For several backwards thrusts of her hips, he stood still, letting her take what she wanted from him. She was rising and falling on her toes, pushing back with her ass and then grinding in a small circle when he was deep. Goddamn, he thought, she’s fucking amazing. Mine. Vaguely, he heard the music change, the sounds of Fink’s Perfect Darkness rising and falling.
“Babe,” he growled. “You need to get ready. You got about thirty more seconds to take yours, and then I’m fucking you for mine.” She groaned loudly, and he was suddenly glad his house was isolated from his few neighbors by both a tall fence and distance, because he would have to kill any man who saw her like this, abandoning her inhibitions, lost in passion. Fuck, he thought, this is my pussy. Mine. She ain’t never getting away, won’t allow her to leave.
Reaching his hands out, he flexed his fingers, releasing them from the tightly clenched fists they had been locked into since she first slid backwards onto him. Smoothing his palms up her back, he ignored the silvering scars and slowly stroked up the long muscles on either side of her spine. “Gunny,” she called, breathlessly, “please.” Curling his fingers around her sides, he cupped her breasts for a moment, squeezing and teasing her nipples before slipping his hands back down to her hips as he moved against her. He made the slow circuit three times, speeding the pace of his hands when he snapped his hips forward, meeting her backwards thrusts, the loud slap of their flesh filling the air around them.
Settling one palm on her waist, he wrapped the fingers of his other hand midway across her belly, brushing a finger down to press hard against her clit, then thrummed it rapidly, feeling it harden again under his ministrations. Bringing his other hand backwards on her hip, he stretched his thumb out until he could reach her anus. Still lubricated from his earlier play, he pressed his thumb slowly inside, pushing past the ring of muscles, then smoothly stroking in and out.
“Goddamn. Love you. Love this ass, baby,” he whispered, gaze locked on where they were joined, on his hand, where his fingers were gripping her cheek, fingertips digging hard into her flesh. Seeing his thumb tucked into her tight heat, watching his wet and shining cock slipping in and out of her silken core. “My woman. Baby, you’re mine, always. Mine. My pussy,” he gritted, bending his knees slightly to thrust upward and into her, driving hard and fast. “Mine. My Sharon,” he roared, feeling her clenching around him, her loud cry undulating as she came. He could almost feel the sound like a caress on his skin, flushed with the knowledge he brought her to this place filled with mindless, wordless pleasure.
Bending forward, he covered her with his chest, his teeth finding the flesh over her shoulder blade, biting and tugging. His hands kept moving her back and forth, even as she came hard with him deep inside her. Before she could finish, he straightened, pulling out of her and lining his cock up with her anus. Without a word, he pushed forward, and felt her shiver as he relentlessly pressed inside her there. Slippery with her wetness, he slid the head of his cock in without much resistance and then stilled, head thrown back, nearly undone by the tightness and heat that surrounded him.
He brought his hand up, wrapping his soaked fingers around his cock, sliding that lubrication up the length until his knuckles bumped firmly into her ass, then moved his hand back to her pussy, teasing and stroking her as before. He knew the full width of his cock would be harder for her to take, would require her participation to keep it painless. With his fingers slowly sliding alongside and strumming her clit, he told her, “Breathe, babe. Push back, pressing out, baby. Take me in.”
She did, and he let her set the pace of this initial penetration, holding back fiercely, even as every fiber of his body wanted to plunge deep inside her ass, fucking her wild and fast to chase the orgasm he denied himself before. Gently rocking his hips, he withdrew by small measures and pressed back inside, deeper every time, repeating the motion, but keeping it slow. “Baby, talk to me,” he said. “Tell me, Sharon. My Sharon. You okay?” This was his first full penetration of her ass. Up to this point, it had only been fingers and thumbs stretching and teasing her. Now that he was in there, he wanted to make sure this was pleasurable, wanted to take her without pain, especially given her injuries only months ago.
“Yeah, it burns a bit, but God it feels good. You feel good, Gunny. So full, God. Don’t stop,” she pleaded breathlessly, and he saw her arm move, felt her fingers join his at her pussy, her hand sliding underneath his so he was grinding her fingertips against her clit along with his.
“Oh, babe. Aw goddamn, I ain’t gonna last long, baby. Can you come?” He threw back his head again, taking deep breaths while keeping the steady, deep, slow pace he set. Heaven Knows was playing on the radio now, and the driving beat of The Pretty Reckless song helped him stay slow. Randomly, he thought, That’s it; give every stroke a two count, no double-time. Keep it gentle. Make it good. Slow and steady. Make it the best for my Sharon. My woman. Exquisite woman. Mine. Make it good.
“I don’t think so, baby. But it feels good, don’t stop.” Her voice was stronger and he smiled. She was mistaken. She’ll come with me in her ass. I just need to… He shifted his hand from her clit to her opening, feeling his sac slapping against the back of his hand as he pressed two fingers deep inside her. Matching the rhythm he was using to fuck her ass, he wasn’t surprised when after only a few strokes, he felt the first tightening flutters inside her pussy.
“Yeah, baby, just like that,” he urged, hearing her gasp. “Not gonna last. Baby, come for me…come around me…clamp down on me.” The music changed again, the fast-paced Band of Brothers from Hellyeah began and he grinned fiercely, fingers moving faster in response to the beat. Take her over the wall. Push her. I’m gonna make her come.
She groaned and pressed backwards hard, pushing him deep and holding there as she came, more gently than before, but still a climax she hadn’t expected. He smiled victoriously, thrusting deep with his fingers and holding there, the movement of his hips still sliding his cock in and out of her ass. “All right, babe. We found yours. Now. My turn,” he said, panting as he sped the pace and pulled his fingers out, moving both hands to her hips.
He was tugging and pushing at her again, controlling the angle of his penetration and the depth of his thrusts to provide the greatest pleasure, and within a couple minutes, he was there, right fucking there with her. Tucking his chin to his chest, his gaze wandered her torso from where her ass jumped and jiggled with every plunge he made into her body. Grinding deep, he felt the heat from her thighs on his, the softness of her body giving to his needs, and he clenched his ass and drove deeper, drawing small circles with his hips. He looked up the slope of her back, gaze tracing along the muscles and curves to where her face was half-turned, hair draped over one shoulder. She stared back at him, an unreadable expression on her face, but her eyes were deeply hooded with satisfied passion. Seeing her like that dropped him over the precipice, freefalling as his cock exploded inside her.
He leaned over her, reaching out to grab at the table and support himself, breathing hard and fast, sweat dripping off his nose and chin onto her skin. He thrust into her at uneven intervals, the muscles of his stomach jerking as the sensations assaulted him. She shifted her hands from the chair to the table, folding her arms on the edge between his hands and propping her head on them. Covering her, he framed her arms with his, threading his fingers together. Dropping his head to the middle of her back, he wiped the sweat-slick skin of his scalp back and forth before coming to rest with his cheek pressed to her spine.
“Babe,” he whispered, feeling his cock slowly soften inside her, knowing from the uncoiling feeling that it would be dropping out of her soon if he didn’t withdraw. “Fucking amazing,” he said, softly kissing the marks he left on her skin. “You okay?”
“Better than okay,” came her answer and he smiled, lips moving across her skin.
“Burgers are burnt,” he said, sniffing. “Gonna hafta call for pizza.”
She laughed, and he joined her, trailing
kisses across her back again.
***
The pups were growling and she lifted her head from the pillow, cautiously looking around the room. Nothing seemed out of place, but her stomach clenched, remembering the last time she woke unexpectedly in this room. It was still dark out, only a little light leaking in around the blinds. She reached over and picked up her phone, squinting for the time…nearly three in the morning. What could have them stirred up? she wondered, and then Gunny spoke from the darkness, saying clearly, in a voice thick with anger, “Fuck you, Kincade.”
The whole bed jumped and she twisted around to look at him in surprise, barely making out the deep frown on his face in the weak light. His lips moved, and it looked like he was talking, but she couldn’t hear anything. “Baby,” she whispered, reaching out a hand, gasping when he swatted it away.
“You didn’t fucking kill everyone. Leave me the fuck alone, bastard. You don’t get to tell me how to feel.” This was less distinct, more of a mutter, and she pushed up onto her elbows so she could see him better.
A little louder than last time, because his dream—combined with the continuing chorus of growls in the background—was unnerving her, she called his name. “Gunny? Baby, wake up.”
“Fuck. You. I said fuck you.” His mouth twisted, then he shocked her by shouting, “Kincade, get the fuck down. LZ is overrun; we gotta fall back.” He thrashed to one side, then back to his back, pressing his head into the pillow. Breaths coming fast and hard, he yelled, the terror in his voice stealing her breath, “Kincade, brother, Porter’s done for. What do I do?”
She sat on the mattress, pulling the sheet up to cover her breasts. Lips pressed into a thin line, she stared down at him. Every muscle in his body was coiled, ready to strike, tendons in his neck standing out like blades from his skin. Fear and anger were rolling off him in waves and Rocky whined, a frightened sound, then both dogs fell silent. “Gunny,” she said loudly. “Wake up. Please, baby, wake up.”
His head twisted towards her, and she saw with relief his eyes were open. Taking a deep breath, she leaned in to place her hands on his chest, but the moment her palms touched him, her wrists were bracketed by unbreakable bands of steel. He gripped her arms and twisted, pushing her underneath him, his weight crushing down on her. “Gunny, baby…let me go.” With a little scream, she struggled, pulling and pushing to get away from him, but he held on, staring down at her with a deep frown.
“Gunny,” she pleaded, barely able to push the word past the tightness in her throat, the dogs now barking loudly in counterpoint to his heavy, rasping breathing.
“Fuck,” he yelled, throwing himself off her and to his feet, his back thudding against the wall with such force she could swear the timbers within the plaster groaned. He stood like that for a moment then turned without a word and stalked into the bathroom. With trembling arms, she pushed herself to the top of the bed, taking the covers with her. Leaning against the headboard, she drew in a shaking breath, wondering what she had just seen, and who the hell Kincade was.
17 - New roles
“Gunny!” He heard Sharon’s breathless, panicky voice. She had never sounded like that before, and it startled him. Opening his eyes, he found her sprawled beneath him on the bed, his fingers wrapped around her throat. In horror, he released her and saw the dark red marks in her skin matching the spread of his fingers. He knew he had been only moments from crushing her throat in his sleep. Her voice came again, but she lay there with her eyes closed, skin a sickly, sallow gray. Kincade’s voice called from beside his ear, asking him what he had done. Reaching out slowly, he cupped her cold face in his palm, the chill felt there burning him, causing him to jerk backwards, rolling from the bed.
Staggering, he leaned against the wall with shaking legs, unable to take his eyes off his life lying there on the bed, unmoving. His Rose of Sharon. His love, gone.
“Gunny.” He heard his name and opened his eyes. He was sitting up in bed, covers pooled at his waist. When he saw her kneeling in front of him on the bed, it stripped him of breath. She wasn’t dead. She was alive. “Baby,” she said, reaching out to put her warm—thank God, they were warm—hands on either side of his face. “You were having a nightmare.”
Still panting, he felt sweat cooling on his skin, raising goose bumps all over his body. Reaching up, he covered her hands with his, holding the precious warmth to his skin and nodded, still unable to speak. It had been a week since the first dream, and he continued to dream about Kincade nearly every night, but this one…this dream held a terrifying twist. What if he… No, I would never hurt her.
“What was the dream, baby?” She moved closer to him, crawling into his lap and pressing her body against his, letting his arms wrap around her. She did this every night he disturbed her sleep like this; covered in sweat, yelling himself awake, she still got as close as she could to him, the skin to skin contact calming his heartrate. Nestling into his chest, he felt the vibration as she began to hum, the familiar Faker tune nearly bringing a smile to his face.
“Just a bad dream, baby,” he whispered and drew in another broken breath, letting her sing him back to sweet. “Just a dream.” The smile still failed to make its way onto his features, and he knew his mouth twisted with grief he prayed would never become real.
Later, he lay next to her, head propped up on his hand, and watched her sleeping. He had done this so often when she was hurt, using his eyes to caress her when the touch of his hand would have brought pain. Tonight, it was himself the touch would hurt; the memory of her dead in his bed, even if the vision was only in a dream, was too much to put behind him.
“What if I hurt her?” he breathed out, putting words to his worst fear, something he had wrestled with ever since they had been together, since she agreed to move in with him, agreed to stay, agreed to be his. He knew there had been episodes when he couldn’t remember whole swaths of time, sometimes losing entire days, but the last one that bad had happened years ago. “What if I get bad again? What then?” She moved restlessly beside him and he stroked his hand up her arm, fingers curling around her shoulder as she sighed, the corners of her lips turning up into a smile at his touch, even in her sleep. My Sharon.
Jase is back from Canada, he thought, not sure where his mind was going. If this is the start of an episode, she can move back in with him. The moment the thought crossed his mind, he clenched his eyes closed tightly. No, no, no. I can’t lose her.
Then hike your ass to the doc, he heard, and turned his head, expecting to see Kincade standing there, as he had often been before. No Kincade, nothing to see but the pups, Rocky with raised head looking at him accusingly, as if he knew Gunny was thinking about setting her aside. I’m hearing dead people again, he thought then mentally shook himself and laid his head next to hers. Closing his eyes, he reassured himself, Everything will be okay. Everybody has bad dreams.
***
“There’s still Shooter,” he reminded Slate, and got a scowl in return.
“I fucking know Shooter’s still out there. He’s tucked away for now, and what we’ve gotten so far is he’s not holding Prez responsible for his spawn’s stupidity.” Kicking the door closed, he stalked around the desk, throwing himself into the chair. “Man fucking kidnapped four women, five if you count Eddie as the first one. Man was fucking stupid.”
“I’m just saying Mason’s still got shit to sort out. I’ve got a feeder in Kentucky, and from the information he’s sending me, it sounds like Fury’s settling in for a fight. What we don’t know for sure is with who. We already know he’s got ties to Shooter, so it’s a logical jump to wonder if he’s looking this way.” He shook his head. “I know I don’t always make sense, Prez, but when things don’t sit right, I pay attention. And brother, something in Kentucky isn’t sitting right.”
“Okay,” Slate said, tipping his head back to look at the ceiling. “I’ll talk to Mason tonight; he wants to have a fucking video chat with the fucking chapter presidents. I’ll bring it up to
him when we’re done with church.” Looking at Gunny, he narrowed his eyes and asked, “Good enough?”
“Yeah, thanks.” Gunny sat for another minute then sighed as he unfolded to his feet.
“You doing okay, brother? Looking tired. Actually, you look like shit.” Slate’s eyes flicked up and down, then he said, “You’re stressing. Things good, man?”
“Good as they get anymore,” he said, stalking out and closing the door on more than the room.
***
She grinned at him, saying in a mocking tone, “So you’re probably wondering why I asked you here today.”
Deke laughed, tipping his head to the back of the room. “No warder today?” He reached into the cooler and pulled up a brown bottle, water beading on the surface of the glass.
Shaking her head, she made a face at the proffered beer. “Got any juice? Maybe apple?” He looked at her as he closed the cooler, but left the room and went to the clubhouse kitchen, coming back with a container. He shook it at her with a grin and then poured a tall glass of iced apple juice. Pushing it across the bar, he watched as she picked it up with a smile, taking a small sip, then a larger one when the tart, sweet flavor hit her. “God, that’s good,” she said, and he laughed.
“Where’s Gunny?” He pressed her, but she wasn’t ready to go there yet, and tried to deflect.
“You mean Anthajelous? He’s at home slaving away in the garage, I suspect.” Picking up her juice again, turning slightly away, she barely managed to keep a straight face.
“Anthajelous? What the fuck, you renamed him? Disallowed, woman. No fucking way. Hell, that ain’t never gonna fit on no patch. Fuck that noise.” He laughed as she intended, so she twisted and grinned at him.
Gunny (Rebel Wayfarers MC Book 5) Page 26
