by Jenika Snow
“What has you grinning?” he said in that gruff, masculine voice of his.
“You being all territorial of me. It’s cute.”
He gave my ass a swat, and I rose on my toes, really liking the sting his actions caused.
“I have to be. There are all these young assholes eyeing you. I want them to know you’re mine.”
I rose on my toes and kissed him. His arms tightened on me, and I grinned against his lips. “You’re mine just as much as I’m yours.”
He gave my ass one more swat. “And that’s the damn truth, baby.” He pulled away, and we headed toward the passenger side. But before he opened the door, he leaned in close and whispered in my ear, “When we get back to your place, I’m going to bend you over the kitchen table and fuck you until you know you’re mine.”
I sure as hell wasn’t about to deny that, but instead of submitting—even if I wanted to—I grinned and rose on my toes. “I already know I’m yours, just like you know you’re mine.” The growl he made had tingles racing up my spine.
“Watch it, baby, or I’ll drag you across the seat and fuck you right here, only the tinted windows hiding what we are doing.”
Damn, this man had a way with words. I kissed him then, wanting to get back to my house faster than I ever had before.
Epilogue
Maddie
Two years later
My hands were shaking, my heart was thundering, and all I could think about where the what-ifs, the fact that this might not be the best for Deacon.
I’d finished my schooling, was even interning in my profession. This little bomb was certainly a surprise, and whether it was a good one or bad one for Deacon would be revealed very soon. When I couldn’t sit on the couch any longer, I stood and started pacing. I stared at the things Deacon and I had collected for our home over the last two years, the things I’d brought from my home, the things he’d already had here. We complemented each other, fit perfectly together, yet I was still worried.
I stared down at my engagement ring. He’d asked me for my hand in marriage a year ago, but we both decided waiting until I was done with school was the best option. But now here I was, carrying our unborn baby, the positive pregnancy stick staring at me from the coffee table.
When I looked at the clock, the time seemed to stand still. I made my way into the kitchen, staring out the window above the sink, and saw a flash of something in the distance. Deacon’s SUV came down the road, pulled into our driveway, and for long seconds I felt myself frozen. I knew he loved me, so much that he told me it hurt his chest. That always had this tingling taking root in my entire body. It told me I was the luckiest girl in the world.
I watched as he climbed out of his vehicle, his big body looking dirty in the best of ways. He worked hard for a living, did manly things, and it all turned me on. When I heard the front door open, I closed my eyes and breathed out. He called for me, but I was almost in a trance in that moment. And when several long minutes passed, I snapped my eyes open. He would be looking for me in the living room, and I’d left the pregnancy test on the coffee table.
I made my way out of the kitchen and into the living room and stopped, not able to move, not able to breathe. Deacon had his back to me, standing in front of the coffee table, and from the position he was in I could see the pregnancy stick in his hand. My throat tightened, my mouth went dry, and panic settled in. This certainly wasn’t how I’d wanted him to find out.
“Hey.” I was trying to be calm, trying not to seem like I was freaking out, but the truth was I was so over being tense that I wouldn’t be surprised if everything in me snapped. He turned around slowly, his expression neutral, as it always seemed to be. He still held the test, maybe waiting for me to say something, but the truth was I didn’t know what to say in that moment. “I didn’t want you to see the test on the table and find out that way,” I finally managed to say.
Going back into the room again, I stared at him, trying to judge what he was thinking or feeling. “I know we’ve been together for two years, and I’m done with school, but we’ve never actually spoken about a family. This is probably scaring the shit out of you.” It is me.
“You’re pregnant,” he said, no question lining his voice, no expression covering his face. Was he in shock? It would seem appropriate, but I hated not knowing what he was feeling.
All I could do was nod. For long seconds we didn’t speak, didn’t even move. The air was thick, I felt tense, and sweat beaded the valley between my breasts. What would he say? How would he feel about all of this?
And then he grinned down at me, his straight white teeth flashing, his pleasure and happiness clear. I felt the tension leave me and knew that things would be okay with just that one look. Before I knew what was happening, he had the pregnancy test back on the table and had me in his arms seconds later.
He held me for a long time, but that was okay, because being in Deacon’s arms always felt like being home.
“You’re okay with this?” I finally asked, knowing that although he seemed happy, I needed him to say the words. He pulled back, not saying anything, and instead kissed me. The kiss was gentle, loving. When he pulled away, he rested his forehead on mine, both of us breathing the same air, feeling the same things.
“I’m more than okay with this. I’m fucking ecstatic.” He pulled back then. “I should probably start getting used to watching my mouth.” He grinned, and my heart melted.
I cupped his cheeks, smiling in return. “I kind of like you swearing. It turns me on.”
He chuckled and kissed me again. I wrapped my arms around his neck, holding on to him, letting him carry my weight, give me love in the gruff way he always did. He set me down after a long moment, my lips pleasantly sore and wet from his. Before I could react or even have time to see what he was doing, Deacon was on his haunches in front of me. He pushed up my shirt, placed a kiss on my belly, and started murmuring soft things. I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but the pitch of his voice told me they were sweet.
“All I want is for you to be happy,” he said and looked up at me. “All I want is for you to always be in my life.”
I reached down and smoothed my hands over his short, dark hair. “With you I am happy. With you I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”
He stood and pulled me into an embrace. I rested my head on his chest and closed my eyes, knowing everything would be okay.
“There’s nothing in this world that could ever make me happy except you and the little person you’re growing.” He pulled away and kissed me. “And I’ll prove to you, show you what a good husband and father I can be.”
All I could do was smile. I was choked up with emotion, feeling foolish for even thinking Deacon would be upset over this. I was angry with myself that I let my panic outweigh the good he made me feel.
“You think we can do this?” He had his hand in my hair, stroking the strands, making me feel like I was the only person in this world that he saw.
Because I am. He shows me that each and every day.
“I think we’ll be the best parents.” I looked up at him. “You and I can do anything, and this little piece of both of us growing in me is proof that the world can be beautiful, that we are beautiful together.” My words were sappy as hell, but I wasn’t the gruff one. And Deacon might be manly in all ways, but for only me he showed his softer side. “I love you.”
The smile he gave me had my heart skipping a beat. “It’s only you for me, baby. Only you.”
And I knew that as much as I knew the sun would rise each and every day.
Deacon
Three years later
“You’re daddy’s girl, aren’t you?” I kissed Abigail on the forehead, the scent of her sweet and innocent. She’d already fallen asleep, her little toddler body curled against me, the fact that she was safe, that she’d always be that way, filling me with joy.
“You already have her wrapped around your finger,” Maddie said from the kitchen, the smile in her voice evid
ent. I heard her coming into the living room and turned to see her smile wide, the love in her eyes making me feel pretty fucking incredible.
She sat on the couch beside me, staring at Abigail in my arms. “She looks good there,” she whispered. I looked down at my hands, still stained and calloused from blacksmithing, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. Providing for my girls was the best feeling in the world.
I saw Maddie shift, and heard this slight sound come from her right before she placed her hand on her rounded belly. “You good, baby?” Worry slammed into me. She turned and faced me, nodding.
“Yeah. This little boy is just doing somersaults today.” She chuckled softly, and I relaxed. I was careful of not waking Abigail as I moved my hand out from under her and placed it on Maddie’s belly. My wife had already given me one beautiful, strong daughter, and in a few short months she’d give me a son.
“I love you,” I said, not able to stop myself. I told her each and every day what she meant to me, and would continue doing that until the day I died. I pulled her in close, loving that she rested her head on my shoulder.
“I love you, too,” she said and reached out to smooth her fingers through Abigail’s dark hair.
This was my life, and would be until the day I died. And what an incredible fucking life it was.
The End
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Coming March 2017
Taking Her Hard (Death’s Door MC, 2)
You can add to your TBR shelf HERE
Excerpt: Riding Her Rough (Death’s Door MC, 1)
Delilah could already tell there was a party going on inside the clubhouse for the Death’s Door MC. The music was loud enough to have her ears ringing, and anytime the front doors were pushed open, smoke billowed out from the inside. She had no business being here. Her day had been shitty. What with dealing with people who were backstabbing bitches, and getting bailed on by her date only hours before they were to go out, all she wanted was someone to talk to. But she wasn’t surprised Robbie hadn’t wanted to see her when he realized she was the daughter of Carson “Brack” Stringer, the president of the Death’s Door MC.
The only thing she wanted to do right now was talk about her “girl problems” with Dixon—the woman who was like a mother to everyone at the club. Dixon was old enough to be her mom, and in fact that’s pretty much how Delilah saw her. Dixon had been around for the last few years and was the most caring and compassionate person in the club. That was something lacking in a motorcycle club full of gritty bikers. But now here she was, sitting in the clubhouse parking lot and regretting coming to the clubhouse without calling first.
The door opened again, and she saw Ace stumble out. The Death’s Door VP was gorgeous in that raw and rough kind of way, and a total man whore, like the rest of the guys. He had a Cherry wrapped around his body. The women who hung around the club were called Cherries, for whatever reason, but one thing Delilah knew was that they would do anything a member asked. Anything. They were sluts, and although Delilah couldn’t stand any of them, there were a few with tolerable personalities. She wasn’t even going to mention the fact that some were only eighteen, and given the fact that was how old Delilah was, it had the ick factor growing in full force. She grabbed her phone out of her purse and dialed the clubhouse number. Hopefully Dixon would answer or no one would pick up, but knowing her luck, a drunk member would decide he wanted to get up and actually answer a phone.
“Yeah?” With the music so loud and the background noise earsplitting, Delilah had a hard time making out who was speaking. It didn’t sound like any of the regular members, but as she scanned her gaze over the Harleys lined up in front of the clubhouse, everything inside of her stilled. She would know Torque Morrison’s bike anywhere. The black, gleaming Harley had the most elaborate skull and crossbones painted on the side.
“Uh, hey, it’s Delilah.” She swallowed her nerves and closed her eyes. For the past year Torque had been to the club when he passed through their town of Rush Falls. He was a Nomad, a biker affiliated with the Death’s Door MC, but he wasn’t locked down with any particular chapter. He was big and hard looking, and so very sexy that just thinking about him had her panties soaked.
“Hello?”
“Sorry. Is Dixon there?” The sound of several women giggling was her response.
“What?” Torque seemed drunker than hell, and like he was starting to get annoyed with the fact that he couldn’t hear her. Well, that made both of them.
“Is Dixon there?” she said louder. The shatter of glass breaking came through, and she leaned her head back on the seat.
“Tell whoever it is to go the fuck away.”
Delilah gritted her teeth when she heard Pinkie’s voice. Pinkie was one of the newest Cherries, and a slut to the nth degree. She also thought her shit didn’t stink. There was some shuffling, and then Pinkie’s voice was screeching through the phone.
“Get a fucking life, cocksucker. Some of us are trying to get laid here.”
“Shut the fuck up. I told you I’m not interested in your nasty ass, Pinkie.” Torque said. A second later the phone went dead.
Delilah pulled it away from her ear and narrowed her eyes at the damn thing. Pinkie slept with everyone at the club and clearly wanted Torque. But Delilah felt this heat move through her that he’d turned Pinkie down.
Well good. She hated the bitch anyway. Pinkie was older, probably in her late twenties if Delilah were to guess, but the bitch thought she was above everyone else when it came to being with the members. And she really looked down on Delilah, for reasons unknown. But Delilah had a feeling it was because of her connection with the club. Well fuck her.
She climbed out of her car and decided she’d hunt down Dixon and maybe the two of them could go into the office and talk. Aside from the few old ladies who occasionally came by the clubhouse, and the club whores, it was just she and Dixon. The other woman kept to herself when it came to the other women. Delilah’s heels clicked on the pavement, and she looked at the ground so she didn’t inadvertently see something she didn’t want to because of the people currently fucking against the side of the building. She gripped the door handle and pulled it open. “Free Bird” blasted from inside, and she blinked a few times to focus. There were a shitload of bodies scattered around, the majority of them naked and in the process of some pretty nasty shit. She didn’t see Dixon manning the bar or in the kitchenette making any food, so she assumed the woman was hiding out with Ringo. Most likely doing something equally as nasty with the old-ass biker.
She moved farther inside and let the door close behind her. She spotted Vain, Malice, Lance, and Mace, and of course all of them were in the middle of some kind of sexual act with a club girl. “Damn it.” Okay, Dixon was obviously absent, and she was clearly not about to stand here watching as everyone got off.
“Fuck, is that you, Delilah?” The sound of Lance’s voice was loud enough she heard him right away. He was sitting on the couch with a blonde who clearly wasn’t a natural one between his legs. Her head was bobbin up and down, but Lance didn’t push her away and instead grinned. “Whatchu doing here, girl?” Lance was a prospect, and a dirty old man if she were being honest.
“She’s leaving.” Vain’s voice was right by her ear, deep, commanding. She jumped. How did he get to her so fast without her knowing?
She turned and craned her neck back to look at her father’s Sergeant at Arms.
“Right?” he crossed his massive arms over his chest, staring down at her. “You know damn well this ain’t the place for you, and your fucking dad will have all our balls if he found out his little girl was here.” Vain gently took her upper arm.
“Yeah, I was just looking for Dixon, but I’m leaving.”
“This isn’t a place for you.”
Delilah snapped her head in the direction of Torque. Swall
owing hard, she couldn’t drag her eyes off the sight of him lifting a bottle of Crown to his mouth and taking a long swig as he watched her over the rim. He was shirtless, and Delilah could see his tattooed, muscular chest. The dark lines of ink that lined on his pectoral muscle, right under a skull tattoo had her eyes riveted to the spot. It was a tattoo all members in the Death’s Door MC got, but not the only one. She let her gaze run along that menacing dark Old English script that was inked into his skin.
LIVE HARD.
FUCK ROUGH.
RIDE FREE.
Pinkie came over to Torque, leaned down, and whispered something into his ear. But Torque pushed her away, shaking his head hard, his focus still on Delilah.
“Come on, baby girl.” Vain’s voice was hard and rough, and she knew she wasn’t hiding her emotion well enough.
The flare of Torque’s nostrils and the way he stared at her as if he knew exactly what she was going through, and exactly how she felt, was crystal clear. She wanted him, had wanted him for along time, and it had only grew. Vain had his arm around Delilah and was steering her outside before.
She shrugged off Vain’s hold when they stepped outside and went straight for her car. She was in it, the engine cranked, and peeling out of there before she stopped herself and went back to Torque. He was also too old for her, and getting involved with a biker was not something she wanted.
Right?
The best thing she could do was forget about Torque, forget about what she wanted him to do to her, and focus on getting her degree so she could start a future away from Rush Falls. But she knew that was going to be a hell of a lot easier said than done.
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