Riding Dirty: Nine Devils MC

by Kara Parker

  Garrison drew back, ran a hand over his head, and started to pace. “Did you know before everything?”

  “No.”

  “Are you even shocked?”

  “No.”

  He whipped his head and exploded at me, “Fuck, Chelsie! Say something other than one word. Christ, you’re pregnant!”

  I hopped off the counter, winced, but stood my ground. “Yes, thank you for that astute observation. I’m pregnant. Does that change anything between us? You tell me.”

  His eyes bulged, before settling into slits. “This isn’t how I wanted to do it,” he growled.

  I threw my hands up, tired and cranky. “Do what?”

  Garrison sighed and reached in his pocket. Before I could comprehend what he was doing, he was down on one knee with an engagement ring winking at me from a blue velvet box. “Propose to you,” he explained. “I planned to do it Friday—at a place in Sunshine. I booked the reservation and everything.”

  I stared at the engagement ring in his palm. Just stared. He wanted to marry me. Holy hell, I wanted to marry him.

  “I…so much as happened,” I forced out, not sure how to answer.

  I didn’t want to say, no, but something in me hesitated to say, yes. I still didn’t know Garrison, and my life wasn’t exactly stable at the moment. Marriage and a baby were supposed to happen when things were calm, steady, and predictable. I’d almost died today.

  Garrison did move. “And a lot more is going to continue to happen.” He ran a hand over his head and bit off a laugh. “Hell, sugar, you attract danger like flies, and I’m a FBI agent. There isn’t going to be a calm moment in either of our lives.”

  He was right. I did attract disaster. And his job would always put him in danger; but, I couldn’t imagine Garrison without it. Garrison without the FBI, without a job that saved him as much as it saved the people around him, just wasn’t the same. And calm in my life was...only in the form of a romantic comedy. But I was okay with that. And he was okay with that. So couldn’t we be okay with that together?

  “Are you just doing this because I’m pregnant?”

  He rolled his eyes and shot me a killer smile. “If I was just doing this because you were pregnant I wouldn’t have gone out and bought this ring. I’d be proposing to you with a hair band or something. But I won’t lie to you, Chels. This baby added to it. It makes me wish I’d asked you a week ago, a month ago when I knew my feelings for you weren’t going to change.”

  My body was starting to get stiff, its way of telling me to either marry him or leave him. There really wasn’t a thought in my head that didn’t involve Garrison and our child. The two were now mutually exclusive. Ideas that hadn’t been there a few hours ago, but fit so perfectly now; it was like they were made to rest in my memory.

  “Yes,” I whispered. “I’ll marry you.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

  Garrison didn’t want to wait, and if he’d had it his way, the wedding would have been in a week. I, on the other hand, knew there were far too many things to do.

  First on the list was the FBI. It was followed closely by my testimony—again—in court. Then, another relocation.

  All those things alone took months to do. I didn’t want to leave my little slice of Texas heaven, but we had to. Other bikers still wanted me, and Hardell had simply been at the top of a long list. So, we uprooted again. Packed and said goodbye to the new friends we made.

  However, not before I had the chance to get Tiff and Ryan together. We stayed long enough to see them happily settled and Ryan healed.

  It was four months before everything was somewhat settled and I could move into the new home. This time the FBI struck a deal with Denmark, and we moved to a small flat in Copenhagen. I loved the place—though I didn’t speak the language. I adjusted quickly, used to new places and new people.

  “What are you doing, sugar?” Garrison asked as he walked into the dining room, his voice exasperated.

  I looked at him over my shoulder, careful to balance my weight on the chair as I put away books. “Unpacking.”

  He shook his head and grabbed me around the waist. “Not five months pregnant, you're not.” He lifted me easily and set me down on the floor.

  I smiled up at him and wrapped my arms around his neck. “I never knew you were such a worry wart, Garrison.”

  He placed a kiss on my forehead. “And I never realized you were such a daredevil.”

  “Really?”

  He grimaced. “Maybe not. Just...try to be careful. I only get one of you.”

  I nodded and reached up to kiss him. I moaned as his lips slid against me, tongue teasing the seam of my lips. When I’d been pregnant with Janie, sex had been the last thing on my mind. It was totally different with Garrison. I wanted him all the time. In every way. In every place.

  And even when he was inside me, I craved more.

  “I’m sweaty, Chels,” he warned as he turned and backed me into the dining room table.

  My lower back bumped the table, and he lifted me until I sat on the cool wood. My skirt rolled up to my knees, and I smiled. “I like you that way.”

  I’d forgone wearing pants since the sexual craving came on. And I usually didn’t bother with underwear in the house. Sometimes I felt bad for Garrison—wearing him out and all—but other times I just didn’t care.

  This was one of the later.

  For over a month he’d been settling in at his new job at the embassy. He was transitioning from the FBI, yet it wasn’t a permanent reassignment. It was weird; he still technically worked for the FBI but worked at the embassy. I didn’t ask much about it, considering it was more need to know based, and I really didn’t need to know.

  However, for the last week he’d been on his own. That meant he left early and came home late and exhausted. Sex was the last thing on his mind and the very first on mine.

  I didn’t have a job, and honestly, I doubted I’d get one. Spending time with my son or daughter was more important. But all that time allowed me to think and obsess over and crave my fiancée.

  I wanted him now. Bad.

  “Fuck me now,” I growled, pushing at his suit jacket, and forcing my way under the collar of his shirt to his heated skin.

  Garrison groaned, and I felt the hard length of him rub against my inner thigh. His hand moved from my waist to the apex between my thighs, and his groan stretched, his throat working like he was parched. “You’re wet, sugar.”

  “Dripping,” I agreed. “I need you.”

  I spread my legs wide and leaned my elbows back on the table, as he frantically reached down and unzipped his pants. I felt him a second later, his engorged head pressing the folds of my sex apart.

  His hands were back on my hips, dragging me closer to the edge of the table, impaling me on his dick. I moaned, my fingers going to my nipples. I pulled the hard nubs through the thick fabric of my sweater and arched off the table.

  Garrison groaned and inched his way into me, forcing me to feel every inch of him. He was larger, or I was tighter. I wasn’t sure. All I knew was that a week without sex was too damn long!

  “Harder,” I ground out. I shifted, raised my foot until it gained purchase on the end of the table, then pushed myself onto him. I felt him bottom out inside me, balls slapping against my ass, coarse hair tickling my clit. Damn, I was horny.

  “Fuck, Chels,” he gasped, holding still inside me.

  I didn’t need him to move right then, didn’t need him to do anything but stay thick and hard inside me. I tugged off my sweater and felt my nipples through the thin, silky material of my bra. I pinched them, rolling the stiff peaks between my fingers until I moaned out loud.

  I gasped, so close to coming that I could feel it. Every nerve ending was alive, and everything had a heartbeat. I squeezed my eyes shut, locked my legs around Garrison’s hips, and gave my nipples one last brush as I came.

  It was wonderful; the best sensation in the world.

  “God dammit, sugar!” G
arrison breathed in a rush of words as he drew out of my spasming depths and plunged back in.

  I flung my arms out and dug my fingers into the wood, clutching the sides for dear life. Garrison fucked me like he wanted to crawl inside me. He fucked me like there was a gun to his head and if I didn’t come right then, someone would pull the trigger.

  I barely bit back my scream, as I launched myself off the table and into his arms. Garrison caught me easily, one arm wrapped around my back. He buried his nose in my hair while his hand rested at my hips.

  He thrust right through my orgasm which sent me into another one. My body drew tight and everything held for five heartbeats. I was spasmed on the sixth heartbeat and sunk my teeth into Garrison’s shoulder. His fingers dug into my hips and his pulled me closer until there was no space between us. I felt his warm breath across my skin, as he groaned out his pleasure, ground his hips into mine, and came hard. Heat flooded me as sweat misted my skin and dampened my hair.

  I felt him, hard and hot, as his body jerked into mine. There was a second reprieve as he pulled out of me. I looked up at him, eyes bright, chest laboring. Gently, Garrison turned me around and pushed my head down to the table.

  I shivered all over and felt his excess run down my thighs. I loved when he was like this. An animal in the skin of man. His hand lifted my hips until I strained on my tiptoes. His finger moved, insistent and demanding on my skin. I felt him part my ass cheeks, and his fingers moved between my legs, spreading his come over my hips and thighs.

  He toyed for a few moments, sliding his fingers in and out. I groaned and swiveled my hips, needing more.

  The games ended, his hands moved, and I felt the hard length of him press into me again. I moaned, as my sensitive flesh parted. God, he was big. Always.

  I panted, breasts pressed to the table, as he held down my hips and thrust roughly into me. I bit my lower lip, as he bent his knees slightly and thrust up. He hit a perfect spot and I creamed, silkier for him.

  “Tell me what you want,” he demanded.

  “You.”

  He chuckled darkly and gave me a shallow thrust. “No, sugar. Tell me what you want.”

  I moaned softly. I loved him like this. He was dominant, in charge, but still took care of me. His thrusts were meant to incite pleasure, not pain. And his words were meant to heighten...everything.

  I felt his warm palm slide against my neck, his fingers tickling my pulse. “Tell me.”

  “I want you to fuck me until I can’t stand,” I said. “Until I break.”

  He gave me what I wanted and pounded into me a few more times before shouting out his release. I was a second behind him, overworked muscles milking him for everything that he was.

  I was achy and sore and so unbelievably alive. I loved it. I loved him.

  We collapsed on to the table, Garrison’s chest against my back, his chin on my shoulder. After what seemed an eternity, he picked me up and stumbled to the bedroom. He collapsed back on the comforter and draped my body over his. I wiggled until he was hard again, and then I slid him back inside of me. I liked the connection.

  Garrison sighed, the action musing my hair. “We can’t keep doing that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Soon you’ll be too big, and you might break the table.”

  I punched him lightly in the arm, and he laughed.

  We lay in a comfortable silence for a while before he broke it. “Are you happy, Chelsie?”

  He rarely said my full name, so I looked up at him, leveraging myself on his chest. “Are you?”

  He didn’t miss a beat. “Happier than I’ve ever been.”

  “Me too.”

  He turned and brushed a lock of hair out of my face. “You don’t miss your family and friends?”

  We hadn’t really talked about my family. It wasn’t that I had a good or bad relationship with my mother and father; I just didn’t have a relationship at all. My father had told me not to marry Yanik, but I’d done what I wanted to do because I thought it would be better than being under my father’s thumb. My mother had always been a figure piece for him, a beautiful trophy. She was fine for this, and I didn’t fault her. It just wasn’t the one I wanted to live.

  And I still kept in contact with Lisa and Ryan. In fact, Lisa was bringing her son to the wedding...whenever we had it, and Ryan had proposed to Tiff and would be married within the year.

  I did miss them, but I had Garrison and a knack for making friends. “I’m fine. Really.”

  As hard as that was for him to believe, it was even harder for me to accept. For what felt like majority of my life, I’d been unhappy. I’d been waiting for happiness to come, and when it didn’t, I tricked myself into thinking something that wasn’t it was.

  I’d experienced heartache, abuse, torture, and blood curdling fear; but, if I hadn’t had those experiences, I would never be able to truly appreciate the gift that Garrison was. Maybe I could have done without a few, but they all made me into the woman I am today.

  I don’t walk down the street with my head down, scared of my own shadow. I don’t hear a clock ticking away a terrible disaster that I know I can stop, but don’t. I don’t mourn the death of my daughter, but remember the happy times she had in her life.

  Somewhere along the line, all my bad experience started to have silver linings. And I was happy about that.

  “Have you decided on a name yet?” Garrison asked around a yawn.

  It was late, but neither of us wanted to go to bed. “Shouldn’t we decide on a wedding date first?”

  “Before or after the baby?”

  I thought about that. After would make it easier, but before made it traditional. I’d gone with tradition before and that hadn’t worked. Plus, there was nothing traditional about our relationship.

  “After,” I said.

  “Great. Now baby names.”

  I chuckled against his chest. “Do you have something in mind?”

  Garrison toyed with my hair as he spoke, “If it’s a boy, Bryant. It was my great-grandfather’s name.”

  “And if it’s a girl?”

  “Rainey—after my grandmother.”

  I liked both named. They were common enough, but still held an old world charm. “I like them.”

  “You pick something yet?” he asked.

  I considered that. No, I hadn’t. All I cared about was that my baby was happy and healthy. The baby’s name didn’t matter.

  I nuzzled closer. “I don’t care. I just want our baby to be happy.”

  Garrison tilted my head up and kissed me soundly, his expression fierce. “He or she will be the happiest kid because you’ll be the mother and I’ll be the father.”

  Tears gathered in my eyes, but I held them back. “I love you.”

  He leaned forward again, and our lips clung a second. “I love you, too.”

  THE END

  OTHER TITLES BY KARA PARKER

  RENEGADE

  HE NEVER KNEW ABOUT THE BABY.

  Anton Murdoch had been my first.

  Lover. Mistake. Call it what you want, but he was unforgettable.

  His rough hands took my body, his thundering pulse claimed my heart, and his searing kiss stole my soul.

  Then the worst thing happened.

  I got pregnant.

  And my father found out—found out and threatened to take my baby away.

  I had no choice. So I ran…

  And prayed that Anton would come for me.

  For his child. His family.

  Before it's too late...

  He burns me down from morning until night.

  Battle-scarred from this jungle of a city, he stalks his prey, takes the spoils, and makes sure that no one gets in his way.

  I’ve never begged anyone for more, but Luke is different.

  I know what we have is wrong.

  But it’s too hot to stop—no matter who I’ve become.

  When he’s all around me, inside me, dominating my body and mind.
/>   It’s pleasure so intense that it borders on pain, and I just can’t get enough.

  He says that I’m his.

  That he’ll never let me go.

  Not until I’m wearing his ring. Not until I have his kid.

  And no matter what words pass my lips…

  … my heart knows he’s absolutely right