She crooks her finger, and my legs automatically move toward the bed. Without a word, she lowers onto all fours and wraps her lips around the head of my dick. I let out a groan at the feel of her wet mouth as she envelops me. Her tongue slides over the seam of my head and I shudder.
She releases me only to slide her warm tongue along the underside of my cock, causing me to groan as my eyes slide shut.
I stay still, resisting the urge to fuck her throat. Flexing and balling my fists at my side, over and over, I try to take in and release calming breaths.
Suddenly, her mouth is gone, and I feel her lips press a kiss to the tip of my cock. My eyes fly open and I look down. “You need to lose some control, Pres,” she whispers.
I shake my head. “I don’t want to hurt you, peaches,” I explain.
The doctor scared the absolute shit out of me yesterday. He told us that if her blood pressure gets any higher, she’ll be on mandatory bedrest in the hospital. He even said that she could possibly deliver this baby early—too early. I don’t want to do anything to hurt her or the baby.
Ginger laughs softly, wrapping her hand around my cock and begins to stroke me, her grip firm enough to make me groan, yet not enough to get me off. “I asked the doctor about sex yesterday. He told me regular activities were fine, Pres,” she breathes.
“Normal activities? How does he know what we do is normal? Maybe I’m rougher than most men and he has no fucking clue,” I mutter, my hips thrusting with her strokes.
She laughs and smirks at me. “Fuck my mouth, Pres. Then, fuck my pussy.”
I don’t get a chance to argue with her, she releases her hold on my dick and swallows me practically whole. I let out a shout as my hand flies to the back of her head, twisting my fingers in her hair, holding on for dear fucking life.
I’m unable to hold back, my control fucking snaps as soon as her throat wraps around my dick. I fuck her mouth, my eyes staying on hers, assuring that I don’t hurt her. I watch as Ginger breathes through her nose, her eyes watering but hooded. Then one of her hands disappears, and I know my girl, she’s getting off just as much as I am on this.
Pulling out of her mouth after a few pumps of my hips, I have a desire for something else warm and tight. She doesn’t hesitate, she rises to her knees and then turns around, bending over again and showing me her gorgeous ass and pussy, offering them for the taking.
Grabbing ahold of the globes of her ass, I squeeze the plump flesh spreading her apart. Gazing at her sweet center, I let out a hum.
“Pres, hurry, I’m dying,” she whines.
Sliding my cock through her folds, she moans when it grazes her clit. I want to tease her a little more, but I can’t, I need to be inside of her too fucking bad. Pressing the head of my dick against her slick entrance, I slowly slide inside of her wet heat. Slipping one of my hands around her hip, I press two fingers against her clit, and I wrap my other hand around one of her ass cheeks.
“Move, move, move,” she chants as she swivels, and tries to force my hips to thrust.
I chuckle behind her, knowing how needy she is, seeing it—it’s sexy as fuck and I don’t want it to end. I pull out of her, then slowly slip all the way back inside to the root. Repeating my motion, again, and then again for the third time, I groan. She’s warm, so wet, and I fit so snuggly inside of her.
My instinct is to ram into her, slam my hips against her, bruise her and take her—own her. However, no matter what she claims, I don’t want to hurt her either. So, I take her slowly, fucking her with precise, lazy strokes, building us both higher and higher.
Ginger mewls beneath me, her hips pushing back as I thrust forward, causing me to groan each time. I gently touch her clit, circling it with featherlight touches of my fingertips. “I’m so close,” she rasps. I know she is. I can feel her pussy flutter around me.
I feel my own back tingle and my balls tighten, signaling that I’m just as close as she is. I grunt, not wishing for it to be over, but sure that it will be soon. Rubbing firmer circles around her clit, I begin to thrust a little harder on each down stroke.
Ginger’s hips crash against mine, with more force. I let out a groan, closing my eyes as my head falls back. Her pussy clenches around me as she cries out and only then do I allow myself to lose a bit more control.
Moving my hands to wrap around her hips, I pull her back as I thrust forward. I slam into her tight, pulsing cunt, repeatedly, until I bury myself deep inside of her and I come—hard. “Fuck,” I groan, folding over her back, my cock still twitching inside of her wet pussy.
“Now, will you rest a little,” I murmur against her back. She harrumphs before she lets out a yawn.
“Dammit,” she whispers.
I gently slide out from between her legs, hating to leave the warmth of her body. Making my way to the bathroom, I dampen a cloth with warm water, then return to her, cleaning her up. Ginger’s breath hitches as she shifts her hips, obviously enjoying the way the cloth feels against her sensitive pussy.
“Rest, peaches,” I grunt.
“Will you hold me?” she asks as she crawls over to her side of the bed. I watch her slip between the sheets.
Throwing the wet cloth toward the open bathroom door, I slip into bed myself. I’m not tired in the least, but I can tell that she is, and she needs me.
Ginger curls against my side, wrapping her arm around my waist as her rounded belly rests against my own. I slip one arm around her shoulders, sliding my hand to her hip, then I place my other hand on her stomach.
“You feeling okay?” I ask. She hums but doesn’t say anything else.
A few seconds later her body becomes extremely heavy and I know she’s fallen asleep. I stay with her for about an hour just enjoying the way she feels pressed against me.
My phone rings from my jeans pocket across the room and as president, I, unfortunately, cannot ignore it. I leave Ginger peacefully sleeping, before I grab it and answer the call, gently closing the bedroom door behind me.
CHAPTER TWO
GINGER
I struggle against the firm grip that holds me down. A hand lashes out and slaps me across the face. Another hand wraps around my throat and squeezes as a sinister face laughs. They’re all a blur, unrecognizable, and I’m grateful for it. I never want to remember this in detail. I feel my clothes being tugged off and that’s when I know that this is a nightmare I will never wake from.
“Peaches,” Prescott’s deep voice snaps. My eyes open wide, as my chest rises and falls rapidly. “You were having a nightmare,” he murmurs from the edge of the bed.
I open my eyes and notice that he’s now completely dressed. He’s back in his jeans and cut. Glancing down at his feet proves he’s also got his boots on. “I was,” I agree with a gulp.
Prescott tucks some of my sweat soaked hair behind my ear as his finger trails down the side of my face.
“What do you need?” he asks.
I close my eyes and just inhale. He’s so sweet, so tender and caring when I need him to be. I honestly don’t know how I ended up with him.
“I’m okay,” I halfway lie.
He knows it’s a lie, his nostrils flare, but he doesn’t call me on it. “Gotta run to the clubhouse for a few hours. You want to get ready and come with, or stay here?”
I have no doubt that he’s only asking because of my nightmare. He was going to kiss me goodbye and go until my demons decided to come out to play. I should tell him to go ahead without me, but I really don’t want to be alone right now.
“I’ll come with,” I smile brightly.
He nods as his fingers trace over his mark on my neck, then he stands. I’m grateful when he helps me out of bed, informing me that I have fifteen minutes with a slap to my ass. I roll my eyes but grin all the way to the bathroom.
It takes me thirty minutes to get ready, but Prescott doesn’t complain—he never does. I dress in a pair of extra-stretchy black leggings and a long sleeve rust colored maternity top that rouches on each
side of my belly. I throw my hair up into a messy bun on the top of my head and touch up my makeup from earlier this morning.
I quickly straighten the bed, foregoing the decorative pillows, mainly because I don’t feel like picking them up off of the floor, before I sit on the edge of the bed with my boots in my hand. Prescott appears out of nowhere and sinks down to his knees, taking my boots and helping me put them on.
“Thanks,” I mutter, suddenly awash with overwhelming emotion.
He doesn’t say anything, only standing when he’s finished with his outstretched palm. I slip mine inside of his, and together we walk out of our room and downstairs.
Once we’re outside, I glance over at his bike and guilt washes over me. He probably wants to ride it, but can’t since I’m going with him.
“I can drive myself if you want to take your bike,” I offer, tugging on his hand.
He stops and turns around, a serious expression on his face. Then he leans down and brushes his lips against my own. “We’re going in the truck, peaches.” His statement is simple, and his tone leaves zero room for discussion. I nod and climb inside.
Prescott starts the engine, looking to me before he backs out to assure that I’m buckled in safe and sound. I give him a small smile as he shifts the truck into reverse and backs down the driveway.
His mood has shifted from earlier, and I have a feeling that there’s something on his mind. I don’t bother asking him though, he’ll tell me if he wants me to know. It’s probably club shit, and honestly, I stay out of that as much as I possibly can.
We drive and I notice that his brow is furrowed, showcasing the crease between his eyebrows. I love that crease, it’s sexy as shit, but it also means that he’s deep in thought. I wrap my hand around his thigh and give him a squeeze, letting him know that I’m here if he needs me.
Our relationship since my abduction and captivity has shifted. I no longer need to know everything that goes through his mind, and I don’t desire to tell him every thought I have either. I don’t know if that’s healthy or not, but it’s a new us.
We’ve fallen into a semblance of what we once were, but we’re nowhere near the same people, we will never be what we once were. I’m perfectly fine with that.
We pull into the clubhouse parking area and I quietly slip out of the passenger seat onto the rough rocky ground. Prescott is there just a second later, and I expect him to tug me toward the front doors, but he doesn’t. Instead, he presses his chest against me, and I take a few steps back until I’m resting my back against his pickup. I lift my chin to look into his eyes and I can tell that they’re etched with concern.
“Prescott?” I whisper.
He shakes his head once. Then lets out a breath. “I shouldn’t have brought you here, but I couldn’t leave you at home, not after your nightmare,” he murmurs.
“Why? What happened?” I ask.
He runs his fingers through his long hair. “Fuck,” he hisses. “They found a woman, and a child.”
My entire body stiffens. I know what he’s referring to. They found a Notorious Devils’ woman that had been kidnapped like me, by the Aryans. “Are they, are they okay?” I whisper.
His shoulders rise, then fall. “I don’t know yet. They were abandoned. Apparently one of the crews that was hunting the Aryans got a little too close and the men took off, leaving them behind. She doesn’t have an Old Man anymore, no clue why. The guys that found her are Nomads, they didn’t have anywhere to take them, to help them.”
“So, you’re taking them in?” I breathe.
He shrugs, but I know why he’s doing it. He’s not some knight, but he’s my knight and he’s doing it because he knows it’s what I would want him to do.
Lifting my arms, I wrap them around his neck, wishing I could reach some skin so that I could kiss him. He’s covered in a dark, thick, beard though and it’s impossible. Prescott lowers his chin and presses his lips to mine, knowing exactly what I need.
“They can stay in the trailer behind the bar. They’ll be safe there, and Crooner talked to her about working already. She said she’d be happy to as long as she found child care.”
I grin. “You’ve thought of it all.”
He shakes his head. “I haven’t even met her yet. Apparently, they found her six months ago, she’s just made her way here. You might not want her working in the bar,” he grunts.
“Let’s go meet her then,” I smile.
Prescott takes a step back, sliding his arm around my shoulders and together we walk toward the clubhouse. “We don’t know anything about her, peaches. Don’t become her BFF until I get some intel on her life before her kidnap. She could be bad news,” he grunts as we walk toward the front door.
“She could be a sweet girl, too,” I point out.
I can’t see, but I imagine him rolling his eyes as he lets out a snort. He always thinks the worst of people, and I think I used to be that way as well.
After being cooped up with dozens of women, all from different backgrounds, I see the good in people.
We are all survivors, and if she made it this long, and carried one of those asshole’s kids, and is raising it. Then to me, she’s already good people.
SNAKE
The last thing I want to do is drudge up nightmares for Ginger. However, I’m not sure they ever cease to exist for her, so I suppose it doesn’t really matter too much. I keep her tucked close to my side as we make our way toward the clubhouse doors.
I don’t know one hundred percent what waits on the other side, all I know is that it’s a female and a child—nothing more. The nomad that dropped her off is long gone, abandoning her at the entrance gate.
Walking into the main room, which is really just a bar, I’m surprised at how quiet it is inside. Usually, there is always a low hum of music, glasses or bottles clinking, and the sound of pool balls crashing together in the background.
Today, it’s completely quiet and when I look around, I realize why.
The girl standing in the middle of the room, is just that, a girl. She’s so young I don’t know that I even want to guess her age, and the bundle held tightly to her chest can’t be more than just a few months old. Why in the fuck did that piece of shit Nomad, just leave her here, how could he?
Ginger breaks away from me immediately, and I let her. It’s obvious this girl is scared shitless, and why wouldn’t she be? She’s surrounded by five bikers who are easily triple her size. I lift my chin to my men, tipping my head toward my office.
Turning around, I expect them to follow me. I leave Ginger to talk to this girl, they’ve both had similar experiences. I trust my woman to not only take care of the girl but to take care of herself as well. I leave my office door open, just in case though.
“How old is she?” I ask as soon as the four men enter my office.
Crooner runs his hand through his long hair before scrubbing it down his face and beard. “That was the first thing I asked her. You ain’t gonna like this, Pres,” he grumbles.
“Doesn’t matter if I like it,” I grunt.
He nods, glancing around the room before he speaks up. “She’s seventeen,” he grimaces.
The Aryans claimed to only have kidnapped Old Ladies, but there’s no way in shit this kid was some guys Old Lady. I slam my hand down on the desk in anger. “How in the fuck did this happen? Whose kid is she?” I demand.
Crooner shakes his head. “She wasn’t anybody’s kid, Pres,” he informs. “Nomad I talked to said she’s got a brand on her hip. She was an Old Lady, a teenage Old Lady, fuckin’ perverted,” he growls.
“We need to find out who she belongs to,” I murmur.
Crooner shakes his head. He knows more, but he needs to fucking tell me and tell me now. Impatiently, I wait for him to continue. He’s my man when it comes to info, but he’s pissing me off right now.
“I mentioned taking her back and she started to hyperventilate. She won’t talk. I got the road name on her hip, so I’ll find out who had her,
but brother, she was probably just a little girl…” he trails off.
“Which means she was abused. I get it, no need to explain,” I say, holding up my hand. That poor kid, going from one hell to another. “She’s got a place here, and protection. Her and the baby can set up behind the bar. Crooner, you’re in charge of showing her the ropes.”
“She’s not legal to work in a bar, and really, a bar?” he asks
I snort. “It’s either the bar or a whore in the club. Those are the only vacancies I got open for her to fill right now. Her age don’t matter, she doesn’t fucking exist. Free, get her some documentation, make her twenty-one or some shit,” I bark.
Free lifts his chin and walks out of the office. Motorhead, Crooner, and Fish stare at me. I’m not heartless, and there’s no way I’d have the girl as a whore, not after the hell she’s assuredly been through. However, she has to work, she cannot stay cooped up and scared her entire life. She needs to take control of her life, and going to work and having her own money is one way to do it.
“Fish, your Old Lady still have that daycare?” I ask.
He grins. “She does. Gracie would love to have a fuckin’ baby in her mits again. Maybe it’ll get her off my back about puttin’ another one inside of her for a while.”
It’s settled then. Crooner will help her out at the bar, Fish’s Old Lady will take care of the kid during her shifts, and she’ll have a place to live that’s safe. Then, we’ll worry about her Old Man and whatever that entails later.
Once my office is empty, I flop down in my chair, closing my eyes and leaning my head back. I can smell her enter the room without even taking a peek. She lowers onto my lap, and I shift her legs so that they’re draped across both of mine. I tug her back against my chest, holding her against me. Her hair tickles my nose, but I don’t mind, she’s here, she’s safe, and she’s mine.
“She’s only a girl, her name is Hayden.”
I wrap my arms around her and pull her in a little closer. “You get much more out of her?” I ask against the top of her head.
Laced with Fear (Cash Bar Book 1) Page 4
