by Brook Wilder
Her hand pulls away from me, and I think that that’s it—she’s done, and I’m rock hard and aching for her. My eyes snap to her immediately and I can’t believe what I see: she’s shimmying off the bed and out of her shorts, leaving her bottom half bare.
“Top, too,” I choke out. She seems surprised by the suggestion, but smiles. She hooks her hands into the hem of her shirt and pulls it up, over her head. Pert breasts in a sexy red bra bounce as she reaches back to unhook her bra.
Lena is a beauty. She’s nothing like I’ve ever seen in my life—I can honestly say that. I want her in my bed, by my side. It’s a dangerous thought, but it’s one that’s been pressing itself further and further into my mind without a care for the past or what I might think about it.
“Let me help you out of your clothes,” she says, soft, as she prowls over to me. There’s a slight sway in her narrow hips as she comes back to me. Her hands splay over my chest, pushing aside my leather jacket to slide it off my shoulders. I sit up, helping her undress me. Her pretty little fingers push up under my shirt and I swear each touch she lays on me jolts something deep inside me. When my shirt comes off I can’t get out of my pants fast enough, raising my hips so Lena can hook her fingers into them and pull them off with my boots.
We’re bare. Everything’s laid out between the two of us. Our eyes lock and the reaction is magnetic—Lena coming to me, me reaching out to her. When our skin touches, it feels fucking right, having her in my hold.
Lena fits to me like she was crafted by the heavens. Her thighs over mind are warm; I feel sweet wetness slicking down her legs already, without hesitation. I slip my hands to her hips; her hands prop up on my shoulders.
We go slow. I feel the first brush of her pussy against the rock-hard, needy head of my cock and I groan at the temptation that lays just beyond. The heat of her own need beckons me, and I ease up, slowly letting myself press into her tight walls. She envelops me, letting me fill her to the hilt as her sweet, sweet body trembles at the willing intrusion of my cock within her.
“Oh, James…”
The sound of her voice is a song to my ears, sweet and melodious as I start a slow cadence of thrusts that drive me into deep, intimate pleasure. I let our bodies dictate our actions, move how it feels good. She whines delicately as I groan deeply, reveling in the velvet glove of her around me.
We’re a soft push and pull of each other. She moves, I move. I stroke deep into her and she grinds down slowly onto my cock. We breathe together, experience this blinding pleasure as not two, but one.
I lose myself in the touch of Lena’s skin against mine, the scent of her sex as her pleasure makes her wetter around me. I twine my fingers in her hair and let the silken strands tangle between my digits and I moan against her neck as I grind into her. Everything about her—the sweat that slicks her neck, the pulse of her heartbeat drumming in her veins, the very breath that she takes in shaky gulps—I’m aware of every bit of it as we rock into each other in tandem, moving closer and closer to that sweet abyss.
No words spill between us. We don’t need words. It’s passion that builds on its own in this naked, heated moment stolen in Santiago’s home. Its waves crash against us over and over again, until it has us running over like a tide.
She spasms first, her body rolling in powerful shakes of pleasure. Liquid fire tightens around me and her orgasm floods out around my cock. Her whimpers get buried against my neck as she keeps moving against me, softly moaning my name as the pulse of her orgasm coaxes me over the edge with her.
And, oh, I follow. Right behind her, balls drawn tight, there are hundreds of flickering spasms that shoot down my spine as my cock pulses and empties hotly into her, making a bigger mess of the both of us. Panting, we cling to each other. We don’t want to let go.
I hope we never do.
Chapter Seventeen
Lena
Give me more time. Just a little more.
Give me forever.
I’ve fallen for James. I shouldn’t have, but sometimes what you shouldn’t do is the thing you want to do the most.
Laying in his arms after this deep, emotional encounter, I can’t help but feel that in James’ arms is where I belong. He’s warm, he’s loving. He cares about me and, like me, he’s suffered love and loss of love. We’re kindred.
But… That’s the thing, isn’t it? His old love is dead and mine is very, very much still alive. He still very much wants me and I haven’t wanted him in a very, very long time.
“You’re thinking pretty hard for a person who just had mind-blowing sex,” James teases me. I look up at his face, smiling.
“Do I?” Maybe I’m just thinking about how good that mind blowing sex was.”
I want to say more to him than just talk about the sex. The sex was good, but this is something more than sex. This is something that moves deep within me, forcing me into James’ path. I can’t ignore it… Not for long.
With a sigh, I roll over, snuggling back against James. His fingers slide over my back, curious. He’s quiet for a moment as I’m left to wonder when he’s going to pop the question. How he’s going to ask. What he’s going to assume.
“Where… did these come from?”
I know he means the marks on my back. Old things I don’t try to hide intentionally, but I definitely don’t share intentionally either. But with James? I don’t want to keep this from him. Not when he’s asked me.
“They’re the reason I joined the Vipers,” I tell him. “My mother’s boyfriend was a real asshole.”
“He did this to you?”
“He got drunk a lot. Got mean. When he got mean, he would find ways to blame his bad mood on me, and then he’d have a reason to take it out on me. Mom let it happen; I think she was just happy that he wasn’t hitting her too.”
He draws in a breath behind me, still drawing his fingers along the scars left from belt buckles and metal spoons. I tense a little when he comes up on one made from a knife.
“This one, too?”
“No…” My voice goes soft. “My ex did that.”
“The one that died?”
I swallow. Do I lie to him? Do I tell the truth?
“I…”
I catch myself about to say ‘yes,’ the one who died. I can’t bring myself to do so. I can’t force myself to lie, not after… not after this moment with James.
“What is it? Lena?”
I roll over to face James. My heart feels like it’s going to jump straight out of my chest. I’m not ready to tell James everything; I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to tell James everything and have him know the full reason why I came to him. But I want him to know part of the truth that I’ve kept from him. I want him to know why I want to be with him and why I feel so strongly for him.
“My ex… he didn’t die,” I tell him. “Marcus… Marcus is Marc. He’s my ex.”
I see the disbelief color over James’ face. His brow furrows and confusion shines in his eyes as he puts two and two together. Slowly, there’s a tension-filled spasm in his jaw that flicks as he realizes that I lied to him. Yet something still prompts him to ask:
“What are you talking about?”
“I met Marc when I was seventeen,” I tell him. “My mother’s boyfriend… well, you’ve seen what he did to me. My mother didn’t try stopping him; no one at school knew about it. I didn’t have any friends, not really. I was lonely and lost and then… then Marc came along. He had this shiny Harley and a leather jacket. I was dumb and young and fell for his smirk and his swag, and I fell in love with the idea that he’d ride me off into the sunset. away from all the bad things that were happening to me at home.
“But that Marc didn’t last. He turned into the kind of man that would put a knife in his girlfriend’s back for questioning him when she didn’t want to start dancing in his club for his biker friends. He’s the man that drove me away from the perfect life that I thought I was going to have… to you.”
James sits up, s
haking his head.
“You lied to me, Lena? Why?” His eyes fall to my stomach, and a furious look dawns on his face. “Was that a part of it? You get pregnant and skip out on the Vipers, trapping me because your life sucks…”
“No!” I shake my head. “I never meant… I never thought that…” I sigh. “I… I have wanted to leave the Vipers for years. I had heard about you in my time with them, knew that you were… different. I wanted to see for myself if you were. I wanted to see if, for a moment, I could have a tiny sliver of what was promised to me. But then I got pregnant, and I knew that Marc would do something worse than what he has done before if he knew that this baby was yours. I knew you’d do the right thing. I never thought it’d end up like this. I—I care about you, James…”
There’s rage underlying in James’ face. He’s feeling betrayed, and I don’t blame him. It’s why I can only come clean about Marc… At least until we get through this and I find a way to stall a little more.
“I never planned for it to happen like this,” I repeat. “I never intended to get pregnant. You’re just… you’re kind, James. I’m not used to it and I craved it, James. I’m… I’m sorry for not being wholly truthful. But, I swear, I meant everything I said to you today. I meant everything that we felt when we made love.”
That’s what I was. Making love. We made love. And if I felt it, I know James had to feel it too.
The look in his eyes is dangerous. It’s hot. No man wants to learn he’s been lied to. What he does next could make or break what I hope we can have together. I hope…
He moves close to me, like he’s stalking me. His eyes never leave me and there’s a glint in them that I’ve only ever seen when James has been at the height of masculine adrenaline. When he’s defended me. When he’s defended his bikers. He crawls over me until I’m on my back and he’s got my thighs wide.
My heart goes thump, thump, deep in my chest.
“You meant everything in what just happened?” he asks me, sounding calmer than he looks. I nod.
“I see.”
Before I’m aware, James has got his hand on my ankle, tugging me down close to him. His cock brushes against my entrance, slightly hard, and I gasp.
“If you told the truth, then I want you to be mine, Lena,” he says. “But don’t ever, ever lie to me again.”
James slides into me, on the delicious side of rough, jolting my body against the bed. I cry out as he fills me instantaneously, the mess we made of ourselves not a half hour ago making it more than easy for him to slide into me. I quiver around him, moaning as the pace he sets is far from the slow love-making that we had earlier.
My nails drag down his back; I know I’m going to have him marking up before this round is out. It should scare me, how he handles me, but he holds me close and he never makes it hurt.
He wants me.
He wants me to be his.
But he doesn’t want to hurt me.
It’s the difference between him fucking me hard and Marc fucking me hard. It’s the difference between being used and being shown just what could be mine if I let myself give into it.
And I do. I willingly give my body, my soul, my very essence, to James as he buries his face in my neck and his cock in my body, near the very womb where our child grows. Maybe that’s why it feels so intense. There’s more between us than ever there could have been between me and Marc.
There’s more than there ever will be.
Will he keep me? Won’t he? They’re questions that circle my mind as my body pulses with electric pleasure. I want him to, and I think he wants to too. But there are those secrets that I still keep.
For the sake of everything I want with James, I hope I don’t mess this up.
Chapter Eighteen
James
I stand in Sarah’s old study, at a loss for what to do with this space.
She was an artist, Sarah. All her art hangs on the walls in the locked room of my downstairs. I haven’t opened it up in months and, to be honest, I’m surprised I’ve found the gumption to do so now. Everything in here is a glaring reminder of her. The art. The white, beachy table that’s still filled with stacks of watercolor paper and palates of paints. The canvases that she left the day she died lean against the wall.
I thought, after Sarah, I’d never love again. Sarah was too important to me, and the love that I had with her ran deep into the marrow of my bones. Our relationship was as much a part of me as my DNA. When she was gone. it was like that had been ripped from me.
Then Lena came along. Trouble in the form of a former Viper girl, with my baby in her belly and a past that needed healing. I should have known there was more to her. But if I had, would I have ever spent that night with her? Would we have ever gotten to this place where we are now?
I doubt it. And, despite the fact that the revelation that she is actually Marc’s ex looms over me, I can’t regret anything that has happened between Lena and me.
I sigh, moving further into the old study. I miss Sarah. I know I need to move on. I know that, in order to do so, there’s one last thing that I need to resolve with Lena…
“Hey.”
I look over my shoulder to see Lena standing in the doorway. She casts her eyes around curiously before stepping in.
“I didn’t know you did art.”
“I don’t; Sarah used to.”
“Oh…”
She goes to leave, like she’s intruded upon something that she’s not allowed to be a part of. Can’t have that now, can I? I pull her back to me, not letting her get away.
“I was thinking about redoing the space,” I say casually. “I need… to clear this out. I want it to be a space for you once we get the nursery set up in the guest bedroom.”
I let the realization dawn on her.
“N-nursery?” she questions. “You—you want me to stay?”
I smile a bit.
“I thought that was clear after Santiago’s?”
“I know. I just…” She flushes, looking around the room. “What about all of Sarah’s things?”
I shrug. “She’d hate to see all this go to waste. I’m going to donate it all to this place for underprivileged youth. Gets them into arts and shit.”
The look she levels to me is full of wonder. I would have never expected someone to look at me like that, let alone for something like donations.
“What?”
“You’re amazing. I hope you know that.”
She stands on her tiptoes and presses her lips to my cheek. Her hands linger on me before she pulls away and heads back to the kitchen, where she is making dinner.
Looking around Sarah’s old study, I resolve to trust in Lena, like she’s trusted in me.
Feeling giddy and mischievous, I follow after her into the kitchen. She’s at the counter, prepping for some stuffed peppers. They can wait.
I come behind her, hoisting her up from behind. She lets out a little squeal.
“James, what are you doing?”
“Having some fun.”
In the few weeks since the fuckery at Santiago’s, Lena and I have been a little more liberal in our sexuality. It’s like a wall’s got knocked down and we’re both standing in this open space with no inhibition. I think it takes her by surprise sometimes that most of it isn’t even for my benefit, starting out.
I prove the point, sitting her on the island while I pull up a stool, plopping myself between her knees. She’s got a skirt on, gives easy access.
“Oh, I see. You want dessert before dinner.”
I pull her legs apart before she can finish the thought and reach up to yank down her panties. Her scent fills my senses and I’m quick to shove up her skirt.
“Maybe,” I say. “Is the chef gonna have problems with that?”
“Not in the slightest.”
Her voice is husked with lust, and I grin up at her before nosing against the softness of her thighs. She spreads them a little wider, pushing her skirt up higher to give me better
access. Little nibbles turn to bites the closer I get to the sweet source of her decadent scent, and I take no issue with sliding the whole of my tongue right up against her sweet spot when I get there.
“Oh, fuck…”
She trembles beneath my tongue. I’ve noticed that’s it’s true what they say: pregnancy makes women way more sensitive. The faintest brush sends her shivering, the lightest stroke has her moaning. It makes her fall apart that much quicker. And, by the time I get a few passes between her sweet, sweet lips, she’s already dripping over my face.
I reach under and pull her closer to me by her ass. I shove my tongue inside her and I moan as she moans. She’s as sweet as a honeycomb. I’ve never tasted someone like her and I want more… more.
