitty,” Skylar shouts as she leans her chin on the top of Sal’s head and points to my bare stomach.
Swallowing down the lump in my throat, I lift my head and smile at Skylar.
“Hey, gorgeous girl,” I rasp hoarsely.
Cupping the back of my neck, I step aside and force my gaze back to the couple staring at me like I’m a figment of their imagination.
“Sal, Nancy…” I blow out a breath. “It’s good to see you guys.”
Silently we stand in front of each other, staring awkwardly until Sal bends his knees and lifts Skylar from his shoulders. Placing her down on her feet, he rises up to his full height and steps toward me. His eyes rake over me, taking in all the tattoos before he shakes his head in disbelief.
“Never thought I’d see you again, boy,” he croaks.
I don’t know what to say to him. I want to say I’m sorry. Looking at him, it’s obvious he felt some kind of way after I left. I’m just not sure if it’s despair over losing the kid he took under his wing or hatred for the guy who left his little girl broken hearted.
I get my answer when he places a hand on my good shoulder and pulls me into an embrace.
“You bastard,” he hisses, his voice thick with emotion.
Relief settles in and I pat him on the back as I laugh nervously.
There are good people in the world.
People who never get noticed for their big hearts and hospitality.
Good people you forget exist.
Good people who make the world a better place.
He breaks the embrace and leans back, leveling me with a look.
“You got some explaining to do, kid,” he says.
“I know,” I agree, turning to Nancy. I reach out and brush the tears away from her cheek with the pad of my thumb.
“Quit crying, Ma, I promise you I’m not worth the tears.”
She wraps her hand around my wrist and brings her other arm around my neck.
“I knew you would come back,” she says softly. “I knew the minute I laid eyes on my granddaughter you’d be back one day.”
My eyes dart down to the little girl next to me staring up at us curiously. Winking at her, I take a chance and offer her my hand as Nancy untangles herself from me.
On pins and needles, waiting to be accepted by a pint sized human I watch her smile as she places her little hand in mine.
Breathing a sigh of relief, my chest pounds and I subconsciously begin to tally her smiles too.
Breathtaking smiles.
Fucking stunning.
“Should we go wake up mommy?” I ask her.
“No need to,” Celeste says from behind me. Dressed in a pair of sweats she stares wide-eyed at all of us.
“What are you guys doing here?”
“Your father thought instead of waiting for you to pick her up, we’d come here, pick you up and take you both to breakfast,” Nancy answers. “We didn’t know you’d have company.”
Resembling a deer caught in headlights, Celeste chews on her lip.
“Imagine the surprise when Jagger opened the door, half-dressed,” Sal adds. “Not only is he alive and well, but apparently nothing has changed.”
He pauses and looks down at Skylar who by some grace of God is still holding my hand.
“I take it back. Some things have changed.”
“Good to know I can still shock my parents every once in a while,” Celeste says finally, offering them a smile.
“Yeah,” Sal huffs. “Lucky for me we only had one kid or else I’d be in an early grave.”
“So which of you two will explain all this to us?” Nancy questions, closing the door behind her.
“She will,” I answer. Immediately pointing a finger at Celeste.
“He will,” she says at the same exact time, pointing the same finger back at me.
Turning to one another, our eyes lock and the two mischievous grins lost between innocence and sin reappear.
-Twenty-seven-
Cobra
I wish I could say I’ve spent the last few days getting to know my daughter better, but after Celeste’s parents brought her home, I only got a few hours with her before I had to tend to my club. Even if I didn’t have my hands full with Vic’s funeral, days wouldn’t be enough to make up for the year and a half lost.
I shouldn’t complain. Each day before the first viewing I managed to sneak in some time with Skylar. I learned she prefers waffles over pancakes. I also learned never to give a child syrup. That lesson came after she stuck her hand in the syrup and then touched her hair. Bath time is fun. Everyone gets wet and not the way I’m used to.
This morning before the church service, I took my little girl to day care for the first time. Celeste added me to the contact card, and for the first time I was labeled that girl’s dad. My name was scribbled on the card in Celeste’s handwriting and she added my cell number next to it, right next to the spot where it said father.
Proudest moment of my life.
Amazing what a label can do to a man.
A label worth having.
I left that hospital feeling like I was on top of the world only to return hours later feeling as if I was kicked in the gut.
Vic’s body was barely lowered into the ground when Jack’s wife’s water broke, sending us all to Labor and Delivery.
Where we’ve been for the last eight hours.
Bikers dressed in leather.
Mobbed up mourners dressed in black.
We fit in.
Said no one.
But ask if any of us care.
Not even a little.
This is the good stuff none of us ever thought we’d get to experience. The shit that makes life worth living. The good stuff I missed with my own child.
“Bro, how long does a kid take to come out?” Deuce questions beside me. “I mean it’s been a fucking eternity since we blew through those doors. Should we be worried?”
Lost in my mind, I absorb Deuce’s question and wonder how long Celeste was in labor with Skylar. Was there anyone in the room with her? Was she scared? Were there any complications?
All things a father should know.
All the things I don’t.
“Hello? Earth to Cobra,” Deuce says, waving a hand in front of my face. Blinking, I stare back at him trying to remember what his initial question was.
“Oh for fuck’s sake, you’re no help at a
ll,” he groans before his eyes light up and he stands abruptly. Figuring it was Jack that walked through the doors, I turn and my eyes lock with Celeste’s.
“Blondie, thank God,” Deuce exaggerates.
She smiles at me but all I can do is look at her. With my eyes I ask her all the questions running through my head.
“We’ve been here for a year and a day and Jack still hasn’t come out here to tell us anything. Is there any way you can find out if the kid is okay or not?”
Turning to Deuce, she swallows and glances around the packed waiting room. All eyes are on her, wondering the same thing as Deuce.
“Let me see what I can do,” she replies, turning back to me. “Everything okay?”
Not trusting my voice, I nod tersely and throw her a wink.
Masks.
We all have them.
Put them on when we’re being pussies and can’t voice what we’re feeling.
The doors open wide and all eyes turn to see Jack walk through them, pulling his paper mask from his face. The lines on his face crease as his smile widens.
“It’s a boy!”
Some of us get a chance to take those masks off.
Some of us get to express joy.
Shout that shit loud for the whole wide world to hear.
A sea of black stands to their feet.
Worn leather and the finest of silk all bleed into one and circle around Jack Parrish. The finest Cubans are passed around as everyone congratulates the man on the birth of his son.
After my turn comes to congratulate him, I take a step back and shove my hands into my pockets and take it all in.
All the joy.
“Are you okay?” Celeste questions softly beside me, reminding me she’s there.
Glancing over at her, I shake my head, deciding I’m no pussy.
“No,” I admit. “Can we go somewhere?”
Studying my features, she seems to read my thoughts and grabs my hand. Leading me away from the crowd of well-wishers, I’m sure won’t even notice, she takes me into an on-call room.
Closing the door, she leans against it and crosses her arms.
“What’s the matter?”
The Nomad Series-Collectors Edition Page 49
