by Marie James
She tilts her head to the right. “I’d rather sleep in here than in my room alone.”
“Your bed is too fucking small for the both of us. I woke up with my back hurting this morning.”
“Okay.” It’s all she says as she turns around and fixes the blanket on her makeshift bed.
The idea of inviting her into my bed makes my heart race. Not one woman has slept in my bed since I had the house built years ago. Before that, I’d stayed with friends when on leave. I don’t even fuck women in this room, and other than Emmalyn, Rose, and now Makayla no one has even crossed the threshold. I refuse to picture her on her back as I fucked her this afternoon.
“You’re not sleeping in this room,” I hiss.
She turns, arms crossed over her chest.
Two strides and minimal effort and she’s over my damn shoulder and being carried out of the panic room.
“You can sleep here,” I say as I toss her on my bed. Pink hair fans out, some on her face the rest over the pillows.
She huffs but doesn’t argue.
“You don’t seem like the cuddling type,” she snips as she settles against the pillow and pulls the blankets to her chin.
“I’m not.” I climb in the other side, giving her my back.
She calms quickly, and within minutes her breaths even out and I know she’s asleep. I listen to the rhythmic sounds for a long while before sleep pulls me under.
***
I may have fallen asleep on one side of the bed while Mak took over the other, but somehow we both managed to move to the middle, myself moving more than her.
The warmth and soft skin on her belly where her shirt rode up during the night is amazing. The arm around her back is pulling her closer before I even have the chance to second guess myself. The heat from her pussy is radiating against my thigh, and I wonder what it would feel like bare and finding purchase against the coarse hair on my leg.
I hate how much I actually like waking up with her wrapped around me like a second skin. Even though I’m chastely against keeping a woman in my bed, it’s always been something I missed since divorcing Karen.
My already thickened cock jumps in my boxer briefs. I push it down with the heel of my hand, not needing that complication this morning. It’s the last thing I should’ve done. The half-hearted shove has no effect other than to entice him more.
Looking down at Makayla splayed across my chest, I time the pattern of her breaths. She’s still sleeping, and I’m too fucking horny to keep myself from letting her hair sift through my fingers as I grip my cock and stroke it under the covers. I pretend it’s the tight grip of her pussy sliding up and down my length as I bring myself closer to the edge.
My fingers hit a tangle in her hair, and she stiffens beside me, the rhythmic sound of her breathing ceases entirely.
“I’m sorry,” she mutters and shuffles back and off of my chest. “I didn’t plan on laying on you again.”
My deviance would have stayed hidden if the blanket wasn’t wrapped around her back, but she’s uncovered my stroking hand as she slides away. Her eyes shoot from the angry veins in my throbbing cock to my eyes. Pink flushes her cheeks as mirth fills her beautiful blue eyes.
Her tongue skates over her lips and I groan in response. Unapologetically, I renew the stroking, my eyes on her watching my fist work up and down. My legs shake with impatience, toes curling as my hips buck up of their own accord.
“You want help with that?”
Before the sentence is fully out of her mouth, my hand is once again tangled in her hair, and I’m gracelessly shoving her mouth on my cock. Three strokes of her hot fucking mouth are all it takes. I thicken and lengthen in her mouth before blowing down her throat with a roar forceful enough I’m surprised the windows didn’t rattle in their frames.
“Fuck,” I say gripping her by the hair, and only relenting when she yelps in pain. “Bottoms off,” I growl.
The second the pajamas clear one ankle I pull her up, directing her to straddle my face. Her hot cunt settles on my mouth, and I devour her with an urgency I’ve never felt before. She’s soaked, wetter than I imagined she would be after such a brief encounter with my cock, and I love how ready she is for me.
“Dom,” she pants as her hips circle on my tongue. “Please.”
With my mouth suctioned to her perfect, pink clit I shove two thick fingers in her, groaning against her as she bucks against me.
“Eyes,” I say. I mean for it to come out as a command, but after her refusing yesterday, it ends up sounding more like a plea.
Forehead resting against the headboard, I look up to find her eyes already on me. My spent cock begins to thicken again at her attention. Lips parted, breath gusting out, and heavy-lidded eyes make her the sexiest sight I’ve ever seen. At least that’s what I think until she shatters and the whimpering escapes her throat. I continue to suck as she pulses against my mouth, drinking in every second I can.
She tries to lift off of my face, but the orgasm must have worn her out because she unceremoniously just falls to the side, thigh still across my chest. I look down her body, watching the rapid rise and fall of her chest and the sweet smile on her face.
“That was—” My cell phone alarm blaring from the bedside table startles both of us.
I reach over to turn it off, hating that she tucks her leg under her and climbs off the bed.
When I look back over, she’s tugging her pajama bottoms back on. “Umm. Thanks for that.”
“You’re thanking me for making you come?” I chuckle.
“I’m thanking you for letting me come.”
Thank you, Sir is what I heard.
Full God damned erection flagging in the open air.
“I’ll let you pack,” she offers before bolting out of the room before I can insist she climb back up here with the promise of several more earth-shattering climaxes.
Chapter 19
Makayla
I hate goodbyes, even though I’ve never had the chance for many in my lifetime. My mother died of an overdose the day after accusing me of purposely catching the eye of her shithead boyfriend. My dad was shot and killed on a random Tuesday. I didn’t get to say goodbye to either of them. Not that I would have if given a chance.
For some reason, though, I find myself hiding out in my room avoiding the uncomfortable ‘see ya later’ with Dom. It isn’t until my stomach begins to growl that I’m forced out of the room in search of something quick to eat.
We nearly run into each other in the hallway. Always the gentleman, he takes a step back and lets me go ahead of him.
“Is that all you’re taking?” I ask when he places a small duffel bag on one of the stools at the breakfast bar.
“I don’t need much,” he explains. “Men don’t carry frivolous shit with them when they travel.”
I turn toward the coffee pot and roll my eyes. “Well, I wouldn’t know what it’s like to pack for a trip. My stuff followed me from my mom’s to the clubhouse in a couple of trash bags.”
The sound of a clip engaging in a gun has me turning back to him.
“You know how to use one of these?” he asks palming the small pistol in his huge hand.
“I hate guns,” I inform him. The only times I’ve used them was by force with Grinder.
“I can appreciate that.” The look on his face begs to differ. “But do you know how to use it?”
I nod. Guns are commonplace around the clubhouse. Even some of the women carry them, more trying to look like badasses than actual protection.
“Just in case.” He lays the weapon on the counter top and walks into the living room. “I want you to have this also.”
I follow him and watch as he pulls open a drawer in the entertainment center. He pulls out a cell phone. Simple, cheap. A burner.
He turns it on and enters a few contacts and hands it over.
“I’ve put my number in there, the clubhouse, and a direct line to Kincaid.” His eyes find mine. “If anything goes
down lock yourself in the panic room and call him. There may not be much reception in there so a text may be better. It will continue to attempt to send it longer than a phone call, depending on signal strength.”
The warning makes my heart race, as if he’s anticipating a problem but leaving me here alone anyway.
He must notice the stricken look on my face because he closes the two-foot distance between us and in a very un-Dom-like move he pulls me to his chest. Unsure of how to respond, I leave my arms hanging by my sides.
“You’ll be fine,” he promises against the crown of my head. He inches away and chucks his finger under my chin. “Two days, three max.”
I nod but notice his eyes on my lips rather than my eyes. Before I can lie and assure him I’ll be fine, his lips take mine in a searing kiss. There’s no danger right now, no attempt to get me under control by stroking his tongue against mine. I cherish the moment, sweeping my tongue over his. He pulls away too soon, emotion resembling confusion in his eyes.
Clearing his throat, he takes several steps backward. “Call me if you need anything. I’ll activate the alarm from outside. Don’t leave the house, open a window for fresh air, or answer the door if someone knocks. Keep the lights to a minimum at night.”
“I won’t,” I promise.
“I’d rather you sleep in my bed than lock yourself in the panic room. The door is lined and reinforced with steel. It would take someone with brute strength or a battering ram to breach it.” His lips dart to mine one last time before he walks away, grabs his bag, and leaves the house.
The second the roar of his motorcycle fades into the distance, I wander the house and close every one of the blinds and curtains, cloaking the house in darkness. He must really enjoy his privacy because not one stray beam of sunshine makes it into the living room.
Even though I hate guns, I carry the handgun and cell phone with me everywhere I go, including the restroom. I’ve left the door to his bedroom, and the panic room open on the chance I may have to run in there.
I’m bored out of mind four hours in. I’ve been binge watching The Tudors on Netflix, but it’s not the same with the sound turned off, and I can’t risk not hearing someone if they drive up. I’m on edge, jumping at the sound of ducks quacking out on the water. I nearly pissed myself when the mailman stopped outside of the house and took his sweet ass time sitting in the driveway sorting through his next batch of deliveries before turning around and heading back out. I wonder if Dom has ever regretted building a house on a dead end street.
My finger twitches against my leg with my feet propped up on the coffee table. I hate being idle. It drives me up the wall. Toss in the fear of being alone, and I’m a ball of anxiety. So I do what comes naturally: I snoop, not giving a damn about the cameras he’s admitted to having all over the house. Knowing he could be watching me right now makes me want to strip naked and finger myself to orgasm.
I jump up off of the couch, gather the phone and gun and wander. First stop is the drawer he pulled the burner from. I find several more in there. After looking around, now wishing I wasn’t being watched, I slip an extra into the waistband of my jeans, turning around to face the room as if I wasn’t stealing shit from him. Even though I feel guilty, it doesn’t stop me from walking down the hall and closing myself in the guest bedroom.
I dial Jasmine’s mom’s phone from memory and listen to it ring. If anyone other than my sister answers the phone, I’ll hang up and destroy the burner. Thankfully, my sister’s young, sweet voice comes over the line.
“Hello?”
Tears burn my eyes at the sound. “Jas. Don’t say my name.”
“I miss you,” she whispers in the phone. “When are you coming home? I haven’t been able to go to school the last couple of days because mommy is too tired to get out of bed to take me.”
“Where is your mommy?” I ask hoping she’s not in the room with her listening to her daughter talk on the phone. Jasmine answers this phone all the time because her mother leaves it everywhere and is fucked up on drugs more often than not.
“She’s asleep in her bed. Hold on, and I’ll go hide in the bathroom,” she says conspiratorially. After half a minute she says, “I’m back.”
“Are you safe? Has anyone hurt you since I’ve been gone?” I literally cross my fingers in front of my face. Bad news will have me out of this house and headed to Durango in a heartbeat, and I know that’s not good for anyone involved.
“Other than missing school, almost everything is normal. Grinder’s not in a very good mood. He’s been yelling more than normal, and it’s upsetting some of the other guys.”
“And how are you handling that?”
“I stay in my room just like you tell me to. We still have enough of the food you brought last week.” I can hear her soft cries through the line, and it breaks my heart. “I miss you.”
“I miss you too, sweet girl. Give me just a little longer, and I’ll be back.”
I can’t tell her the plan. She’s too young to understand, and telling her I’m taking her from her mother would be hard on her. Just as I did at that age, she loves her mother, no matter how neglected she is. She internalizes the blame her mother has been spewing at her all her life.
“Don’t tell anyone I called, Jas,” I urge.
“I won’t, Poison. I promise.” I end the call with tears streaking down my face, and I’m near sobbing when I bust the phone into pieces and let the water from the sink run over it.
I can’t leave it operational because I don’t know if it can be tracked, but her not having a way to get a hold of me strikes fear in my heart.
After throwing the ruined phone in the small trash can in the restroom, I make my way to Dom’s room, closing the door behind me before climbing into his bed.
I sob into his pillow, missing him as his scent surrounds me. It seems like forever before the crying stops entirely. With wet cheeks and a snotty nose, I open the bedside drawer looking for a tissue, too tired to actually get up and walk into the bathroom.
The only thing inside the drawer is a small, weathered photo album. Without a second thought, I pull it into my lap and open it.
A much younger Dom peers down at a beautiful woman as she looks into the camera. I turn the pages and find him exactly like the first. He’s always watching her, love evident in the way he holds her to his chest and smiles when she smiles, as if his happiness is dependent on hers. The last two pages stop my breathing. The first one is of him and the same woman from the entire album posing for the camera holding a marriage license, the gold ring on Dom’s finger catching the light from the flash. The last picture is of him holding her as her legs wind around his waist. Their lips are locked as the picture was taken. I close the album, feeling like an interloper on his happy times.
My heart died twenty years ago.
My hand shoots to my mouth as I remember his words from yesterday. If his wife passed away, it would explain why he’s never let another woman in. The light in his eyes and smile on his face in those pictures, there’s no denying how much he loved her. It’s as if it flowed off of the pages. I know without a doubt he’d never love another woman as much as he loved his wife.
Chapter 20
Dominic
“You seem agitated,” Bri says as we stand and wait for her three suitcases to show on the conveyor belt at the Nashville airport.
I ignore her as best I can as I pull up the security app on my phone. I roll my bottom lip between my teeth to keep from smiling when the picture pulls up to Makayla sitting on the couch watching TV. I feel Bri inch forward, almost in my personal space. I close out the app before she can tilt her head enough to see what’s on my phone.
I huff, shove my phone in my pocket, and cross my arms over my chest.
“You could’ve flown in first class with me,” she whines when I don’t make eye contact with her. “The upgrade wasn’t that expensive.”
“The cost wasn’t the issue, Bri.” If she only knew how the Mari
nes transported us in and out of the desert, she’d understand that riding coach is more than enough.
“Are you going to act like an irritated child the whole trip?” I quirk an eyebrow considering the concept. “I was hoping we would get to know each other better.”
I see her first suitcase slide down the belt and step past her to grab it. Tugging it to her side, I watch for the next one to appear.
“You were late. You can’t be mad we missed the first plane.”
Now I look over my shoulder at her. “You weren’t even packed when I got to the clubhouse, Bri. You were the one who packed all sorts of shit you knew they wouldn’t let you carry on. You were the reason we had to wait in line at security again after checking your carry on.”
“Sorry,” she mumbles. “We only had to wait an hour for the next one.”
Her second and third bags come out at the same time, and I thank whatever cosmic alignment that’s at work for it.
After shifting the strap to the small duffel on my bag, I get hers situated where I can carry them for her. The chivalry is ingrained from being raised by an amazing mother, not that Bri even offered to help.
Another hour later, long after the sun has painted the western sky pinks, oranges, and purples, we’re in the rental car heading in the direction of her condo.
“What’s this asshole’s name,” I say, speaking for the first time since leaving the airport. The GPS says we only have another five minutes before arriving.
She huffed when I typed the directions in, insisting she could’ve told me the directions. I’m grateful for the navigation because it keeps me from having to listen to her voice. Each time she speaks, she reminds me more of Karen, and that’s the last woman I want on my mind any day of the week.
“Trey,” she offers. “Twenty-nine, gorgeous, but lazy as all hell. Spends all of his time sitting in front of the TV playing online video games with other lazy idiots around the world.”
“And you’ve asked him to leave?”
