by Naomi West
“Then get to it already,” she said impatiently.
She heard his laugh, a deep rumble that sent shivers through her all over again. Then he spun her to face him again. Her panties dropped to her ankles, and she stepped out of them. He tugged her skirt down, and she kicked it off, simultaneously reaching for the hem of his T-shirt. They got tangled for a moment as she tried to pull the shirt over his head while he was in the process of unbuttoning her blouse. They laughed, then moved in for a kiss, their shirts still half on and half off. Pistol nipped her lower lip and fumbled with her last button, reaching up to yank the blouse down her arms. She deftly shrugged out of it, still kissing him, then gave him a light shove back. He staggered a little, and she grabbed his shirt and nearly ripped it off of him.
She stood there in just her bra, and he stood there bare chested, a trail of light brown hair leading from his belly button down to the waistband of his jeans. She took a moment to study the tattoos — intricate, colorful designs that wound their way across his chest, down his sides. It was hard to separate the designs in some instances — like these were a lifetime of stories twining, overlapping, getting lost in one another.
“Take your pants off,” she ordered softly, her voice hoarse. “I want to see you.” He didn’t laugh. Didn’t even crack a grin. His face looked more naked and vulnerable than she’d ever seen it — more so even than their wedding day. His hands moved slowly to his fly. She watched as he popped the button. As his injured hand tugged down the zipper. He slid the jeans past his hips, down his lightly-furred, muscular legs. Then he stepped out of them and let her look at him in his gray boxer briefs, let her take in the telltale bulge, the damp spot, the hard flesh poking out from the slit.
“Turn around,” she commanded, voice warm, silky. She was enjoying herself.
He did. His ass was just as taut as she remembered, stretching the gray fabric. She stepped forward. Placed her hands on his hips and teased her thumbs along the waistband. She felt him shiver.
She kissed his shoulder, moving slowly down the ridge of muscle toward the center of his back. Then she pulled down his briefs, careful as she tugged them over his erection.
When he was fully naked, she leaned against him, her breasts pressed to his back, her crotch pressed against his hard ass. She moved her palms forward across his hips, down over the coarse hair until her fingertips touched his cock. Sighing against his bare skin, she gripped his shaft gently in one hand. She wanted to feel it before she got a good look at it — wanted to learn it with her touch before she guided it inside her. His breathing roughened; his body quivered.
“Katrin…”
“Shhh.” She kissed his shoulder again. Pumped his cock lightly, rubbing her thumb along the ridge under the head. Circumcised. The skin incongruously silky over the hardness of his erection. The tip was damp, and she spread the moisture with her thumb, making his thighs bulge and his ass clench.
This was so much different from the quick, awkward sex she’d had in college. She felt powerful this time, hungry and sexy as hell. Ready to own this man and let him own her. She nuzzled the side of his neck. “Turn around.”
She let go of his dick so he could turn to face her. He was flushed, breathing ragged, pupils huge. She reached around behind her and undid her bra clasp, letting the blue satin garment fall from her body.
He took in her nakedness, gaze lingering appreciatively on her full breasts, then sliding down to her wide hips, and finally to the dark thatch of her bush.
“Gorgeous,” he murmured. “You’re more gorgeous than I ever imagined.”
Their eyes locked again. “Take me,” she whispered. “I want you to fuck me.”
His breathing paused for a moment. Then a weak grin spread across his face. “Gladly, sweetheart.”
He closed the gap between them and swept her into his arms. Lifted her off the ground and placed her on her back on the kitchen table. He grabbed one of the cushions off the chair and slid it under her head. Then he took another one and slid it under her hips. He guided her legs apart, sweeping his broad palms up and down her inner thighs, leaning down to lavish her breasts with kisses. He placed his lips around her right nipple and sucked, making her arch and squirm. When the mad desire was back, when she was panting and had her legs hooked around him, urging him closer, he spread her pussy lips and dipped his ring finger inside her. With his other fingers, slick with her juices, he began to rub her clit. Quick, concentrated circles that had her whimpering and writhing, trying to impale herself on his finger.
He scraped her nipple lightly with his teeth, and she almost came on the spot. Then he let go, straightened, and took her by the hips, his erection nudging her pussy as he stepped closer. She gazed up at him — at his firm, tattooed chest, his washboard abs, his gorgeous eyes. She felt dizzy and wonderful, taking him in, craving more and more of him. He trailed the back of his hand along her stomach, making the muscles flutter.
“Condom,” she whispered, trying not to get queasy at the memory of her father’s phone call.
“I know,” he whispered back. “I’m … not sure I have one.”
“Shit,” she whispered.
He laughed softly, still stroking her skin. “There are other things we can do, you know.”
Her breathing slowed; she squirmed again on the table. “Oh yeah?” she clenched her jaw as his hand made its way up to her breast again, pinching her nipples into stiffness. “Like what?”
His hands swept down again, fingertips tickling her inner thighs, drifting down to the ticklish sides of her knees, making her jump.
He bent over and kissed his way down her body, his stubble scratching the sensitive skin of her belly. He touched the tip of his tongue to the spot under her navel. He met her gaze again, grinning up at her as he licked lower. She shuddered, stifling another moan. She shifted on the pillows, trying to lie still as he knelt between her legs.
Oh God … Oh God, should she tell him she’d never done this before? Never had a guy…
But then she felt his breath against her pussy lips, and she couldn’t think about anything else. Could only lie there, helplessly in thrall to pleasure as the soft wetness of his tongue swiped between her legs.
Oh God, oh god, oh god…
He licked her gently at first, his tongue sliding over her opening, then forward to lave her clit. She gave a soft, surprised whimper, and her breath hitched. Pleasure spread from her core through the rest of her as he continued on that same path, holding her legs spread and then exploring her most intimate area with his tongue. She could barely breathe as he swirled his tongue around her clit; nearly bucked off the table as he began lapping — as quick, furious motion that had Katrin writhing, sighing.
Pistol stopped for a moment. Wiped his wet chin with the back of his hand. “God, you’re gorgeous like this. I’m gonna give you the best orgasm of your life.”
And before she could say anything, he plunged back down, licking her pussy in long, firm swipes. There was a spot on the right side of her clit that felt particularly good, so when he started licking there, she couldn’t help but put a hand on his head to keep him in place, while she rode his tongue the best she could.
How have I never tried this before? I’ve been missing out!
Suddenly Pistol’s tongue moved away from her clit, and his fingers parted her gently. His tongue slipped inside her, and she gasped, crying his name. The wet muscle thrust inside her, and she twisted her hips, trying to get more of that sensation. She felt so close to him. Truly, for the first time since they’d moved in together, she felt connected, soaring on the pleasure of being here with him, of feeling him inside her. He placed his hands just below her knees and ran them down her shins. He tickled her feet lightly as he continued tongue fuck her. She laughed and jerked.
And then his tongue was gone, replaced by two probing fingers that moved slowly inside her, pressing gently, finding that spot that brought her breathless pleasure. When he found it, he crooked his fingers, and
at the same time, flicked his tongue against her clit.
“Pistol!” She was trying to clutch at his head — dammit, if he’d had hair, she would have been pulling it for all she was worth. The intensity was nearly too much; heat flooded her entire body, and the room blurred. She rocked her hips, forcing his fingers deeper. He flicked his tongue again and again against her clit, a motion like butterfly wings, while he continued to crook his fingers every few seconds against her sweet spot.
She came in a rush, pussy clenching hard around his fingers, her clit throbbing and her chest heaving. She’d never in her life had an orgasm this intense. Afterward all she could do was lie there trembling while he cleaned her with his tongue. He swallowed every drop of her juices, soothed her tingling slit with a couple of gentle licks that nearly made her purr.
He told her softly to stay put.
She heard him go to the bathroom and clean up. She drifted, and wasn’t sure how long she’d been out of it when he came back. She gazed up at him while he gazed down at her. He wasn’t hard anymore, she realized.
She shifted up onto her elbows. Glanced again at his cock, then up at him. “Want me to…?”
He shook his head, smiling at her. “I took care of it.”
And with that he reached down and scooped her up in his arms. He carried her to the staircase and then up the stairs, depositing her gently on their bed. He climbed in beside her and pulled the covers up over both of them. She curled against him, feeling suddenly more vulnerable than she had when she was spread open before him on the kitchen table. She hadn’t allowed herself this kind of pleasure before; since her mother’s illness, she’d felt guilt about any desire for sex, for a relationship. Because there had been someone who’d needed her. There’d been something more important to worry about.
But now…
God, it had felt so good. She was still dizzy from that sex, still riding a high she wasn’t sure she’d ever come down from. She was reveling in Pistol’s closeness, in the slow, steady movement of his hand up and down her naked back.
Is it okay? Am I allowed to want this? Especially when he’s … when this was all set up by my father? When this wasn’t a choice for either of us.
But tonight had been a choice. The marriage wasn’t, but this was — being here, listening to each other’s breathing. Katrin choosing to trust Pistol. Pistol choosing to be here with her instead of at the clubhouse, or out on a mission.
They did have agency here.
And tonight, at least, they had chosen solace in each other’s arms.
Chapter Seventeen
“We need to talk.”
Great. Exactly the words Pistol was hoping to wake up to.
Katrin was sitting up in bed, looking wide-awake. Her hair tumbled down over the straps of her tank top, and there were small, sexy smudges of yesterday’s eye makeup under her eyes. Pistol would rather make use of his morning wood than talk, but what the hell.
He rubbed his eyes blearily. “Do we?” He yawned, half-stifling it with the back of his wrist.
“Yeah.”
“Don’t worry,” he murmured, eyes fluttering as he fantasized about sinking back into sleep. “I’ll call you.”
She swatted his shoulder lightly.
He grunted and pulled himself up so he was halfway sitting. Was she still mad about the messy house? Regretting last night’s sex?
He guessed he was about to find out. “What’s up?” he asked, trying to keep the covers situated so they hid his boner. For some reason, that seemed like the polite thing to do.
“My dad wants us to have a baby.”
Ah, fuck. Leonard Smith’s name was still the most effective boner killer Pistol knew. But as hard as Pistol tried to play it cool, his heart was pounding. Did Katrin know something he didn’t about Leonard’s orders? “Uh, yeah. He mentioned that.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“What?” Now he really was confused.
“Why didn’t you tell me that was part of his plan?” She didn’t sound angry, but she wasn’t breaking eye contact with him, and her voice was very, very firm.
“I assumed you knew. He’s your father. I thought he’d filled you in on all the details of his evil plan.”
“This isn’t funny.”
“Who’s laughing?”
She sighed. Leaned back against the headboard. “No, Pistol, he didn’t. I didn’t know he planned to breed me like an animal. And I find it kind of weird that at no point during our time together did you bring it up. Did you say, ‘Don’t worry, I won’t impregnate you. You know that really crazy part of your dad’s plan? Well, here’s how we’re gonna fight it.’”
He furrowed his brow. What the fuck? Why was her dad’s bat shit scheme suddenly his fault? “I thought it went without saying. Of course I’m not gonna knock you up. Of course I don’t want a baby. Obviously, when your dad asks, we’re gonna tell him we couldn’t conceive.” Did he imagine it, or was there a flash of sadness in her eyes?
No. Oh hell no, don’t tell me she wants a fucking baby…
“And what about when he has us checked by his own doctors? What happens when he finds out we’re lying?”
“So what are you saying? That we should have a baby just to keep him happy?”
“No. But I’m saying we should have a plan.”
“The plan is we don’t have a baby.” He yawned again. “I need some coffee.”
“Pistol. I need you to take this seriously.”
“I am taking it seriously. It’s just … this whole thing is so genuinely crazy that half the time I don’t know what to say. Or do.”
Her expression softened. “Me too.”
“Look.” Pistol reached out to take her hand. She seemed startled, but then squeezed back lightly. “He hasn’t come knocking on the door demanding his grandbaby yet. We keep him at bay for as long as we can, and by the time we’ve reached a point where he’s asking doctors to examine us, we’re long fucking gone. We’ve found a way out of here.”
Her brow knit slightly. “What do you mean, out of here? I mean, are you planning to leave your club? Are you … are you striking off on your own?”
Hell if he knew. He’d take Deion, sure. And the others … shit, there was no way out of this without killing Smith. And killing Smith was only cutting the head off the beast. There were still the goons, the shadowy associates on both sides of the border…
And then it occurred to him that she was probably asking if he intended to leave her. If he planned to run away with her, or just help her get a fake passport and see her safely to the airport. He had no idea. No goddamn idea.
“We’re going to get out of this.” Even he could hear how empty the promise sounded. Why should she believe him when he couldn’t even keep a promise to do the dishes?
And yet he meant it. The depth to which he meant it startled him. He’d protect her. He had to.
She’d folded her arms under her breasts. Was clutching herself tightly, like she was cold. “I might have made things worse.”
“How?” he asked quietly.
“When my father called to tell me what he expected of me — of us — I told him I’d never do it. I called him a monster. Hung up on him.”
“Wow.” He whistled, impressed. “Good for you.”
“But what if I’ve just pissed him off more?”
“Maybe. But he needs to hear that from you. Him knowing how much he’s hurt you…that might be the only way to get him to come to his senses.”
Privately, Pistol didn’t hold much hope for that. Leonard Smith didn’t have any senses to come to. But some of the panic left Katrin’s gaze.
He put an arm around her. She leaned against him. “What a mess.” She sighed.
“What a mess,” he agreed. “But it’s okay. We’ll be okay.”
She tilted her head, peering up at him. “Last night was amazing.”
He laughed. “Hell yeah, it was.”
“We ought to do it again sometime.”
He leaned down and kissed her. “I couldn’t agree more.”
She placed a hand on his chest. Made him shiver as she ran her fingers back and forth between his pecs. “I think we should get condoms. See what else we like doing.”
His dick hardened. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll pick some up on my way home today.”
“Hmm.” She glanced at the clock. “You’re going to be late for work if you don’t get up now, aren’t you?”
“Uh, I guess—” He broke off the sentence as her hand snaked under the covers. Her fingertips brushed his stomach, and his dick twitched. “Shit…”
“Do you have just a few more minutes?” Her voice was low, almost a purr. “I think I could make it worth your while.”
