by Harley Wylde
“Ripper’s house is that way,” I said pointing to the right of the gate. “It’s about half a mile down the road. Has some sort of flowering tree out front. Think Shella called it a dogwood. The old ladies had it planted there when Ripper patched in and got the keys to the house. Just look for a tree with white flowers.”
Tank punched me in the arm. “I know what a dogwood is, fucker.”
My brother might be a decade older than me, but he still had fists like fucking sledgehammers. I tried not to wince. If I bruised later, Shella would be pissed at him. Yeah, I’d hide behind my wife if I had to.
“Stop by the house when you’re done. Too bad Emmie and the girls couldn’t come with you.”
“Next time,” he said. “Or better yet, bring your ass to Alabama more often. The girls miss their Uncle Slash, and now you’ve given them an aunt. When I told them you’d gotten married, they squealed and nearly busted my eardrums.”
My nieces were eight now, and I’d be willing to bet they were a handful. They were also adorable and had their daddy wrapped around their little fingers. I wondered what it would be like when my kids were born. Hell, I still didn’t know what the second baby was, but part of me really hoped it was a girl.
I got on my bike and headed home just as Glory came out with Ripper. I knew Tank would make sure she was settled, and felt okay being alone with Ripper, before he came over. Didn’t mean I had time for anything fun with Shella. I just had to convince her of that. I’d been gone from the house nearly an hour now, and I hadn’t done more than kiss her before I left. No doubt her hands would be all over me the second I walked through the door.
Yeah, it sucked to be me.
I parked my bike next to her car and went inside. The door hadn’t even shut all the way before I had an armful of Shella. She kissed me, her hands going for my belt.
“Shell.” I set her away, but her fingers were still yanking on my belt buckle. “Butterfly, we can’t.”
She froze and looked up at me. “What?”
“Tank is here. He’s dropping Glory off at Ripper’s place, and then he’ll be coming to the house. We don’t have time right now.”
She let out a frustrated growl, her nose wrinkling. Fuck but she was cute. And horny. Jesus! The woman couldn’t seem to get enough. At twenty-one weeks pregnant, she seemed to have sex on her mind every second of the day. Thankfully, after a few orgasms, she usually fell asleep for an hour or two. I couldn’t complain. I loved the fact she wanted me all the time, even if my dick could use a break every now and then. Her doctor had said it was just her hormones and the further along she got, the more it would taper off. Mostly because she’d be the size of a house and not feel up to it.
“Is he staying here?” she asked.
“I don’t have a guest room set up right now, so no. Although, we probably should fix that, especially if you want him to bring Emmie and the girls sometime.”
“We’re having two babies,” she reminded me. “We’re going to need all the rooms upstairs that we’ve got.”
“Then I’ll make a guest suite of sorts out back. Something big enough for Tank and Emmie to have a bed, the girls to have a place to sleep, and a bathroom. Maybe a kitchenette.”
She folded her arms. “With all that, they might as well have a house here.”
I swatted her ass. “Watch the sass, butterfly. That love tap is nowhere near what you’ll get if you keep it up.”
I should have known better and kept my mouth shut. She lifted the hem of her dress and bent over, showing me her ass. Her very bare, not-wearing-panties, ass. Fuck me.
“Well?” she asked, wiggling her ass.
“You want the belt? Because I’m about to put a stripe across those white cheeks.”
She gasped and looked at me over her shoulder. “You wouldn’t!”
“Keep it up and see.”
She lowered her dress and chewed on her bottom lip. “Maybe we could try it when Tank isn’t going to be here? You never know. If you don’t hit too hard with it, I might like it.”
I adjusted myself, my dick going hard. “Behave.”
She batted her eyes at me and grinned. Fuck it. I yanked a piece of paper from the drawer, scrawled a come back in thirty note on it, and taped it to the outside door. Then I locked up and carried my sassy wife upstairs to our room. I made quick work of stripping her bare and unfastening my pants, holding onto the belt.
“On the bed. Ass in the air.” I made the belt snap in my hands and she hastened to obey.
No fucking way I’d take a chance on hurting her, so I gave her a light swat with the belt to see how she reacted. Not even hard enough to mark her skin. She tensed a moment but didn’t so much as utter a sound. The next strike was a little harder. The one after left a pink mark across her ass and made her yelp.
“You going to sass me again?” I asked.
“Will you fuck the sass out of me if I do?”
I couldn’t help but shake my head and laugh at her. Woman would be the death of me, but what a way to go. I spanked her with my hand until I felt the heat coming off her skin and it had pinked up nicely. Then I sank balls-deep inside her. I gripped a fistful of her hair and rode her hard.
“Yes! God, yes, don’t stop!”
I leaned over her, bracing my weight and drove into her at a different angle. Her pussy gripped me tight as she screamed out my name. I felt the heat of her release and fought for control. I wasn’t done with her. Not just yet.
I wrapped my arm around her waist and sat back on my knees, bringing her with me. Her ass settled on my lap, my cock still inside her. Reaching up to cup her breasts, I toyed with her nipples.
“Ride me, butterfly. Make us both come.”
I tugged at her nipples and whispered filthy things in her ear. She became wild, slamming herself down, taking me deep. When she came a second time, I couldn’t hold back anymore. I came inside her, holding her close.
She panted and looked at me over her shoulder. “I thought we didn’t have time.”
“I’m sure Tank is at the clubhouse drinking a beer. He’ll be back.”
She wiggled her ass and leaned back against me. “Is it wrong I wish we could stay like this? I love the way you feel inside me. Like we’re two parts of one whole.”
“We are, butterfly.” I kissed her neck. “We are.”
“I wish I’d never run away,” she said softly. “Maybe we’d have been together all this time.”
“Well, I did want to turn you over my knee a time or two when you were being a brat. It’s possible that would have led us to where we are now.”
“I do like it when you spank me.”
I reached around and rubbed her clit. “I know.”
“Oh. Oh! Talon, I…”
“When the babies get here, there’s no sex until the doctor clears you. I’m going to wring as many orgasms from you as I can between now and then.” I held her still, my arm clamped around her waist as I worked her clit. It only took a few seconds before she was coming again. “So fucking perfect.”
“Not perfect,” she murmured.
I placed my lips by her ear. “You are. You’re perfect for me.”
I’d never wanted a woman as much as I wanted Shella. I wanted her in my bed, sure, but I enjoyed the hell out of just spending time with her. Didn’t matter if we were watching TV, eating dinner, or talking at the kitchen table. Every second with her was precious, and I looked forward to spending the rest of my life with her.
I placed a hand over her belly.
Her and our kids.
Dedication and Acknowledgments
Slash is for my husband -- there are too many reasons to list why this book wouldn’t have happened without you, so I’ll just stick with… thank you for being you and for loving me (even when I turn into a rabid wolverine when I’m on a deadline).
And for my readers, because without you, there would be no one to read the stories I create. Thank you for joining me on this journey!
&nbs
p; Thank you to my editor, who puts up with my snarky attitude, and sometimes my whining when so many things hit me at once that I just want to bury my head in the sand like an ostrich. Without her, this book would be a train wreck, and to my cover artist, Bryan Keller, for making yet another fabulous cover! He always seems to know exactly what the book needs.
Big thanks to Ilse, who never bats an eye when I randomly message with something weird, like “if you stab someone in their testicle, will it pop?” Yes, I could use Google, but I don’t trust it to be accurate. Ilse is a retired ER nurse, so she usually gets my odd medical questions.
And a huge thanks to the Coffee Fairy for providing the much-needed Starbucks to keep me sane while I work. You have done a great service for mankind as those white mochas keep me from attacking poor unsuspecting souls who dare to cross my path. Not to mention, words flow better when my brain is caffeinated.
Thank you for purchasing Slash (Devil’s Fury MC)! Your support means so much to me. I’m honored you chose my book to read out of the millions out there, and I hope you weren’t disappointed.
If you’ve read other books in this series, you may have been skeptical about Shella. I know quite a few people haven’t liked her in the past. She was bratty, to put it mildly. I’d always planned to redeem her. I think what I’ve always found interesting is out of all the messages I’ve received about how horrid Shella is, no one stopped to ask why she acted that way. Even the Devil’s Fury didn’t question her behavior. So, I wanted everyone to have a better understanding of why she’d changed so much from her introduction in Irish’s book (from the Devil’s Boneyard MC series).
For those of you who think Shella didn’t act at all the way a rape victim would, I’d just like to remind you that everyone deals with things differently. Some might choose to take control of their bodies and have as much sex as they want, simply to prove it’s their choice to do so. It’s a way for them to no longer feel powerless. Others, like Lilian, can’t stand to be touched or be close to men. There’s no right or wrong way to react to such violence. It’s about survival, pure and simple. Shella did what she felt was necessary to hold herself together and attempt to move on with her life, while protecting her family from the truth.
I hope you’ll take a moment to leave a rating or review at the retailer of your choice, Goodreads, or BookBub. Whether you loved the book, thought it was okay, or couldn’t stand it, I still appreciate your honest opinion.
Thank you again for taking the time to read Slash.
Until next time…
Harley
Harley Wylde
Harley Wylde is the International Bestselling Author of the Dixie Reapers MC, Devil’s Boneyard MC, and Hades Abyss MC series.
When Harley’s writing, her motto is the hotter the better -- off-the-charts sex, commanding men, and the women who can’t deny them. If you want men who talk dirty, are sexy as hell, and take what they want, then you’ve come to the right place. She doesn’t shy away from the dangers and nastiness in the world, bringing those realities to the pages of her books, but always gives her characters a happily-ever-after and makes sure the bad guys get what they deserve.
The times Harley isn’t writing, she’s thinking up naughty things to do to her husband, drinking copious amounts of Starbucks, and reading. She loves to read and devours a book a day, sometimes more. She’s also fond of TV shows and movies from the 1980s, as well as paranormal shows from the 1990s to today, even though she’d much rather be reading or writing.
Harley at Changeling: changelingpress.com/harley-wylde-a-196
