by Lynda Bailey
Shame badgered her as she circumvented the many potholes in the road, but she refused to let remorse deter her. She intended nothing more wicked than talking with Lynch. Holding him and being held…
Fresh tears surged to her eyes. Hez had been her friend too.
She rounded the last bend and her headlights shone on the fifth-wheel, along with the familiar motorcycle parked in front. A light illuminated the trailer’s windows from the inside, and her stomach did a flip-flop. Shaking off her sudden nervousness, she pulled alongside the motorcycle, cut the car engine and climbed out. Even with her jacket, the evening breeze raised goose bumps on her skin. She hustled to the door, but it swung open before she could knock.
Lynch stood there, his body partially blocked by the door, a gun in his hand. The light behind him threw his face in shadow. Tension pulsated off him in waves.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
She folded her arms across her chest at his gruff tone. “I heard what happened today.” More tears filled her eyes, but she couldn’t fall apart. This wasn’t about her. Yes, she grieved for Hez, but he hadn’t been her best friend since kindergarten…
She tossed her head and gazed at Lynch’s backlit features. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“I’m fine. Go home.” He closed the door.
She put out her hand and tried to look past him into the trailer. “Are you alone? No FBI?”
“No FBI.”
That surprised her. “Is it safe for you to be alone?”
“Safer than asking a bunch of questions,” he snarled. “Get the hint, Shaly?”
Yes, she got the hint…didn’t mean she’d take it. She angled her chin. “Aren’t you going to ask me in?”
He gusted a grunt and stepped back, leaving the door open. She quickly entered in case he changed his mind. “How’s your mom?”
He placed the revolver on the counter next to a bottle of liquor. Bourbon…awful stuff, and Lynch’s alcohol of choice when he was hurting.
He gripped the bottle and tipped it to his lips. “She’s fine, just like me,” he mumbled before taking a long swallow.
Though he was drinking, Shasta knew he wasn’t drunk. At least not yet. She licked her lips and turned her attention to the surroundings. A heap of cables and wires sat stacked on the table. “What’s all this?”
Lynch stared at the pile with a half-hearted shrug. “Nothing important.” He set down the bourbon and faced her. “Why are you here, Shaly? Really?”
“Like I said, I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“Like I said, I’m fine.”
But his red-rimmed eyes and splotchy cheeks said otherwise. She swallowed her building sob and reached for him. “I’m so sorry about Hez.”
His expression crumbled as he veered from her touch. He hunched his shoulders, a fist pressed to his mouth. She wrapped him in a loose hug.
His arms wound around her waist like banded steel. He buried his face in her neck while his body shuddered. She smoothed his hair with her palm and cooed.
He eased back enough to claim her mouth in a brutal mating, like he wanted to purge his sorrow. His teeth clashed with hers and his whiskers burned her delicate skin. She cleaved to him and weathered his rough treatment.
As violently as it started, Lynch yanked her away. His fingers bit into her arms while his ragged breathing echoed with hers. He released her and moved back. “You need to go.”
She shifted forward. “I’m not going anywhere. You need me.”
“What about your husband, Shaly?” Lynch crossed his arms and leaned against the table. “Think he’ll mind me…” He boldly raked his gaze over her body. “…needing you?”
She mimicked his stance, ignoring his transparent attempt at guilt. “Let me tell you about my husband. He’s kind and generous, and one of the strongest men I know. And he doesn’t need me. I don’t think he’s never needed me. Even with his disability…” She lifted a shoulder and switched her gaze to the floor. “Maybe it’s the difference in our ages, but I always thought marriage meant more than simply being taken care of. It should be more.” She looked at Lynch. “I want…no I need to be needed. And by more than just my son.”
She took his hands and uncrossed his arms. “I know you’re hurting…I hurt too. We both loved Hez…” Her voice hitched and tears pressed at her eyes. She cleared her throat. “Will Graham be happy I’m here? No. But that can’t be helped. You need me. And I need you. Right now, in this moment, I’m exactly where I should be.”
His fingers contracted around hers. “What are you suggesting?
She tilted her head. “We could hold each other.”
His eyes darkened. “And if I want more than hold you?”
She released his hands and moved between his legs to cradle his face in her palms. Staring into his magnetic eyes, she realized her naïveté at thinking she wouldn’t sleep with Lynch tonight. Though that hadn’t been her objective, she couldn’t deny the inevitable. She couldn’t deny she loved Lynch.
That she’d always loved him.
And while she cared dearly for Graham, the depth of her feelings for her husband could never be as profound as the ones she held for this man.
She leaned closer and whispered her lips over his. A growl rolled from Lynch’s chest into hers, but he accepted her invitation and returned her kiss.
Unlike before, this union was tentative…an exploration. Thoughtful and sweet and loving. His arms enfolded her, in a gentle embrace. It harkened back to when Lynch first kissed her. He held her like he feared she’d break. He deepened the kiss and she sighed into his mouth.
Spirals of need coiled low in her abdomen as his velvet lips traveled to the sensitive spot just below her ear.
“Be sure about this, Shaly,” he murmured against her skin. Tingles raced across her scalp and warmth pooled in her panties. “Be very sure.”
In answer, she eased away, toed off her shoes and removed her jacket. She pulled her shirt up and over her head then reached behind to flick off her bra. Her nipples peaked at his hungry, devouring gaze. She reached out her hand. He took it and she led him through the narrow kitchen to the bedroom in back.
Inside the minuscule, but tidy room, she helped him dispatch his shirt. She caressed her palms across his chest, relishing its silky feel. She traced her finger along the Celtic design on his chest and pressed a kiss there. She then continued her exploration down to his waistband.
She undid the fly of his jeans while he did the same with her pants zipper. The actions were measured, controlled. Not like the adrenaline-induced frenzied encounter at the Bentley farm. Only when she stood before him as naked as him did he touch her. Really touch her.
His large hands spanned her waist, drawing her near until her body adjoined his from chest to groin, the evidence of his arousal tucked securely against her belly.
He captured her lips in a smoldering, scorching kiss. One that made her burn. Burn with the fire of wanting…needing…more.
His mouth journeyed to the hollow of her throat, kissed and nipped her collarbone. She flexed her fingers into the muscles of his shoulders to hold him closer. He urged her down onto the neatly-made bed.
His sinewy body covered hers. How she loved the heavy feel of him pressing her into the mattress. Then he kissed her again. Long, drugging kisses that awakened every one of her nerve endings. She kissed him back amid her mounting urgency.
She encouraged him to roll over without breaking contact with his lips. Her legs on either side of his torso, she swept her tongue through his mouth while rocking her hips and dragging the length of his cock along her intimate folds. His groan mingled with her moan.
She left his lips and kissed her way down the breadth of his chest, pausing to tease his nipples. She moved lower, across his flat stomach to kneel between his legs.
Wrapping her hand around his girth, she looked up at him. He stared back, not moving…like he’d stopped breathing. She gave him a small smi
le then opened her mouth, and took him in.
She remembered when she’d insisted Lynch teach her to perform oral. He’d been almost embarrassed. But she’d persisted because she wanted to be the best for him.
She used her hands in tandem with her mouth then flattened her tongue and deep-throated him. She swallowed to lessen the gag reflex, but also to maximize his pleasure. His hips thrust, pushing him deeper into her mouth while his hands mussed her hair. Her cunt contracted as her clit throbbed.
He tightened his hold on her hair and hauled her back up his body. He easily tossed her onto her back, swallowing her surprised squeak. His tongue commandeered her mouth as he palmed her pussy. He inserted two fingers. And just like that, ecstasy exploded throughout her body.
Lynch continued to fondle her, his mouth never leaving hers, while her orgasm slowly ebbed. When he kissed her neck and shoulder, then her breast, she knew his intention. But as nice as that would be…she had to have more. She didn’t want to just take from him. She wanted to give to him…everything.
She grabbed his ear.
“Ow, Shaly…that hurts.”
She ignored his protest and brought him nose to nose with her. “No oral.”
His eyes ballooned. “But—”
“No buts. I want you, Lynch. Inside me.”
He shifted on his haunches. “Will you regret this in the morning?”
She sat up, her legs on either side of him, touching him as intimately as she could without actual intercourse. “If I do, that’ll be on me. Not you.”
He climbed off the bed. “I can’t let you do this.”
She clamped her legs tight around his hips to keep him stationary and glared. “You can’t let me? I’m an adult, Lynch Callan, fully capable of making my own decisions. Stop trying to protect me all the damn time and make love to me.” Sudden fear slammed into her and she loosened her leg muscles. “Unless you don’t want to…”
He drew his hand down his face with a barked laugh. “Not want to? Christ, Shaly…” He gestured to where their bodies met. “In case you didn’t notice, I’m harder than steel.”
“It’s settled then.” She meshed her mouth with his to prevent any more complaints.
She poured all her emotions—the heartache of past mistakes, the joy at being with him now, the love…all her love…she felt for this man into her kiss. Little by little his arms enclosed her in a hug and he kissed her back. His cock twitched against her pussy and she laid back, taking him with her.
He broke away. “What about rubbers?” His voice sounded raspy. “I don’t think I have any.”
She reached over, pulled out the nightstand drawer and groped around then pulled out an open box. “Ta da.”
He lifted up. “Those have probably been here since before I got sent to the joint. They’re years past their expiration date.”
“Oh please.” She extracted a foil wrapper and tore it open with her teeth. “Those dates are more like guidelines.” She quickly rolled the condom on his pulsating dick. “They’re fine.”
Not that it mattered if they weren’t, but Shasta didn’t say that.
She threaded her fingers through his hair and kissed him again. He grasped his cock and caressed it through her wet folds to lubricate her canal. He nudged her opening with his hard tip then settled into her cradle.
“Tell me if I hurt you,” he whispered against her lips.
She nodded even though she’d do nothing of the kind. Bit by bit, he pushed into her. Joined with her. Made them one.
Tears gathered in her eyes, though not from the fiery pain as her pussy walls stretched to accommodate him. No…her tears were from the sheer beauty of this moment. A moment she never believed she’d experience again with Lynch.
But she was. And she’d be forever grateful for it.
He moved with leisurely confidence, kissing her senseless.
Her desire mounted. Grew bigger, stronger…then even bigger and stronger. With no respite. Like she was dying from wanting him.
The mattress bounced and the springs protested. He tore his mouth away, straightened his arms and powered into her. Then he abruptly stopped.
His finger grazed her cheek, and came away wet. “I’m hurting you.”
She shook her head which cascaded tears into her hair. “It’s not that.”
“What is it then?”
A frustrated growl gurgled in her throat. The last thing she wanted to do at this moment was talk. She dug her heels into the back of his legs, grabbed his ass cheeks and shoved her hips upward.
He held himself away. “Tell me why you’re crying, Shaly.”
“Because of you…and me…” A small sob escaped. “Because of us. Don’t stop. Whatever you do…please don’t stop.”
The concern lining his features softened. He lowered onto his elbows and cupped her face. He brushed his thumbs gently under her eyes and kissed her tenderly…so tenderly…her heart sighed.
He resumed his thrusts. An easy rhythm. Leisurely and languorous. But soon he gained momentum. As did her climax. It escalated. She squeezed her thighs to encourage a faster pace.
His intense stare burned into hers. Consumed her. Set her ablaze.
Demolished her.
Her hips bucked and writhed and her internal muscles tightened…tightened…then tightened even more until finally clenching around him in a heart-stopping, epic orgasm that spiraled pleasure through every cell in her body.
Seconds later, his tempo turned uneven and jerky. He released guttural roar and she felt him pulse deep inside her womb.
He rested his face in the curve of her neck, his harsh breathing echoing in her ear. She stroked his shoulders and upper back while his body continued to shudder.
He rolled to his side and nestled her securely next to him. His hand glided up and down her arm. “Good God, Shaly…what the hell were you thinking to come here tonight?”
A short giggle burst past her lips. “I’m not sure I was thinking at all.”
He snorted. “True that.”
She heard the hurt in his voice and rose up to look at him. “Or maybe I was thinking, given all that’s happened lately, I wanted to feel alive.” She caressed her finger along his jaw. “And I wanted to feel alive with you.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed. “What will you tell your husband?”
“What I choose to tell Graham—or not tell him—isn’t your concern.”
He cuddled her to his chest and went back to stroking her arm. “If your brother finds out about this, he’ll fucking kill me.”
“He never found out anything about us before. He won’t now.”
His hand stilled. “I want you to know I didn’t shoot Dell. I wasn’t even in Grant County that night.”
She hoisted herself onto her elbows, her eyebrows knitted. “I never thought you did shoot him. And if you weren’t here, where were you?”
“In Yerington.”
“Yerington? Doing what?”
“Visiting a former member, Oz LaBlaze.”
Her stomach tightened. “Wait a minute…are you saying you had an alibi for the night Dell was shot?”
“Um…yeah. I guess.”
“You guess? How come your lawyer never said anything about an alibi at your trial.”
“Because I never told him.”
Shasta bolted to a sitting position. “Why the hell not?”
“It would’ve been too risky.”
“Too risky?” She slapped his bare stomach.
“Hey!”
“You were on trial for trying to kill a law enforcement officer…specifically my brother. What could possibly have been riskier than that?”
Lynch outlined her collarbone with a fingertip. “It was a judgment call, okay?”
“A judgment call?” Despite her anger, his feather touch paraded shivers up her neck. “What does that mean?”
He coaxed her to lie down. “That maybe we should talk about this later.”
She reared back up. “You said f
ormer member. I didn’t think there was such a thing as a former Streeter.”
He trailed his hand down her arm. “There is…if you’re willing to pay the price.”
Another procession of goose bumps erupted on her skin. Her nipples puckered. She pushed his hand away, refusing to be distracted. “What kind of price?”
His gaze fastened onto her beading peaks and she crossed her arms. He frowned. “A really high one.”
“Such as?”
He flopped against the headboard. “Such as when Ox fell in love with a widow from Yerington. She owned a bakery and had a couple of teenaged kids. And she absolutely rejected the MC lifestyle. No way was she cut out to be an old lady, not to mention she didn’t want her kids exposed to our…less than legal activities. But Ox loved her. So he came to the table and asked permission to leave. The vote was yes…if he chopped off his left index finger.”
“My God.” Shasta’s stomach rolled at the savage condition. “What’d he do?”
Lynch hitched his shoulder. “To the best of my knowledge, he’s the only nine-fingered baker in the state.”
“And you went to see this Ox guy why?”
“Hey you hungry?” Lynch rolled off the bed. “I’m not sure what’s here to eat, but—”
She grabbed his wrist and pulled him back. “Why did you go see him?”
He settled one foot on the floor with his other leg bent and on the mattress, rubbing his forehead and saying nothing.
Realization barreled into her. “You wanted to leave the Streeters? Why?”
He peeked at her with a small grin. “I had my reasons. Or I should say…a reason.”
Air caught behind Shasta’s breastbone. “I was the reason? Seriously?”
His forehead puckered. “Why so surprised, Shaly? Don’t you know how I feel about you?”
Her pulse rate kicked up a notch as her mouth suddenly went dry. “How you feel about me?”
“Yeah.” He traced his thumb under her chin. “I love you.”
