Sins of the Father

by Marie James

  “Where are you going?” Briar’s voice is close behind me as I walk toward the SUV.

  We always move fast after a job, but I’m more anxious than usual to get out of there.

  “I want to head back to the clubhouse,” I mutter as I pull open the passenger door.

  “Are we waiting for Hornet?” he asks as he climbs in behind the wheel.

  “He can ride with TJ. They have room now.”

  All of the thoughts I’ve barely managed to keep at bay the last couple of days hit me like a ton of bricks in my chest. I know where I need to be, and I can’t seem to get there fast enough.

  Chapter 22

  Candi

  It’s not time to wake up. I can feel it in my bones. We went to sleep late. With many of the guys gone, it gave us girls the chance to play Cards Against Humanity. My throat is still sore from all of the laughing.

  Even though I could sleep for several more hours, my eyes still flutter open in the soft, new light of dawn.

  I stiffen the second I see him standing over me, but it isn’t fear that is coursing through my veins and rocketing up my heart rate. Something akin to happiness fills me, and I know it’s reflected on my face. He’s avoided me the last couple of days, so being surprised that he’s here doesn’t begin to explain my feelings.

  “Shh,” he whispers as his finger brushes over my lips.

  I blink up at him, wondering when I’ll wake from this dream. It has to be an illusion, an adaptation of the fantasies repeating over and over in my mind. There’s no way Lynch is scooping me out of his sister’s bed and carrying me down the hall, because only in nightmares does my hand brush against him and pull away with a sticky red substance.

  The blood on my fingers doesn’t scare me like it should. My first thoughts are of concern.

  “You’re hurt,” I mumble as he kicks his bedroom door closed.

  “It’s not my blood,” he grumbles as he crosses the room with me still in his arms.

  He doesn’t bother to turn on the lights when we enter the bathroom. He simply walks me to the counter, sitting me down on the cold granite.

  “Off,” he says, tugging at the hem of my shirt.

  His seductive lips are on my nipple before I can get the fabric free of my hair. Only his lips touch me, and I hate that his hands are idle at my hips as he clutches the countertop.

  “You’ve been punishing me,” I whisper, somehow still cognizant enough to let him know he has upset me.

  “I haven’t,” he vows as he releases my breast and looks into my eyes.

  “You have.” The burn of tears from the other day threatens again. “Is it because Xena touched me?”

  He shakes his head.

  “Because it makes me a whore? Because I’m just like the other girls?”

  “You’re not a whore,” he pants against my lips, reminding me of his declaration. I don’t kiss whores.

  Whimpering in his mouth, I’m needy and desperate for his touch and attention. I feel like I’ve withered without his contact.

  The rush of his breath as it leaves his nose is calming, as is the gentle yet dominating brush of his tongue against mine.

  “I missed you,” he confesses against my lips.

  “Don’t,” I breathe, squeezing my eyes tight and pulling my mouth away. “You can have my body, but quit fucking with my heart.”

  “I missed these lips,” he continues, ignoring my plea. His palm cups my jaw as his lips brush mine before his mouth moves lower. “Missed these tits.”

  I arch into him, surrendering to his skillful mouth.

  “This pussy.” My legs spread on the countertop until they’re wide enough to accommodate the expanse of his shoulders. “Especially this pussy.”

  The first swipe of his tongue along my seam nearly jolts me off the counter, but reality comes crashing in the second I see the red smear from his cut as he shifted down my body.

  “Stop,” I hiss and push at his shoulders.

  He looks lust-drunk when his eyes turn up to mine.

  “You’re getting blood on me,” I complain.

  He snaps back, looking in terror at my tits now covered in someone else’s blood.

  “Fuck.” He strips, nearly falling over as he tries to take off his boots with his jeans and briefs around his calves.

  A laugh erupts from my throat, and I expect him to glare at me for the slip-up, but when his eyes find mine, they’re filled with a hint of delight I’ve never seen him have before. The small grin playing on his lips is more seductive than it should be. Why does happiness make him a million times hotter?

  “Get in the shower,” he commands.

  And this devilish guy has a place as well. I yearn for both personalities.

  I pop off the counter with more enthusiasm than I should have with blood from an unknown source on my skin.

  “Jesus!” I scream when water jets out from everywhere hitting me with icy-cold spray.

  “You can turn off the wall jets,” he says rounding over my back and reaching past me to hit a few buttons on a digital panel. The six wall jets halt, and I’m almost impressed enough to ask him to turn them back on.

  The jut of his erection digs into my back, and stubbornly, I refuse to move. The heat of it comforts me. It lets me know he wants me in some way at least. Although possibly only sexually, I do serve some sort of purpose for him, and like a greedy cat with her very first bowl of cream, I want to lap it all up before he takes it away again.

  “Did you miss me?” His arms are around me, his hands rinsing the front of my body.

  I shake my head, rolling my damp hair against his chest. My response is outwardly playful, but confessing how I’ve felt the last couple of days only opens me up for further pain. I don’t need to have my feelings exploited, and Lynch seems like just the type of man to use any means necessary to maintain control of me and whatever this situation is that we’ve found ourselves in.

  “Really?” His tone is playful, just how I want it to be as his hands skate lower on my body.

  “Ronan—” He pinches my clit punishingly, making me squeal as I try to squirm away.

  “I’ve had enough of that bullshit,” he warns in my ear.

  He releases my clit, and when the blood rushes back to it, I nearly sag in his arms. It’s painful and pleasurable, and I’m screwed because my body is demanding both.

  “I’m sorry.” Facing away from him somehow makes it easier to make my confessions, the ones he seems capable of drawing out of me no matter how much I need to keep them hidden. “I’m also sorry for what you walked in on the other day.”

  “With Xena?” he clarifies, and I nod my head. “That was so fucking hot.”

  “Really?” I try to turn to face him, but he holds me securely against his chest. His fingers are teasing now, igniting my arousal insanely fast.

  “Watching her gnaw on that pink, little button of yours—” He groans in my ear, the sound shooting goosebumps all over my body despite the warmth of the water cascading down around us. “I could come right now just thinking about it.”

  I’ve given that day a lot of thought. The shame and arousal at the memories have been confusing, to say the least. I’m still struggling with accepting that things are different in the compound than they are in the civilian world. No matter how much I tried to ignore the questions, they always popped right back up. The only way to put them to bed is to get the answers I need.

  “Would you feel the same way if it were another guy?” His fingers pinch me again, only this time I’m prepared for it. My pussy clenches with need when he pulls his hand away too soon.

  “You’re playing with fire,” he whispers in my ear. “Are you purposely trying to piss me off?”

  “I’ve always wanted to try a threesome,” I confess to the shower wall.

  “You had one,” he grunts as he brushes over my clit again.

  “That was not what I pictured.”

  He’s silent now, and I’d give just about anything to h
ave access to his thoughts.

  “You want two guys to fuck you?” He swivels his hips letting me know his erection hasn’t flagged the slightest with my confession.

  “I have a list,” I spit.

  Why the fuck did you just say that?

  I roll myself against him, praying that he’ll ignore my last statement and just bend me over and fuck me.

  “A list?” There’s humor in his voice, but his fingers working their magic down below are all business.

  Fuck he’s good because I’m going to tell him every nasty thing I’ve dreamed of. I’ll confess anything so long as he keeps touching me.

  “A list,” I confirm.

  “What kind of list?”

  “Of all of the things I want to experience,” I pant as his middle finger slips inside of me.

  I’m wound so fucking tight, I know it’s only a matter of moments before I’m splintering.

  “Like college and marriage and stuff?” His mouth is right against my ear as he works his sexual magic on my body.

  “Like threesomes and bondage,” I correct.

  His chuckle is the only thing that makes me review what I just said. See how dangerous he is? With his hands on me, it’s as if he’s my confessor.

  “Good to know.” He doubles his efforts, and I’m imploding seconds later.

  He doesn’t give me long to recover before he’s putting pressure on my shoulders and urging me to my knees.

  “I want to fuck your mouth,” he insists.

  God, I want that, too.

  When I turn to face him, he’s grinning down at me?

  “Really?” He hasn’t given me a second to enjoy the aftereffects of my own release, selfish bastard.

  “It’s on my list.”

  “Well,” I say with a wide grin as I lean closer. “I’d love to help you tick off all of the things on your list.”

  He grunts his appreciation when my mouth wraps around his cock.

  As I suck him off, giving him my best effort, I hope that he just forgets about the entire conversation altogether, because talking about the things I’ve desired for so long while face to face with him seems like an impossibility.

  “Perfect,” he praises as he thrusts his hips forward one last time before coming down my throat.

  The next couple of minutes are spent with economical movements. We wash, rinse, and dry ourselves without another word, without another touch. I know how the night, or should I say morning, ends. He’s always attentive, focused solely on me until he comes. It’s like all of his care and comfort seeps out of the end of his cock, and he has nothing left to give. Then I’m back to something he can toss away and ignore until his nuts fill back up and he needs attention.

  I don’t bother with the t-shirt he forced me to take off earlier, opting to leave it lying on the bathroom floor. Instead, I beeline it to his closed bedroom door. Molly’s room is only a few doors down, so making a naked sprint to her room seems like the best plan.

  “Where are you going?” I turn to see him standing in the bathroom doorway running a towel over his damp hair.

  He exudes power, his bicep flexing with masculine definition.

  “Back to Molly’s room to get some sleep,” I answer.

  “Nope.” He points to his bed.

  “I can’t stay in here.”

  “And I can’t fuck you when I wake up if you’re not beside me.” His towel falls to the floor as he stalks toward me.

  His cock thickens with every step, and I’m pretty sure the fucking is going to happen long before we fall asleep.

  Chapter 23

  Lynch

  Dim sunlight filters into my room when I finally manage to open my tired eyes. I almost convince myself that I didn’t just waste the entire day sleeping.

  Candi shifts in my arms. I’m not startled she’s still in here. Her presence when I woke up was considered before I ever closed my eyes. I don’t want her here, but I couldn’t bear to let her go earlier. I clear my throat, hoping it will startle her awake so she’ll leave, but all it serves to do is rouse her enough that her hand slides down the ridges of my stomach to settle just out of reach of my thickening cock.

  It doesn’t bother me that she’s on my chest. It doesn’t torture me that the tips of her fingers are mere inches from my dick. What spooks me is realizing my fingers are stroking through her hair. I’m loving on her, petting her like a kitten without even thinking about it.

  And what’s worse?

  I enjoy it.

  I love the dark strands sifting through my fingers, and the way the soft light catches a hint of red on occasion.

  And those thoughts make me a pussy, and if there’s anything in the world I’m not… it’s a pussy.

  I jolt out of bed, rustling Candi enough that she should wake up. She doesn’t. She must not have gone to bed much earlier than when I went into Molly’s to collect her last night.

  She grumbles, much the same way she did when she was in my room back at the clubhouse last week and snuggles deeper into the pillow.

  God, she’s fucking cute wrapped in my sheets. The sight of one exposed nipple beckons to me, calling me over.

  I ignore it.

  That’s a lie.

  There’s no way to ignore the delicate curve of her breast and the way her dark, brown hair practically floats on the bed.

  I fight the urge.

  Fight it the entire time I’m pulling my boxers and my jeans on. I don’t even bother with the button and zipper. Or socks for that matter. I shove my feet into my boots and haul ass down the stairs. Distance is the only thing that will ensure I don’t go right back to her. I have too much to do, and wasting hours lying beside her while she sleeps isn’t an option.

  My plans to sit at the breakfast bar and drink a cup of coffee are deterred by Molly standing at the stove, so I grab a beer from the fridge and head out onto the front porch.

  “Son of a bitch,” I grumble at seeing Briar and TJ sitting in two of the four chairs on the front porch.

  “Hey to you, too,” TJ snaps playfully.

  “Any fallout from last night’s job?” I ask as I settle into my own rocker.

  “Nope,” TJ responds.

  I already knew the answer. If there was an issue, I would’ve been woken up. I don’t lead this club with my head in the sand like my father did. They know to come to me with all issues. I’m the one who decides the level of importance.

  “Pete’s on the gate now, but Sam assured us all was quiet today,” Briar elaborates.

  “Won’t be quiet tonight,” TJ says, smiling around the lip of his beer bottle. “Everyone is rested up and ready to party.”

  We sit in silence for a few long moments before TJ slaps his knees and walks away without another word.

  “That boy gets stranger by the damn day,” Briar mutters, watching his back as he disappears into the back door of the clubhouse.

  I grunt in response. I don’t have the energy to pay that close attention to my little brother.

  “Find what you were looking for when you got home?” I don’t look at him, but I can hear the smile in his voice.

  Rolling my head on the back of the rocker, I look over at my oldest friend. “I need some new pussy.”

  What seems like disappointment fills his eyes before he looks away. His beer tilts to his mouth for a long pull before he responds. “I’ll take care of you, Brother.”

  I know he will. I don’t make this request very often. Each time I do, he always provides what I need, but tonight the response is different. A month ago, I would’ve confronted him. I would’ve called him out on being so much in my business that he has an actual opinion about how I spend my free time. His discontent with my request has nothing to do with fucking. It has to do with the fact that I’m requesting someone other than Candi.

  “I’m going for a ride,” I hiss, standing so fast the empty beer bottle at my feet topples over and begins to roll off the porch.

  I don’t even bother to look
back.

  “I’ll grab my leathers,” Briar says.

  “I’m going alone.”

  “That’s not—”

  I turn on him, daring him to question me again. The frustration, the anger I feel right now with my best friend, is the reason Candi needs to be gone. Her ability to dictate my decisions and influence my emotions is a power no one should have over me.

  I know all of this. Yet, I can’t imagine making her leave.

  Relief fills my chest when I get upstairs and find my bed empty. I’d sworn to myself with each step I took closer to this room, that if she were still in here, I’d tell her to not only get the fuck out of my bed, but out of my home, and out of my compound. I would’ve been strong enough to make her leave, but I know without a doubt, I’ll never be strong enough to not go after her and drag her beautiful ass right back here. Her being elsewhere in the house has really saved me a lot of time.

  Quickly, I tug on a shirt, zip my jeans, and get socks on my feet.

  “Hey,” a sweet voice says as I hit the bottom of the stairs.

  I nod at Candi as I walk through the kitchen toward the back door.

  “I thought you wanted to fuck me when you woke up.”

  My cock jolts, but my fists clench at the same time.

  A riot of emotions hit me one after the other as I stare at her across the room. Where the brazen, seductive act came from I don’t know. For the most part, she’s shy. Her devious side only makes an appearance after I’ve said something filthy to her first.

  I hate that she’s gorgeous, standing there in tiny fucking shorts and a tank top that barely restrains tits I know for a fact are the perfect size, both tipped with the sweetest damn nipples I’ve ever had the pleasure to wrap my lips around.

  Goddamn her tits are perfect. Note to self: Add fucking them to my list of filthy shit I want to do to her.

  The words are right on the tip of my damn tongue. I’m seconds away from telling her to change so she can hop on the back of my bike, but a rattle from the porch breaks her hold on me.