Smiling into her wet heat, I resumed tongue-fucking her until her pull on my hair became almost painful. Though it did send a momentary panic skittering through my heart, I told myself it was Raiven holding on to me.
It was Raiven.
Pulling me deeper into her wet core, she tugged.
And moaned.
And ground her plump pussy against my face, seeking the release I was teasing her with. Her actions spurred me to hurry, because I wanted my dick buried deep in there but I wanted her to come across my tongue first. Then I wanted her to come on my cock.
One, two, three fingers entered her tight-as-fuck sheath to prepare her for me. Once she shattered, I didn’t want to have to work my way in; I wanted to be buried deep immediately.
Sucking her clit into my mouth, I alternated between curling my fingers in her, flicking that little nub with my tongue, and biting it until she screamed, “Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuuuuuck! Matlock! Yes! Jesus, Matlock.”
Jesus fucking tits.
When she came, it was like biting into one of those fucking candies that the stuff came out of. Her come was on my tongue, down my beard, coating my fingers, my hand, and possibly on my damn shirt. Not that I was complaining, because it was the perfect combination of tangy and sweet. So good that I licked her clean like a fucking kid with a melting ice-cream cone.
Her hooded blue eyes watched as I sucked my last finger. The tip of her pink tongue ran along her bottom lip.
Reaction time was my forte, and I was on her mouth in half a second, running my tongue along hers so she could taste herself. When she deepened the kiss with a groan, I fisted her hair in one hand. The other one went down to release my cock, which had been straining at the zipper of my jeans all fucking day.
That motherfucker flopped out and landed on her clit with a smack as soon as my pants were out of the way. Her hands broke free from my hair and moved to clutch at my hips. Her pelvis tipped and wiggled in an attempt to get me lined up.
Chests heaving, we broke apart long enough to gasp for air.
Success didn’t take long. As soon as the leaking tip of my cock was against her soaking opening, I thrust hard inside.
My three fingers weren’t enough, because she screamed my name as I slammed in down to the base. It took every distracting thought I could think of not to start pounding into her. I struggled to suck in air, my eyes rolling in my head as my cock gave a little jump when she began to move, and I came a little.
“Fucking hell, stop,” I rasped out. My hand that was tangled in her inky locks jerked, and her head tipped back, exposing the column of her throat. Licking and sucking the entire length of it, I didn’t care if I left a mark. I wanted everyone who saw her to know she was mine.
Working my way back down, I bit the slope of her shoulder. Hard enough to leave a mark but not break the skin. Her core tightened into a stranglehold around my length, locking me inside her. I wasn’t sure I could pull out if I wanted.
“If you don’t stop that, I’m going to come, and I’m not ready for that.” My grumble was met by a laugh that shook her body against mine.
Knowing I was well and truly fucked, I slowly slid out before plunging back inside.
She’d officially awakened the slumbering beast within me that needed more than I thought I was ready for. Likely more than she was ready for.
Knowing I was fighting a losing battle when she got even tighter around me, I began to pump in and out. Between the throbbing pulse of her hot cunt around the girth of my cock, her nails scoring my hips and back, those perfect tits bouncing with each thrust, and her screaming my name, I lost every thread of control I’d been desperately grasping.
I painted the inside of her pussy with a roar that rivaled a grizzly’s. Every muscle in my body locked up, and the best feeling in the damn world coursed through my veins. Focusing on the absolute ecstasy that held me in its clutches, I panted through clenched teeth.
Sweat dripped from my hair, down my neck and soaked my shirt. Our eyes locked on each other, clashing and in shock.
She didn’t know it yet, but she and her perfect pussy were mine.
I didn’t share, and I was a needy bastard.
“Come Undone”—My Darkest Days
“We didn’t use a condom again.” I had no idea where the rationale behind my announcement came from. It’s not like I could get any more pregnant, and I knew after my doctor’s appointment that I was clean. The dangerous thing was, I didn’t know if he was.
Over the last week, I’d caught the skanky-dressed slut touching him. The same bitch that always seemed to be at the clubhouse. She’d been touching him in an extremely familiar manner.
I’d hated it, but I had no claim on him. He’d left the bed and slept on that fucking cot. In fact, there were a couple of nights he didn’t come back to the room at all. Where he’d spent the night was never discussed.
“I don’t give a fuck.”
“Umm, excuse me?”
“Are you still clean?”
I tried to shove him off me, my temper flaring.
“Easy, baby. It was a simple question. I didn’t know if you and Slice….” He trailed off. His acting like it was no big deal that he’d asked me that after his less-than-puritanical behavior pissed me off further. Especially since Slice and I may have become friendly, but there was nothing improper about our relationship.
“Get off! I should be asking you the same thing. You’re the one who spent the night with that tramp at the clubhouse.” Ineffectively, I shoved at him.
Clasping my wrists in his surprisingly strong hands, he looked at me like I’d lost my mind. “When the fuck did I sleep with Bertha?”
I froze. Blinking up at him, I deadpanned, “Her name is Bertha? Really? You fucked someone named Bertha?”
“Who the hell told you I fucked Bertha?” He had the nerve to sound affronted, his voice rising.
“You didn’t come back to the room several times, and I saw how she simpered and groped at you every chance she got. ‘Oh Looooock, you’re getting soooo strong again.’ It was disgusting,” I snarled.
He laughed. The stupid, sexy, orgasm machine had the gall to laugh at me. What really sucked was that his laughing caused his softening dick to fall out of me. Our combined stuff leaked out of me and likely all over the counter, if not down the cupboards.
“Oh my God. You’re cleaning that up,” I threatened.
Still laughing, the hot-as-fuck asshole yanked his T-shirt off with one hand, grasping the back of it and tugging it over his head. That move was the sexiest damn thing I’d ever seen. I hated him a little in that moment for making me want to climb him again while I was still mad at him.
“It’s got your pussy juice on it anyway.” He chuckled as he used it to clean me, then whatever the mess had gotten on. My face flamed.
Watching him move, the tattoos that painted him had my mouth watering. To myself, I’d admit I was jealous of whoever had done them, because they’d had their hands all over that sexy landscape.
“Can you get another shirt? Please?” Exasperation bled from my request though I’d tried my best not to let it happen. I’d wanted to sound disgusted or angry, anything but desperate for him to cover all that smoking-hot temptation.
Embarrassed that I’d sounded like a jealous shrew about Bertha, I jumped off the counter and grabbed my panties and shorts. Before I could pull them on, he stilled my hands, then gently tipped my head up to meet his eyes.
The juvenile side of me wanted to jerk my chin free and avoid looking at him. The part of me that ached for his touch relished in that small contact. It wanted to lean into him, to feel his body heat.
“Raiven. I’d like to ask if that was a little green-eyed monster sneaking out, but I think I already know the answer to that. While I’d really like to revel in that for a little bit, I want you to know I’ve never touched her. You’ve been the only one for about a year or more. The nights I didn’t come to bed were because I couldn’t sleep. I was ly
ing outside on one of the hammocks staring at the stars all night. Alone.” His fierce cornflower eyes held mine. One corner of his mouth tipped up before he leaned forward and his warm lips tenderly brushed over my gaping mouth.
“Oh.” It was all I could squeak out.
Well, don’t I feel like an asshole?
A brief kiss led to his beard tickling down my neck to my cleavage, where his tongue dipped in and sent shivers across my skin. Without my realizing it, he’d let go of my wrists and his palms skimmed up under my tank top to cup my breasts.
Between kisses to my exposed skin, he spoke. “From what the guys said, she came home with Truth the night he was patched. She’s been hanging out there ever since. She doesn’t live there, she’s not a ‘club whore’ or some shit like that. We don’t have those. Our kids are there too much.”
Thinking back on it, I knew she never stayed there overnight unless she was in bed with Truth or Slice. Which I thought was gross, that they’d willingly share her. That was my last thought on the subject because his hands and mouth were working their magic.
In no time at all, his arms shrugged the hem up and he crouched to pull a nipple in his mouth. The clink of metal against his teeth sent shivers down my spine as my nipples puckered.
Hands exploring and mouths kissing, biting, and tasting, we worked ourselves up until he was flipping me over and shoving my exposed chest to the cool granite. Where earlier it had startled me, as worked up as we were by then, it was amazing.
Again, he shoved that thick cock in me bare. Though I was already pregnant, he didn’t know that. Did he not care? It was on the tip of my tongue to ask.
“One of these days, I’m going to fuck you in a goddamn bed,” he growled low, then thrust hard. That’s when my mind slipped back into a sex-induced haze.
As a final explosive orgasm washed over me, nearly drowning me like a tidal wave, a small voice snuck in on my euphoria. On repeat, it asked if I really thought he’d still want me if it turned out the baby wasn’t his.
I’d had to reschedule an appointment to go to the ultrasound. Lock had dropped me off, and I nervously peeked out the windows about twenty times after he pulled away. I needed to make sure he’d actually left and not come back. It would’ve been tough to explain where I was going if he saw me walking down the road right away.
I cursed the furniture store for sending the wrong dresser for the master bedroom and him offering to get it. If he hadn’t done that, I could’ve driven his truck and I wouldn’t have had to worry about explaining where I was going.
The entirety of the short walk was spent with my heart pounding and my ears feeling like they heard his truck barreling down the road. Relief slammed into me when I safely made it into the clinic without getting caught.
I’d puked that morning, but I’d hid it from Lock because thankfully another round of animal sex last night left him zonked when I woke.
Thankfully, he’d also slept through the night with only a couple of bouts of restlessness that had woken me.
I’d been nervous of sleeping in his bed in case Presley woke and went looking for either of us. Not knowing where things were going to end up, I didn’t want her getting confused. We’d agreed that I would return to my room early in the morning. Okay, he had begrudgingly agreed. I had insisted.
The day he’d awakened with his hands around my throat played into it a bit too.
Waiting on the exam table, I nervously chewed on my lip. The ultrasound tech was chatty but nice.
“Okay, we’re going to try the least invasive option first.”
“Ohhh-kay?”
She slopped some goopy gel on me, smeared it around, pushed here and there, clicked this and that. All the whole she yammered and made little humming sounds that I didn’t understand.
The next thing she’d said was something about not getting great images. Then she told me she was sticking this fucking wand with a giant condom on it up my hooha to do the ultrasound that way since I seemed “on the cusp,” whatever that fucking meant.
“Well, that’s it!” She grinned as she printed out a couple of black-and-white images for me.
“So how far along am I?” I’d done a little research, but I had no idea if they could pinpoint how many weeks I was from the ultrasound. It wasn’t an exact science, I’d found.
“Well, that’s just an estimate.” She pointed at the tiny numbers on the page. “Because of when you said your last menstrual cycle was, I thought you’d be around nine weeks, but it was hard to see, so that’s why I did the transvaginal. Your raspberry-cherry is somewhere in between the eight and nine weeks, if I had to guess from my measurements. The little one wasn’t super cooperative and was very active, as you saw.”
Actually, all I saw was a white blob wiggling around. What she’d pointed out as limbs simply looked like parts of the blob. It made me feel like an idiot and not much of a mom.
“My raspberry-cherry?” I had no idea what she was taking about.
“Is this your first?”
I nodded.
“Have you done much reading up on pregnancy?” She gave me a look that clearly said I was the least prepared person she’d ever encountered. It kind of made me take offense to it.
So I lied.
“Of course I have.” I laughed.
“Well, they’ve leaned toward comparing the size of your baby to the sizes of foods that people are familiar with. Maybe you didn’t come across any of those sites.” I could tell she was trying to make me feel better.
It wasn’t working.
“Oh, right.” Disappointment weighed heavy that I hadn’t gotten the answers I’d been hoping for that morning. The whole in-between thing had me certain it was Stefano’s baby, and I wanted to cry. I’d been praying it was Lock’s.
Which was probably foolish, because I didn’t know if he’d want a baby with me. Yes, he loved Presley, but she was his. What if he didn’t want any more kids? What if he refused to raise a baby who belonged to the man who’d held him captive?
Taking a deep breath and letting it go slowly, I barely heard her directions before she left the room. The doctor came in briefly.
“Okay, so we’re going to err on the side of caution and call it an eight-week embryo. At your next visit we’ll do another ultrasound to see if we can get a better reading.” She smiled kindly and I retuned it, but I knew it didn’t reach my eyes.
We set my next appointment, and I slipped the images in my purse and headed into work. Telling myself I’d figure things out later, that I had time, didn’t help much either.
Everyone noticed I was off, but they left me to my clients and didn’t call me out on it. The guys and I weren’t that close, and Nikki wasn’t in that morning. She’d be in after lunch. By then, I’d have gone home.
Not having much of an appetite, I took a walk-in right before lunch who wanted a small music note. By the time lunch was over and I was done, Lock was waiting out front. I was happy to see Presley was in the truck too.
“Sorry, I’m a little late, I dropped the dresser off first because it looked like it might rain.” His blue-gray eyes showed his regret.
“It’s fine. Really. I had a walk-in, so it worked out perfect. Hey, pretty girl.” I turned around in the seat to squeeze Presley’s toes in her cute little sandals. When I twisted, my stomach pulled and I winced with a gasp.
“You okay?” Concern laced his question, and sweat beaded on my brow as I debated what to say.
“Yeah, think I may have pulled something last night.” My face flushed bright red at the lie, but he took it for embarrassment and chuckled.
“Pwincess Waiven, you dunna stay at ow house a-den?” Her innocent smile and the excitement that lit her eyes added to my guilt. Again, I worried how the outcome of my situation could affect the sweet little girl I’d fallen in love with.
“I sure am, is that okay?”
“Yay! We habben a sweep ober! You dunna sweep in my woom?” She strained against her straps of her c
ar seat to eagerly await my answer.
Thankfully, Lock stepped in.
“Probably not tonight, little Elvis. Princess Raiven has a sore back. She needs to sleep in the big bed so it gets better.” Checking his mirrors, he pulled out into traffic, and we drove toward home.
“Den can I sweep wiff huh?” That eagerness was back.
“No, because you wiggle around too much and we don’t want you to bump her and hurt her back.” His eyes met hers in the rearview mirror. I glanced over my shoulder to see her pouting. He was trying not to laugh, and I rolled my eyes as I shook my head at him.
It didn’t take long to make it back to the house and get Presley unloaded. Without putting much thought to what I was doing, I started lunch once we were all inside. Brain lost in clouds of worry, I was pretty much going through the motions.
Presley ran off to her room to play, and Lock disappeared.
Standing at the stove making grilled cheese and tomato soup, I listened to music as I cooked. The domestic quality of everything suddenly hit me, and my emotions exploded. For no logical reason, I started crying.
Standing in front of the stove, I sobbed with my face buried in my hands. Everything hit me at once.
Like it wasn’t bad enough seeing Stefano kill someone in cold blood, then his doing what he did to me, then telling me he’d killed my dad? Top that off with being on the run, Lock being taken, taking care of Presley while hoping he’d make it home to us, a new place, new job, new faces and friends, watching Gabriel kill Stefano, finding out I was pregnant. It was too much.
The not knowing was killing me too. I wanted the baby to be Lock’s so bad. But on the flip side, how he would take that kind of news after I’d confidently told him we were safe that first time? The fear that he may think I trapped him or was deceptive ate me up inside. The fear that I’d be a shitty mom was there too.
My mom had been a lot younger than my dad. She’d decided drugs and partying were more fun than being a mom and hauled ass. Dad never remarried, since my mother had been his fourth marriage and he’d said he wasn’t trying again.
Lock and Load: A Demented Sons MC Texas Novel Page 18
