His Man : A Wounded Souls Novella (The Wounded Souls Book 6)

by Leah Sharelle

“Fuck, I love it when you do that. Your mouth is fucking amazing, baby.” Bryce groaned, his hands tangling in my unruly hair. There was a slight sting of pain when his fists gripped my hair, but I relished the pain. It meant that this was happening, really happening.

  I hummed around his nipple, not prepared to let it go. My mumbled “I know” brought on a deep chuckle from Bryce.

  Lower down, our dicks strained against the denim of our jeans. Mine was so hard it was almost painful. I ached for some kind of release that even a grope over the material would push me over the edge. I was wound so tight that coming in my pants seemed like a fucking fine idea.

  “Take your hand and put it on my dick.”

  I groaned low in my throat at the demand. Bryce knew how to make my stomach clench with his filthy words. His dominance in the bedroom—or the hallway, in this case—always had me doing whatever he asked and begging for more.

  Slowly, without removing my mouth from his pec, I lowered my hand down, making sure to touch as much of his muscled abs as I could as I went. The deep planes and ridges of muscle shivered under my touch. He was cut like no one else I knew. His dedication to the discipline of Kava Maga showed in the perfection of his body. Even though I was a bit lankier than Bryce, I was no less cut in the muscles department, just not as beefy. Personally, I believed we had the perfect body shape for one another. With his need for dominance and control, he was easily able to pick me up and place me or toss me, whichever the situation called for, wherever he wanted me.

  “Stop teasing me, Ford. Touch my dick and see how hard I am for you. Just a few kisses and I’m even harder than just minutes ago.” He grunted with approval when my hand palmed his dick again.

  Fuck me, he wasn’t kidding. He was fully erect now just from my tongue and a light exploration of his chest. The feeling of power surged through me. If I could get him to see our attraction was something that only came around once in a lifetime, then maybe, just maybe he would see we were worth the chance of being outcasted by his family. I had no illusion that they would accept us as a couple. To his family, being gay was a social disease, something to be hidden in a dark cupboard. My parents were the exact opposite. I received nothing but encouragement and support from them when I came out. They were shocked—it wasn’t like I played with dolls or wore pink when I was a kid—so when I figured it out in my late teens, early twenties, instead of freaking out, they sat down with me, and we discussed it. Even my older brothers never gave me shit except in a joking manner.

  Support from my family was the key to me being happy in my own skin. I joined the army just like any regular guy, and just like normal guys, I liked to shoot guns and blow shit up. I was born with computer skills. It was a natural progression from hacking into my school records to becoming one of the Australian Army’s best tech guys.

  A pained moan and a twitch under my hand brought me out of my musings. My head lifted from Bryce’s chest, and I saw the most beautiful sight. His eyes were closed, and his long, dark lashes were lying on his flushed cheeks. His sublime lips were parted, and his teeth had his tongue caught between them as panting breaths hit my face.

  “Oh, yes, baby, just like that.” He groaned.

  I quickly looked down to where my hand was rubbing the bulge in his jeans. Apparently, while I was lost in my head, I hadn’t stopped my hand from doing its duty.

  Bryce’s cock was not only thick but long, reaching far below the bottom seam of his front pocket when flaccid. My lips dried with want as my own cock rubbed against Bryce’s jean-clad leg. Fuck, here I was, dry humping in the hallway where anyone could see. We had to move this to my room. This foreplay was fine and dandy, but I wanted to be claimed again. It had been far too long since I had my man in me.

  “Bryce, let’s—” I stopped when I heard a high-pitched squeal––not a ‘having fun’ kind of squeal, either.

  “Shiloh!” both Bryce and I said at the same time.

  Forgetting about our boners, I pushed away from the wall and rushed to the end of the hall where Deck and Charlotte’s rooms were.

  I burst through the door just ahead of Bryce, desperate to get to the little girl, her frightened scream cooling the heat that had burned in my body only seconds ago.

  “Shiloh, baby girl, where are you?” I yelled when I noticed her bed was empty. Fear coursed through me. After the year the little girl had already had, and even though Rogue had been killed at the hands of Booth, there was still a lingering fear amongst the members of the Souls, a fear that wouldn’t go away. We were undeniably safe, Jason having assured us the danger ended with the life of our former mentor. Getting that fact in our minds and believing it was a bit harder to accomplish.

  “Shiloh, answer me, honey,” I called again as panic started to set in.

  “Fordy, I’s down here,” Shiloh’s mumbled voice came from the other side of the room, but looking around, I couldn’t see her.

  “Ford, the wardrobe,” Bryce said as he crossed the room to the double-doored cupboard, jumping over the obstacle course of toys strewn all over the shag carpet.

  Bryce wrenched opened the doors to reveal the raven-haired princess cowering way in the back, sitting on one of her huge stuffed bears.

  “Fordy, I’s had a scary dream,” Shiloh cried. Her tiny body shook, and tears streamed down cheeks that didn’t seem as chubby as they used to be.

  I had heard Charlotte talking to Stella about Shiloh’s lack of appetite last week. At the time, I hadn’t thought anything of it, but now, seeing her—really looking at her—I noticed a small difference in her. Come to think about it, at the park, she had barely touched her snacks I had with us.

  “Come ’ere, little miss,” I said softly.

  Shiloh launched herself against me, her little arms wrapping around my neck and squeezing me tightly. I looked up at Bryce and saw the worry etched on his face. With Shiloh attached to me like a spider monkey, Bryce grabbed my elbow and helped me to my feet, the zing of electricity from the innocent touch not going unnoticed by either of us. When Bryce smirked at me in that cocky way he did, I resisted the temptation to lean in and kiss that smirk off his face. Instead, I focused all my attention on Shiloh.

  “Okay, Squirt, wanna tell Fordy what the dream was about?” I asked gently. All of us had mastered the ‘placate Shiloh voice’ years ago. Whether it was when she was an infant and sleep wasn’t happening for her, getting her to eat her veggies, or just to reprimand her for bad behaviour, our tones were always soft and gentle. She was a sensitive little creature despite her spunk and sass.

  Her sniffles started to subside just enough for her to speak.

  “We’s were in da car, and the bad man hurts Dundee. Mummy was scared, and Aunty Stells was cryin’. I’s could hear Daddy and Darf yellin’ on the phone.” Shiloh hiccuped against my shoulder.

  My heart ached. Was the poor kid ever gonna get a break from all the shit she had witnessed? I worried about how long she could be affected by it all. The nightmares were a new thing. We had all expected them to start right after the car accident, but she’d seemed, at the time, not to be too upset other than not seeing Dundee around the compound anymore. Then, when Vegas was killed, I was certain shit was going to hit the fan, but once again, Shiloh’s tremendous ability to cope with whatever was thrown her way shone through.

  Darth’s death was another matter entirely. After the things she told me at the park that afternoon, I believed it was all finally getting to her. Talking and seeing a dead person had to mean she was suffering from some form of PTSD. All the guys at the club had experienced it, some more than others and some more intense than others, but I never really had. Other than my affliction to sand, I managed to get out with not much more than that.

  “Hey, kiddo, I promise nothing is ever going to happen to you ever again. The bad man who did all those horrible things is gone now, and he is never coming back. Uncle Booth took care of it, and you know Booth never lets anyone down, right?” I reassured her in a voice that sounde
d like a kindergarten teacher. I glanced over at Bryce to see his hand over his mouth, smothering a chuckle. I raised one hand off Shiloh’s back and extended my middle finger. Fucking smart-arse! He was no different when he dealt with Shiloh.

  I was about to tell Bryce exactly that when Shiloh started giggling.

  “What’s so funny, little girl?” I asked, tickling her waist, loving the giggles and snorts she made.

  “Darf.” Shiloh chuckled again.

  I stopped my movements immediately and pulled Shiloh back so I could see her face. Bryce too came closer, his smirk now replaced with concern.

  “What about him, honey?” Bryce asked, catching Shiloh’s attention.

  She looked over at him and gave him a grin.

  “He said, ‘Ford sounds like a girl.’ Then he puts two fingers up behind Fordy’s head,” she said with another burst of giggles. “Oh, Darf, youse is silly. Fordy won’t like you pulling his hair like dat,” Shiloh said, her gaze away from Bryce and centred on the space behind where I was sitting.

  My whole body froze. A shiver of dread shot through me. Holy shit, she was seeing him. The enormity of what Shiloh told me at the park just tripled.

  “Baby girl, do you see Darth right now?” Bryce asked slowly. From the totally gobsmacked look on his face, it seemed Bryce believed that she was.

  I quickly looked over my shoulder. I don’t know what I expected to see, but the hairs on my arms stood tall. There was something in here.

  “Uh-huh, sure do, Lucky duck. He heards me scream. He did last night, too, but Mummy gots to me first. Darf doesn’t come out when she is around,” Shiloh explained. Her tears started to dry up, and the shaking had stopped. It was almost as if nothing had happened, like she hadn’t hidden in the cupboard, scared out of her mind.

  “But he is here now, with Ford and me here?”

  Shiloh once again looked behind me. She said nothing a for few seconds, but then her head nodded up and down, her eyebrows drawing together in a frown.

  “Darf said youse can go now. He gots it from here. He said the hallway isn’t a place for dat shit, but he is happy for ya,” she replied with a shrug. “What’s that mean, Fordy?”

  I spun around quickly, nearly dislodging Shiloh from my lap. Fuck me drunk! Was Darth really here? How the hell did Shiloh know to say that about Bryce and me being in the hallway? Was she telling the truth and really seeing a ghost version of Darth? What the fuck was going on?

  All these questions went through my mind all at once. If it were true, and Darth had somehow stayed here to watch over Shiloh, how the hell was this going to affect her mentally? Deck needed to know this. Booth needed to know. And Shiloh needed to talk to someone with experience in this sort of thing. This was far beyond anything we as a team had ever dealt with. No PTSD case like this had ever been reported to my knowledge—at least, not from any soldier I knew. Tomorrow, I was going to use my position as the club’s financial and computer expert and call a war room meeting.

  And tonight… tonight I was going to bed alone again, the only difference this time was I had hope for the first time in years.

  Bryce was going to be mine. One way or another. My oath he was.

  Chapter 6

  LUCKY

  I punched my pillow several times. For the last three hours, all I could do was toss and turn, and no matter how I tried, sleep evaded me.

  During my time in the Sandpit, sleep came easily to me. After a long day of flying a Black Hawk helicopter and dodging bullets, as soon as my head hit the pillow, I was out for the count. Maybe that was what I needed now, more distractions, more things to do. Hopefully, the two extra shifts at the bike shop and the Bar and Grill was going to be a good thing for me.

  It was a lot to take on, but I was eager to help around the club more. Booth had been great about letting me be an active member of the Souls while still active in the army. My brothers had been great about it, too, never once giving me shit about getting my cut of the businesses’ profits even though I was overseas most of the time. Once, I insisted that Booth stop paying me, but my pres said no. I was a patched member, and that was that. He understood I wasn’t ready to leave the force, and if I hadn’t been shot, I knew I would still be there. I loved serving my country, and it gave me the opportunity to fly some of the most technically advanced aircraft and get paid for it.

  That was another thing that was keeping me awake. I had an idea for a new business for the club. For the longest time, I had wanted to open a flight school, helicopter flying lessons, to be exact, but not just lessons. We could expand it to include scenic flights and cargo hauling. The odds of it being a real money maker were good, really good. The only issue was going to be the start-up money. The club was doing well all around. Every one of the businesses was making better than great money, and if the financial reports from the dance school some of the ladies of the flock opened a few months back were anything to go by… things were definitely looking up. Hopefully, Booth would see it as a good thing and not hesitate to back me. With the sizeable chunk of start-up cash that I had saved already, it really was going to be a no-brainer for the club.

  Then there was the issue of Ford and me. Jesus, having him in my arms again, kissing those sweet lips of his, and feeling the stubble on his face rough against my smooth skin again… Oh, goddamn, I am getting hard just thinking about it, I thought, moaning. I reached under the sheet and found my throbbing cock with beads of pre-cum already at the head. My penchant for sleeping naked had its advantages, like now. I wrapped my hand around my thick cock and stroked it from base to tip. Ford knew exactly how I liked it—slow, long, strong pulls—and he was the master at jerking me off. I threw my head back against the pillow as visions of Ford swallowing my cock, deep throating me, entered my mind, thrilling me as my hand worked up and down my shaft. My grip tightened with every thrust, imagining it was Ford’s mouth instead of my hand. My hand sped up and down, the cum that had leaked out acting as the perfect lubricant. That familiar tingle started in the base of my spine as my balls tightened, and two more pumps later, cum spewed from the slit at the top of my cock. My loud groan echoed around the dark room, and my breath came out in gasping pants, making me dizzy.

  “Oh, fuck a duck!” I whispered with a groan. I had just made my life harder. A session of passion in the hallway, and I was royally fucked. How the hell could I go back to Ava now? Did I even want to with the shit from my parents and hers, plus that fight in the car? I was beginning to wonder if I even cared anymore that my parents wouldn’t be able to handle me being gay.

  I wanted Ford—that much I already knew. How I was going to go about achieving that and not hurt people in the process wasn’t as clear. I reached for a tissue off the side table and wiped my hand and stomach. Ford used to lick—I halted the rest of that thought. First things first. Before I could pursue any kind of relationship with Ford, I had to settle things with Ava. Her attitude pissed me off, yeah, but she still deserved truth and respect from me.

  Then look out, Ford. I’m coming for you, and then you will be my man.

  That promise to myself was the last thing I remember before sleep finally claimed me.

  Chapter 7

  FORD

  I felt the hairs stand up on the back of my neck.

  There were two reasons why. One, Bryce had just walked into the main room of the compound with his shirt in his hand, which meant his beautiful bare chest was on display for me to drool over. The second being Shiloh. She was sitting on one of the far couches in the room, her bowl of cereal on a stable table on her lap, her dogs by her feet, and her evil chinchilla beside her looking down at the dogs. The disturbing part, however, was she was talking to Darth. Well, I had to assume it was Darth because I couldn’t see him, but apparently, she could. Fuck, this war room meeting was not going to be fun. Telling Deck that his kid was talking and seeing our dead brother and her bodyguard was not something I was looking forward to doing. Sticking a sharp knife up my arse promised to be more
fun.

  ***

  “Okay, Ford. You called this meeting, so what’s on your mind?” Booth said from his position at the head of the large wooden table.

  I kept my eyes trained on the logo carved into the table. Our club was a proud one, and the skull with an army helmet and two sniper rifles in place of crossbones meant more than just a few ex-soldiers set up a motorcycle club. It represented our brotherhood, our team. The ties that bound us together, the motivation to keep going despite the horror we had experienced. Loyalty, honour, respect. Words we lived by every day. And today, I was going to test those ties.

  I looked over at Bryce. Even though he was a patched member of the club like me, he didn’t hold an officer patch, so he sat down at the end of the table across from me. The prospects all had a seat against the wall, not at the table. They had to earn their position at the table. Booth had already put it to the patches that Seb was to receive his full cut soon. He had the top rocker, but his ‘prospect’ bottom rocker would soon be replaced. We did things slightly different than the outlaw motorcycle clubs. Theirs was the other way around. To distinguish us to the authorities as a law-abiding club, we put the prospect rocker on the bottom of our cuts. Seb had earned his bottom rocker, and I, for one, was proud to have him sit with us.

  With a slight nod of his head, Bryce silently urged me to continue. I licked my dry lips and fiddled with the lighter in my hand, finding I was craving the rush only a cigarette could give me for the first time in a long time. I hadn’t had one since the first day Deck walked in with the pink bundle of his newborn daughter in his arms, but right now, I would kill for one drag.

  “Right, thanks, Pres. This is kind of hard for me to say because, quite frankly, I have no idea how to say it,” I said in a rush, making no fucking sense whatsoever, and if I were honest, I was deliberately stalling. Knowing Deck wasn’t going to like this, I consciously scanned the room for any possible threats. Booth had a tendency to throw objects, so I looked for anything that could do any damage if thrown at my head. Deck, however, just threw his fists. After last night’s sparring with Bryce, my body was obviously a bit on the sore side. I calculated in my head the distance between Deck, the door, and me. It was a fair ways from my seat, but I could make it if needed.