The fight’s on.
Chapter Thirty
Beth
DOES GAR KNOW I had a baby three weeks ago and the pussy he says he smells is a bloody pad? The asshole. There’s a glass of soda on the bar one minute and the next it’s covering his face and chest.
“Bitch,” is all he gets out before Rack throws him aside. Rack’s expression is deadly and I’m no longer pissed at Gar. I’m petrified for Rack. Gar has at least fifty pounds in weight and six inches in height on him. Gar doesn’t carry the defined muscle Rack has but that doesn’t mean Rack stands a chance.
Gar throws a punch to Rack’s head and I scream. Rack blocks it and hits Gar in the stomach. “Climb up on the bar so we have the good seats,” Sofia says from the kitchen doorway.
She’s wearing a huge smile and appears completely unconcerned. “You’ve got to stop this. He’ll kill him.”
“After what Gar just said to you, Rack has my blessings.”
I had no idea she heard. She’s also out of her mind. “Not Gar, Rack,” I reply testily. “Gar will seriously hurt him.”
“You, sweet Beth, need to have more faith in your man. Like I said, climb up and we’ll watch.” Sofia moves out of the doorway, steps up on a shelf, and hoists herself onto the bar. She puts her hand out and helps me up. I’m settled just in time to see Gar pick Rack up and slam him on a table. The legs break beneath the weight.
A cheer goes up from the men, and I swear I hate every one of them.
“They don’t know what that prick said to you either. No way will the men let that pass. Gar just talked his way out of the club and Rack will make sure he leaves with a few broken bones.” She laughs as Rack jumps up and charges.
The impact makes Gar stumble back a step. Rack drives his fist up under Gar’s chin and Gar grunts in pain. Rack steps back, turns, and connects a solid kick to Gar’s ribs. Gar leans forward and Rack strikes again with his fist.
“I was a semi-pro street fighter and I’m tellin’ you, your man’s got moves.”
I’m almost able to breathe again thinking the worst is over when Gar manages to grab Rack around the midsection, lift him off his feet, and squeeze. Rack’s face is bloody and turning purple. He’s throwing ineffective body punches because he’s in too close. I’m about ready to grab a beer bottle and crash it over Gar’s head, when Rack slams both palms against the larger man’s ears and head butts him in the nose. Rack breaks the hold, steps back, and swipes Gar’s feet out from under him.
“Fight’s over, but we’ll let Rack have his fun for a moment,” Sofia says as she laughs.
Rack dives on Gar and places one punch after another straight into his face. A minute later, Gar’s arms fall lifeless to his sides and still Rack attacks. Curly finally grabs Rack around the middle and lifts him off. The fight still isn’t out of Rack. His hands go back behind him and he grabs Curly around the neck.
“Enough,” Dax yells. “Drop him, Curly.”
Rack swiftly turns and looks sharply between Curly and Dax before his eyes cut to me.
“This is where you show your man some love,” Sofia whispers.
I slide off the bar and run to Rack. His arm loops around my shoulder and he pulls me in close. “This piece of shit said something disrespectful to Beth and deserved an ass stomping,” Rack says through heavy breaths.
“What did he say to you, Beth?” Dax demands.
Crap, heat rises in my face. I’m incredibly relieved when Sofia steps up to Dax and whispers in his ear. The thinning of Dax’s lips says it all. He turns to his men. “Throw some water on this piece of shit and escort him to his bike minus his cut. I made the rules clear when he came here and he doesn’t deserve to wear our colors.”
The men do exactly what Dax says. Not one of them steps forward and defends Gar. Rack pulls me a little tighter into his side and turns us in the direction of the hallway that leads to his room. He opens the door and steers me inside. “I need to wash that asshole’s blood off my hands. I’ll be back in a moment and then you’ll tell me exactly what he said.” It’s an order and for some reason I take objection. Is the old Beth finally rearing her head? It’s about time.
I nod because if I speak it won’t be some simpering woman reply and he does need to wash off that asshole’s blood. I glance around. The room is small and bare. Rack’s travel bags are on the floor. I look down at my shirt and my breasts practically spill out. I adjust them as best as I can and pull up the waist of the shorts I’m wearing so my muffin baby-top is partially covered. A noise makes me glance up. Rack is standing in the doorway watching.
“Don’t do that, you’re beautiful.” One eye is puffy and changing color. His lip is split. He’s my hero. Has always been my hero. The anger I felt moments before disappears. His eyes travel my body with appreciation. Enough appreciation that I actually feel beautiful.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
He steps into the room and slams the door behind him. The sudden noise makes me jump. His eyes are intense and he’s not smiling. In two long strides he’s on me. I have no idea what he intends until his right hand hooks behind my neck and he pulls me close.
Then…he kisses me.
His tongue slides across my lips, tasting them before plunging inside. He groans into my mouth when I moan. His other hand slides around to my ass and he pulls me tight against his erection.
The heat of the kiss burns the oxygen in the room and I can no longer breathe. Rack gently bites my lower lip and runs his tongue along the inside. He thrusts his tongue back in seeking more, giving everything. He swirls his tongue to a beat lost somewhere inside us. The kiss is sexy and urgent. Playful and intense. Overwhelming and irresistible. Sex with this man would be the same.
I don’t notice his hands move until one cups my jaw and the other slides inside the material of my shirt. My breasts are so incredibly sensitive and somehow he knows. His rough fingers are gentle as they rub across my nipples. They weep a small amount of milk and I try to pull away in mortification. This doesn’t stop Rack. He smears the liquid across my nipples and over the skin of my breasts without missing a beat. The kiss softens and gives back everything he just took.
My head spins. My inner thighs clench. The ache is almost unbearable. For the first time in weeks, Carson isn’t at the forefront of my world. Rack is. His mouth tears from mine and he slides my shirt up and over my head.
“Rack,” I breathe his name. This needs to stop. I can’t fulfill the promise my body is giving him. Then I remember Red’s words and realize I can. When he leans in for another kiss, I drop to my knees and lift my arms to the button at his waist.
“Beth, it’s okay,” he groans.
I look into his deep green desire filled eyes. “This is what I can do for you. Let me,” I whisper huskily. The button of his jeans slides through the hole and I pull the zipper down inch by inch. It’s like unwrapping a present on Christmas morning. He’s commando and his erection pops free. He’s amazing. Long, solid, and masculine. I tug the jeans a few inches down his ass and then bring up my hand and circle my fingers around his girth. I cup his balls with my other hand. My tongue flicks out and I taste the tip of him—the salty maleness that holds his musky scent too. His fingers tangle in my hair. I lick along the underside of his cock, starting at the base and feeling every smooth inch on my tongue.
He makes a noise deep in his chest as I slide my mouth over him. He’s so large and my jaw widens to accommodate him. He hits the back of my throat and I ease off. I want this to be good for him but I’ve had little practice.
I never enjoyed oral with Kevin because it seemed perfunctory. He went down on me but never long enough to get me off. I went down on him and he came within seconds. That was it. I was left unsatisfied. Or we had sex without oral and it was over far too soon too. Kevin didn’t know or didn’t care that he always left me wanting more. Then there was Angelo. He told me when I offered that only whores suck dick. In my weakness over Kevin’s betrayal I felt ashamed and yes, li
ke a whore.
With Rack, I’m taking my femininity back. I will satisfy him and in doing so have the return of my power. Not because I can’t have intercourse, but because I want to please him in the most intimate way. He’s holding my hair but not forcing my movements or telling me what he wants. That throws me for a second because I do want him to enjoy this.
His fingers tighten in my hair when I suck just the tip of his cock and run my tongue around the width. He’s answering my unasked question without saying a word. I feel him—his need, what turns him on, what pleases him. I listen to the silent communication that I’m not even sure he’s aware of. His breathing grows louder and his hips find a rhythm that I follow with my tongue and lips.
“Christ, Beth, God fuck,” he growls.
His balls tighten within my palm and his hips press harder. He loosens his fingers and with a final thrust, his cum pours down my throat in strong spurts. I swallow, and lick, and accept the joy I feel along with the power.
I’m not letting Rack get away. He’s mine even if he doesn’t know it.
Chapter Thirty-One
Rack
THE PICTURE OF BETH on her knees with her breasts bared will stay imprinted on my brain forever. After the final waves of orgasm pass, I step back and tear off my shirt. The pants are trickier because I’m still wearing my boots. I put my hand out and Beth takes it. I walk her to the bed and lay her back. Sitting beside her I unlace the boots, slip them off, and then remove my jeans.
She looks unsure. “I can’t,” she whispers.
“You can,” I growl. “I haven’t finished kissing you. Dr. Santos threatened me with bodily harm if I touched you before you’re healed.” I gentle my voice. “I don’t think kissing is off his list unless you’re not interested.” I’m well aware of the assholes Beth has been with. I’m also aware she needs to be in complete control of this.
I lean into her and place one hand on the bed at her hip. “I want to touch these, but I don’t know if it hurts.” I ever so gently run the back of my knuckles across one breast. She sucks in a breath and I freeze.
She smiles. “It feels good but I’m leaky.”
My laugh only increases her smile. “I can handle leaky,” I tell her tenderly. “I don’t want to hurt you, though.” I turn my hand and give a gentle squeeze to her nipple. Small beads of milk form. “I find this incredibly sexy.”
She glances at her breast, my hand, and then back up to my lips. Her tongue comes out and she licks them. Will she ask? Does my desire to taste her repel her? I don’t think so and I very slowly lower my head and lick the tip of her nipple.
It’s not what I expect. The milk is sweet but not sweet, which sounds ridiculous. Ambrosia is what I settle on. I move away and watch her expression while I give her nipple another gentle squeeze. Her feet slide up the bed until her shoes plant flat against the bedspread. Her eyes grow cloudy with desire. I taste a second time and her hands move into my hair. “Suck, please,” she sighs.
Feasting on a woman’s breast is the most primal behavior for man. We learned the art as infants if we were lucky. My mother nursed all her boys and I remember her nursing Andrew. It fascinated me. I am a full-fledged breast man and if more men thought about the origins, they would understand. It’s coming home. Being nurtured. Men only think they’re the ones who shield and protect. Women bring life and sustain it. They hold all the strength and power.
I slide my lips over Beth’s nipple and gently suck.
She moans and one hand goes to the V of her thighs. She pushes upward against her palm. I slide my hand down her abdomen and cover my hand over hers as her pelvis grinds to the tempo of my mouth. I switch breasts and she cries out. God, I don’t want to hurt her. Her sweet pants and sighs fill the room. Her scent and taste fill my mouth.
I peer up. Her eyes are closed, the muscles of her neck tight. She’s so close. I increase the suction on her breast and add pressure to the back of her hand. She screams her release into the room and I take her mouth at just that moment. My lips wet with ambrosia, wanting her to taste the gift she’s given me. She needs to know how incredible she is.
I love this woman with my entire heart. I love her more than life itself. Does anything else really matter? Lost in her, I don’t think it does.
For the next hour we kiss, and whisper, and laugh. She relays what Gar said to her and I almost explode with rage. “No,” she says when I look at the door ready to hunt him down and kick his ass all over again. “You’re not leaving me.”
She’s right, I’m not. She talks about the cooking lessons Sofia is giving her. I talk about the bike I’ve rebuilt with Vampire’s help. It feels wonderful to bring her back into my life and to become part of hers. We kiss and talk until she finally falls asleep with a smile on her lips.
I watch her sleep knowing the next step I need to take. Loving this woman is not a half measure. I quietly untangle myself from her arms, slip on my jeans, and leave the room without shirt or shoes. The front room has quieted down and a few men play cards. I pass them silently, head through the kitchen, and out the back door. I knock twice on the trailer door and open it. Red, Curly, Dax, and Sofia are at the table with coffee.
Red’s eyebrows go up, and Curly waves me inside.
“I came for my son,” I say.
“It’s about damn time,” Red replies.
“Yes it is. I need his bag too. He’s sleeping in my room tonight with me and his mother.” I look straight at Dax. “Gar knows too much. I can ask Gomez to pick him up.”
“It’s taken care of,” Dax replies. “I never trusted him. The club he came from was wishy-washy about giving us details about him. I was suspicious and we’ve kept an eye on him since he arrived. I don’t think he’d have said what he did to Beth if he weren’t drunk. Doesn’t matter. He knew about our connection to Moon and he knew we were helping Moon by taking you in. No choice in what had to be done. Kept it on the down low because of your woman.”
“Appreciate it.” Moon would have ordered a hit too.
This world never bothered me before and I don’t know why I’m disturbed now. It’s the life I chose when I came into Moon’s organization. There are no do-overs.
I follow Red back to the bedroom and see Carson lying in a playpen. Red places his bag over my arm. I lift him and pull his warm little body against my chest. Home. Family. Love. It all swells within me. I can’t look at Red because I’m about to lose it. I walk past everyone, keeping my eyes straight ahead. Curly holds the front door open. I manage the kitchen door myself. I walk silently through the main room and softly close the bedroom door. Carson sleeps on.
I’m done.
My back slides down the door until I’m on my ass. The baby’s bag slips from my shoulder and I place that hand on his back. My other is beneath his tiny diapered rump.
I remember Andrew just like this. So small, so helpless. Me and my brothers loved him so much. I don’t ever remember being jealous that he required all my mother’s time. What I do remember are his smiles. His laughter. His learning to ride a bike with his big brothers beside him. His unwillingness to cry in front of us when he crashed and ended up with stitches in his chin.
My chest aches with holding it all inside. I never grieved for him. I allowed revenge to eat my soul. One tear becomes two until they spill down my face in a flood. I cry for my baby brother who will never marry and have a son like Carson. I cry for my mother who experienced the pain of losing her youngest son. And my father, who is a tough son of a bitch but also taught us to be kind. I cry for Nick. He would hate me for allowing his sister to experience what she did. I should have been there and kept an eye on her. Instead, killing was all I thought about. I destroyed my family. And Linc took me in when I asked. Because that’s what brothers and family do.
“Rack.” Beth gently touches my shoulder. I’m so lost in sorrow I didn’t hear her get up.
I can’t look at her. I slip one arm from Carson’s back and pull Beth in against us. More tears flow.
I was too damn angry to do this when I should have. It was easier to show no emotion and run away. Easier to kill and offer justice that I can never fulfill because there will always be someone who deserves death for their crimes.
Her arms close around me and she says nothing while I cry. “I love you,” I finally whisper against her hair. “I love this guy and I’ve been incredibly stupid thinking that not holding him would keep me from caring.”
Her fingers dig into my skin and her shoulders shake. She’s crying too—this incredible woman who is so fucking strong. She walked through a freezing forest without complaint. She practically gave birth in a car to keep her child safe. She’s everything Nick promised and more. I take deep cleansing breaths. My world is whole and for the first time in years…I’m at peace.
I have no idea how long we remain on the floor. When Carson fusses, we move to the bed. Beth’s teary gaze holds hope. I kiss her cheek. “If you’ll allow it, I want to give Carson my name. My real name even if he can never use it.” I wipe the new tears from her face. “You can think about it. This is a big decision and I have a lot to make up for.” I prop pillows behind her so she can comfortably feed Carson.
She settles him at her breast and looks at me. “I don’t need to think about it. You’ve been his father since the moment he was born. I would have told him about you as he grew older. He will never know who his biological father is, only you.”
A lump forms in my throat. Now that I’ve released the pent up pain, my emotions are raw. I lie down beside Beth and watch Carson eat. He’s beautiful. They’re beautiful together. His little hand fists into Beth’s breast and he makes small noises that split my heart in two. I love him.
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