Pride and Pregnancy (A Devil's Dragons Motorcycle Club Romance)

by Nikki Wild

  For such a cocky and egotistical guy, he’d been modest in his silence. Here I was, thinking he lived in some rudimentary, dirty old house, but the truth was just completely incredible. Sitting against the water with the ocean to its back, his house put me in awe. A place like this had to cost an absolute fortune...

  Once we stepped inside, I realized just how big a star Trent really was… As beautiful as the home was from the driveway, the interior was on a whole different level. I’d never seen a house like this… Hell, I’d never been in the same county as a house like this!

  For the generous den area, a massive 81-inch television screen dominated the space with ample sectional seating for a dozen people or more. One hell of an interior designer must have come through at some point, because nothing about Trent exactly screamed tasteful stone paneling or expensive, modern lighting.

  A few entire bedrooms on both floors were closed off, collecting dust from disuse. He kept two – one for himself, and another as a practice room, with a few instruments around and a sound recording chamber.

  I didn’t even know that he could play, but these guitars, drums, and other assorted instruments were clearly not just for display. As I thought about this, I remembered that his fingers were slightly rougher than the rest of his hands. Once I’d put two and two together, I came to have a deeper appreciation for his talents.

  Trent’s small fortress of a kitchen featured top-of-the-line appliances, enough counter space to feed a full party, and cookery that would make a professional chef weep. For a girl used to a hot plate and a microwave, it was like stepping into heaven.

  “HOW,” I muttered breathlessly as I took it all in. “HOW CAN YOU AFFORD ALL OF THIS.”

  “Friend of mine in the industry got it up his ass that he wanted to leave the country. Head somewhere exotic, like Hong Kong or something. I wound up getting a pretty killer deal...” He grinned self-importantly, carefully watching for my reaction.

  “Still,” I murmured. My hands ran along the sectional couch. It was plush, comfortable, and looked like it had been barely used at all. “This thing probably cost more than I made all year…”

  “This is the kind of money you wind up with when you’re smart, negotiate a good contract, and happen to strike it lucky with a few big singles,” he shrugged. “It doesn’t hurt that I got a competent lawyer involved at the start… or that we’ve been touring pretty much nonstop.”

  Trent glanced around for a moment, lost in thought. “I think this is the first time I’ve actually stepped foot in this place in months. That’s kind of strange to think about, now that it’s all over and I can finally kick my feet up…”

  “It looks like it. You could probably put most of this stuff back in the boxes, they look so new.”

  “Yeah, well…material possessions were never really my thing,” he shrugged. “Just sort of weigh you down, you know? All I ever really needed was myself.”

  “For someone who says that, you have a lot of it.”

  “Look around,” he retorted.

  I did, and I saw his point.

  There was barely anything in the way of decorations. I could see now that on a couple of bookcases, he had some books…and a few awards, but a lot of empty space. There weren’t any paintings on the walls; he didn’t have the patience for extraneous pieces of décor on his countertops. Hell, the only thing that kept his coffee table company was the TV remote.

  I flipped through living room cabinets, expecting a sea of blu-ray films or DVDs. That’s what guys like, right? Collecting up a sea of barely-watched multimedia to show off to their guests? Instead, they were almost all completely empty.

  “My accountant basically forced me to buy this place. Said I couldn’t just leave my money sitting in the bank with the low interest rates… All this shit? It came with the house. Give me a ten by twenty hotel room and my guitar and I’m happy…”

  “So… We’re supposed to live here? In a place like this?” Angel asked quietly, taking it all in.

  “That’s the plan. We’re going to need to shop for some groceries,” he answered as he watched me peer around. “No point in stocking up prior to a tour, you know. Unless you have a problem with that…”

  I almost burst into laughter.

  “What did you want to do for dinner?” I asked.

  “Don’t know,” he smiled cockily. “I was thinking something nice, tender, and juicy. Maybe you. Serve you up on a plate, your legs spread wide for me… nothing juicer than that.”

  I lightly slapped at his wrist as he reached for the hem of my shirt. “There’s time for that… but I’m actually really hungry. Can we order take-out? Is it too late for that?”

  “Nah,” he chuckled, immediately fishing out his phone. “What’re you in the mood for? Anything in particular?”

  My stomach rumbled, as if offering a suggestion.

  “You know, I feel like I could go for a pizza.”

  “Kind of what I was thinking, too…”

  We rattled out the details and settled on it, and he placed an order to a gourmet delivery pizza spot.

  About half an hour (and an autograph to the star-struck delivery teenager) later, we were settling down in front of the big screen on the couch and enjoying thick, greasy, cheesy pizza. A sitcom was on in the background – one of those late nineties shows that seemed vaguely familiar.

  We didn’t have cable much while I grew up, so pretty much anything on the television was alien to me.

  “This is amazing,” I told him when the commercial break came back on.

  He flashed a smile. “The pizza?”

  “All of it,” I confessed. “The pizza. This place. You,” I added seductively. “A couple of weeks ago, I couldn’t imagine having this kind of life…and now…for a little while, at least, I do.”

  “Hey, none of this for a little while bullshit,” Trent told me, sliding down in the couch to look me in the eyes.

  “You…can’t mean that,” I replied, gazing into his eyes. “There’s no way…”

  “I mean it,” he whispered hungrily, pulling me close. “You are mine, Angel. You belong to me… no exceptions. None whatsoever. Do you understand? You’re MINE.”

  “I…”

  The sheer force of conviction burning in his dominant eyes took me aback. They were filled with fervent fire, burning deeply and brightly.

  I will not be a burning Angel.

  “Shhh,” he whispered, a finger to my lips. He drew me up from the couch, tossing me over his shoulder, and dragged me upstairs towards his bedroom. Every ounce of resistance I had melted away under the heat of his desire, because deep down, no matter how badly I might be burned… I wanted it too.

  “Not the bed,” I murmured as I took in his room. There was a large, four-poster king with velvety bedding of rich red and black hues. It was almost hilariously bohemian.

  “Making demands?” He growled into my ear.

  “Making suggestions,” I cooed.

  Trent dropped me to my knees, shoving me towards a wall. I could already spot that insatiable bulge desperate for release, and I reached for it.

  He swatted my hands away.

  “No. I’m in control,” he snarled, advancing with ravenous eyes upon me.

  The lust had taken hold. Seeing him like this was the biggest turn-on in the world. I already knew I was in for the night of my life. Trent wasn’t accepting anything less than complete and utter submission.

  A sly smile crossed my lips. “Come here, you,” I grinned sexily, beckoning him with a finger.

  And he descended.

  21

  Trent

  I tossed Angel’s palms against the wall, grasping hungrily at her miniskirt.

  “I need to get inside you,” I grunted hungrily into her ear.

  Angel opened her mouth, but I quickly clamped my hand around her lips. With my partner instantly muffled, I felt her tongue along the backs of my fingers, only heightening my arousal.

  My spare hand immedia
tely unzipped my jeans, unsheathing the blazing, hard weapon between my legs. I deftly tugged at her panties, pulling them down her thighs just enough to give myself purchase into her smoldering, dripping pussy.

  I wanted her.

  Dominated.

  Taken.

  Mine.

  First, I tore a condom free from its packaging in my teeth, sheathing my weapon.

  I reached up with my free hand, clamping it lightly around her throat as I held her pinned between the wall and myself. Meanwhile, my cock strained hard between her legs, sliding against her outer lips.

  She craved my cock.

  Needed me inside her.

  Good.

  I gave her throat another squeeze before reaching down to grasp my tool firmly, stroking it along her lips. She groaned into my palm, cupped over her lips, and arched her back against me.

  It was true that I wanted to tease her more.

  But I couldn’t hold on any longer.

  I had to feel her clench around me.

  So I drove my cock deep inside in one hard thrust.

  Instantly, her warm, wet folds enveloped my thick, bursting cock. I practically let myself go right there and then. It was a miracle I was able to hold it together.

  A long, emanating moan drew out from her lungs, and she started to bounce her hips onto my tool. I held her back, pinned against the wall, with one hand still around her mouth and the other grasping a fistful of her hair.

  Not yet, I smiled wickedly.

  I’M in control.

  Steadying myself slightly, I began to slam my hips into hers, gripping her hair like a rein. It took some effort to keep in position with both hands around her head, but I knew that she was enjoying this tremendously.

  Her palms were still steady against the wall, absorbing the momentum of my thrusts – keeping her from slamming her face against the surface like a headboard.

  I relinquished my grip on her mouth, instead digging my fingertips around her waist as I gripped her ass.

  That sexy little miniskirt was hot, the ruffles bouncing with the intensity of our fucking. Of course, this would have been way easier if I’d ripped her clothes off of her and dropped my own, but I couldn’t control the spontaneity of it.

  And I knew she was digging it, too.

  My hands grasped her breasts fully as our hips continued to grind against one another, my cock burrowing deep into her sopping pussy. I let my fingers stroke her nipples, clenching them together to catch the small, puckering peaks and tug them up.

  I knew that my weapon was coated in her sweet nectar by now, and as much as I wanted to force her to her knees and lick it completely clean…I had other plans.

  My hands migrated. I let one drift around her neck again while the other headed south, rubbing circles around her clit.

  She moaned with intensity again – I knew that a powerful orgasm was on the horizon if I kept this up.

  “We don’t have much time,” she whispered.

  “Hurry up, then,” I declared lustfully.

  “What?”

  “I said, ‘Come for me, Angel,’” I murmured into her ear. “Let yourself go on my cock.”

  I could feel her begin to seize up, almost as if her body were simply waiting for my command. She went rigid, her arms stiffening against the wall as she did what I demanded.

  What helped with that was that I picked up the pace. As soon as I realized she was close, I began jacking up the tempo, thrusting deep and powerfully into her.

  As her pussy clamped down onto my erect tool, I felt her milk me dry. My orgasm rocketed into her, spurting several thick, hot ropes of my burning gift into her channel.

  Or at least the rubber lining between us.

  With deep, thirsty pants, I collapsed against her and the wall. Careful not to crush her, I steadied myself on either side, gulping down air.

  “I don’t think I could ever get used to that,” she murmured.

  “Good. Because we’re doing it again.”

  “I…wait, what?”

  “You heard me,” I told her, pushing her down over the bed and dragging her onto all fours. Removing and tying the condom, I set it aside and replaced it with a fresh one.

  “We’re going to be exhausted enough as it is…”

  “Spread ‘em,” I commanded impatiently.

  A sexy smile crossed her face as she pushed her ankles further apart, and I pushed myself down into her wet, dripping chasm again…

  After another amazing round of sex, we were curled up together in bed with spoonfuls of ice cream from the freezer – pretty much the only thing I had in the house. I’d turned the bedroom big-screen on, and some inane reality show was droning with the volume down.

  Angel looked like she was on the verge of asking something, but holding back. I was about to directly ask her when she finally opened her mouth.

  “Did you mean what you said, earlier?” She finally whispered.

  I took another lick of my spoon.

  “About what?”

  “About staying here forever…being yours.”

  “Of course I did,” I told her without skipping a beat. “I don’t say shit like that unless I mean it. You should learn to take me more seriously.”

  “But we haven’t really known each other more than a couple of weeks…how can you possibly be sure?”

  “Don’t be so critical,” I told her. “Trust me.”

  Something seemed to dawn on her.

  “You…you’re just going with this, aren’t you?” She asked, sitting up straight. “Just going with the flow? Do you actually care?”

  “Of course I care,” I told her testily. “You’re mine. We established this. You belong to me. So I care about you and your well-being.”

  She seemed uneasy.

  “What is it?” I sighed.

  “I get it now,” she bitterly replied, climbing out of the bed. “This is just your life, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about,” I replied grumpily.

  She was getting upset.

  Why?

  Haven’t I given her everything she wanted?

  “What happens when you get bored of me, Trent?” She demanded to know, placing her bowl of half-finished ice cream on the end table. “What happens then?”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “I’m not going to get bored with you.”

  “You can’t know that for sure.”

  “Drop it,” I demanded.

  “I can’t drop it. I need to know.”

  “Fine. You want it this way?” I ascended from the bed, rising up as a naked, angry stack of muscles and mounting irritation. “Kick the hornet’s nest, then. If you’re going to try and rile me up like this, then maybe I will get bored of you. This is where I come to relax between tours, or studio sessions, or practice jams. I’m tired. I don’t exactly need you fucking this all up for me.”

  Angel bit back tears and grabbed her clothes, throwing on her shirt and panties before rushing from the room.

  “Don’t you run from me,” I growled after her, but it was too late.

  Fuck. Why?

  What was the point of THAT?

  Angrily, I threw my bedroom TV remote across the room. It broke apart against the wall, clattering uselessly to the floor as the batteries bounced away.

  I glared at the television screen.

  Two middle-aged bitches were fighting, and it kept cutting away to the overacted, stunned faces of a few people nearby – probably family members or friends.

  There isn’t even anything decent on.

  My ears pricked. I could hear a slight shuffle of her at the bottom of the stairs, and then silence permeated the house.

  She’ll be back, I told myself angrily.

  An hour passed without her return, and I decided to swallow my pride and walk back downstairs. As I descended the landing and flicked on a tableside lamp, I spotted Angel – curled up alone on the couch.

  The size of my sectiona
l only seemed to make her look even smaller, and for the first time since our argument I felt a pang of remorse.

  “What are you doing down here?” I asked her.

  “Leave me alone.”

  I gazed towards the staircase. Up there was nothing but a wasted night without her company.

  “Yeah…that’s not going to happen.”

  Her shoulders bounced slightly, and as I approached her, she turned away.

  I realized then that she had been crying.

  “What was all of that, upstairs?” I asked her. “Where did any of that come from?”

  Angel sniffled, still facing into the couch. She murmured something, but her positioning muffled the response.

  “You’re going to have to try and run that one past me again,” I informed her. “Perhaps this time, you could face me. It would certainly help with the hearing.”

  Angel reluctantly switched positions, rolling over to face me.

  “I said, ‘You’re going to get rid of me.’”

  I was almost furious.

  Livid, that she would dare question me.

  That she’d question my trust, my judgment.

  But I could see Angel clearly, in that moment.

  She wasn’t an insolent brat, begging for attention or throwing some sort of bullshit pity party.

  She was scared.

  “You don’t understand what this does to someone like me,” she clarified, studying my face as I relaxed. “You just swooped into my life and pulled me away from everything I hated. I never thought I’d really get out of there, away from that shithole town in the middle of nowhere…but then you came along.”

  “You’re afraid,” I observed gently. “You’re scared that this will end, and you’ll wake up in that little room behind the bar.”

  “This can’t be real, none of this,” she whimpered. “I can’t let myself believe it for a minute. When I do – when I give myself into it – it’s all going to leave me.”

  “Angel,” I whispered tenderly.

  “No,” she insisted, sitting up on the couch and rubbing her eyes. “You’ll get bored of me, or you’ll die, or something else will happen, and then I’ll have to go back to that horrible place…”

  “Angel,” I insisted, sitting down next to her.