Peg's Stand

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Peg's Stand Page 38

by Manda Mellett


  Straightening her head, she does what I asked, and as her eyes lock with mine I feel her relaxing. I gain more ground, gritting my teeth, ignoring my impulse to grind myself into her. Taking it more slowly than I ever have in my life, I gently thrust forward and back until she’s taken all of me. Then I stop. Her eyes have widened, her breaths are coming fast, and that flush has become an even deeper red as her muscles tighten around my cock.

  I’m not going to last long, but she’s going to have to come with me. I slide out, and then back in, so slowly. I’m torturing us both, using teasing glides, making sure my piercings touch her in all the right places. She pants and flexes her muscles, trying to get me to speed up, but I continue my sedate pace. I’m making love, not fucking.

  She might want me to go faster, but gradually I’m bringing her there, my Jacob’s Ladder massaging her G-spot with every pass. When I see her take a deep breath and hold it, and her muscles clamp down, I know she’s almost there. I shift my body so I’m hitting her clit, see her hands clench, and a ripple goes through her body. Her head rolls back and she closes her eyes as her mouth opens.

  “Peg…” It’s a wail, and now she’s convulsing, her back bowed as she comes.

  I push in hard, the undulations of her cunt enough to stimulate my cock, and with just a couple of pumps I’m emptying myself into her.

  No condom. Fuck. I wanted to show her how much I love her, and now I feel I’ve taken advantage of her just like that fucker Mercer.

  As my cock softens and drops out, although I’m a bastard, I can’t suppress the Neanderthal feelings that come over me, watching our combined juices run out, and my palm automatically covers her slit, as though wanting to keep my cum inside her. What if we’ve just made a child?

  “Darcy.”

  She opens her eyes, a beautiful satisfied look on her face, and looks down to where my hand’s lying. She then glances at my face, and must see my brow creased in concern, and then she covers my hand with her palm.

  “I love you, Peg.”

  I’m not sure what she’s thinking as her warmth seeps into my skin, but the words from her mouth are the best fucking ones I’ve ever heard. Hardly daring to move, I raise my eyes and put every ounce of sincerity in my voice as I respond. “I love you, Darcy.”

  Placing her free hand on the bed, she pushes herself up, and suddenly my arms are around her, and I’m holding her tight. This woman that I’d almost given up hope of ever holding like this again. My woman. The one I’ve been searching for all my life.

  “I love you, Peg,” she repeats, but then carries on. “I want what you’re offering. To be your wife, your old lady. And to have your babies.” She pulls back and looks into my face, her hand coming up and smoothing over my beard. “But perhaps not this soon…”

  “Fuck, Flash, I didn’t mean it. I just forgot.”

  “Shush, Peg. You didn’t do anything that I didn’t want. Whatever happens, we’ll deal with it. You took the bad memories away. It will be your touch I remember. And,” she pauses and bites her lip, “I don’t want you thinking about the man who’s been there.”

  “Don’t you fuckin’ worry about that. It’s the last thing on my mind, darlin’. You’re mine, you always were. Hate that you went through what you did, but it doesn’t change anything. You were mine then as well, I know that, here.” I cover my heart with my hand.

  “And he’s dead.” Again her teeth worry her lip, and her eyes look down, and for a second, and not for the first time, I’m worrying how she’ll cope with what we, she, did.

  But when she looks up again, there’s a grin on her face. “Never knew killing a man could be an aphrodisiac.”

  I stare at her incredulously, then bark a laugh. “It’s not my normal one of choice, babe.”

  Chapter 41

  Darcy

  I would never have described myself as a violent person, would have laughed in anyone’s face had they suggested I’d ever take a man’s life. Heck, my job is saving people, whoever they are, running into burning buildings to pull anyone living out, be it righteous citizens, drug addicts, or criminals. But pulling that trigger proved to be cathartic. I couldn’t live with the thought that Pete might have got away, might have continued to stalk me. He was just waiting to kill me, and all because I didn’t give him what he wanted.

  He was an evil man, and now he’s dead.

  With Mercer Senior arrested, and knowing his son was complicit in his activities, the police have a search warrant out for him, thinking he’s disappeared out of state, or over the border. They’re looking for a man on the run, not a body. But they’ll never find him. The Satan’s Devils took care of that.

  I’ve continued seeing the therapist, she’s been great, but really it was the control I took back when I made sure Pete would never come after me again that was my cure—obviously that I kept to myself. And Peg? Well, what can I say? He’s been great. My fears he would overwhelm my own identity was groundless.

  During the past four weeks, I couldn’t ask for more. We fit together like hand and glove. I’ve stayed at the compound, getting to know the other women better, playing with the toddlers and babies. When I help Marcia with the twins, I have a pang deep inside, and hope that one day in the not too distant future I’ll be holding my own. Well, not twins. One at a time would be better for me. Peg’s used a condom since that night, but I haven’t wanted to go back on the pill, preferring to leave my options open.

  Last night, as we were curled up on his sofa, listening to Bob Seger play, our taste in music as similar as everything else, Peg had awkwardly got down on one knee and had proposed. I’m already wearing his property patch, but soon I’ll have a wedding ring on my finger, which today is sporting a beautiful engagement ring. Even Ma cracked a smile when she saw it.

  Coming up to the station, I realise I couldn’t be happier. The last few weeks have made me re-examine what I want out of life. While I’m excited and eager to get back on the job, being a firefighter no longer defines my existence. I’m Darcy, property of Peg, and soon to be his wife, not a twenty-four-hour, seven day a week Firefighter Flash Cavanaugh.

  I squeeze my hands around Peg’s waist as he pulls up outside, loving the feeling of being on the back of his bike. As the engine ticks, he covers my hands with his. Then I get off and hand him the cut with my property patch proudly displayed on the back and my helmet, then putting my hands around his face, kiss him. The next twenty-four hours will be the longest we’ve been apart in four weeks.

  When I pull away, his brow creases. “You take care, okay?”

  I slap his arm gently. “We’ve been over this, Peg.” Yeah, long conversations where I’ve described all the safety precautions we take, our equipment that’s meant to keep us alive. He gets it, I know that. But knowing it in his head and his heart are two different things.

  “You have a good shift, you hear?” Though he worries, he’s never once suggested I give my job up. If it was possible to love him more, that omission would have done it.

  “And you take care, Peg.”

  With one last lingering look, I turn and walk into the station, entering the door at the same time as Truck.

  “Hey, stranger.” As he passes me he slaps me on the back. “Long time, no see.”

  Punching his arm, I laugh. “Yeah, long time since breakfast.” I’d quickly found the reason that Truck seemed to spend so much time talking to the bikers. He’s a prospect now, the club balancing their needs against his job. He’s fit right in. It was only an hour ago I saw him stuffing his face in the kitchen. Oh, and talking to Sam. She’s helping him rebuild his shattered bike.

  As we walk into the station together, Slade’s already there. “Flash. Good as fuck to have you back.”

  “How did my replacement do?” I can’t help but wonder whether they preferred working with another man.

  “Rather have you here,” the captain informs me. No, he wouldn’t badmouth another firefighter, but the slight grimace on his face speaks volume
s. They really have missed me. I try to suppress my smile.

  The speakers blare, and Hammer and Truck appear as if by magic, and in seconds we’re out on the engine. It’s good to be back.

  I’m still thinking that twenty-four hours later when I stagger out to the parking lot. It’s been a long shift, and perhaps I should have eased myself into it instead of diving into what was an incredibly busy stint with little down time. Walking across to Peg’s bike, I feel exhausted.

  Taking one look at my face, he pats the seat behind him. “Looking at you, I’m glad I’ve got that sissy bar fitted.”

  I glance down and give a tired but thankful grin. While I’ve been working he’s made a mod to the bike, and now I won’t be frightened I’m going to slide off the back. He’s so thoughtful, always doing little things for my comfort. He offers me my cut, and I proudly put it on, then take his offered hand and just about manage to throw my tired leg over the seat, then put my arms around him, leaning my cheek on his cut, breathing in the smell of leather and him. Home.

  He squeezes my hands, then starts the engine. When we get back to the compound he takes me straight to his room, gently stripping me and putting me in the shower and joining me, after taking off his clothes and prosthesis.

  “How can you do that so easily?” I ask, amazed as always at how Peg copes with his disability.

  As he uses a strategically placed rail to hop into the shower, he grins. “Practice, babe.” I roll my head back as he shampoos my hair, balancing on one leg. After he rinses it, he lathers up the sponge. His large, but surprisingly gentle hands, smooth the soap over me, and the warmth of the water and his massaging touch slowly remove both lingering odours of smoke and dirt away from me. As he slowly administers to me, my tiredness seeps away, seeming to combine with the dirty water running down the drain. Peg’s cock stands proud from his body, adorned by those piercings which glint in the bright overhead light. As I look down, I lick my lips.

  “Like what you see?”

  “Hmm.”

  “You’re exhausted babe.”

  “I think you missed a bit.” Brazenly, I move his hand to the place he’s so far evaded.

  He groans loudly. “Fuck, darlin’, you’re soaked.”

  Without needing more invitation, his fingers start sliding in and out, and he braces himself with one hand against the wall. “Fuckin’ missed you, babe. Missed this.”

  “Missed you too.” Over the last month we’ve learned each other’s bodies, and he knows exactly how to make me last until I’m burning up with frustration or bring me to the boil fast. Tonight, thank God, he’s not teasing me, and I’m fast at the point of no return. His body leans against me, his hard cock pushed against my ass, I’m surrounded by my man as my muscles tense, my legs squeezing his hand between them, but he doesn’t stop moving, just twists his hand so his thumbs rubbing over my clit, and I’m gone.

  “Peg! Jesus!” I swear each time I come it’s better than the last.

  As he takes his weight off me, I reach around and take hold of his dick. “Your turn.”

  “Want me inside you, do you?”

  “Yeah.” My legs are still shaking, but I can’t wait. I want to feel him. All of him. Now his hands are braced on the wall either side of my head, caging me in. I know what to do, and place his cock at my entrance, then he does the rest. Sliding in fast, then hammering in, giving it to me just the way I need it tonight. A hard, fast fucking.

  “Touch yourself, babe. I’m not gonna last.”

  My fingers start working, feeling the studs moving over my hand as he pulls out then pushes back in. Knowing they’re touching my internal walls excites me.

  “Fuck, darlin’. Fuck, you feel so good. Your cunt’s trying to strangle my cock.”

  Oh yeah, love his dirty talk. I rub faster.

  “You nearly there, babe? ‘Cause, fuck, my balls are getting tight.”

  Words escape me, but my change in tempo signals I’m close, then I’m wailing as I go over, and then my hands shoot out, palms flat to the wall as I need to brace myself. His movements become erratic just as I realise we forgot the condom again, but he pulls out, his cum splashing on my back before the shower water washes it away.

  After rinsing me off, he reverses his previous action, grabbing the rail and hopping out, then sitting down on the toilet lid and passing me a towel. Wrapping it around me, I kneel in front of him, and he takes another and carefully dries my hair, just something we’ve made our routine. I love him playing with my long tresses, so let him comb it out.

  “Want me to dry it?”

  I’m so tired, I just want to sleep. “I’ll leave it and sort it out when I wake up.” Then I stand, pick up our clothes, and carry the prosthesis into the bedroom, returning with his crutch. Another action that’s become second nature.

  Then I lay my head on the pillow, only vaguely aware of the brief kiss to my head, and knowing nothing more until I wake around lunchtime.

  “Hey, Prospect.” I can’t resist teasing Truck as I walk into the clubhouse. Holding a trash bag in one hand, Truck turns and grins. “Your man’s in the kitchen if you’re looking for him.”

  “Thanks.” The smell of food would lure me on its own, but the thought of seeing Peg, as always, makes my heart skip a beat. Honestly, I can’t get enough of this man.

  As I walk in, he gets up, comes over and gives me a kiss. I close my eyes as my arms go up and my fingers link behind his head. When he pulls away, he studies my face, then his lips curl. “Afternoon, babe. Let you sleep in.”

  “I needed it. Forgot how draining these shifts can be.”

  “Ma wants to speak to you.”

  I nod at the woman in the wheelchair and go to take a seat by her side while Peg goes off to get me something to eat. “What can I do for you, Ma?”

  She opens an old folder and taps on a page. “Wedding cake. Something like this do you?”

  I stare at the picture, it’s perfect. Not too fussy. “I love it, Ma.” I still can’t believe Peg and I are officially tying the knot the weekend after next, which coincides with the start of my six days off. “But you know we’re not doing anything special.” Our plan had been to go down to city hall on our own, and then perhaps have a nice meal out.

  “Nonsense. Not missing out when one of my boys gets hitched.” Ma glares at me, easily staring me down. “You’re doing this right. We’re having a reception here at the clubhouse.”

  “And when was that decided?” I look around at the other old ladies, who look quickly away.

  Sophie’s not so fast, and when she catches my eye, she just shrugs. “Yesterday. Well, Ma announced it.”

  Peg’s grinning as he leans over and puts a plate in front of me, and whispers in my ear, “Go with the flow.” He nods Ma’s way. “Let her do this.” Then raises his voice. “Arranging it will keep Ma out of mischief.”

  “None of your cheek, boy.” Ma’s fast to reprimand him. I bite my tongue to hold back my laugh.

  “Want to invite your parents, Darcy? Or your brother?”

  I think about it for a second. I’m not ashamed of where I’ve ended up, or who my future husband will be. But having my parents here will just put a damper on things. “Nah. It’s alright.”

  Ma shoots me a look. “They wouldn’t want to be here for you? Or know about it first?”

  I shrug. “I doubt it.”

  Peg pulls out a chair and sits down beside me. “How about we give them the choice? Go over there and speak to them? Maybe the day after tomorrow?”

  I purse my lips and think for a moment. I suppose it’s something I ought to do. A little hesitantly, I agree.

  Chapter 42

  Peg

  I didn’t know what to expect when I went with Darcy to meet her parents. We arrive in Phoenix on the bike, but minus our cuts as we’ve come out of the Satan’s Devils area. It’s immediately clear that she’s nothing like her mom, who answers the door dressed to the nines with full makeup on. The woman I’ll be marrying
in just a few days has on jeans and a tee, her hair windblown from the ride, and her face bare and natural. As I squeeze her hand I think yet again she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life.

  “Darcy.” Her mom looks surprised to see her, and her eyes widen as she looks at me. “Well, don’t stand on the doorstep, come on in. Pops?” she calls out, and a man in his sixties comes into view.

  “Darcy.” Like his wife, he doesn’t seem able to do much more than utter her name. Then he half turns. “George, come and see what the cat’s dragged in.”

  “Dad.” Darcy holds out her hand and he shakes it. It strikes me how little emotion seems to be involved.

  Another man comes into view. This must be her older brother. The one who followed in her dad’s footsteps. It’s a bit awkward, and suddenly her mom realises it. “Come on through,” she invites.

  I’ve always envied people who were brought up in a family, going myself from one foster home to another, thinking that anyone who had parents was experiencing the loving affection I never got, but even after a couple of minutes I can see how wrong I was. Darcy’s parents don’t seem to know how to speak to her, and I wonder how she’s developed into such a loving woman when brought up in a cold environment like this.

  “So, Darcy,” her dad starts after we’re seated, me perched on the edge of a posh looking sofa. “To what do we owe this pleasure?”

  Darcy takes my hand and smiles into my eyes. “This is Peg. Peg and I are getting married.”

  “Peg?” Her mom focuses on my name, not her daughter’s announcement.

  I roll up my trouser leg. “Peg,” I repeat. “Lost it in the services. Picked up the nickname and it kinda stuck.”

  Her mom covers her mouth with her hand, her dad looks a little impressed and just nods.

  “But what’s your real name?”

  Shaking her head, Darcy gives a little laugh. “That doesn’t matter. We’re getting married, Mom, just wanted you and Pops to know.”

 

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