His Old Lady (Patches: Tarkio MC Book 2)

by Debra Kayn

  The past no longer threw caution signs at her. She wasn't swinging her arms left and right, fighting off her feelings toward him.

  This was Curley.

  This was her uncle.

  This was the man who stubbornly and honorably stood in front of her when she lost her last family member, holding her and promising he'd never leave.

  And, here he was, holding true to his word.

  He was her sanity.

  Her insanity.

  No matter how many times he got in someone's face and declared she belonged to him, making sure no one else got close to her, he wasn't her man.

  Not truly.

  Not in the way she wanted to belong to him.

  Granted, her opinion of relationships was skewed. She remembered Uncle Walker being with a lot of women. There were always girls/women who were around the house, babysitting her, sleeping in her uncle's bed. In her innocence, she'd enjoyed the extra company his wild life brought around the house.

  Grandma June spoke highly of marriage and mourned for Grandpa Ed, who'd died before she was born, believing old-fashion traditions were the base of any relationship. Traditions Faye had never witnessed.

  Even Tracy and Whip's parents, who were the perfect couple and seemed normal to her, came to a tragic end too soon—as if happily ever after was only a fairy tale.

  Her breath came out in pants. Curley was the closest she'd been to having a relationship, and if this was how it felt to love someone, she rather be single for the rest of her life. Love hurt. It was the worst pain she'd ever experienced.

  She moistened her lips. Her attraction to him was out of control, and she was only punishing herself.

  Bolstering all her courage to walk into the house and away from him, she mentally patted herself on the back when she reached the front door and dug through her purse, only to remember she'd locked the house key inside that morning.

  "Damnit," she muttered, closing her eyes in frustration.

  Why tonight? Why with him here watching her screw up?

  Warmth covered her back, and an arm circled her waist, holding her up. Warmth flooded her face as she opened her eyes and witnessed Curley using his key to unlock her door, knowing she was on the verge of falling apart.

  The door opened, and he took her inside before letting her go. He took her hand and placed a key on her palm.

  She looked up at him. "It's your key."

  When Grandma June passed away, she'd given Curley a key just in case. Just in case he needed to get inside the house if she needed help. Just in case she was at work, and he needed something. Just in case he had the urge to come over and make love to her—but that had never happened.

  He folded her fingers over the key, holding on to her hand. "Put that in the bottom of your purse or hide it out in the yard somewhere that nobody but you can find."

  Her heart pounded. Was this the end? Could he be walking away from her for the last time?

  "Why are you giving me your key back?" she whispered.

  What was she supposed to do without him? What about the bar? What about her?

  His gaze intensified before he looked down at his hand, cupped around hers. The energy between them shocked her. Surely, he felt her trembling.

  "I still have my key." He brought his hand up and hooked her hair over her ear without letting go of her. "This one is a spare for you."

  Elation filled her. He wasn't leaving her life.

  "You heard about me locking my keys inside?" she said.

  Cupping her neck, he ignored her question. "Your pulse is racing."

  She leaned her head into his touch. This was the closest he'd been to her since...since he'd kissed her. She held still, afraid if she moved, he'd leave.

  "I don't know what to do with you," he whispered tightly. "You drive me fucking crazy."

  His hand fisted her hair. She came up to her toes, silently begging him not to stop.

  Anguish etched his face. She couldn't tell if he was going to push her away or drag her toward him. Her lips parted, wanting to taste him. Run her mouth all over his body.

  He played with her heart, touching her. He gave her hope, staying with her. Why couldn't he admit that there was something unbreakable between them? Why couldn't he admit what had happened between them was mutual? Was still mutual?

  He brought her forward by her hair, giving her no wiggle room. Placing his forehead on hers, he breathed raggedly. Her knees buckled at the swarm of desire consuming her.

  There was no reason for him to say the words. She could feel everything.

  Tears stung her eyes. She grabbed onto his vest as her whole body quaked, responding to the unapologetic roughness.

  He growled, tilting her head. She gasped as he claimed her mouth. All she could do was hold on to him.

  She couldn't keep up with his attempt to destroy her with one kiss. His tongue thrust into her mouth, distracting her from her feet, leaving the floor.

  Curley pressed her down, softness cushioning her back, and she realized he'd put her on the couch. He kneed her legs wider and sunk his thigh against her pussy, putting some of his weight on her.

  His lips owned her while his tongue consumed her. She moaned, energized that he was here, and touching her. Yanking on the back of his vest, she wiggled her fingers underneath his clothes.

  Quickly losing strength, she succumbed to the arousal spiraling inside of her. When he pulled his mouth off her, she whined, grabbing for him.

  He straightened, shrugging off his vest, setting his pistol on the floor, and reached behind his neck and dragged his shirt over his head. She sprawled her hands on his stomach, sucking her bottom lip into her mouth.

  The years had been kind to him.

  The defined muscles down the front of him were still hard behind her fingers, and she knew if she lowered her hands, her thumbs would slip right into the small indentions on each hip.

  He yanked at the hem of her shirt. She pushed up to her elbows, letting him rip her shirt off.

  His grunt drew her attention. She followed his gaze to her black bra. She undid the front clasp and let the material snap to her sides, not bothering with getting the thin straps off her arms because Curley already had her jeans unzipped and dragged the denim down her thighs, pulling her body with the material.

  She grabbed on to the couch, not wanting to move out from underneath him. The urgency and fear that he'd leave her too soon or change his mind put her in a panic.

  Grasping for him. His belt. His jeans.

  He stood, then leaned over and picked her up. She looped her arms around his neck, kissing beneath his ear.

  She ignored where he carried her because she was in his arms. He'd started a fire inside of her that continued to blaze. He could have her out in the front yard for all the neighbors to see, and she wouldn't care.

  He lowered her. Subconsciously aware of being in her room, she kept ahold of him, taking him to the bed with her. Wrapping her legs around his thighs, she moved to lock her ankles to keep him close, and his broad body pushed her thighs apart.

  His jeans rubbed against her pussy. She moaned in his mouth at the delicious friction. Palming his head, she rubbed her hands against the stubby hairs growing on his scalp. Finally, having him in her arms, her arousal took hold and shook her.

  She wanted closer.

  She wanted to latch herself on to him and force him to admit that he had feelings for her. That over the years, he'd wanted her, too.

  She wanted to delve into his head and convince him there was nothing wrong with them being together. Like this. Exactly like this.

  Her stomach fluttered, and goosebumps broke out on her body, making her nipples ache.

  Curley shifted. Afraid he was getting up, she pushed up on her elbows.

  He cupped the front of her neck, pinning her to the bed with his hand. "Stay."

  His belt clinked. She stilled. The pressure on her throat not enough to stop her breathing, but she couldn't move.

  Curl
ey nailed her with his gaze as he shoved his jeans to his hips with his free hand. Then, his hand came up, holding a condom package. She swallowed. The cords of her neck, pressed against his palm. Her own pulse beat against her skin.

  He ripped the wrapper with his teeth. Unable to look, she couldn't see what his hand was doing, only felt the brush of his forearms against her inner thighs. She assumed, he rolled on protection.

  The moment he took his hand from her throat, he rolled with her to his back. Straddling his thighs, she planted her hands on his chest, startled by the sudden change.

  The sudden memory.

  She'd climbed up on him in bed the first time they had sex. He'd thrown that back in her face as if she'd forced him. Nothing was further from the truth. He was always in control.

  The way he'd touched her.

  The things he'd said.

  The way he'd looked straight in her eyes and spoke her name.

  "Faye?"

  She panted, scared to move.

  "Faye?"

  Things had changed between them in the last several months. She'd hoped against hope that he was going to forgive her.

  She couldn't go back to him hating her.

  He growled, swooping his arm around her and putting her back on the bed and pressing against her. She gasped.

  He paused, hesitating with an exhausted groan. The tip of him hovered at her entrance. A shuddery breath held her still.

  Curley brushed her hair off her forehead, her cheeks, and held her head in his hands. "Tell me no."

  She moaned. Never.

  "Damnit, Faye." His gaze intensified.

  "Please," she said, her voice cracking. "Please."

  Her body reacted to the hardness pressing down on her. Suffocated as if he stole her breath, she silently pleaded for him to keep going and put her out of her misery.

  He was more powerful than her. Callous and ruthless, he could make her life complicated, and she was powerless to change the way he treated her.

  His brows lowered, and he growled, inching into her pussy. An electrical energy sparked inside of her, shooting pleasure through each limb. The heat of him branded her, and she wouldn't be surprised if later, she found her sheets scorched from them being together.

  Her stomach rippled.

  Curley adjusted his weight to one arm and slid his right hand down her stomach to between her legs. She bucked when he circled her clit. Nothing prepared her for direct stimulation from him.

  His intimate touch went straight to her heart. Grinding against his touch, she moved underneath him, which only made his cock slide into her more. Curley moaned, holding still.

  She wanted him to move. To go wild. To lose that tight control he held on to so religiously.

  Cupping his head, she brought him down and kissed him. He grunted as his hips pitched forward, plunging his cock all the way in.

  He kissed her breathless. He kissed her with a violent need, leaving her lips throbbing and her eyes tearing. He kissed her with such validation it made having sex seem like a handshake.

  She hooked her feet behind his thighs. Her whole body tightened around him.

  He slid his hand over her mound, rubbing his fingertips into her wetness. The sensitive sensation curled her toes.

  At the same time, he stroked his tongue in her mouth. She sucked, wanting to draw him into her body.

  She could never get close enough.

  He pulled his head back, looked her in the eyes, and pulled fully out of her body. As if he held a ragdoll, he flipped her onto her stomach, lifted her ass, and entered her pussy from behind.

  On her hands and knees, she fisted the bedspread and threw back her head. Curley grabbed her hair, pulling her back with each plunge. A guttural moan escaped her open mouth, speaking all her thoughts in a primal language only she understood. Having to rely on him to move her, the pleasure intensified.

  Her heart pounded with each slap of his balls against her clit. She panted. The pressure on the back of her head wrapped around her. She craved that hardness. The pain. The possessiveness.

  The bed shook. She held on for dear life.

  The rougher he thrust in her, the more she lost touch with reality.

  He had her floating in warmth. Spiraling higher.

  Her insides tightened. There was no stopping.

  Every response created by him. He controlled her, and he pushed and pushed and pushed her.

  Yes. Yes. Take her. Take all of her.

  Curley's harsh breathing met her ears. Her eyes closed, hovering on the edge of ecstasy.

  Her pussy throbbed, gripping down on Curley. He ground against her. Her back arched, and he pulled her hair, slapping into her crudely—wonderfully.

  Pleasure encompassed her. She screamed his name, hurled into an orgasm. Her body spasmed, pulling her hair from his grasp, bowing her back.

  Curley slammed into her, held her hips still, and groaned. The warmth inside of her grew in temperature.

  Gasping for breath, she trembled, absorbing his shudder. Her head fell forward, and she closed her eyes. Overwhelmed with not only having sex—great sex, but that Curley accepted her and hadn't pushed her away. That he hadn't left in a huff or roared off into the night on his motorcycle without saying a word.

  His hands tightened on her hips, and he pulled his cock out of her. Stroking her bare skin, he shifted on the bed. The mattress moved. She looked over her shoulder and found him walking out of the room.

  Gently crawling to the edge of the mattress, she hung her legs over the bed and deeply inhaled, only to hold her breath.

  Squeezing her eyes shut, she wished him back.

  At the other end of the house, the door shut. A sob caught in her throat. She couldn't do this anymore.

  Chapter 20

  Curley

  On his second cigarette, Curley stared out at the quiet street. While his body remained relaxed after having sex with Faye, his mind tormented him. He couldn't walk back inside the house—Grandma June's place.

  He'd respected the woman who'd taken Faye in when Walker was sent to prison. Grandma June had done her best to raise her grandchild. Inside, he was reminded of how innocent Faye had been the day he'd brought her here and had to leave, promising he'd be back.

  How was he supposed to explain to a child that the world was unfair, and it was only going to get worse as she grew up?

  He stubbed the cigarette out and made no move to leave. Out of all the shit he'd done in his lifetime, fucking Faye was the one he regretted.

  And the one thing he prized above all else.

  He'd tried everything to rid himself of the guilt. There were jags in his life when he'd tried to find relief in the bottom of a bottle. He'd used other women, trying to erase Faye from his memories and, in return, imagined the girls were Faye—only tormenting him more.

  Hell, he always knew his relationship with her would turn out the way it had, with him in her bed. That's why he'd refused to let her go. It wasn't the fear of repercussions from the club. He'd go through any punishment, even banishment, for her.

  He just couldn't let her go.

  He also knew if she found out his part in Walker going to prison, she'd end up hating him.

  The front door of the house opened. He knew she would come out if he lingered. She never ventured far from him, and he'd counted on her to honor their relationship—for how unfair it was to her.

  "I'm going to lock the door and go to sleep."

  "Don't," he said.

  He had to explain himself, and yet he had no idea where to start.

  "You don't need me out here to see you ride away," she said.

  He shifted, leaning his shoulder against the house so that he could see her. She'd put on a robe, and her hair was wet. It hadn't taken her long to wash him off her body.

  "Faye..." He exhaled harshly. "I'm—"

  "Don't you dare apologize." She pulled her robe tighter and crossed her arms. "I'm not a child. I never coaxed you into sleeping with me, and yo
u weren't drunk. Don't make excuses this time."

  He flinched. Would he ever be able to make the past up to her? Would he ever be able to let go of what he'd done?

  "I thought this time it was different." Her voice broke. "Go in front of Priest and the others and let them know I'm no longer your woman. I can't keep living like this. You give me you, and then you go away."

  "You were right there with me, taking my cock, moaning my name," he said.

  "Of course, I was. It's no secret that I've always wanted you. God, Curley. Everyone around us can see how I feel about you," she blurted.

  "You shouldn't."

  "If you would stop being such an asshole, you'd realize there is nothing wrong with how we feel about each other." She sighed. "And once again, you've left me feeling pathetic and ashamed about my feelings. I'm tired of living this way. I rather you split and go through whatever it is you need to do to get rid of me."

  "You're mine." He searched in his vest pocket for his smokes, wishing he was cuddled up with a whiskey bottle at home. "I'm not giving you up."

  "Why?"

  He straightened and stepped in front of her. Close enough, the fresh scent clinging to her after her shower hardened his cock again.

  "That's my business." He hooked her neck, dragged her to him, and captured her mouth.

  Her lips softened, and she took his tongue before she squirmed and clamped her teeth together. He held her close and repeated, "You're mine."

  Backing away from her, he forced himself to turn and walk toward the driveway. He was asking too much of her to quietly be with him without asking why he wanted her. The best thing he could do was keep his distance.

  In the dark, a shadow sailed by his head. He ducked, pulling out his pistol when something landed in front of him with a broken crash. He squinted his eyes, making out the scattered remains of a ceramic garden gnome he remembered seeing in the flowerbed beside the front door over the years.

  He looked over his shoulder. Faye bent over, picking up another gnome from Grandma June's collection.

  "You better think twice before you throw that at me."

  Even from ten feet apart and only the street light dimly lighting the front porch, Faye glared. She brought back her arm and hurled the figurine through the air. He sidestepped, watching the gnome shatter on the concrete beside him.