“That’s not enough to call the man a rapist and a killer,” Rowdy pipes in as the voice of reason.
Judge reaches his hand up to grip the back of his neck. “I’ll be honest, guys; I’m not comfortable with that slick fucker being around Sonnie.” He shoots his eyes to mine, watching my reaction.
“She’s been around him this long. If we go at her, swinging our dicks around, she’s liable to cut all our balls off.” Rowdy grips his crotch protectively.
“Y’all have known her all of about one hot minute, and suddenly, she can’t be around a man who is merely a suspect. A man we have to treat as innocent until we prove him guilty and I put his ass in the ground,” I say each word with my anger building.
“I see the way she looks at you,” Judge says. “I’m not willing to have you miss an opportunity to have more in your life because we’re waiting to act on something.”
“More?” I laugh, pushing off and heading toward the door. “I’m not meant to have more. None of us are. We have a job to do, a journey to follow. In the end, we will all burn in Hell alongside the fuckers we’re gonna send there first. No room for more.”
I exit the room, mad as hell that Judge would even allow himself to think any of us could have anything more than what we have had. Sure, we all agreed anyone can leave at any time. I stand by that for everyone else. They can leave, ride off into their version of a fairytale ending.
Me, I left pussy dreams behind the moment I sent my sister away to get balls deep in Gretchen. If Randy, whatever his real name happens to be, is the sick fuck who raped and killed Raleigh, then he will be punished by my hands. After that, it’s onto the next place, the next job, and far away from the life Emerson Flint built for herself in Leed, Alabama.
Leaning against the building, I light my cigarette. I close my eyes and blow out the smoke, relishing in the burn of my lungs as I take in the nicotine. Immediately, I see her dark hair, dark eyes, and colorful ink in my mind. Tossing the cigarette on the ground, I stomp it out and climb on my bike.
Earlier, I got her address from Earl to run a check on her. I gave a quick scan of the information. It’s coming in handy more than I ever realized. Now I suddenly have a pull to get to her. I need to see for myself that she made it home okay.
I pull up to her house and park on the curb at the end of her drive, surprised to find no porch light on in the front. Seeing a light off the back, I walk around to see her mixing something in a bowl with her silhouette to the window. When my knuckles rattle the door to knock, she jumps from surprise. She looks out her kitchen window at me, and my mind races when she simply waves me in.
Turning the knob, I meet no resistance. It’s unlocked.
I start to tell her she has lost her fucking mind, and then I look around. Her kitchen is like I have stepped back in time. What the ever loving hell?
When I scan the space and land my gaze back on her, she has a giant mixing spoon in her mouth with a white mixture sliding down her bottom lip. She lifts a finger up from the spoon to say hello.
“What are you eating?”
Removing the spoon, she gives a bright, beautiful, take my breath away smile. “Cake batter.”
I shake my head. Anytime my mom made a cake, Emerson and Raleigh would lick the batter bowl clean. Some things never change, I guess.
“You got a problem with a door lock?”
She looks from the door back to me. “Nope.”
“There a reason you aren’t using it, then?”
“Yup.”
Frustration builds as she keeps her answers short.
She dips the spoon back in the bowl as I make my move forward. She continues her path as I push on until she is pinned to the counter.
“You got a man?” I ask, wondering if, in my day of looking into her, I missed something.
Her eyes grow wide. She doesn’t speak, only shakes her head.
“Good, because I would hate to have to kick his fucking ass for having you in a house without the door locked.” I back away and lock the door behind me.
She’s right on me. Her hand lands on top of mine as I twist the deadbolt in place. “Please,” she whispers. “I don’t want to feel trapped.”
The tone in her voice has me reversing the lock. She won’t be trapped, but for fuck’s sake, she won’t be alone, either. The more I think I should turn and ride as far as I can away from her, the farther I get sucked into her net.
With a quick step outside, I grab my phone from my bike and a clean set of clothes. As I enter her space again, Emerson is standing still in the same spot I left her in with shock on her face.
Bending over just inside the back door, I untie my boots and take them off.
“Dover, what are you doing?”
Standing with a smirk, I tell her, “Getting comfortable.”
She raises an eyebrow at me. “Why?”
After placing my clothes and phone on her kitchen counter, I reach out, putting my hands on her hips. Giving her a quick kiss on the cheek, I feel a spark between us so hot my lips tingle.
“Where’s your southern hospitality, darlin’?” I ask her rather than answer her question. If she doesn’t want to be direct, then neither do I.
She backs away, pulling out of my loose hold. “You are not”—she shakes her spoon at me, causing batter to fly wildly to the floor and countertops—“staying here, Dover Ragnes.”
Stepping closer, I reach out and grab her wrist, holding the spoon steady as I lean in to lick the remnants. Her eyes bulge like they may pop right out of their sockets.
“Show me to the guest room.” The batter is sweet and creamy as it slides down my tongue and into my throat.
“Umm,” she stammers, yanking the spoon away and tossing it into the sink.
Stepping back, I gesture for her to lead the way.
“Dover, you can’t stay here.”
“Well, you got no man, no gun, at least that’s registered, anyway. Yeah, I checked into you,” I admit before continuing, “and you apparently have a serious issue with locks. You’ve got two choices, Emerson: one, lock the fucking door like a sane person would do, or snuggle up, buttercup, because I’m not leaving if I don’t know you’re safe.”
Panic shows on her face before the anger sets in. “Let’s get a few things straight. I do not need a man to keep me safe. I have been just fine all these years without the big brother bear in you to protect me. As for a gun, you don’t know what I do or don’t have, so you really shouldn’t spout off shit you don’t know about. As for the fucking door, last time I checked, the mortgage to this place only comes in my name. Emerson Suzanne Flint pays the bills around here, buddy, not you, not anyone else. That said, Emerson Suzanne Flint makes the rules here. If I want to leave every fucking window and door wide open, there isn’t a damn thing you or anyone else can do about it.”
Moving to her, I grab her hips with a tug toward me. “Gotta tell you, this fire you got, I like it. I like it a lot.”
Her breath hitches, and I know she feels this crazy pull between us that I’m fighting right now, too.
“A man like me, though, doesn’t get led around by pussy.”
When she moves to slap me, I quickly grab her wrist, blocking the move.
“Even for hot pussy that can make my cock harder than I ever thought possible, I don’t get led around by my dick.”
Her mouth pops open, but she doesn’t speak.
“You wanna show me to the guest room or what?”
“I don’t…” She pauses. “I don’t have a guest room.”
“Well, then the couch it is,” I state, and she blinks. I take my tone down and simply explain what she should already know. “Look, Emerson, you know I’ve seen shit in my life, experienced loss. I can’t walk away tonight, not feeling like you are safe.”
Her eyes meet mine. As our gazes lock, I feel her pain since she experienced the same loss. There is a shift in the air between us. I’m a fucking pussy for even acknowledging it, but try as I may, I can’t deny it.
Every breath Emerson takes causes her breasts to press against my chest. My dick takes notice. All the blood rushes from my brain to my manhood, and I fight back the urge to crash my lips to hers.
When she speaks, her voice is raspy, her pupils dilated, and she is turned on. “I don’t have a couch.”
I laugh. “Well, I really do hope you like to snuggle, then, because I’ve slept in a lot of shitholes, babe, but I damn sure don’t crash on floors.”
She looks over her shoulder at her half-eaten bowl of batter. With a sigh, it seems like I have won. “Then, I guess, make yourself at home, Dover.”
The whisper in her voice on the word home takes me back.
“We’re gonna be family one day, Emerson,” I hear my sister say as I walk by her open bedroom door on my way to my room. “When we grow up, you’re gonna have to marry my brother.” Raleigh laughs as her little friend gasps. “I know it isn’t ideal, but think about it. If you and Dover are, like, together forever, then we will always share birthdays with each other. It will be like we see on TV. Every holiday, all the family comes together when they go back home to visit. If you’re with Dover, then we can always share the batter bowl.”
“Dover is, like, way old, Raleigh,” Emerson answers back casually. “I can’t marry him.”
“One day, Emerson, we’re gonna be way old, too. Then you’ll have to marry my brother so we can be real sisters.”
“I didn’t think of that,” Emerson says with new excitement to her voice.
“Look, if you had a brother, I would marry him if it meant we could be sisters, but you don’t, so this is how it has to be.” There is a pause before my sister chants, “Emerson and Dover, sitting in a tree.”
I hear my sister’s voice muffle as I assume Emerson is covering her mouth to stop the song. I laugh at their great big plans, knowing by the time these two are my age, this won’t even be a memory.
Funny, it’s a memory for me and not my little sister who, at the age of nine, thought she had life completely figured out.
“Emerson and Dover, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G,” I can hear Raleigh in my mind.
I don’t think anymore. Wrapping my hands around her neck with my thumbs against her jaw line, I react, crashing my lips to hers. The sweet taste of the batter from her lips only makes me crave more.
Home sweet fucking home.
Chapter Ten
~Emerson~
The firm feel of his hands around my neck, the rough touch of his calloused thumbs against the softness of my jaw … As his lips hit mine, I inhale, smelling the leather and cigarettes along with a blend of pure masculine heat. Curiously, I let my tongue dart out to taste the mix of cake batter and Dover on my lips. He takes this as an open invitation to pull me closer and move his tongue with mine.
At the first swipe of his tongue against mine, I let out a moan of pleasure as my mouth sparks with desire, craving nothing more than this moment. Never have I felt anything like this. I can feel the heat of the flames, and without a doubt, I’m going to get burned, but like two magnets, I can’t pull away.
He rubs my neck tenderly with his thumbs while I feel his body tense as I move my hands to his chest. The feel of his tongue so pliable against mine versus the rock hard man gripping me. I crave more and can’t get close enough.
In a flash, I am consumed. Needing both air and Dover, I bite at his bottom lip as I inhale through my nose. The noise he makes is deep, the vibration running from his mouth into my own and only spurring me on further.
Tracing my hands down his shirt, I feel his muscles tick under me. At the hem, I allow my fingertips to trace the top of his waistband.
In my line of work, my hands have touched many types of skin. Rough to smooth, wrinkled to fresh, scarred and marred, blank to colorful—I have experienced them all. I see skin, touch skin, and it all becomes a canvas to me. In this moment, I want to mark Dover Ragnes inside and out.
The feel of his abdomen is soft in contrast to the skin of his arms and hands. It’s smooth, unmarred. I trace the puckered scar of his bullet wound, remembering the life Dover has led. The man is contained fury, always walking the line of danger.
He twists my head to the side, his tongue greedily seeking every millimeter of my mouth. The more he kisses me, the more build up I feel to have my hands all over him. This need to have him only grows as he roams his hands to the swell of my breasts through the thin fabric of my shirt. I wasn’t expecting company, so when Dover arrived, I was already in a thin camisole and pajama shorts.
Not thinking, simply feeling, I pull away to breathe and take my shirt off, flinging it haphazardly over my shoulder. For a moment, I hesitate as the air hits my exposed skin. This is not who I am, but as I inhale his scent, my desire is too great to hold back any longer.
Dover smiles at me, his white teeth standing out against his swollen red lips. Though I can only imagine how puffy my own are, I don’t care about anything except having his lips on mine once again.
With my hands around the back of his neck, I yank him to me, and he puts his hands down under my thighs and scoops me up. It only takes a few steps before Dover has my back against the wall and his jean covered erection rocking into my core. Then he drops his head, taking my nipple into his mouth.
Thrashing wildly, I can’t stop myself as I cry out, “More, Dover.”
“Be careful what you wish for, darlin’,” he warns against my flesh. The cool of the air does nothing for the heat coming off our bodies.
Wrapping my legs around his waist, I want to be closer. “Don’t fuckin’ start something you don’t intend to finish,” I reply, shamelessly grinding against him. Just as I set a rhythm and get him lined up how I want, he pulls back.
“This changes everything, Em.” There is a pain in his voice.
Opening my eyes to meet his, I see they have gone from a light blue, purple iris to a deep sea blue dancing with emotion.
I pull on his neck. He doesn’t move.
I lean in to his neck and bite softly under his jaw. “This changes nothing, Dover.”
Firmly, he presses me to the wall, flicking his tongue out to graze behind my earlobe. “You’re mine, Em. This changes everything.”
Lost in my own desires, my body on fire, I reply without thinking. “Call me whatever you want, call this whatever you want, Dover Ragnes, just don’t you stop. It’s been too fucking long.”
I’m not a whore. I have had lovers, but never in my lifetime have I ever been this on edge, this turned on … Never have I been anything like what I feel in this moment. I need Dover inside me. I need to be connected to him. I need to feel him as he fills me. Like a magnet, the pull is too strong. I can face the consequences tomorrow, but today, I have latched on, and I’m not letting go.
Dover doesn’t need any more encouragement. He separates us only enough for his mouth to latch onto my nipple again. With his tongue, he circles before he sucks, causing me to rock my hips into him. As he moves his hands under my shorts, I relish the feel of his fingers under my thighs as he makes his way to my soaked panties.
“Em, fucking wet for me,” he growls as he pushes my panties to the side and slides a finger into me. “So tight. I feel you clench around me.” He moves it in and out. Then I feel his thumb slide between my ass cheeks as he fingers me and rubs my asshole without his thumb breaching the boundary.
My pussy tingles, my clit throbs, and my inner walls work. My mind shuts down as my heart races, and my breathing becomes erratic. Holding on to his neck, I pinch him accidently. Dover laughs, giving my collarbone a bite.
“More, Dover,” I beg, pulling at his shirt collar. I need to be skin to skin.
Pushing my hips down, I take his finger deeper. When he slides out this time, he adds another as his thumb continues to tease my ass. I’m so lost in desire I don’t care if he sticks it in, just as long as we don’t stop. I may hate myself in the morning, but right now, I feel like I will literally combust if Dover were to push away.<
br />
Without a care about how wanton I am, I ride his fingers, my inner muscles tightening and releasing, working me up more.
“Best fucking pussy ever. Feeling this every day, I could live a happy fucking life,” Dover whispers more to himself than me. “Little Emerson has grown into a woman, my fucking woman. Dark hair, ink, banging body, tits, ass, and fucking sass. I want in.”
“Fuck me,” I cry out as he curls his fingers, hitting the spot and sending me over the edge. As I fight to catch my breath, I mumble, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, I didn’t see stars; I saw whole fucking constellations.”
At his laugh, I realize I am officially in over my head. This changes everything, and he hasn’t even gotten his yet.
Without letting me have time to come down—or moreover, without allowing me a moment to think—Dover pulls out his fingers. Then he puts those same fingers in my mouth. I taste myself on them as I suck, and I can still taste a hint of his cigarettes from where he holds them between his fingers as he smokes. It’s like an erotic blend of me and Dover. It’s worse than a drug, and my body immediately readies for the next high.
“Gonna fuck you now, Em. Can’t hold back. You gotta stop me, darlin’,” Dover bites out through gritted teeth as I see him losing his restraint. It only turns me on more.
Dropping my legs, I stand not so firmly as I slide off my shorts and panties. Taking his lead from me, Dover scoops me up.
“No way I can stay upright when I get my cock inside that pussy,” he growls into my ear as I wrap my arms around his neck. “Bedroom, Em, where’s your fucking bedroom?”
“First door down the hallway,” I whisper. Seeing how I affect him is empowering and turns me on more.
He looks at my bed before dropping me onto it. “We’re gonna have to be creative.” Standing, he pulls his shirt over his head. When his eyes meet mine again, there is a hunger there that has me running my fingers over my bare pussy lips as the room charges with the energy between us. “If I ever had a doubt about you having a man, your bed gives me all the answers I need.” He laughs.
“You here to talk, or you gonna fuck me?” I tease him, dipping two of my own fingers into my heat.
In The Red: Nomad Bikers (Devil's Due MC Book 1) Page 7
