Nolan: Return to Signal Bend

by Susan Fanetti

  Taking the waistband of her jeans in his fists, catching her underwear, too, he tugged, and she lifted her hips so he could free her from the last of her clothes. The jeans were snug down the full length of her legs, and he ended up kneeling on the floor at the side of the bed as he worked them and her socks—little pink socks—off.

  She had a small, colorful tattoo on her ankle. He lifted her leg and kissed the pretty flowers before he understood what they were. A daisy, a rose, and an iris. Three sisters. The daisy was more softly rendered than the others, as if its edges had blurred. Daisy, her dead sister.

  Nolan paused, kneeling on the floor, holding her ankle, his thumb rubbing almost absently over her ink. He knew the story. It had been a major part of that movie they’d made, and it was an important part of Horde history. The beginning of the worst period in that history. A period that had ended with Isaac and Len going inside. A period that had included Havoc’s death. It was all related, and it had started with what had happened to Daisy Ryan.

  Iris had lost her sister, and Nolan knew how. God—she had been there. Iris had been witness to it. She’d been just a little girl. Until this moment, seeing the flowers on her leg, he didn’t know if he’d ever made that truth real in his mind.

  It made him feel more deeply connected to her. And the acidic cyclone inside him slowed a little.

  He kissed the flowers again, and then he moved from there, easing his lips over the arch of her foot, up the inside of her ankle, up her calf. He paused at her knee and traced his tongue over the sensitive curve of skin there until she writhed and moaned and grabbed at his hair—which she was too short and he yet too far away for her to quite reach.

  Her whole body trembled under his touch. He slid his tongue up the inside of her thigh, pulling her legs until her hips were at the edge of the bed and he was at her pussy, which glistened with readiness.

  Such a pretty pussy it was, too. Sleek and pink. She was natural, with a wedge of light brown curls.

  Club girls shaved. Not a single girl he’d been with since Ani had had more than a tiny strip of hair, or maybe a little shape like a heart. Most were completely bare. He liked this, the way it made Iris different. She was different. She was more. She was real. This was real.

  Nolan pressed his mouth to her mound. The curls were soft, and he nuzzled his face against her, savoring the sensation.

  Her body went stiff. Her hands, which could reach him now, clenched in his hair. She’d stopped breathing.

  He chuckled and pulled his mouth from her, just a fraction of an inch. “Breathe, babe.”

  At that soft command, she inhaled shakily. As she let it out, he put his mouth on her again and rubbed his tongue over her clit, and her exhale became a wail. Wanting to make her feel good, Nolan closed his eyes, hooked his arms around her thighs, and ate his fill.

  Jesus, she was responsive. Once he settled in, her body moved freely, and he could tell she was moving not only in reaction but in participation—maximizing the experience for them both. She was vocal without being talky or screamy. She simply uttered her pleasure, with moans and whimpers, and Nolan ached more for her with every sound.

  He’d expected her to be different. She was so sweet, and, though he was only a few years older, he thought of her as young and naïve. Her response now spoke of experience. More than that, he felt her empathy. She was with him.

  Nolan hadn’t been racked with need like this for a long time. He could feel sense sliding over in his head and letting sensation take the controls.

  He brought a hand between her legs and slid a finger into her while he laved and sucked on her clit. The tremors of her body under his hands and mouth, and the squeeze of her pussy around his finger, told him that she was close. But he wanted to see her come. He needed to see it, to feel it, to have her all around him when it happened.

  He shoved his arm under her waist and dragged her with him until they were fully on the bed. While her eyes were still wide with that surprise, he pushed into her, sliding easily into her snug sheath.

  “I’ll pull out, I’ll pull out,” he gritted while his gut cramped with the perfect ache of her body holding his. “I promise.”

  “You don’t have to,” she gasped. “I’m covered. Please”—she gasped again as he drove into her—“come inside me.” Her legs came up and hooked around his waist, and her arms snaked around his back, and he was truly held. She surrounded him. Sheltered him.

  He curled his hand around her slender neck and kissed her, plunging his tongue into her mouth. As he thrust again, going as deep as he could, her neck arched, and she broke the kiss with a long, sensuous cry.

  She had been close before, and now, as he held her as tightly as he could and thrust all of his own need into her, again and again, she came, hard and loud, her nails dragging down his back. Her pussy tightened around him, pulsing, and he thought he’d go mad.

  Spinning in a riotous clamor of emotion and need, Nolan indeed lost control. He pounded into her, his knees and hips aching from the force of his thrusts, his hand tangling in her hair and clutching so hard he could feel the strands cutting into his fingers, his other hand pulling the sheets loose from the bed, and it wasn’t enough. He felt all that from far away. And he was seeking, seeking, seeking.

  He finally came, and it barreled through him painfully until he thought he’d have a hernia before it was over. Just at the moment that he returned fully to reason, before he could relax, he realized that Iris was silent and wrapped tightly around him, her body almost entirely off the bed, like she’d had no choice but to hang on for the ride.

  Rather than fall forward onto her, he sat back on his knees, taking her with him, and held her. He brushed her hair from her face. His breath wasn’t back yet, but he managed to ask, “Did I hurt you?”

  She loosened her hold on him and met his eyes. “No. I just…wasn’t ready for that to be so intense, I guess. I wasn’t sure you knew I was there.”

  He was an asshole. “Iris, I knew. I don’t know where all that came from, but I was with you. It was you I needed. It is you I need. And you felt so good. You make me feel so good.”

  “Okay.” She smiled. “I thought it felt pretty great, too.”

  Looking into Iris’s sweet, open face, her bright, warm blue eyes, Nolan knew he’d been right not twenty-four hours ago, when he’d sat on Ani’s hill and wondered where she’d gone.

  She’d stepped into the background of his heart. She’d made room. Because he was in love again.

  Feeling the seesaw of loss and gain, sadness and hope, he let his head fall forward onto Iris’s shoulder. She rested her head on his. Still connected, they held each other.

  After a while, without ever leaving her body, Nolan went hard again. He laid her down and loved her gently, the way she deserved to be loved.

  ~oOo~

  Nolan was awake when morning lightened the room. He had dark curtains, and they were drawn, so sunlight didn’t make its way in, but he could tell from the glow around the rim of the window that the sun was shining. He wondered if anything had come of the flurries last night.

  He’d been lying there, on his back, staring at the dark ceiling, watching it get lighter until he could see the old water stains. Iris was curled at his side, her head tucked against his ribs. She slept as if she were praying, with her hands folded together under her chin.

  He was raw. It had been years since he’d felt such an onslaught of emotion. He’d thought, in trying to keep the rage at bay, that he’d strangled every other kind of feeling into nothingness. But he hadn’t. Last night, it had all surged free, and now he was an exposed nerve.

  He didn’t know how to live like that anymore, feeling everything. The rage was still there, boiling with everything else; he’d lived with it almost his whole life. Every hit he’d taken had made it swell, until he’d had to tamp everything down to hold it back. Even then, rage had leaked out and simmered. Loose, it would bury him.

  It had been easier, much easier, when h
e was in SoCal, with a club doing outlaw work. That seemed wack, but it was true. The violence had given him a way to bleed his line. He’d killed and felt no remorse, no turmoil, except in wondering if that lack of remorse meant he was inherently bad. All his rage had gone into the violence, outward, and left him alone. He’d been calmer. He’d even been happy. He’d fallen in love, and he hadn’t known if he were capable.

  Since he’d lost Ani and come home, to this quiet town and this quiet club, the rage returned and had nowhere to go, and it simmered. Since the summer and David Vega’s resurgence, it boiled.

  That bastard was alive. Nolan felt a certainty: as long as Vega lived, so would his rage. But the club had voted. There was nothing he could do but live with this septic brew churning inside him. He didn’t know how.

  Iris sighed in her sleep. The sweet little sound pulled his attention outward, and he shifted and hugged her close. Immediately, his dark thoughts faded and the throbbing of his pulse in his ears settled.

  He knew how he’d live. Iris kept him calm. With her, he’d be okay.

  Her blonde hair lay over his arm in a tangle. He saw goose bumps on her shoulder and pulled the blankets up and tucked her in. She stirred, making another cozy sigh, and her hand slid low over his belly. His body reacted fully and instantly to her touch.

  She lifted her head, and Nolan could see her trying to orient herself. When she turned her eyes his way, she saw that she had little dark smudges under them, where her makeup had worn off.

  “Hey. Morning,” he said and slid his hand into her hair. It was a bright, light yellow, like Marilyn Monroe. She changed it a lot. He thought he preferred it darker, but she was pretty whatever color her hair was.

  She smiled, and that was beautiful. “Good morning. You okay this morning?”

  There was no point in telling her about his predawn thoughts. With her, they were irrelevant. “I am. I liked watching you sleep.”

  “I like sleeping next to you. It felt…safe.”

  “You are safe.” He pulled her onto his chest. “I’ll keep you safe.”

  “I know.” She kissed him. Then she reached down, took hold of his cock, and eased herself onto him. He closed his eyes as that sensation overwhelmed him.

  “God, Ani,” he breathed as Iris began to rock gently on him.

  She went still.

  He didn’t know what had happened, what he’d said, until he opened his eyes and saw hers.

  “Iris,” she said.

  “Jesus fuck, I’m so sorry. Fuck.” He tried to unseat her, to get out of bed, to get away, but she wouldn’t let him go.

  “It’s okay, Nolan. Only—keep your eyes open. I’d like you to see me. I want you to be with me.”

  “I am with you, Iris. It was…I don’t know. She was the last person I felt like this with.”

  “I understand.”

  In that flash of shame and regret, he’d started to go soft, but now he was fully erect again. “How are you so good?”

  “I’m not. I’m just me. Be with me.”

  She moved again, rocking gently, and he kept his eyes on hers. Even when he was on fire and nearly out of control again, he kept his eyes on hers. When he had to sit up and get closer, when the room was loud with their groaning breaths, he kept his eyes on hers. When his head ached with the strain of his finish and his vision filled with darts of red light, he kept his eyes on hers.

  ~oOo~

  Later, after sleeping for another hour or two, they showered together in his little box of a bathroom, and they dressed. Nolan took her hand and led her back into the Hall.

  The population in the Hall was back to normal, meaning that there were a couple of club girls scooting around, and a few members getting an early start on this Sunday morning. They all took notice of Nolan walking Iris Ryan out of the dorm.

  One who took particular notice was Showdown, who was sitting with his back against the bar, holding a big mug in his hand and staring at the dorm hallway as if he’d been sitting there specifically to see them come up from Nolan’s room.

  Which was, no doubt, exactly what he’d done. Maybe Iris should have called home last night to assure them she was okay.

  When they came into the Hall, Show stood up and set his mug on the bar.

  Iris squeezed Nolan’s hand and let go, then walked out ahead of him. “Hi, Daddy.” She went to her father and lifted onto her toes, and Show bent down and kissed her cheek.

  “Morning, baby flower. You good?”

  “Yes, Daddy. I’m good. You be good, okay?”

  “You should’ve called home, Iris.”

  Iris seemed honestly guilty about that. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I didn’t mean to make you worried.”

  Nolan was close enough now to see the veins throbbing at Show’s temples. He was angry, but he was holding back. Somebody must have told him to stand down. Nolan remembered Shannon saying almost exactly that last night.

  “I always worry, baby.”

  “Morning, brother,” Nolan said.

  Show only glared at him, then turned to his daughter. “You hungry?”

  A couple of times a month on Sunday mornings, one of the old ladies would put on a decent breakfast, but on this morning, there was only coffee and doughnuts. As Show sat back down, Iris picked out a Boston cream, and Nolan went behind the bar and poured them each a cup of coffee. He added lots of cream and sugar to hers.

  When she tasted it, she rewarded him with a beautiful, sweet smile, and he would have kissed the little smear of Boston cream from the corner of her mouth if her father hadn’t been staring bullets at him.

  “Did it snow much last night?” he asked Show, to change the subject.

  “Nah. Couple inches. The cold put a crust on it, though, so it’s slick.” He moved his attention to Iris. “I’ll take you home.”

  “I got it, Show,” Nolan said. The protective father thing was fine, but Nolan was his brother and SAA, and Iris was a grown woman. His grown woman.

  Show’s expression heated up by a couple hundred degrees until Iris said, “I want Nolan to take me home.” Then he cooled off and practically shrank.

  When Nolan and Iris finished their breakfast and had their coats on, Show put his ham-size hand around Nolan’s arm and muttered, “You keep her safe.”

  “I will, Show. You know who I am. I won’t hurt her.”

  Iris’s father stared hard at him for another few seconds, and Nolan stared right back. Finally, Show let him go.

  ~oOo~

  The roads were slick, but not outrageously so, and as usual on a Sunday morning while church service was going on, there wasn’t much traffic in town. Nolan got Iris home without incident. He parked, and they sat in the warm cab for a few minutes.

  “Sorry about my dad.”

  Nolan laughed. “Show is a legendary papa bear. I knew what I was getting into. You’re worth it.”

  “I’m glad you think so.”

  “You want to get together later?”

  Iris shook her head. “I can’t. I have to work this afternoon and again tomorrow. I’m not off again until Wednesday. But we can have lunch or something tomorrow. Or supper after work.”

  “I’m on patrol tomorrow night. We’ll figure it out. Hey—give me your phone.”

  She dug it out of her pocket without asking and handed it to him. He dialed his own number and ignored it when it rang. “I realized last night that I didn’t have your number. Now we’re set.”

  He handed her back her phone, and she took it and then leaned over the console. Nolan met her in the middle for a gentle kiss.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  Her brow wrinkled. “Why?”

  “You make me feel good.”

  She grinned and got out of the truck, and Nolan watched her trot over the little bit of snow and up to the porch. He watched until she was inside.

  As soon as she was out of sight, he missed her.

  Dark thoughts crowded in again.

  CHAPTER TEN

>   Iris pulled up in front of the garage after work that evening and saw the lights on in her dad’s shop. She parked and got out, and before she’d closed the door, he was coming around the corner of the garage.

  The evening was cold, and the wind blew the snow up in swirls around their feet. He was wearing nothing with his jeans and boots but an open flannel shirt over one of his omnipresent beaters. “Hi, Daddy. Aren’t you cold?”