CRASH: An Evil Dead MC Story (The Outlaw Series)

by James, Nicole

  EPILOGUE

  Shannon…

  Crash always has a way of seeing right through all my bullshit. Nothing gets past him. Not in life in general, and particularly not with me and his awareness of my emotions. The way he can urge me to talk about something, even when talking about it is the last thing I want to do, reveals he is one hundred percent aware of my feelings. He always knows when there’s something I’m holding in, and he just innately knows to force it out in the open, so we can deal with it.

  I remember the day Crash pulled me in front of the mirror and said, “Look at us, babe. Do we make sense to you?” At the time he was talking about my outfit, but in reality I’m sure that is the way the rest of the world looks at us. On the outside, maybe we don’t make sense. In many ways we are opposites. Still, we seemed to click and somehow, it works. And we make sense to us, and really, that’s all that matters.

  One night as we lay in bed, he asked me what I thought made us compatible, why I thought we worked. So, I told him some of the qualities that attracted me to him.

  “Under all that badass biker, there’s tenderness,” I told him. “I know that’s not something you show the world in general. Maybe you’ve only shown it to me, but I’ve seen it, and I know it’s there. You’re really sweet and protective.”

  “Protective, yeah, babe. But sweet? Not sure I like being called sweet.”

  “You have a good heart, Crash. And even with all the teasing and ribbing and pushing, you’re always there for me in all the ways that count. And when you touch me, you have this gentle way about you.”

  A slow grin pulled at his mouth upon hearing my words. But of course, in total Crash style, he pushed for more. “How about sexy?”

  I grinned. “Definitely sexy, and you’re very perceptive.”

  His brow shot up as if I’d called him effeminate or unmanly. “Perceptive?”

  “You always pick up on how I’m feeling. Sometimes you know what’s bothering me before I do. You cut through all the bullshit straight to the heart of the problem and make me bring it out and face it.”

  I’ll be the first to admit, not always a pleasant experience, but always necessary and always therapeutic. Whatever it is, he lets me get it out and gives me time and space to deal with it. And I know, even when he backs away to give me that time and space, that he is always, always there for me to lean on when I need him.

  Crash…

  There was a special meeting called for the Thursday before our wedding. We never had church on a Thursday, but since most of the club was going to be attending our wedding, I figured they wanted to get it out of the way before we all left town. With the meeting winding up, Mack said there was just one more item on the agenda.

  When he didn’t continue I looked over at him. He looked at me. Suddenly, his serious expression gave way to a shit-eating grin.

  With that, the rest of the club bum-rushed me.

  I hit the floor a second later. They cuffed me to a chair, and thus began my bachelor party.

  From every member, I had to take a punch, and then I had to take a shot of Jack.

  They got me pretty wasted before they stripped my down. Then they called in the strippers. What seemed like every one of Sonny’s girls came in the room one at a time and gave me a lap dance, poured a shot down my throat, and then to top it off, each one of them wrote their name and number on my body with permanent marker. Just the kind of body art you want for your honeymoon. At some point, I passed out.

  Finally they took me out, still cuffed to the chair.

  All I remember from the rest of the night is being lifted up a bunch of stairs. There must have been a few club hanger-ons and spectators, because they were hooting and hollering as the boys carried me up. They took me to Cole’s room, where I was left to sleep it off, still cuffed to the chair.

  Shannon washed off most of the names and numbers when I saw her the next day, of course she had to scrub my skin raw to get the permanent ink off, but I gritted my teeth and smiled through it, not about to utter a single complaint at her less-than-tender ministrations.

  By the ceremony on Saturday, the bruising on my face had faded from an ugly purple and black to an equally gruesome yellow. My fat lip had diminished, and my puffy swollen left eye had gone down enough that I could finally see out of more than the slit it had been. Maybe my marked-up body and beat-up face wasn’t the stuff dream weddings were made of, but my bride took it all in stride, smiling up at my busted-up mug as the minister pronounced us husband and wife.

  Now it was our wedding night. We were in the hotel in Reno, where Shannon had first proposed to me. I felt it only right to bring her back here for the wedding. I walked over to the window and could see the lit up outdoor pool below, where most of our guests were still partying on after our departure, the water glowing aqua-blue from the underwater lights.

  I pulled my tie off and twisted to see Shannon kicking her shoes off and diving into the gifts that were piled in our room. “Baby, leave that for later. I didn’t bring you up to our room to open gifts. That’s not what I want to do on our wedding night.” I unbuttoned my shirt and pulled it off, tossing it aside.

  “Just one, sweetheart, please?” she begged, sticking her sweet lower lip out. Christ she could play me like a fiddle. She was quickly learning I couldn’t say no to her.

  “All right, Princess, you can open one. Just one. Then your husband wants your undivided attention for the rest of the night.”

  “You got it, sweetie.” She patted the floor next to her. “Come here.”

  I walked over and stood behind her, not about to sit curled up on the floor like she was. My hands began unpinning her hair as she sorted through the packages.

  “I don’t know which one to choose.”

  “Just pick one, babe, or I’m changing my mind.” I began unhooking the back of her dress.

  She picked up a large flat one that was leaning against the pile. There was a card taped to the front of it. She pulled it free and tore it open, reading it aloud.

  You’re a talented photographer, Shannon, but this picture I took with my cell phone will always be my favorite of you and Crash. If you look closely, you can see the smile on your face.

  Best wishes, Angel and Cole.

  She passed the card to me and ripped open the wrapping. It was a large 16x20 matted and framed black and white photograph. It was a shot of me walking away, my back to the camera. Obviously taken outside the clubhouse. Bikes in a line just out of focus. And there, slung over my shoulder was Shannon hanging upside down along the length of the back of my cut, her blonde hair trailing down. Her head was turned just enough that just visible was the huge smile on her face.

  The caption at the bottom read: My Prince.

  I grinned, remembering that day. It was a good shot. It was a good memory. I imagined I knew exactly where Shannon was going to hang it, but before I could get the words out of my mouth, she confirmed it. Holding it out at arm’s length and smiling with her eyes on the picture, she declared, “This is going over our bed.”

  I grinned. Yeah, I knew my girl.

  I took the picture out of her hands and set it aside. Then I scooped her up and tossed her over my shoulder, just like in the picture.

  “Crash!”

  “Come on, Princess.” I carted her to the bed and dropped her on it. I stood at the end of the bed, and our eyes held as I undid my pants, letting them drop. Grabbing the hem of her dress, I yanked the gown down and free of her body, tossing it aside. She was naked underneath, the one request I’d made of her outfit today. ‘Don’t care what kind of dress you wear, babe,’ I’d told her, ‘as long as there’s nothin’ on underneath it.’ My eyes trailed over her gorgeous body, stopping on the pierced navel, and then stopping again on the ink I’d marked her belly with. I leaned down, one hand in the bed, the other trailing lightly over the tattoo. My fingers tracing the rose. “This is you, baby.” They moved to the barbed wire wrapped around it. “This is me protecting you,”
I repeated the words I’d said to her so long ago. I smiled down at her, saw her eyes glaze, and then I came down on top of her.

  She cupped my face. “Love you, baby.”

  “Back atcha, baby.”

  Shannon…

  I kissed Crash, and then I pushed him over onto his back and rose above him. “My turn.”

  I pressed my face to his gorgeous chest, nuzzling my nose to his skin and pressing my open mouth softly against him. His left hand came up, fingers threading through my hair, pulling me closer, holding me to him. I slid lower, my mouth following the trail of hair, down. Down. Pressing kisses as I went. His hand left my head and settled palm down on his abs. I took note of the platinum wedding band on his finger. God, I loved seeing it there. Possessiveness filled me as I resumed my exploration of his gorgeous body. My tongue dipped into his navel and his cock throbbed, bobbing by my face. I looked up at him as my mouth trailed down pressing soft kisses. What I saw in his eyes as they looked back at me was pure hunger.

  “Babe, you’re killin’ me.” His hips lifted involuntarily, his cock begging for my touch. I slid my palm up along his thigh. Up. Up and finally closing over him. Still watching him, I saw his right hand fist in the comforter, fingers curling. I licked and teased the crown as his hips lifted again. “Fuck, Shannon, take it,” he growled.

  My mouth sank down on him, and he groaned. I teased and tormented him until I felt him building with each surge up of his hips. When I felt him drawing closer and closer to his limit, his hands were suddenly sliding under my armpits, and I was yanked up. I landed on my back as he surged up over me. As I looked up at him, what I saw was all hot, needy two hundred pounds of aggressive, dominant male.

  He grabbed my right wrist and pinned it down on the mattress near my head. Then he grabbed my left wrist and pinned it against the bed on the other side. He loomed over me, his eyes hot with need. “Want that pussy. You gonna give it to me?”

  I nodded. “Yes, yes.”

  “You wet and ready for me, baby?”

  “Yes. Please, Crash.”

  He plunged into me, and I gasped. I watched his face. Our eyes held each other’s as he thrust. I wanted to keep the connection with his eyes, but I couldn’t help myself. My gaze broke and trailed down over him. There was just too much beautiful male to look at. I took it all in, his beautiful chest, his shoulders, his abs, all flexing and moving as he thrust above me. It wasn’t long before a sheen of sweat formed on his skin. I arched up, my hips meeting him thrust for thrust. His strokes were long and deep. I began to writhe and moan, undulating below him. “Crash, please.”

  He knew what I wanted. He always knew what I wanted. His right hand released my wrist, and his hand slid between us. His thumb stroked over me, and my back arched, my head going back. He kept at it, over and over, stroking as he continued to plunge inside me. It didn’t take long before I was right there with him, my legs wrapping around him, urging him on.

  His head dipped to my throat, his mouth latching on and sucking. Hard. I soared toward the peak. I was right there. Right there. His mouth broke from my throat, and then it was at my ear, his breathing heavy as he panted, “Come with me, Shannon. Come with me, now.”

  And I did. I crashed over the edge, moaning, my thighs tightening around him, and my whole body shuddered. I felt him thrust two more times before he rammed hard and went solid and followed me over the edge. He groaned and made several slower strokes, and then collapsed on top of me. My arms went around him, one hand sliding up his neck, fingers threading up into his hair. The other trailing down, over his spine, the small of his back, to his ass. I pulled him against me and heard his moan next to my ear. I felt him begin to lift off me, but held him tight. “No. Stay.”

  “Babe, don’t want to crush you.”

  “You aren’t. I like it. Your weight on me.” I heard him chuckle in my ear.

  “Good. I like you under me.” His left hand slid up along my ribs, his bicep flexing as his hand closed over my breast and squeezed. “All silky skin and soft curves.” His torso twisted, and his head lowered, his mouth closing over my nipple as his hand pushed my breast up to meet his mouth.

  My legs were still shaking and trembling with the aftermath of my orgasm, and his tug at my nipple sent another surge through me. His head lifted, and his hand slid down to my thigh, feeling the tremors. “You’re shaking.” He frowned down at me.

  I nodded and grinned. He grinned back, and his eyes held mine as he lowered his head, and his mouth latched onto my nipple. Again he tugged, hard. My back arched in reaction, and I felt his dick growing hard inside me again. He released me and grinned, asking, “Ready for round two, Princess?”

  I nodded as his mouth came up and found mine. After a long deep kiss, he pulled back and murmured against my lips, “I love you, Shannon.”

  “I love you, too, baby.”

  He smiled down at me. “This is the start of us.”

  I smiled back. It was. And it was a really good start.

  Crash…

  I’ll be the first to admit it wasn’t love at first sight. Lust? Hell, yeah. No doubt about it, but not love. Maybe not even like, but she changed all that.

  As I grew to see the real Shannon, the girl with the soft heart, the naïve, neurotic, vulnerable girl, the girl that no doubt about it can make me laugh more than any woman I’ve ever known. Yeah, then it grew to love. A love so strong sometimes I think I might not survive it. And that’s okay. I’ll take whatever the good Lord gives me; however many years that may be.

  And in the end, I hope to God I go first, because I know I can’t live without her. I wouldn’t survive the loss.

  But enough of those dark thoughts, this is a happy day. I’ve got my baby, my princess, and I’m never letting her go.

  THE END

  P.S.

  Shannon…

  Crash still has his days of melancholy. Sometimes I’ll find him sitting up on the roof staring at the horizon, and I can tell he’s still grieving. And that’s okay. I know it will take time for the pain to fade.

  I come up behind him and put my hands on his shoulders to let him know without words that I am here for him.

  And he reaches up and touches my hand communicating back to me just as silently that he knows.

  He knows.

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