by Vixen, Jayna
No fair!
“Cursing at your man isn’t very nice, little girl.”
Shit, shit, double shit! She knew what he was getting at and her whole body quivered in nervous anticipation.
“Well?”
He tipped her face up and ran his thumb down the side of her jaw, ever so softly.
“Well, what?” she breathed.
“I think you know what, Rhiannon.”
Oh, when he called her by her given name…
“You’re just begging me for a punishment, aren’t you?”
With that, he swept her off of her feet—or rather, her foot. Rhee found herself staring at a sight that was becoming increasingly more common: the upside down version of the blank ink apparition that adorned Dax’s muscular back. The blood rushed to her head as he kicked open the door to her—their—room.
She was expecting Dax to deposit her on the bed and demand that she present her backside to him—an act that she knew she should resist. But that wasn’t what he did. It took only a matter of seconds and Rhee had to take a moment to process that he was now sitting on the bed, his rock hard erection jutting into her belly. She was facedown, over his sinewy thighs.
Holy shit!
“Do you have anything to say for yourself, stowaway?” His voice had taken on that rough edge—the one that told her he was seconds away from ravaging her body in a way that would leave both of them nearly unconscious in the aftermath of their passion.
“You heard what I said.”
Oh God, where was her cocky bravado coming from? She hadn’t ever pushed Dax like this—not on purpose.
In response, her skirt was hiked up and oh, God, his finger was pulling the elastic of her sodden underwear as taut as a bowstring. She wriggled on his lap, but made no move to disentangle herself.
Snap!
Her panties were torn away, eliciting a needy moan from her mouth.
“Still nothing to say?” His large, rough palm smoothed over her ass, and she quivered in anticipation.
Rhee didn’t move a muscle for almost a full minute. The waiting was agony but she wouldn’t give in. Not now. It was time to see how far this was going to go. And how good it was going to feel. Slowly, deliberately, she wriggled again, rubbing her breast directly against his raging cock.
Slap! Slap! Slap!
The flat of his hand made contact with her buttocks, delivering three sharp, erotic smacks in quick succession. She cried out, her own voice sounding foreign to her ears. Hot, liquid silk rushed from her body, dampening her thighs with need.
“What did you say to me earlier, Rhiannon?”
His hand was back to rubbing her ass, in slow, maddening circles. His rough finger came closer and closer to her wet, hot slit. She thrust her bottom up, seeking his hand, wanting that finger, and more, inside of her. It would only take a little bit more stimulation and she would go over the edge. Hard.
But he wasn’t having that. He moved so fast. Like a predator preparing her for the kill. Rhee was on her back before she even registered what he was doing.
“You said, ‘fuck you,’ isn’t that right?”
She nodded, knowing that if she opened her mouth to speak, she would start begging him for it.
Dax smiled wolfishly, his blond hair falling into his eyes. His hair was so much lighter and longer than she ever remembered seeing it. Even though the look on his face would have scared the crap out of the naïve little kid she’d been when she met him, something about that stray patch of blond spiky hair falling across his forehead had Rhee smiling tenderly back at the man who had her wrists pinned and her legs splayed wide beneath him.
“What are you waiting for?” she challenged.
His response was to slam into her with a throaty groan. There was nothing, nothing like feeling Dax inside of her body…inside of her heart, soul, her everything. He just—took over—pulled her along with him as he stroked towards the finish line.
Rhee’s mouth opened in a soundless scream as he roared her name. Her insides liquefied as her climax shot through her body and rocketed out her toes.
Dax was breathing hard, his brow moist with perspiration as he held himself above her for just a few seconds. Eyes still closed, he lowered himself carefully to rest his head in the space between her neck and shoulder. It was something he did almost every time they made love. She loved this part—the aftermath—when his guard seemed to be down at last and he was hers—really and truly hers. In these tender moments, Dax didn’t belong to his past. He didn’t belong to the club. He belonged to her.
Only her.
Mine.
As if he was echoing her very thoughts, he whispered into her ear, “You’re mine. And I don’t leave what’s mine behind.”
Something in Rhee’s heart expanded at those words. Okay, so Dax was a little—possessive. And protective. But…what was wrong with that?
She wrapped her arms around Dax in a fierce hug, pulling his head to her chest. He nuzzled the sensitive peaks of her breast before turning his head to the side. His ear rested directly over her heart, which she was certain was pounding.
“You’re mine, too, Dax Jamison. Ours. And don’t you forget it. Even when Sirena’s screaming her head off on that plane.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Mahalo?” A pleasant voice asked.
Mickey slammed the pay phone down, her heart pounding. Her damn hands were shaking.
Shit! I am fucking awful at this. I can’t even make a simple phone call. What the fuck am I supposed to say?
“You tell the truth, Mouse. You always tell the truth. No one can fault you for being honest.”
Her mother’s words sounded so clearly in her mind that Mickey slumped against the wall of the phone booth, the memory coming into focus with just as much detail. Her mother’s voice, so calm and assured. Her quiet dignity and grace. Her joyful persona.
All of that—before Paul.
“I broke Rhiannon’s favorite dolly! She’ll hate me forever! She told me not to touch it.” Mickey stared at the porcelain face, marred with a crack down one painted cheek.
“Rhiannon will understand. It was an accident, Mouse. Trust me, it will feel so much better once you tell her.”
“But…maybe I could hide it, mommy? And—and you could buy her a new one? Then…she’ll never know!”
Little girl hope…so sweet and innocent. It was hard to believe she had ever been so…pure.
“You must tell the truth, Mouse. Sometimes…the truth is the only thing you have.”
“Okay, mommy.”
The dejection, the fear that her big sister would never forgive her…it consumed Mickey. Then, Rhiannon came home from her big kid school. She saw the doll first. Disappointment flashed across her face and Mickey felt the hot, guilty tears begin to slide down her cheeks. She opened her mouth to say something but nothing came out.
As it turned out, she didn’t have to say a thing. Rhiannon embraced her, hugging her tightly.
“It’s okay, Mouse. I was kind of done with it anyway. I was planning to give her to you.”
That doll, with its cracked cheek, sat on Mickey’s bed for years to come. It was her cuddle toy, her good luck charm—her proof that all was right in the world as long as she had her sister to look out for her.
Then, one day Rhiannon was gone.
And so was Mickey’s innocence.
Chapter Twenty-Five
He’s coming!
Alanna literally had to put her hands over her mouth to prevent the squeal from escaping. Dax was coming back. Hawk wouldn’t say why—only that he had some business to take care of. She was in a total panic. Alanna wasn’t sure how the Dax felt about her, but surely he—he and his bitch—would be grateful that she basically saved his kid’s life that day on the beach. Dax would have to show a little gratitude.
At least enough to gain the private audience with him she was after.
The loud pounding on Hawk’s door had her flying from her spot on the be
d only to force herself to slow down as she reached the door. Her hand went to her hair, smoothing the dark strands as best she could. Alanna took a deep breath. He couldn’t be here already, could he?
“Yes?” she called, hoping to sound sultry and inviting.
“Open up, Alanna.”
A scowl crossed her face but she managed to affect a smile as she opened the door to admit Wince.
“Hello, Wince,” she greeted demurely.
She knew he wasn’t just making a social call when he pushed her into the room and kicked the door shut behind him.
“What the hell are you doing?” she demanded.
“I’m not here to discuss what I’m doing. I’m here to find out what the fuck you’re doing.”
Time to pull out the big guns. Alanna stuck out her chest and shoved her hand onto her hip. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Right. Well, it so happens that I recall a very specific conversation we had a few months ago. You made some pretty serious allegations.”
She felt herself pale but maintained her bravado. “So?”
“So. I’m sure you heard that Dax is coming back for a few weeks.”
She couldn’t prevent the hot rush of color that flooded her cheeks at the man’s name.
“So?” she repeated, hoping her desperation to see Dax was not too obvious.
Wince was studying her intensely and she was starting to feel like a bug under a microscope. “He’s bringing his family. And he doesn’t need any more bullshit, you catch my drift?”
“Are you threatening me?”
“Listen, baby. I still don’t know who the fuck you are, or what the fuck you think you know, but you’re damn lucky that I’ve been too tied up to deal with your shit lately. Dax is coming here with his old lady and his kid. You’ll get a ten-minute audience with him. If you don’t deliver, we’re taking your shit to the table.”
Oh, that was not good. Not good at all. “I—I was injured.” She gestured to the tiny scar on her forearm, trying to draw some kind of sympathy from the man. Wince certainly wasn’t the pushover she had assumed he was.
His eyes softened but his words didn’t reflect any kind of concern.
“Yeah, and all of us are indebted to you over that. But we all know the real reason you risked your life for Dax’s kid. And it wasn’t for Sirena, was it?”
Her chest was suddenly tight and her throat was scratchy. Alanna wanted to fucking cry. Because it was the truth. She didn’t take Sirena for the sake of saving a child. All of it was because of Dax.
“That’s all the truth I need from you, baby. Get your shit together. Friday night. Before the welcome home party.”
Alanna felt herself nodding like a bobblehead doll. What else could she do? Wince was the gateway to Dax. She had to change tactics to get on his good side. She was contemplating just what she could do to accomplish her new goal when a loud rap on the door made both of them jump.
Wince glanced at Alanna. “Where’s Hawk tonight?”
“He said he had an appointment. It wasn’t club related,” she answered honestly.
“Fuck.” Wince checked his phone and then flung the door open.
“Everything is going to fuckin’ shit in this place.” Alanna heard him mutter as he put his phone to his ear. Alanna strained to hear the hushed whispers.
“What? Are you fucking serious? Well, what the fuck does she want? He ain’t here, man. Set her up in a guest bunk.”
Alanna had no idea what was transpiring, but for some reason, the drama heated her blood. It was fucking arousing. She looked to Wince for guidance and was somewhat chagrined to see the man looking out of sorts. She rather liked the domineering version of Winston Walker.
“What’s going on, baby?”
“Don’t baby me, groupie. Keep your distance. I mean it.”
With that, Wince stalked out of the bunk that she shared with Hawk. Alanna flopped on the bed and turned on the flat screen television that graced the wall opposite of Hawk’s waterbed. That show—the one about a biker gang was on. Gemma…wow, that character was deranged but Alanna admired the hell out of her. She would do anything for the club—just like an old lady should. Whoever wrote this show was a goddamn genius.
Alanna wasn’t sure what her next move was going to be, but she was going to support Dax—however that played out.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Dax wasn’t sure what he expected, but he certainly didn’t expect the trepidation he felt as he headed back to Darling. To her credit, Sirena slept on the plane. Rhee insisted on a red eye flight and had kept their daughter up all day with no nap.
At first, he had wondered if Rhee was being too rigid—too controlling. But there was no doubt that Sirena’s mother knew best. His tow-headed little sprite whimpered during takeoff and landing, but Rhee managed to distract her and soothe her off to never-never land almost effortlessly.
Fuck, she’s such a good mom.
Dax couldn’t help but compare Rhee to the vague, painful memories he had of his own mother. It still hurt inside—pained him—to think about his childhood. Being part of Sirena’s experiences, and seeing the way Rhiannon parented her, erased some of the sharp ache he carried around with him—made him feel lighter somehow.
It was impossible to be perfect—no parent was perfect all the time. But, Rhee came pretty damn close. She treated Sirena like she was a junior member of a club, not a grunt who had to conform to someone else’s expectations. She accepted that Sirena might not have the same experience, but she also considered Sirena’s three-year-old perceptions of what was happening in their world, and she allowed those perceptions to guide their decisions and experiences.
Sirena was sweet, innocent, and loving. She was also stubborn, messy, and prone to throwing shit when she didn’t get her way.
Just the way a three-year old should be.
Dax glanced in the rearview mirror. Rhiannon dozed in the back of the Suburban, her head resting lightly on Sirena’s car seat.
A pink fuckin’ car seat. Man, the guys are never going to let me live this down.
Dax wiggled his toes in his rubber flip-flops.
Or these. Man, I can’t believe I forgot my goddamn boots.
***
“You still have the house here?”
Dax glanced sidelong at her. “Yup. Having fond memories?”
“It will be weird to be back there.”
Rhee didn’t have to explain further. He knew what she referred to—the nightmares. Dax nodded, his eyes turning flinty. Rhee wasn’t sure what it was about her comment that made him angry. She reached out and placed her small hand on his bulging forearm, noting the tension that he carried there.
“Hey. It’s okay. I’m okay.”
The tension in his face lessened. “Yes, you are.”
“We all are.”
They pulled into the driveway and the memories came flooding back. There was no anxiety…no pounding heart, no nothing as she recalled that fateful night and what had happened to her the night she met Dax. What had almost happened.
Shit, I have a knack for getting into fucking trouble, don’t I?
It was interesting how the events of that time in her life played out in her mind’s eye with no emotional reaction. Until she remembered the driving force behind her little foray into biker bars. Looking for Mickey.
Mouse.
Rhee had gone stock-still, frozen on the porch. Dax nudged her, Sirena sleeping hard on his shoulder.
“Sure you’re okay, darlin’?”
“Yeah. Um…yeah.” Rhee shook herself mentally. Being back here re-ignited her intense desire to find Mickey. She studied Dax as he held Sirena in his arms. Her little girl wasn’t so little anymore. She was in preschool. She wore her big girl panties.
Now, it’s time for me to put mine on. I can’t be afraid of what I might find anymore. I won’t fall apart. No matter what…I can’t.
“This house…reminds me of my sister. Of how I en
ded up here. I need to find her, Dax. Even though it’s been years and she’s more than likely….” Rhee cut herself off, unwilling to the say words aloud.
“I need to know what happened to her. And the longer I’m in this house—this town—the more it’s going to drive me fucking batshit crazy not to know.”
Dax managed to get his key in the door and Sirena mumbled against his shoulder, reminding Rhee that they were all standing on the porch instead of inside the warm house.
“Shit, I’m sorry.” Rhee turned the knob and let him walk in ahead of her. They rounded the corner to the guest room—the room she had woken up in four years ago to find sexy as sin Dax Jamison standing in the next room.
She smiled to herself, remembering her initial confusion followed by the almost immediate attraction to the man. Her first thoughts, if she recalled correctly, were:
“Where am I?” and “What the hell is Charlie Hunnam doing here?!”
Dax flicked on the lights but kept them dim. As her eyes adjusted, Rhee couldn’t gasped softly, with surprise and delight. Her memory of the guest room was fuzzy at best but the space had been transformed. The walls were…pink?
Rhee took a closer look. Actually, they were pink with chocolate brown trim. Pink gingham curtains adorned the windows. A white, wooden toddler bed graced one wall. Rhee scanned the rest of the room in disbelief. There was a dark brown rocker, a bookshelf filled with books, and a basket of toys and dolls on the floor.
She was speechless.
Dax grinned and placed Sirena carefully in the small bed. He pulled the pink and brown covers over their daughter and then placed his fingers to his lips in that universal gesture that meant, “Be quiet.”
He ushered her from the room. “We can look more in the morning.”
“Who?”
“Wince, mostly. I think Gray helped too.”
Rhee burst into giggles at the thought of grizzled old Gray making a bed with pink and brown sheets. “I can’t believe this!”
