Stitch: Satan's Fury MC

by Wilder, L

  In just a few weeks, he’d taken my world by storm, making me feel things I never dreamed and as much as it scared me, I wanted it. I wanted him. So while I was apprehensive, it wasn’t him I feared, it was the idea of a relationship that scared me. But the things I felt when I was with him weren’t feelings I could ignore. Whatever was happening between us, it was something I wanted – no, I needed – to explore.

  “Griffin,” I urged, as I took the covers and pulled them back, inviting him to come lay next to me.

  Without any further delay, he took his phone out of his pocket and kicked off his boots. His fingers dropped to the buttons of his jeans, and I watched with what I was sure were lustful eyes, as they fell to the floor. Leaving him with just a pair of form fitting boxers and his t-shirt. I nearly groaned out loud at the image he painted; he was beautiful. He was built the way a man ought to be built… tall, muscular, broad shoulders… my god. Just looking at him made me feel alive. It’d been a while, a good long while since I’d enjoyed – actually enjoyed, the company of a man, and when he started walking towards me I got hot all over. He quietly settled on the bed next to me, and laid his head down on the pillow.

  I rolled to my side and with my face just inches from his, I whispered, “See… that wasn’t so hard.”

  “Only one thing hard about getting in this bed with you,” he whispered with a faint growl. “Not sure I’ll be able to restrain myself.”

  I leaned in closer to him, briefly pressing my lips to his. “You never have to restrain yourself with me.”

  “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

  “I do. I trust you.”

  “It’s not that easy, Wren. Never been a gentle man. Never known… gentle.”

  I placed the palm of my hand against his chest and said, “Beneath that hard exterior lies a man with a good heart, one that fights for what is right and true. There is gentle in you, Griffin. I’ve seen it. I’ve felt it.”

  “I’ve spent all these weeks watching you, seeing that you are everything I’m not. Good. Decent. Loving. I’m none of those things and I will tarnish you with my touch. I’ve tried to fight it. Tried to protect you from me, from the darkness inside of me, but your pull is too strong, Wren. I want you too damn much.”

  “Don’t fight it,” I said.

  Without any further hesitation, he reached for me, pulling me closer to him as his mouth found mine. An eager moan echoed through the room when his tongue brushed against mine. My hands roamed across the ridges of his chest as he deepened the kiss. He lifted himself from the bed, settling between my legs as he continued to explore my mouth with his tongue. I’d never felt such a strong desire for a man. With just a simple touch he sent a surge of heat coursing through my body, burning me to my very core. He made me feel craved, wanted beyond belief. When he looked at me, I wasn’t worried about the imperfections of my body or my lack of sexual experience. I could see the yearning in his eyes and I’d never felt so beautiful.

  Without saying a word he pulled his t-shirt over his head, tossing it aimlessly onto the floor. My eyes were instantly drawn to the colorful ink that marked his body and I couldn’t stop myself from reaching out to touch him. He watched silently as I studied the intricate designs of his tattoos, brushing the tips of my fingers along his flesh. The artistic details were meticulously precise, obviously having taken hours upon hours to complete. I was utterly enthralled by them but was suddenly pulled from my trance when I noticed the large knotted scars hidden beneath the ink. There were so many scars…. too many to count. I looked up at him, my mind filled with questions but the words were stuck in my throat. He remained perfectly still as I continued to run my hands over his chest, feeling the various gnarled grooves on his skin. When my fingers reached his back, I gasped in horror. “Griffin?”

  “Happened a long time ago, Wren,” he said. His smile was almost prideful when he said, “Battle wounds of sorts.”

  “Someone hurt you?” I asked quietly, my voice trembling.

  “Like I said, it was a long time ago,” he said, giving me a thoughtful look. “Can’t change the past, and I wouldn’t even if I could. Every scar, every mark on my body is a reminder that I survived. Just living through it made me who I am.”

  I lifted myself from the bed, throwing my leg over him and carefully resting my knees at his sides as I straddled him. I lowered my head and pressed my lips against one of the larger scars that marked his chest, kissing him softly. He clearly had been through hell and back and just the mere thought of what he might have been through tore at my heart. Whatever had happened to him, he’d managed to come out on the other side with a strength and compassion that I couldn’t begin to comprehend.

  “If these scars made you who you are, then I am thankful for each and every one of them,” I whispered. I continued kissing and caressing each of the raised welts along his skin. When I brushed my tongue across his nipple, a deep growl of approval escaped his body.

  His hands reached for the back of my neck while his fingers tangled tightly in my hair as he took control of the kiss. My hips automatically rocked against him, feeling him thicken beneath me as he devoured my mouth, deepening the kiss. Desire for this man was running rampant through me, and I was losing what little control I had over my body. Any inhibitions I might have had completely washed away when he moved his hands to the hem of my t-shirt, pulling it over my head. He let out a deep breath as he took my bare breasts in his hands, holding them firmly while brushing his thumbs across my nipples. I loved the feel of his hands on my body, every touch sent me soaring into a new level of ecstasy. I felt his erection throbbing beneath me, and I was quickly becoming desperate to have him inside me.

  A hiss escaped his lips as I reached down, slipping my hand into his boxers. His breathing became short and strained as my fingers wrapped around him, in a matter of seconds, I was flipped around, lying flat on my back with the weight of his body pressed against me. His mouth dropped to my ear, the warmth of his breath sending goosebumps down my spine as he whispered, “So damn perfect.”

  I felt my underwear sliding along my flesh as he eased my panties down my legs. A needful moan vibrated through his chest as he gazed down upon my naked body. A devilish grin spread across his face while he settled his hips back between my legs making my entire body tremble with need. He lowered his face to my neck, the bristles of his beard tickling against my skin, as he nipped and sucked along the contours of my body. My hands dropped to his waist, pulling at his boxers to no avail. He chuckled into the crook of my neck as he lifted his hips and eased them down his legs. Seconds later they were on the floor next to his abandoned t-shirt, and his mouth was back on mine. A part of me wanted to slow down, savor the moment, but I was too far gone and just couldn’t restrain myself. I wanted him, needed him. My legs spread further to accommodate him, my hips shifting up toward him as he rubbed himself against my clit. My entire body ached for him, nearly to the point of pain.

  “You sure about this?” he asked.

  Unable to even string together coherent words I nodded, praying that he wouldn’t stop.

  “Need the words, Wren. Once I have you, I’m not letting you go.”

  His words caught me by surprise, but I knew he meant exactly what he’d said. Without reservation, I whispered huskily, “I’m sure, Griffin. I’ve never been more sure about anything.” I wound my hands around his neck, pulling him closer and kissed him. It was gentle and slow, a promise. “I want this. I want you. Please, Griffin.”

  “You have me,” he groaned. His hand slipped between us, and his fingers entered me. Each movement was meticulous and slow, causing me to writhe beneath him while his thumb brushed back and forth over my clit. I was unable to control my whimpers of pleasure as he delved deeper inside me. I didn’t recognize my own voice as it echoed through the room. I was completely lost in his touch, loving the feel of his calloused hands against my body. The bed creaked as I arched my back, feeling the muscles in my abdomen tighten with my imp
ending release. My breath caught in my throat as waves of pleasure rushed through me, and just when I thought I couldn’t take it a moment longer, his hand was gone.

  Griff’s forehead rested against mine as he grazed his cock against my entrance. His erection, hot and hard, burned against my clit while he teased me with it. He shifted his hips to align with my opening. I gasped loudly as he thrusted deep inside me, giving me all he had to give in one smooth stroke. He froze, looking at me with a horrified expression. Grumbling curses under his breath, he said, “Don’t want to hurt you.”

  “You didn’t, and I’m not going to break, Griffin. You feel so good. Stop holding back,” I demanded as I rocked my hips, begging him to continue.

  His hands reached up to the nape of my neck, fisting my hair as he drove into me again. Slow and demanding, he was in complete control. Every smooth slide of his cock into my body was a statement of dominance. His teeth raked over my nipples, and I cried out wanting more. I dug my nails into his back as my whole body ignited with such intense heat, it was unlike anything I’d ever experienced before. He pushed deeper inside me as I tightened around him, and a deep moan vibrated in his throat as he picked up his pace. His control shattered, and unable to restrain himself any longer, he pounded into me in long, smooth rapid strokes. I fought to catch my breath as I felt my climax approaching. My entire body jolted and jerked as my orgasm crashed through me. I continued to tighten around his throbbing cock until he found his own release. His body collapsed on top of mine, exhausted and sweaty. I loved how he felt pressed against my bare skin, buried deep inside me. I never wanted to leave that spot.

  Chapter 14

  Stitch

  ‡

  Sunlight pierced through the window blinds, pulling me from my sleeping stupor, but my body was resisting. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d slept so soundly, and it was difficult to pull myself awake. When I finally opened my eyes, I was not happy to see that I was in the bed alone. I’d fallen asleep with Wren wrapped in my arms, and I expected to wake up with her still next to me. Fuck. I was just about to get worried that she’d left when I heard a commotion in the kitchen, followed by the rumble of profanities. Curious to see what the hell she was up to, I threw back the covers and pulled on a pair of sweats. The intoxicating smell of fresh cooked bacon made my stomach growl as I walked down the hall. When I reached the kitchen, I found Wren hovering over the stove. She was wearing another one of my old t-shirts and her wet hair was falling around her shoulders. Her face was flushed, and she was obviously flustered when she reached into the oven.

  “Son of a …. God dog it!” she grumbled under her breath as she dropped the hot pan of biscuits on the counter. “What the hell is wrong with me? It’s like I’ve never cooked stupid biscuits before,” she pouted as she shook her hand wildly at her side. When that didn’t work, she placed the tip of her thumb in her mouth, trying to stop the burn.

  I cleared my throat and smiled. “Morning.”

  With her finger still in her mouth, she turned to face me. Her eyes instantly dropped to my bare chest, widening with appreciation as she stood there ogling me. Several seconds later, she removed her finger from her mouth and said, “Umm… you need to put on a shirt.”

  “I do?” I taunted.

  “Yeah, you do. I still have to finish breakfast, and there is no way I can concentrate when you are standing there with that chest and all those muscles bulging everywhere. And don’t get me started on that V thing you’ve got going,” she said, quickly motioning her hand up and down my body. “You’ll need to put on some different pants, too. Like old man pants with a big ole’ sweatshirt and maybe a Dive cap.”

  “Old man pants?”

  “Griffin… You cannot walk around here wearing those,” she scolded pointing to my sweats and shaking her head.

  “And why’s that, Wren? Feeling a little tempted?” I teased, smiling at her seductively.

  “Look here, Mr. Sex on a stick. I’ve made you breakfast. I went all out. I even made bacon and I don’t do bacon and… go put on a shirt!” she argued.

  “Okay,” I chuckled as I advanced towards her.

  When I had almost reached her, she started backing away and screeched, “What are you doing?”

  “You’re wearing my shirt,” I teased. A look of a panic rushed over her face when I reached for the hem of the t-shirt she was wearing.

  “Umm… Yeah, I used your shower, too,” she replied as he grabbed the spatula off the counter, holding it tightly at her side.

  When she shuffled her feet, my attention was drawn down to the floor, and I smiled when I saw that she was wearing a pair of my socks again. With my hands still clinging to her shirt, she popped my arm with the end of the spatula. “Back off jack!” she teased.

  “Hey! I was just doing what I was told,” I laughed as I grabbed the spatula away from her, tossing it back on the counter. She looked around the room, searching for her next weapon of choice. Seeing that nothing was in reach, a faint scowl crept over her face when she said, “Are you going to behave yourself?”

  “I’m not making any promises,” I told her playfully. I placed my hands on her hips and pulled her closer. Her frown quickly faded when I wrapped my arms around her, holding her tightly against my chest. I never expected to like it so much – having her here, in my kitchen, making a mess while she cooked me breakfast, treating my house like a home. But I did like it. I liked it more than I ever thought I could. She had me wanting things I’d never imagined I’d ever want or need. She had me wanting a future, a future with her and Wyatt. She watched me with those beautiful black eyes as I lowered my head and claimed her mouth. The kiss quickly became heated, and a slight whimper escaped her lips when I stepped forward, pressing her back against the stainless steel refrigerator door. Her arms wound around my neck, and just as we were starting to lose ourselves in the moment, the oven timer started ringing.

  She quickly pulled away from me and rushed over to the stove. A wonderful aroma filled the air when she opened the oven door, making my mouth water. I watched her pull out the breakfast casserole made with sausage, eggs, and tons of cheese, and I couldn’t stop myself from stepping closer, trying to get a better look.

  When she noticed me peering over her shoulder, she said, “It’s my mother’s recipe. I hope you like it.”

  “Looks incredible.”

  “Get yourself a plate. I’m starving,” she said as she grabbed the biscuits and bacon and placed them on the counter next to the casserole. While I fixed us both a plate, she poured us each a tall glass of orange juice, then joined me at the kitchen table.

  “How often do you cook like this?” I asked, taking a large bite of casserole.

  “A lot, I guess. I’m always trying to find a way to get Wyatt to eat his vegetables. He pretty much hates anything healthy, so I’ve had to get pretty creative,” she explained.

  “You’re a good mother, Wren.”

  “Sometimes I wonder,” she said, shrugging her shoulders.

  “He’s an awesome kid, and it’s obvious that he’s crazy about you. You’ve gotta be doing something right.”

  “Yeah, he is pretty amazing,” she said smiling. “I called to check on him earlier, and he couldn’t stop talking about the science museum my mother is taking him to today. He’d spent last night researching everything about it, and I’m sure he’ll drive my parents crazy with all his little facts.”

  “I think his facts are cool,” I admitted. “And I’m sure they’ll enjoy spending the day with him.”

  “Yeah… they always do. Don’t know what I would’ve done without all their help,” she explained.

  “You see them often?” I asked, knowing I hadn’t seen them around over the past few weeks.

  “Normally I do, but things have been pretty hectic lately.”

  “You haven’t told them.”

  “About Michael? No. I didn’t want to worry them. They have enough on their plate without me adding to it.”

&nbs
p; I’d never known what it was like to have parents that gave a shit about me, so I was in no position to spout off advice to her about dealing with her folks. Deciding to leave it alone, I stood up and headed to the counter to get myself another helping. When I turned my back to Wren, I heard her take a deep breath. Unlike my chest, the scars on my back weren’t hidden behind tattoos. The scar tissue was too deep, and even the best tattoo artists wouldn’t attempt to cover them. I knew they looked gruesome, but they were a part of me. Nothing I could do to change it.

  Before she had a chance to ask, I said, “It was my grandfather.” When I turned to face her, tears had already begun to fill her eyes. “He was just a mean old bastard.” I didn’t bother explaining what he’d done. She’d seen the scars, there was no doubt how they’d gotten there.

  “Your grandfather did all that to you?” she asked in barely a whisper.

  “Mostly. Some are shrapnel scars from the war. I did two tours in Iraq, but was medically discharged before I could enlist for a third.”