Everything should have gone smoothly on the ride home. It wasn’t that long a drive. But Lady Luck was not on my side, and I suffered three traffic jams, a mysteriously dry tank, and my phone dying. My sister had also tuned to a metal station that racked my nerves, creating the most disastrous drive in the history of mankind.
When I finally pulled into my driveway, it was already getting dark, and I realized I’d been holding my breath for the last few minutes. Georgie, on the other hand, looked cheerful and fresh as a daisy. She jumped out and went to the back, still humming the last grinding excuse for music that had shaken my car. I turned off the radio and chanced getting out myself.
“Killjoy!” she accused, blowing a bubble with the gum she chewed.
“How? Where? The gum…”
She shrugged. “Found it in our car.”
“When? I was right next to you!” I was more puzzled than the situation called for, and the expression on Georgie’s face told me she thought I might be high or something. I realized how edgy I’d gotten and the roiling in the pit of my stomach turned into a fit of laughter.
Georgie laughed, too, and before I could breathe, she had already unloaded the luggage. “Aren’t you inviting your sister inside?” I heard Ginger at the front door.
I turned to Georgie, whose face lit up. “Oh, my God! You must be the daughter. I. Love. You!” She ran over, picked Ginger up, and spun her around like they were old friends.
Dawson peered around the doorframe, and I held up my hands in surrender. I felt powerless, standing there in the middle of Georgie’s luggage. Everyone seemed awfully cheerful, Dawson chuckling as he magically collected all the bags in one load, depositing them directly in the guest room. My sister was getting acquainted with my kitchen and its contents and took a Ginger-led tour. I seemed to be the only one feeling completely exhausted.
“Oh, my God! Have you seen this cranberry sauce, Mari?” Georgie called.
“How could I?” I mumbled just before Dawson swept me off my feet, literally.
“Why the Grinch face, baby?” he asked quietly, carrying me across the living room.
I sighed. “The Grinch is a Christmas character, baby.”
“So? I’m unconventional.” He set me down before stepping into the kitchen, and I pulled his head down into a kiss, needing his taste like it was medicine. He understood, hugging me tightly, and I felt the tension of the day seeping out of me.
“I need to shower, baby. How’s dinner coming?”
“Perfectly. Don’t worry about a thing. The table will be set before you get back.”
“I love you,” I whispered, tears of gratitude threatening to spill at any second. He kissed both eyes, caressed my hair, all in a silent response.
“I need to take a shower. Ooh, kissy time!” My sister ruined the moment.
“I love you, too,” Dawson whispered in my ear before pulling back and grinning.
“Get a room!” Georgie shouted, but I stopped her, indicating the guest bathroom. “Okay. Be good until I get back!” She disappeared into the hallway, and I followed shortly. “Did you know he cooks? He made apple pies!” I heard my sister call as she turned on the water in her bathroom.
“That was supposed to be a surprise!” Dawson answered loudly from the kitchen.
“This is a madhouse!” I yelled before turning my own shower.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
I stretched and slid under the sheets, resting my head on Dawson’s chest as I settled in.
“What a day!” he sighed, settling his hand on my hair.
I giggled, recalling the events, including my several freak outs. Everything miraculously culminated in a quiet dinner, my sister not even making any stupid or wild comments. “Yeah. All’s well that ends well, right? Isn’t that the saying?”
He grunted. “Something like that.” His phone buzzed on the nightstand, and he reached for it with another, less cordial grunt. I gazed up at him and saw a deep frown knitting his brows.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Nothing, baby. Just…work stuff.” He put the phone away and turned to me, closing his eyes. I wanted to ask him more – he always avoided talking about business with the Valves, and I felt like an outsider, naïve to things that heavily concerned me. He must’ve noticed my displeasure because he started running his fingertips gently over my back. “Don’t worry, baby. It’s really nothing.” Before I could say more, his hand slipped into my pajama pants and cupped my ass. “God, you have a perfect ass,” he whispered, bringing his other hand around to play with it.
I giggled softly and knew I was blushing. “Ooh,” I squeaked as his fingers ventured farther, between my legs, touching my pussy from behind.
“Mmm,” he moaned, caressing my folds.
I fisted his t-shirt in my hand and searched for his lips. He leaned in, and I plunged my tongue into his mouth, taking control. He caught my rhythm and kissed me back, tasting of my mouth slowly as his fingers pushed inside me, exploring my core. My body warmed, and I lifted one leg over his hips, grinding my pelvis against his. He noticed as I attempted to remove his shirt and helped. I lay on him now, my body flush against his, kissing his neck as he fingered me.
“Fuck, baby, you’re so wet!” he breathed in my ear, sending a shiver down my spine.
I moaned, unable to articulate any words. I didn’t need them anyway. He pulled his fingers out, and I whimpered.
But he chuckled and assured me, “Oh, no, don’t worry. I’m going to fuck you now, baby.”
“Weren’t you just doing that?” I teased.
“Oh, no. Not a finger bang. I mean a proper fuck. With my cock and all.” He flipped us, and I laughed throatily. “You’ll see.”
I spread my legs, welcoming his entry.
He took a second to rid himself of his pants and my bottoms, and then he bent to kiss my mound. “How’s that, baby?” he asked, lifting his eyes to find mine.
“How’s what?” I joked.
“Oh, is that how it’s going to be?”
“How am I being? Oh, fuck! Dawson!” His tongue pushed inside me, and I nearly flew off the bed as it sucked the air from my lungs. I grabbed his hair, maneuvering him gently, my body shaking too hard for me to have any real strength. He did all the things he knew would bring me to the edge, and I was blessedly powerless under his worship. He teased my clit with his teeth, and I let out a short scream.
“Shh,” he whispered, coming back to my lips. “We don’t want to wake Ginger. Or Georgie. Do we?”
“Sorry,” I mouthed, breathless. But my apology was lost as he gave me no time to recover, plunging his cock into me. I bit my lip to hold back a scream.
“Oh, baby, you’re so tight, and wet. Perfect,” he managed between grunts as he thrust into me, finding a rhythm.
I lifted my hips to him, clenching bed sheets and shutting my eyes in an attempt to control my sounds of pleasure. His thick cock always rendered me incapable of controlling my noises, often animalistic. Tonight was no different. I loved the way he stretched me, gently at first, then faster and harder, like he knew exactly when to change his speed or rhythm.
He saw my struggle to hold on and grabbed my hips, holding me up with my legs spread wide. It changed the angle, and he rammed into me, harder and deeper. I instantly struggled for air. “Fuck, Dawson! Oh, fuck!” I couldn’t shut up. He watched me with a grin, swaying his hips and purposely making me scream again.
I bit my lip harder, squeezed my eyes closed, wanting nothing more than to scream my ecstasy to the world. He fucked me hard, with blinding speed, holding me so he could get as deep as my body allowed his cock to go. My focus on mot making noise took away some of the passion, and he placed my hips back on the bed. He leaned on his elbows and kissed my tightly pressed lips, moving slowly and sensually inside me.
“It’s okay, baby,” he reassured me, pulling back a bit and finding a new strategy. Pushing in partially, he angled his cock upward and moved gently in a steady rhythm. He focus
ed on my G spot with expertise, and I filled with so much pleasure I thought I might cry.
“Please, stop…” I tried, concerned I couldn’t take much of this. “Oh, God, Dawson!” I moaned. My knees quivered, the ripples in my core growing stronger with each thrust. He kept the same tactic until I fell over the edge, my muscles contracting beneath him, my throat closed to any sound that tried to escape.
“That’s right, baby. Come for me,” he whispered, his hot breath on my skin.
That did it. My orgasm rolled over me with spectacular force, taking over so I stiffened around him, tears of absolute pleasure rolling down the sides of my face. I didn’t realize until the height of the orgasm subsided I was biting his shoulder, and I released his skin, fearing I’d hurt him.
“It’s all right, baby,” he assured me, pushing his cock deep, all the way to his hilt. I gasped, and he grinned, speeding up again and hitting my core hard. He pushed me toward the headboard, and I grabbed onto him to steady myself against. He took it up another notch, and I felt his body harden above me as he pushed in deep one last time. He breathed heavily on my neck as he came, holding me tight as I held him, too. “God, you’re perfect, baby,” he whispered, relaxing and pressing me into the mattress with his weight.
“I love you,” I replied, kissing his cheek. I let my legs fall on either side of him and reached to caress his hair, lovingly and protectively. The last thing I knew before I slipped into slumber was his even breathing warming my neck and enveloping me with the scent of peppermint.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” I cried in frustration. My garbage disposal had broken in the middle of my attempt at a Turkish recipe. ‘Never put potato peels in the garbage disposal, Mari,” I reprimanded myself.
Thanksgiving had put me in a good place. I caught up with my sister and her crazy life. Dawson warmed up to me more than ever. Ginger got in the habit of calling me ‘Mommy’. The drive back to the airport was without event. Even the weather seemed perfect.
I growled at myself, muttering as I looked for my plumber’s number. “I just had to put the peels in the disposal. Couldn’t throw them in the trash like a normal person. Just like me to ruin a perfectly good day. That’s what I do best.”
The old man picked up on the first ring, and he greeted me with, “Mari! What a surprise!” I could picture him smirking.
“Yeah, Mr. Nolan. A surprise, indeed,” I replied sarcastically. It was our inside joke. He pretended I didn’t break something every few weeks, and I followed his lead.
“So, what’s the problem today?” he asked.
“My garbage disposal. I…”
“Threw potato peels in it again, didn’t you?” he finished for me.
“Yes,” I said in a small voice. I looked down, ashamed of myself. No matter how many times that man warned me, I still forgot and made the same mistake. Good thing he was such a patient man. Of course, I paid him well for his services, too.
Mr. Nolan didn’t require long explanations, and I sighed, putting the phone away. What would I do now? I glanced at the counter and saw I had all I needed to continue my experiment. Somewhat relieved, I turned on the oven and set the temperature. In ten minutes, the dish was layered for baking, and I checked the oven temperature. It needed about five more minutes, so I decided to do my check up on the fridge.
“I should drink more milk,” I told myself, grabbing yet another expired carton.
“Maybe you should have breakfast more often.” I jumped and spun at Dawson’s unexpected intervention, warming instantly. I welcomed him with a big smile, and he returned it with his devastating crooked one, his tall body leaning in the doorframe with his arms crossed over his broad chest. The picture was completed perfectly by the fact he still wore his black riding gear. Heart. Melting.
“You think?” I asked, not really caring for an answer.
He nodded. “You barely eat anything before lunch. That has to be unhealthy.” He wrapped his arms around my shoulders, and I melted into the embrace. I hadn’t seen him much the last couple of days, and it felt wonderful to be surrounded by his scent again. I couldn’t stop smiling as I pressed my cheek to his chest. “How have you been?” he asked.
“Fine. Mostly at school or here. What about you?” I reluctantly put some distance between us to look into his eyes.
“Same, working a lot.”
I frowned. “What about…” I was afraid to utter the words.
He shook his head and tried to pull me closer again, but I resisted, catching a shadow that passed over his face. I wanted to know why. I wanted to be his rock, and his reluctance to talk about the Valves only made me more concerned, even if I knew his intentions were good.
“Tell me, Dawson. I promised I would help with anything,” I pressed. He let go and looked away. “Let me make some coffee, and we’ll talk,” I suggested, though I kept my tone strong. I made it a suggestion that couldn’t be denied. Then I gasped. “Oh! My moussaka!” I ran and slid it in the oven, set the timer, and fumbled with the French press, trying to ignore my trembling hands. What could it be? I dreaded the worst when it came to them.
“Don’t worry, baby. I’m trying my best to put a plan into action.”
“I don’t care about that!” I exploded, hurt by his words. His eyes widened with surprise. He didn’t expect such a strong reaction. But I was tired of being shut out. “I don’t care about the reassurances that everything will be all right. I want to know that it already is. I want to help you deal with all of it. Talk to me, Dawson!” I shocked myself, not realizing just how much pain had built up in me.
He hung his head, shaking it. “It’s not pretty. It never has been, baby. You are my way of dealing. With everything.”
“You need to talk. I can help, even just listening. To your concerns, fears. All of it. You say I am, but I feel like you’re using me the wrong way.”
“I am?” he smirked.
It irritated me to smile, and anger rose in my gut. I hated him for changing the subject, trying to distract me. “I’m serious, Dawson. I should know what’s happening to you so I know what to expect.”
“Why?” he challenged. “I’ll always come to see you, always keep you and Ginger safe. What else is there to talk about?”
I couldn’t settle my anger, wanted to shout and cry. But I couldn’t. He wasn’t doing anything wrong, like trying to hide his connection to the Valves anymore. But I still felt he kept me on the fringes, still had something hidden, and that prospect filled me with dread. There was a struggle inside me, wrapped in a thick layer of frustration. I couldn’t find the words to make him see I was right, too, that I needed to be involved in his fight. And that he needed all the support he could get, deserved it.
I stepped to the window, grabbing the sill as I did every time something proved too much to handle. My body tensed, and my knuckles turned white as my grip tightened – my way of mustering up every shred of strength to keep my tears at bay. I even held my breath, afraid exhaling would cause me to burst into uncontrollable sobs. I counted, to ten, then twenty, and beyond, fighting to steady my breathing, and I managed to release my hold on the window sill. It wasn’t time to throw fits. I needed a clear head. But I couldn’t turn and face him yet.
“I know you’re protecting us, Dawson. And I trust you implicitly. But you need something for yourself, someone who can and will listen. I know the worst part of this business, and I can be that for you.”
His face was grim, his jaw tense. “I don’t need anyone to share these thoughts, baby. I know what I have to do, and I’m doing it. I don’t like that I still have to play my role in the organization any more than you do, but why would I need to talk about it? It’s ugly, and I can’t talk shop that easily anyway.”
Once again, he had brought me to tears. His words reduced me to nothing more than a ball of hurt and frustration. Still, I looked into his eyes as I spoke. “Why, you ask? Why share? Because this isn’t just about you! Because I have a burni
ng need to help you and know you’re okay. I’m not asking because I like hearing gory details. But I have to. That’s what a girlfriend is supposed to do. Given the choice, I wouldn’t know the Valves even exist, or what their business is. But I need to because you need to get the weight off your chest and soul. Because I love you, I want to share that burden. And I need you to know you aren’t alone, not anymore. What is so hard to understand about that?” I stopped to catch my breath and hid inside myself, my face hot and flushed and tear stained. My voice had grown hollow and broken with the words I’d emptied in desperation.
But Dawson wouldn’t let me crawl into my mind and put up walls. He came to me, grabbed me chin, and lifted my face to his. He bent and kissed my lips. It wasn’t a sweet kiss but one full of fight. A fight for us. All the hardships we encountered, all my tears and pain, all his secrets and determination, poured into it and filled both of us. My lips gave way under pressure, tired and numb to his assault. I melted, leaning against him, unable to breathe properly.
HAWK: The Caged Kings MC Page 36
