by Amo Jones
“What?” My face pales and my body falls back, hitting the kitchen counter.
She nods her head, wiping away the tears and placing the patch back onto the table. “Yep, I thought I was pregnant. And I was shit scared. I was scared that I wasn’t ready, that you weren’t ready. Hell, I was scared that we’d never had that talk before, whether you even want kids!” She laughs picking up the wooden spoon and stirring the butter chicken in the pan. Thoughts of babies and kids run through my head, causing me to see double.
“And?” I whisper, keeping my eyes locked on the floor.
“I’m not, Beast. It was negative. But it just surfaced questions that we haven’t quite come across yet.”
Nodding my head, I run my fingers over my chest, attempting to scratch it out and rip my beating heart out. “I guess we haven’t.”
“So do you?” she asks, peeking up at me from her stirring.
“What? Want kids?” I ask, scrunching my face. “I don’t know. Maybe. I don’t know, yet if it was with you… possibly.”
“You just patched me as officially your Old Lady! There better be no-one else. And while we’re on this subject, I’ve watched Sons of Anarchy, I’m familiar with the term ‘What happens on a run stays on a run’ and no, that will not be the case here.”
I laugh, pulling her into my arms and squeezing her. “I know baby, never. The thought of another woman coming near me just makes me want to slice her head clean off. You’re safe.”
She smiles sweetly. “Good. You hungry?”
I laugh, taking down a couple of plates from the cupboard. “Yeah, always.”
After dishing up our dinner, I take out a bottle of wine from the fridge and pop open the cork. Glancing at Beast’s suspecting eyes, I shrug. “What? I’m telling you, I’m not pregnant.”
He smiles, his eyebrows creasing in confusion. “All right.”
Picking up my plate, I nudge my head to the open doors that lead out to the outside porch. “Let’s go sit under our oak tree.”
Since I moved in, we’ve furnished the house, making it feel like a home. The kind of home I craved to have as a kid, not just the structure, but the energy that sits in this house. It’s filled with love, mine and Beast’s love joined in one, all sitting in one house. I decorated the outside with hanging tea lights all over the oak tree. It’s now my most favorite place out of the entire house.
Taking a seat on the grass, the glasses clink in my hands, as we take a seat. I scrunch my hair up, tying it into a messy knot on the top of my head.
Picking up the first bite of the buttery goodness, I peek over at Beast, who’s staring at me intently.
“You know,” I start, wiping my mouth and picking up the wine bottle, pouring a glass. “You haven’t said much since I told you about the pregnancy scare.”
His eyes narrow locked on mine as he scoops the first mouth full into his mouth. “Maybe that’s because I’m exercising the idea now.” He smirks, eyebrows raised.
I pause my fork, tilting my head. “Can you repeat that?”
He chuckles, putting his fork down and moving toward me. “Making the said baby could be fun…” He smirks, placing another spoonful into his mouth.
I laugh, chewing softly and picking up my wine glass. “Maybe.” I smile around the rim.
He shakes his head with a smile, placing more food in his mouth and in this very moment, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. It turns out, my dark knight is sort of a knight in shining armor. That armor was severely damaged by bullets, but still a knight in shining armor.
The next day, we’re riding out to the clubhouse, my hands wrapped around Beast tightly in the way I’ve come to love with the air whipping through my long locks. When we pull down the long gravel road and into the clubhouse, we both get off with Beast helping me down and I hand him my helmet with a smile.
“I want my own.” I laugh, running my hands down the body of his bike.
His eyebrows raise and a smile displays across his face.
“You want one what? A bike?”
I smirk at him as a few of the boys walk out to us wolf whistling at me with cheers. I look down at my property patch and smile. “I guess it’s official.” They all lift their glasses in the air at once as Rorschach lifts his mug to me, smiling as he tilts it up before downing the brown liquid. I smile lightly at him before he walks back inside. Looking toward Beast, he’s still looking at me in shock.
“What?” I ask, tilting my head.
“Baby, do you want your own bike?” he asks again the shock still evident in his tone.
“Yes,” I answer with a grin. “I think I do.”
“Jesus,” he whispers, shaking his head. “You’re fucking incredible, do you know that?”
I laugh, shoving into his side. “So incredible that you want to agree to me owning a bike?”
He laughs, shaking his head. “Definitely not right now, but yes. I’m all over that shit.”
I walk through the clubhouse and straight to the bar. I’m wearing my property patch that hugs me tightly with skinny jeans and my boots that go over my jeans. It’s surprisingly comfortable for something so skimpy.
Layla pulls out a stool next to me with a smile. “You are such a babe!” She’s glaring at me up and down when Asha pulls out the seat beside her. Let’s just say, she was the worst hostage ever.
Taking a sip of my drink, I scoff. “Hardly. What are you two doing? Is it your day off?”
Layla nods her head. “Yeah, it appears so. Although, I’m not sure where Hella is.”
“I can ask Beast?”
She waves off my comment. “Don’t worry, someone else can take a fucking from him.”
I cough in my drink, something nagging my chest. “What does that mean?”
“It means…” she begins, throwing back the rest of her drink, “…that he likes it hard. And when I say hard, I mean he will destroy you so much in half an hour that it will have you struggling to sit down for a week.”
“Shit,” I whisper in shock.
She giggles. “Oh please, he’s nothing I can’t handle.”
“Yeah,” Asha agrees. “That’s why he always comes back to you.”
Pulling my attention away from the talk of Hella and his ability at disabling women with his dick, I bring my attention to Beast, who’s sitting on the table. Picking up my drink, I excuse myself from the girls before walking to my man.
“Are you okay?” he asks into my hair, pulling me into him.
“Yeah,” I whisper. “I’m going to be more than okay now.”
Later that night, we ride home and undress in record time. Despite the fact that we’re both dead on our feet, I still want to ride him like a rodeo horse. Walking across to him, I push his chest onto the bed and crawl up his monstrous form, keeping my eyes locked on his. A sheepish smile forms across his face as he follows my movement. Picking up the remote control for the dock station that sits beside our bedside table and his skull bike mask that sits in the top drawer, I throw the mask at him and smirk. “Put it on, I want to play.” His smile turns into a grin as he pulls his bottom lip into his mouth and wraps the mask around his mouth. His eyes turn dark as I stay standing on the bed.
Pushing the remote control on, Marylin Manson ‘Sweet Dreams’ penetrates through the sound dock and he laughs, shaking his head. I begin swinging my arms up and he spreads his legs wide, stretching his muscled body out across the bed.
I slowly inch down my shorts, pulling my thong down with it, his eyes turning dark and his jaw clenching under the mask. My nipples zip to life as my hips sway to the guitar. His hands grip onto my hips, pulling me down to the bed and flipping me onto my back. He pushes himself in between my legs, and I look up to him from my position, penetrating his eyes with my stare, the mask covering everything else and the muscles in his forearms bulging out under the pressure he’s putting on them by holding himself up. He slowly grinds himself into me in one circular motion, my head sinking back into the bed and my eye
s roll back.
He rips my shirt off roughly as Breaking Benjamin ‘Dance with the Devil’ starts playing. I may or may not have made our own playlist. He pushes the mask over his mouth to sit it around his neck and I moan out at the sudden cold brush of air that swipes past my nipples. He brings his mouth down to them, drawing his tongue out and running it across my nipple roughly, keeping his dark eyes locked on mine. I prop myself up onto my elbows and watch him closely. After he runs his tongue across ever so slowly, he sucks it into his mouth and his hands dive down to the front of me. Rubbing circles around my clit, he slips his finger deep inside me and pressing against my soft walls that weep for his touch. Drawing his finger back out, he runs his tongue over his finger, cleaning me off him before bringing his mouth down to mine, owning my tongue in a hungry, starved race against time.
Inching my feet up, I’ve decided I’ve had enough of playtime and now I need him. I push down the waist of his shorts until they have slid down his legs, his cock throbbing against me. Gently I rub myself over his length and he lets out a predatory growl before pulling back and slamming into me in one tight thrust. Arching my chest into him, I raise my nipples to his mouth and he hooks his bulky arm around the arch of my back, pulling me to his mouth, sucking each of my nipples into his mouth. I peer down at him as his cock moves in and out of me, pleasuring me, fucking me raw.
Bringing my mouth down to his where our world’s clash and the fire ignites deep in my belly, I moan, “Yes,” as the fire begins to reach a higher Fahrenheit. He slams into me one more time, hitting deep inside me and igniting the explosion as we both lose ourselves in each other.
Dropping onto his chest, my chest rises and falls as I attempt to bring my body down from yet another orgasm. I flip onto my side and he pulls me into him, the sweat from our love making sliding between us.
“Sleep, baby. Everything is going to be all that you ever wanted from here on out.”
I smile, closing my eyes with his words floating in my brains and his body flush against my back as sleep takes hold.
“This doesn’t fit like it used to!” I complain to Layla, who’s standing next to me in the mirror.
She laughs, pulling down the bottom of the vest. “It will, give it time.”
“Time?” I mock. “Layla, Israel is three this Thursday… THREE! I’ve had three years to lose these hips.”
“The hips are hot, you’re a smoking hot mama. Your tummy is as flat as mine and you’ve had a kid, stop whining and zip up the damn patch.”
After successfully zipping up my property patch, I shove my boots over my skinny jeans and take one more look in the mirror. “I look like a whore.”
Layla laughs, wrapping her arms around me. “I love that you cuss more now.”
Shoving her away, I laugh as I pick up my phone and push it into my pocket. Walking out the clubhouse bathroom, we make our way to the bar where all the men are sitting around with Israel and Garret sitting beside Beast drawing pictures.
“Hey,” I say, walking up to the table. Beast smiles, bringing his eyes up to mine slowly and when he sees me, his eyes pause and run over my body slowly, devouring me with a simple stare. I continue walking toward them taking a seat on the other side of Issy. “Hey baby, whatcha drawing?” I ask, leaning onto the table.
She smiles, handing me the picture and her little eyes warm my heart. She has Beast’s dark hair with my blue eyes and my dimples. She’s the most beautiful little girl I’ve ever seen. Garret is older now, nine going on eighteen, but he takes care of her like she was his little sister.
Looking down at the picture, it’s filled with one big colorful scribble across the top of the page. “Is that a rainbow?” I ask, and she nods her head with a smile.
I look back down to it and see a stick figure standing in front with another little stick figure on top of the shoulders of the big stick figure and my eyes well up in tears. Looking back to her, I run my finger down her milky skin, wiping the tears from my eyes. “Is this you and Daddy?” I whisper to her, bringing my face down to hers.
Her face beams up as her eyes fill with love and admiration for her father, her hero, her very own and very first love. Nodding her head, she leans into Beast, her tiny little body looking more like the body of a baby and not like the body of a three-year-old because of her father’s size.
Wiping the tears that have fallen down my cheeks, I nod my head, bringing my eyes up to Beast. “I remember drawing a picture when I was four. It had to be about our dad and something that reminded us of them, how they made us feel,” I whisper. Beast whispers into Israel’s ear, and nudges his head to Garret as he takes her hand in his and walks her out to the playground we had built at the back of the compound where we have the bonfires.
“I remember drawing the picture, not knowing, just by following the instructions that the teacher had given me. When she saw it, her hand flew to her mouth and she dropped the paper onto the floor. I wondered what I’d done wrong. I didn’t know that what I’d done was wrong.” I look to him, my face now covered in tears, his eyes strained in stress and his jaw ticking under the pressure he’s placing on it. “I remember wishing I had a father that would take me out for ice creams and make me laugh. I remember wishing I had a father like you, Beast. One that would carry me on his shoulders and love me unconditionally.”
He pulls me up and places me on his knee. “Baby, I will always be that man to Issy, to all of our children that we may or may not have.”
“Not,” I add in there quickly. My labor was horrendously long. I do not plan on having another.
“But I’m that man for you, too. I’ll be all that and more for you, babe. Forever, I’m not going anywhere.” He pulls a little box out of his pocket and I gasp out in shock as he flips it open. “I know you know that this patch means more to me than a wedding, but I want to have you every way that I can. Wife, girlfriend, partner, Old Lady, I want it all. I need every bit of you, Meadow. I need you to consume me forever. Will you marry me?”
I nod my head, running my thumb across his cheek. “Of course, yes, yes, I’ll marry you.”
Having this patch meant more to me, but being his wife also means a lot to me. There’s not a status in this world that you could put on Beast and me that would justify our love.
“You already consume me, Beast. You already own every single piece of me and I’d love to be your wife.”
He picks me up, wrapping my legs around his waist as he nibbles in the crook of my neck. “You’re more than my everything, Meadow. You’re my all.” He places his hand in mine, putting me back down to my feet and leading me outside the clubhouse.
I laugh pulling him into me. “What are you doing?”
He smiles, looking down to me. “You’ll see.” We get to the garage and he unlocks the lock, pulling the garage doors open displaying a white Harley Davidson with flecks of glitter through the paintwork. Gasping out in shock, a scream escapes my mouth as my feet leap up off the pavement.
“Is this mine?” I asked excitedly, looking at Beast. He laughs, nodding his head and handing me the keys. “Yeah, baby. You’re my angel in the night, these are your wings.”
I smile as he pulls me into him again, bringing his lips down to my ear. “Would you look at that,” he growls, nipping my ear. “Beauty tamed the Beast.”
And then I wake up, a smile spreading across my face.
Two Months Ago
As I watched my son being dragged out of the room, my heart bled for him. The son I never had the pleasure of getting to know, and I know it was all my fault. It was my fault his life had been one big blood bath. No child should have had to be put through it all like he did. But I had no choice. They kept me locked in a room, feeding me false hope that my son was happy and safe. The night he and Hella broke out, I found out that he’d been one of the recruited soldiers or Agent 316 as they recognized him here.
The Army liked to use demonology to assign each soldier or agent a number, so when they were sent out on a h
it, they were only called by that number. I never knew that Agent 316 was my son—my big precious boy that I pushed out and held in my arms until my lights went out and my blood ran cold. I thought I was dead, and when I woke after they resuscitated me and knew that my boy had been taken, I wished I was dead.
It didn’t take them long to work out who I was, or what I was majoring in at school. I was somewhat a science genius in school and all through life. Science always fascinated me. The fact that simple science equations could do so much intrigued me as a child and that stayed with me right up until I was a teenager. They told me that he’d gone to a good home like I was promised but that they needed something from me or they would take him back and make him wish he was never born. Of course, I complied. As much as adoption may be a nasty word to some people, I’d done what I needed to do at the time. What I thought was the right thing to do because I trusted the wrong people.
Pulling myself out of my thoughts, I glanced at the table where Kurr had fallen. Pushing off the floor, I stepped over to him and shoved the knife I was holding into his chest, sinking it in deeper until his blood was smitten all over my hand. His roar of screams sounded out, bouncing off the walls of the empty room and I smiled down at him. “You won’t make it out alive, Kurr.”
A throaty laugh escaped his blood ridden lips as he propped himself onto his elbows and spat out a chunk of bloody saliva. “Why do you think I kept him alive, Courtney? All those years ago? I knew what he held inside of himself, and I knew that the anger from his past would mold him into the perfect killing machine we needed. The Schyronide that you created only benefited him. The side effect of memory loss was fucking perfect. So when you told us that, and we got you to increase the dosage of Typermiene, the drug that enforces the memory loss, you had no idea the impact you were having on him. Of course, it worked in our favor, I was right,” he answered, his eyes dropping to a glare. “He was the perfect killing machine. Genetically enhanced, keeping his humanity at bay, not that he came with much anyway but he was perfect.”
