That, he knew.
He knew, because I’d practically jumped his bones the minute I got home from work last night. He’d been sitting in the living room with Sienna, who still didn’t know about him but was becoming so attached to him that it wouldn’t be long before Tunnel would have no choice but to tell her. I’d given him one single look, and he’d followed me to the laundry room.
It was my routine, every night, to change out of my clothes into something that wasn’t coated in hospital cooties. But last night, Tunnel had followed me in, taken one good look at me, and had bent me over the washing machine. He then proceeded to fuck me, make me come, and he did all of that in under six minutes.
This morning, I’d woken him up well before dawn with my mouth. Then, an hour and a half ago, once I’d gotten back from dropping Sienna off at her Explorer camp, I’d forced him to take me again.
Now, here I was an hour and a half later, and I was already needy for him again.
And the moment he realized it was definitely a possibility that I was pregnant with his child, his eyes flared. “I remember when you were pregnant with Dee.”
My mouth curled.
“I have a feeling,” I said, rocking my hips when he crowded in close. “That this is going to be the same.”
He had no words.
Instead, his mouth dropped down to mine.
And then he kissed me.
Seven times.
Seven times.
The ground beneath me pitched, and I fell, straight into Tunnel’s arms.
He’d never let me fall, and he never had.
My breath hitched, and I stared up at him with tears in my eyes.
“I didn’t think I’d ever get that part of you back,” I whispered.
He curled his hand around my hair.
“I had to force myself to stop,” he said. “The urge to do it was still there, though, and it always has been.”
I bit my lip as tears started to fall down my cheeks in torrents.
At first, he tried to kiss them away, but when they became too much for him, he started to focus on my mouth.
Always in groups of seven.
Seven licks.
Seven sucks of my tongue.
Seven feather light kisses around my lips.
“Did I ever tell you that seven has always been my lucky number?” I teased him, trailing the tips of my fingers up his side.
“So how about seven kids?” he teased right back, sliding down to his knees in front of me.
My eyes widened.
“The number seven isn’t that lucky.” I latched onto his hair. “Oh, Tunnel.”
He placed seven kisses just below my navel, and I realized as a tear dropped down onto his head, that I’d never stopped crying.
The tear ran through his unruly locks. He was growing his hair out…for me.
When he’d finally made mention of my hair being way too short, telling me that I would be growing it out from now on, I’d also asked him to do the same for me. Which he said he would…to an extent.
Now I could actually get my fingers locked in it, and I loved it.
“I hope our baby has your curly hair,” I whispered down at my husband.
He looked up, and those olive green eyes caught on mine, making my breath hitch with all the emotion that was shining out of them.
“I hope it’s a boy.”
I grinned.
“You’re destined to have all girls, Tun,” I told him. “They’re going to make your life a living hell, and you’re going to enjoy every second of them doing it.”
He shook his head, but we both knew it was true. If we had another girl, she would have him wrapped around her little finger just as easily as Sienna did from the moment of her birth.
“I’m already late for my meeting, so, I’m going to make love to you for the rest of the time I have left,” he declared, unbuttoning my jeans.
I grinned and stepped out of them, one foot at a time.
When my panties soon followed, following the same steps as the pants, he stopped and rested my foot against his shoulder.
Then leaned forward until his mouth was only a few scant inches away from my pubic bone.
“I have to taste you first,” he growled.
And he did moments later, spreading the lips of my sex wide with his fingers and leaning forward to trail his tongue down the seam of my sex.
I shuddered and reached for his hair to keep me steady, liking that I now had something to hold on to.
“Y-y-you taste better, too,” he growled, then went in for another lick.
I wanted to cry out when I heard that stutter. That was the stutter that made me fall irrevocably in love with him.
And another. And another. Until he reached the number seven.
That was how I came, hard, on his face. He had one arm curled around my left thigh, pulling my sex apart, while his tongue did all the work.
The moment I came, he growled into my pussy, and I seriously saw stars.
There wasn’t much that this man could do to me that he hadn’t already done, but every time he ground his face into me, and his beard would touch delicate places that had never felt a full beard before, I realized that I would beg him to keep it forever.
It was amazing.
The sensations that it left me with, some sweet, others a burn, caused me to realize that I would seriously freak out if he ever contemplated shaving it.
My body, wrung out from his ministrations, slid limply down the wall. My foot stayed where it was on top of his shoulder, meaning that my leg was straight up in the air despite my new position.
“I kind of like this,” he said, trailing one lone finger through the trail of wetness he’d left behind.
I shivered.
“You’d have your face touching the wall right now if you took me this way,” I panted. “And,” I glanced at the clock. “You have less than ten minutes until you need to go. So either you hurry, or you go without.”
He grinned, and then I found myself flying through the air. His hands on my hips lifted me up high, and he stood to his full height as he carried me like I weighed no more than a small child straight to the bed. He laid me down, following my progression with his own body, fitting the seam of his jeans against my wet core.
“You’ll get yourself messy,” I told him, uncaring.
He shrugged.
“Maybe,” he said. “But honestly, having your pussy juices drying over the jeans that cover my cock doesn’t bother me nearly as much as I thought it would.”
I licked my suddenly dry lips.
“You could just put your cock in me,” I told him. “And save your pants.”
His grin was contagious as he lifted up and pushed both his jeans and underwear down to just about knee level.
His shirt shortly followed.
When he came back, I realized that his hand had a large black gun in it, which he put on top of the pillow next to my face.
“That’s so romantic,” I teased.
Though I knew my man. He wouldn’t be without it. If he didn’t have that deadly piece of hardware on him, he had it next to him.
When we were sleeping, he had it in the floor safe next to the bed. When we were in the car for a long ride, he had it under the steering wheel—even though according to him that was illegal for the everyday citizen. If we were out and about, and he was wearing anything except sweat pants, that gun was on his person.
And I couldn’t find it in me to care. Not even when it dug into me uncomfortably or was placed next to my face.
Mostly because in a few seconds, I wouldn’t care where it was.
Nope, not one bit.
Especially when he took his hard length into his hand and started to pump it against my clit. Each tug of his hand had his cock head bumping into my clit, and I was squirming as I tried to get closer to him.
He had a fist planted in the bed nex
t to my shoulder, and his muscles bulged as he leaned over me and masturbated against me.
“Tunnel Morrison, if you don’t fucking take me, I’m going to take you!” I growled.
His lips quirked up into a grin.
“Oh, yeah?” he asked arrogantly. “What makes you think you could do anything to me that I didn’t want you to do?”
My lips quirked up into a confident smile.
“I could cry,” I said.
His eyes narrowed. “You wouldn’t.”
He continued to pump his cock, and it was now a ruddy red that looked angry that it wasn’t getting what it wanted. A bead of pre-come slid out of the slit at the tip, rolling down the rounded head of his cock to where his hand was fisted around himself.
My mouth watered to lick that drop off, but I stayed where I was.
“Watch me,” I growled.
Then tears started to well in my eyes.
Because I wasn’t joking. If he didn’t get inside of me soon, I very well might break down in a crying fit to end all crying fits. I’d already cried not once, not twice, but three times this morning, and it was only nine in the morning. I’d been up for a total of three hours.
I’d cried when I watched Sienna walk into her Explorer camp. Again, when I read a cute meme on Facebook, and finally when I told Tunnel about the baby.
So yes, crying was not out of the realm of possibility.
And he knew it because he read it easily in my eyes.
Did the fucker put his dick inside of me? Fuck no. He pulled me up by my arm and brought my head to his cock, and then proceeded to feed his length into my willing mouth.
Not what I wanted, no, but definitely something I didn’t mind doing.
I loved Tunnel’s cock. I always had and always would. I was loyal to it, which was why I’d never, not ever, trade it for anything. If I couldn’t have this beautiful piece of him, then I didn’t want another.
Which was why I showed it the attention it deserved, just like every time he allowed me to do this.
Normally, we were both too worked up for anything but fast and hard or slow and easy. Though he’d imbibed on me multiple times since he’d come back into my life, by the time he was done giving me pleasure, he was too far gone to allow me the same courtesy.
So when he did allow me to have at him, I grasped the bull by the horns, or the man by the balls, so to speak.
The moment he came into contact with my tongue, I felt his cock jump.
When my small hands met the skin of his balls, I heard him groan.
“Jesus Christ Almighty,” he growled, his hand going to my hair.
“Fuck, I wish your hair was longer like it used to be.” He fisted what he could, pulling me, urging me further onto him.
I tried to take all of him, and I was able to do that at one point in time, but I’d gotten rusty.
Tunnel was a big man, and I had a small mouth. The act of taking him into my throat would take a lot of patience and practice.
The former, Tunnel didn’t have a lot of, and the latter, I didn’t have the opportunity to give him.
At least not yet, anyway.
Because the moment my tongue swirled around the head of his cock, then worked its way down the length of him, he roughly pulled me off of him and pushed me flat on my back.
I jolted, my sensitive breasts bouncing, and gasped when I was filled up with him moments later.
He didn’t stop until the curly hairs surrounding his cock brushed my bare lips.
“Oh, God,” I breathed out, shifting my hips in hopes that I could take even more of him. Which I impossibly did.
“You’re like a dream that continues to come true,” he growled against my lips.
I arched up into him, dragging my breasts against his chest, playing my nipples along the coarse hair that decorated that muscled part of his body. Granted the hair was sporadic due to the scarring, but it was there.
“You make my control non-existent,” he rasped, carefully thrusting inside of me now, dragging the fat tip of his cock against that special place inside of me that almost always sent me over the edge.
But it was the way his eyes stayed on mine that caused me to detonate. The way he watched me. The way he practically willed me to feel each and every stroke of his cock. The way it dragged deliciously along the snug walls of my sex. The way, with both of us so wet, that we slid together easily.
Then he lifted my legs and brought them up around my ears, changing the angle, and I realized that he wasn’t playing fair anymore.
He was on the edge, right along with me, and there was no way to stop from falling.
So, I let go.
I came, and I came hard.
So hard, in fact, that I ran out of breath to scream.
His grunt of completion above me was lost on me, and I didn’t even realize he’d come to a stop until long seconds later when I opened my eyes that I hadn’t even realized I had closed.
The first thing I saw were those olive green eyes staring at me intently.
“I fucking love y-y-you,” he rasped.
What did I say to that?
“I love you, too.” Then I started to sob.
Chapter 23
Once upon a time there was a twat. It was you. The end.
-Meme
Ghost
All the Dixie Wardens attended this meeting. And not just the Alabama Chapter, but the Benton Chapter, too.
This was the first time the Benton Chapter had seen me in the light of day.
A few weeks back, I’d come face to face with Sebastian for the first time since Ghost had become the new me.
Silas had been doing a great job of keeping my existence a secret, but that night, Sebastian had learned that I wasn’t dead.
Lucky for me, he’d gotten all the way home, six hours away, before he’d decided that my face needed to meet with his fist.
But as I looked at him across the table from me, I realized that his anger hadn’t lessened in all of that time.
In fact, if I was a guessing man, I’d say it’d gotten worse.
The rest of the men hadn’t realized who I was yet.
That, I could tell.
Otherwise they would all be up in arms, collectively and individually trying to beat the shit out of me.
It was the face.
Not to mention I’d put on about thirty pounds in muscle since they’d last seen me. Oh, and let’s not forget to mention that they all thought that I was dead.
I was no longer that naïve twenty-one-year-old kid. I was now a grown ass man who had the last six years of his life ripped away from him in the most savage way possible. I’d been tortured for a year of it, and the next five were spent living as half a man. I’d survived only on the promise of one day having revenge while I watched everyone else live their lives around me.
“What are we even doing here?” asked Torren. “My wife wasn’t happy about the short notice. We had to bow out of a dentist appointment for the kids because I couldn’t be there to help take them.”
Sterling looked at him like he was crazy. “You had to bow out of a dentist appointment?” he jeered. “Poor baby. I had to bow out of a fucking practice. They fined me eighteen thousand dollars.”
Sterling was a professional baseball player. Ever since he’d made it to the major leagues, he’d been on a hot streak, and I loved to watch him on TV. I’d been so fuckin’ proud of him, too. I’d always wanted to tell him that.
“You can afford it,” Kettle rumbled. “I had to call in sick.”
Sebastian grunted. “Me, too. It worked out because I threw up on our last shift.”
He did look a little green.
“Don’t you fuckin’ give that shit to us, either,” Kettle grumbled. “I do not want to take that shit home. If I catch it, then that means Adeline will catch it. Then the fucking kids will. Then they’ll give it right back to me once it’s all over and done with
. I do not want to deal with throw up.”
I chuckled under my breath, drawing the attention of the one man who’d been eyeing me all night, besides Sebastian, who knew exactly who I was.
He was practically quivering in his seat, staring at me surreptitiously every chance he got.
I knew he was dying to talk to me. The only thing that’d kept him in check was Silas, and since he was in the hallway talking to Lynn, I knew that it was only a matter of time before he broke.
I looked away from Cleo’s penetrating gaze.
Though my face was different, the structure of it was not. I had scars now where I didn’t before, and my entire face looked like it’d been pieced back together after the fire.
The only real things that were left unchanged about my face were the color of my eyes and the shape of my mouth.
Everything else was different.
My pieced-back-together face, like Frankenstein’s, was hard to look at sometimes. I was no longer that same handsome man that my wife had fallen for, and it made it hard for me to understand what my wife saw in me. She’d never once commented on the change, she just traced her fingers along my scars as if she was committing each and every one to memory.
“God, I’m fucking starving.”
That was Truth.
I looked over at where he was sitting next to me. “Do you want me to order you a pizza, Truth?”
Truth tapped his lip. “Can we?”
I shrugged. “I don’t see why not.”
“Pizza doesn’t deliver here,” Trance, another member, said. His eyes were shrewd, and now they were on me, too. “We’re too far out of the city limits.”
I swallowed worriedly, turning my gaze away before he could read too much into my expression.
Jesus, this was about to get sticky.
I knew these men were going to be happy that I was alive, but I’d also let them think the unthinkable—that I was dead.
And it was going to go over like a cat turd in a sand box.
I kept my mouth shut after that, but the next ten minutes I could feel the tension rising in the room.
I’d stayed out of the limelight since I’d become a Dixie Warden. When there were club-wide celebrations each year, I’d skipped them. When there was any chance at all that I might see them, I purposefully went the other way.
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