F-Bomb (The Bear Bottom Guardians MC Book 9)

by Lani Lynn Vale

  I looked over to Slate to see him kind of green.

  “If I’d put any thought into how this vacation was to go, I would’ve said no,” he admitted. “Motion sickness and virtual reality are not paired well.”

  I paused. “You know, I did try to tell you on the plane what it would be like, but then that flight attendant interrupted us by telling me to buckle in, and I forgot. You make me do that, though.”

  “Make you do what?” he asked curiously.

  “Make me forget what I was going to say.” I shrugged. “Sometimes when I’m talking, I accidentally look into your eyes, and every single thought that was in my brain just floats away like a dandelion that’s been purposefully blown.”

  His lips kicked up into a semblance of a smile.

  “I…” He shook his head. “I don’t know what to say to that. It’s not like I purposefully mesmerize you with my eyes.”

  “Is there anything else you want to do?” I asked. “I mean, since you just humored me and went on that one?”

  ‘That one’ being the Avatar ride in Animal Kingdom.

  The virtual reality one that I swore he’d be okay on but was obviously wrong.

  I’d been reading up on the rides that we’d planned to go on today, and most of the people that were talking about the ride on YouTube swore that the ride didn’t cause their motion sickness to flare up.

  “I want to go on that one because I’m hot as balls.” He pointed at the particular picture that was in front of me. The one that the ride took you through the water and explained that you ‘might get wet.’

  “That’s Magic Kingdom,” I informed him. “We’re in Animal Kingdom.”

  “Well then, let’s go there,” he suggested. “There’s nothing keeping us here, right?”

  “Well,” I hesitated. “No, not really.”

  He hooked his arm around my shoulder and guided me through the crowd, stopping at the first little cart he could find and pointed at the ice cream sandwich. “I want one of those, and she wants the Mickey chocolate one.”

  I grinned wickedly.

  “I’ve corrupted you and brought you to the dark side,” I teased.

  He ripped open the plastic covering his ice cream sandwich and tossed it into the nearest trash.

  I did the same and took a hasty bite, forcing myself to cool my jets when all I wanted to do was jump his bones.

  I was feeling things for this man that I hadn’t felt ever.

  It was a surreal feeling.

  I mean, I’d watched my parents have this kind of relationship. Had watched half of the Free kids—the kids of the original members of Free like Janie, Pru, Phoebe and more—find that kind of love.

  And I’d wanted it so badly that I was willing to do anything for it.

  Yet…I hadn’t realized it was right in front of my face until I’d stared into his eyes and seen it reflected right back at me.

  I knew that he felt the same way.

  Yet…I also felt like he was holding back. As if he was biding his time or fighting with himself to keep his head.

  Which had been what had stopped me from saying the words. From just blurting them out.

  Though, it was likely wise.

  Who the hell said ‘I love you’ after a week of being with each other?

  I shouldn’t say it…right?

  “Your ice cream is melting onto your hand,” Slate’s deep, rumbly voice sounded.

  I looked down at my hands and noticed that he was right. Ice cream was indeed running down my hand.

  Absently lifting it up, I licked the back of my hand clean, thankful that I’d washed my hands.

  Because germs.

  So. Many. Germs.

  If I made it home without having a raging infection due to all the kids coughing on me, it would be a miracle.

  Disney in the middle of February—the height of flu season—wasn’t as thought out as it could have been.

  I’d just licked the final drip of ice cream when I looked up to find Slate’s eyes hot and aimed right at me.

  “What?” I asked.

  He licked his own ice cream sandwich, this time making sure to do it slowly. Methodically.

  Oh.

  I grinned and did the same to my ice cream, having to work double-time to make sure mine didn’t once again start melting all over my hand.

  His eyes tore away from mine as if something in front of him demanded his attention.

  His eyes started to scan the area, narrowing.

  “You need to go to the bathroom again?” he asked curiously.

  I frowned. “No…”

  He took me by the hand and led me to the bathroom anyway, me following behind him the entire way.

  “Slate, what are you…”

  He walked straight up to a companion bathroom, yanked open the door, and slammed it closed behind us.

  “Slate, what are you…”

  The locked clicked in place, and suddenly I found my ass bared to the air, and my body turned so that I was bent over the diaper changing station.

  He was kind enough, however, to throw his rain slicker down so that I wasn’t pressed against the dirty counter.

  I would’ve been touched by his thoughtfulness had he not notched his cock up with my entrance and started to press himself inside me.

  Like every time he entered me at first, I was surprised by his largeness.

  Slate was big, and when I say big, I meant big.

  I was also on the smaller side, which made him feel even bigger.

  But I was wet for him. Though it didn’t take much.

  I’d pressed myself against him in line, and he’d gripped my hips and pulled me back even more firmly in front of him, letting me know that he was feeling the same way.

  We’d been playing that game for about two hours now, the only time our positions changed were when we had to turn the corner to reform the line on the other side of the barrier.

  “You know exactly what I’m doing,” he growled.

  Then his entire cock was inside me.

  One second, I was empty, and the next I was so full my breath left my body, and my feet left the floor.

  We’d never done it from behind.

  The mechanics of it were difficult seeing as he was so tall, and I was so short.

  And to keep himself from having to bend his knees, he literally just lifted me up off the floor and started to fuck me slowly.

  He didn’t give me too hard or too much, instead staying super slow and shallow at first. Allowing me to get used to him while also giving me just a taste of what he had to offer.

  I leaned forward more on the bench, giving my arms more weight than I normally would have, and then wrapped my legs around the back of his thighs as best as I could from my current position.

  In doing so, I jolted him forward, causing him to grunt and give me more of him.

  My breath left my body when he touched places inside of me I hadn’t expected him to touch just yet.

  “Shit,” I hissed, moaning due to the pain, but also due to the pleasure that coincided with it.

  “Sorry, baby,” he cooed, running his hand up and down my back in a soothing gesture.

  “Do it again,” I ordered, trying not to sound like I was begging but knowing I’d failed.

  I didn’t have to ask him twice. The next time he entered me, it was with much more force than the previous time.

  The pleasure/pain of his thrust was enough to send my senses into overdrive.

  “God,” I breathed. “Yes.”

  From that point forward, he gave me his full length, ramping up his force one thrust at a time until he was entering me so hard that my hips were digging into the counter.

  I already had bruises from his hands when he fucked me the first time.

  Now I would have bruises from the counter.

  Did I care?

  That was a big hell no.

  I didn’t care in the least.

  In fact, looking at the bruises from h
is fingers digging into my skin made me remember how those bruises got there.

  And from there, I got to fantasize about how good he felt inside of me.

  It was a vicious cycle that I anticipated every time I lifted my shirt up.

  “You’re daydreaming instead of focusing on coming,” Slate growled.

  I bit my lip and turned my head to look at him over my shoulder.

  “Maybe,” I admitted. “But I was also thinking about you. About how this counter is going to leave bruises, and how I’m going to look at them tomorrow and remember how good you feel inside of me. How deep you are. How thick and full and…”

  He cursed and began to pull out, but I stopped him from going too far by tightening my legs.

  “No,” I keened. “I’m so close.”

  He pushed back inside, but with much less force.

  “I don’t want to leave bruises all over your body,” he growled, sounding torn between wanting them there, liking how they got there, and hating them and how he’d hurt me.

  But they didn’t hurt.

  Not right now.

  “Fuck me, Slate,” I ordered. “We don’t have much longer in this bathroom before people start to notice.”

  He cursed again, knowing that I was right.

  “Hold on,” he ordered.

  Then he was once again taking me viciously, hard and fast, making sure that he reached so deep inside of me that his cock head hit my cervix with each hard thrust.

  I moaned into my arm, loving the way we sounded as we connected.

  I was so focused on not coming, on wanting this to go on forever, that I hadn’t expected his hand to latch onto my ass and squeeze.

  I squeaked and jolted upward, gasping in air.

  And then my orgasm hit me like a two-ton Mack truck.

  One second, I was pushing it away, and the next I was struggling to breathe through the tidal wave of feeling that coursed through me.

  I held my breath and closed my eyes, hoping that my cries of ecstasy would be held in check.

  And then I felt his cum hit my back, the wet splashes traveling all the way up to my shoulder blades where he’d shoved my shirt up during our sex.

  “Fuuuuck,” he growled, returning his cock back into my pussy for a few strokes before going still.

  I dropped my legs from around his hips, feeling them well and truly protest.

  I hadn’t done this much walking…ever.

  I’d literally walked an average of eight miles a day for the last five days.

  Today was our last day at Disney World, and I was seriously sad to be leaving.

  Even worse, I was wishing that I really could sleep in the hammock in his yard, because the idea of having to go to my dad’s place really sucked bad.

  I wanted to stay near him. Wanted to continue sleeping in the same bed.

  Waking up next to him and showering with him. Eating next to him.

  Hell, I was so in love with this man that it wasn’t even funny.

  Then there was the fact that I didn’t even care that my house had burned to the ground.

  Not that, technically, it was my house. Dre and I had rented it. But still, I felt bad for the owner.

  A wet towel wiped its way down my back, and I shivered at the coolness.

  Once he was done wiping his release from my back, he helped set me down on my feet, then bent down to lift my semi-wet clothes back into place on my body.

  “Not sure how the hell I keep losing control,” he murmured, turning me around so he could see my hips. See the redness and promise of new bruises to come. “But I’m sorry.”

  Then he placed a kiss on each hip, so softly that my breath hitched.

  I touched his head, digging my fingers into his hair.

  “If I didn’t like them, I would’ve said something,” I teased.

  He looked up at me, and for a second, I saw him on his knee, thinking that more than anything in the world, I wished he was asking me to marry him instead of apologizing about my bruises.

  “We need to go,” I murmured, trying to hide my discomfort.

  He stood up, his eyes going wild for a second, then nodded. “Yeah. Let’s go. But wash those hands first.”

  I did as he asked once I’d resituated myself completely clothes-wise.

  He grabbed his rain jacket and did the same.

  “Might want to act like you hurt yourself or something,” he murmured.

  I pulled out a Band-Aid and pasted it on my forehead.

  He rolled his eyes.

  “Have you been carrying those around in your pocket this entire time?” he asked as he used the paper towel in his hand to unlock the lock.

  “Yeah,” I admitted. “I read on a blog about what to take to Disney. One of the ‘make sure you have these!’ things was Band-Aids.”

  When he opened the door, it was to find some man standing there looking pissed.

  “Charles, what the fuck?” Slate asked in surprise as he got a look at the man he obviously knew. “What are you doing here?”

  Charles tore his eyes away from me and aimed them at the man at my side, and what I saw there wasn’t a surprised recognition, but a hate-filled one.

  “People have been waiting out here for ten minutes,” he growled.

  Slate didn’t look the least bit apologetic.

  “Actually, we’ve only been in there for six and a half.” He looked at his watch. “What are the fuckin’ odds that you are here right now? Why are you here right now?”

  Slate pushed me to the side so that I could move around Charles who still hadn’t backed up or given us any room to move without getting indecently close.

  Charles glared at us as we moved to the side.

  “I’m here with my family,” he grumbled, gesturing to the kids that were huddled off to the side of the bathrooms with whom I assumed to be their mother.

  Only, they didn’t look like they needed to use the bathroom. In fact, they looked like they were ready to leave based on the look on both of the kids’ faces.

  They were staring off at what looked like Mickey in the distance, gesturing and pointing excitedly.

  I was honestly excited, too.

  That Mickey character was the first one that I’d seen in the park not guarded by two security guards and lacking a long-ass line to see him.

  “Hey,” I whispered to Slate. “I’m just going to go over there!”

  Slate looked at where I was pointing and nodded. “That’s fine. See you in a second.”

  Happy to escape the thick tension between the two men that were facing off for some reason I couldn’t fathom, and knowing that the time for questions would be later, I chose to take a selfie with Mickey, and then send it to my family.

  I loved group messages.

  My dad and brother, not so much.

  Though, it was likely that my brother wouldn’t answer.

  He hadn’t the entire trip at Disney.

  My dad and mom did, though.

  Mom more than Dad.

  Snapping the selfie and sending it off, I went to another ice cream stand and grabbed another ice cream Mickey head.

  I took a selfie of me with that, too, and sent it off.

  This time to Slate with a question mark.

  My phone pinged, making me smile, so I took a seat on the bench next to where Mickey had been and read it.

  Dad: Why is he wearing those weird clothes?

  Harleigh: Because it’s Animal Kingdom, I guess. Mickey has to dress accordingly.

  Mom: Oh, how fun! I’m so jealous of all your pictures.

  Dad: Maybe you should just send them to your mother so I can work without having to hear my phone go off every five seconds while y’all talk about shit I don’t want to talk about.

  Dax: Jesus Christ, it’s like the explosion of text messages. Did we really need to see your stupid food?

  Mom: That stupid food was adorable. And hey, baby! Did you have fun on your little mission?

  Dax: What mission?r />
  Harleigh: We’re not dumbasses, dumbass. And here’s a picture of my food that I’m eating right now.

  Sending them the selfie I’d sent Slate, I grinned when I automatically got a read receipt from all of them.

  Dad: Cute. Who’s that man behind you?

  I looked closer at the photo.

  Harleigh: No idea. There are so many people here that it’s almost impossible to get a picture without at least five people being in the shot with you.

  Dad: Sounds like a place I’ll never want to visit again.

  I rolled my eyes.

  That wasn’t really surprising. My dad not wanting to go anywhere where there were too many people was the reason that we never really visited places that I really wanted to go—like New York and California.

  They were just too peopley.

  Harleigh: Slate said that he’s never been to Broken Bow, Oklahoma. So I invited him on our annual family trip this summer.

  I hadn’t, really, but now that I thought about it, I wanted him to go.

  And I had a feeling he would say yes if I’d ask.

  Plus, I also wanted to ease my family into the notion that Slate and I were a thing.

  Well, at least I thought we were a thing.

  I’d have to ask him for sure, but I had a gut feeling that we were.

  Which really, really excited me.

  Dax: Slate? The man that protected you from getting fucked up at that hospital? What does he have to do with anything?

  Mom: He took her to Disney World with him and his family. They’re a thing.

  Dad: What?

  Dax: What???

  My lips twitched.

  I just loved my mom.

  She knew things even when I hadn’t said them.

  Usually that was in relation to a lie that I’d said, but in this instance, it was good knowing that she was on my side already.

  Harleigh: We’re a thing, by the way. It’s new. Don’t kill him, I like him. A lot.

  Dad: When did this ‘thing’ happen?

  Harleigh: I don’t know. Before we left, I guess. He lets me sleep in his hammock now without giving me shit first. Plus, I think he’s the **one.**

  Dax: What the fuck? It’s been like a week and a half since I left. Why does it sound like you’re going to marry him?

  Mom: Language, Dax. And you know that your sister is smart. Give her some credit. If she says he’s the one, he’s likely the one. That’s more than I can say about you.