“Austin,” she whispers, looking around in awe at the pale blue and white pinstripes on the wall, the carefully hung pictures, the rug, the white sconces that frame the mirror. “What have you done?” I think the thing she notices most though is the crib. I bought a fucking crib. Who ever woulda thought, huh? “Why?” She looks like she's holding back tears, but I don't know why. This is a good moment, right?
I move towards her, nothing but a towel wrapped around my hips and bend down, putting a hand on her knee.
“This is called I'm sorry for being an idiot, sugar. I hope you like it.” She turns to me slowly, reaching out her fingers and touching them to either side of my face. I shaved for her, so the skin on my cheeks is smooth. I hope she likes that, too. “I been actin' a damn fool, Amy. I've always been a wanderer, you know? I didn't want to get chained down in one place or to one woman.” I squeeze her knee as I'm talking, so she knows I don't mean her. “But while I was freaking out about losing that part of my life, I wasn't paying any Goddamn attention to what I was gaining.” Amy slides her fingers down my face, dropping her hands to my shoulders. Her touch makes me crazy, and I can barely contain myself as I kneel there, shaking with need, desperate with desire. I want to fuck her, make love to her, whatever. I just want to be inside of her. No, no, I need to be inside of her. “A real man takes care of his family, Amy. Triple M is my family, you're my family, and … ” I swallow hard. “This baby is my family.”
Amy leans forward and kisses me, so softly that her lips feel like fabric brushing up against my skin. I ain't a poetic man, but if I were, that shit would make me write sonnets. Amy moves her mouth to my chin, kissing the freshly shaved skin there, running her tongue along my jaw bone, all the way up to my ear. I shiver and squeeze her knee so hard she jumps in surprise.
“You're hurt, baby,” I tell her, my mind drifting back to that sickening moment when I found her gone, to the even worse moment when that car flipped over and I thought she might be dead. I haven't yet had a chance to deal with The Branded Kestrels MC extraordinaire motherfuckers, but I will. I'm just biding my time for the perfect opportunity. I haven't been much of a leader yet, but I'm going to be. I just need another chance to prove it. “We can't, you know, get down and dirty. If you keep doing that, I won't be able to hold back.”
“You can't handcuff me tonight or pound me over a countertop, but I can still have sex.” Amy whispers into my ear, “Nothing down below suffered any damage.” Her hot breath brings my cock to full attention and my hands up to her hips, scooting her back and pulling her onto the bed beside me. I pay special attention to her left arm, making sure she's laying with it facing towards the ceiling. I press my erection into her back and run my tongue along her ear. “What are you doing?” she whispers as I pull the towel away and slide her skirt up.
“For once, you actually listened to me, Amy Cross. You really are starting to learn like a proper student.” She groans and arches her back into me, letting me slip my dick between her legs and find her opening. It's hot and ready for me, spreading wide as I move slowly inside, pushing deep and pausing with our bodies locked together. “I really do hate fucking pants.”
“Austin, slow down,” she gasps as I reach around her body and find her clit. “It's been days, and I've been trapped in that horrible hospital with nothing to read.” Amy yelps as my grip tightens and I graze my teeth over her neck. My chest presses along the length of her back, begging for skin to skin contact. I massage her for a moment more before I slide my hand up and push her shirt aside, unclasping her bra and grinding my skin against hers. She moans and rocks her hips back, spearing her body on mine and making us both gasp with pleasure. “I'm going to come already and leave you in the dust.”
“That's okay, sugar, because tonight, you're going to come a lot. More than should even be legal.” I thrust my hips against her ass, enjoying the softness of her cheeks as our pelvises knock together. My hand moves down her belly, and up the inside of her shirt, beneath the loose bra, and finds her tits.
“Austin, they're sore. I wasn't joking about that,” she says, trying to pout her lips but failing when she ends up moaning instead. “Be gentle with them.” I caress her softly, gritting my teeth at the animalistic urges that come raging through me. Gentle. I gotta be gentle. This is going to be a challenge.
I bring my hand back to her hip, holding tight as I move inside of her, enjoying the slick wetness as I glide in and out, eliciting sharp, little bursts of breath from her lips that drive me to the edge of my sanity. My fingers find Amy's clit again, circling the tight little bud and putting just enough pressure on it that her pussy clamps down on me, squeezing and throbbing and threatening to tear my cock to pieces. I might even enjoy it while it was happening. Holy mother of fuckin' shit.
“Come for me, baby. Just one to loosen the pressure. Then we'll move onto number two.”
“Austin, stop,” she says, but she doesn't sound like she wants me to stop. Amy moves her hips against mine, quickening the pace as I rub her clit in circles, bringing her to a shuddering orgasm that tears through her body and damn near cuts into mine. I clench my damn teeth and force back my release, squeezing my stomach muscles and sliding out of Amy with sheer force o' will. “What are you doing?” she asks as she lies there, all pert and pretty and vulnerable. All mine.
I scoot down towards the end of the bed and grab Amy's feet, pulling her socks and boots off and tossing them to the floor. See, this is why I like women. Her feet don't smell like something crawled in there and died – like Beck's – instead they smell soap and roses. You tell me how in the hell that's even possible.
“Quote me some more Shakespeare, baby,” I whisper against the arch of her feet. I press my lips against her skin and she moans, toes curling. Tiny beads of sweat gather on her exposed back and belly, remindin' me that air conditioning is still very much on the top of my list. For the moment though, I'm gonna enjoy it. The heat amplifies the smell of sex in the room, tightening the skin on my balls and promising me one hell of an orgasm.
“Fuck Shakespeare,” Amy groans, rolling onto her back and wincing. I almost go feral right there, seeing my baby in pain, but she locks her eyes on mine. “Don't you dare stop.”
“Oh, you're giving me orders now, huh?” I ask, sliding my hands down her foot. I done some reading while she was gone, not a lot but a little, and I hear that pregnant ladies like their feet massaged. That, I can do. I press my thumbs into her flesh and she whimpers. From the look on her face, I figure I may as well be touching her clit. Look at this, an untapped resource I been missin' out on all these years. And here I thought I was a ladies' man?
“You're just as much mine as I am yours. I don't see why not.” Amy lifts her chin defiantly, biting her lip when I squeeze her foot again. The hot air in the room twirls lazily, stirred up by the ceiling fan, and brushes against my dick, drawing a small groan from my throat. I grab Amy's other foot and move it down, sliding both feet against my cock. Her juices act as lube as I groan and thrust gently between them. “What are you … Austin … ” I watch her pupils dilate and a red flush rise to her cheeks. “You're a dirty boy.” Amy swallows hard as I grin big at her.
“Now, there's the nasty talk I was lookin' for.” I continue to thrust slowly between her feet, pre-cum leaking out of my cock and keeping it nice and slick. Not as good as a pussy – nothing is – but it'll do.
“I am the … ” Amy swallows again and clears her throat, resting her head back into the pillows. Her right hand sneaks down between her legs and finds her clit, rubbing across it gently before sneaking inside her own wetness. “I am the future mother of your child. You should treat me with respect.”
“Oh, sugar,” I growl, feeling my blood pump faster and my cock swell with need. “When I'm with you, I'm happier than a tick on a hound dog.”
“That's disgusting,” she whimpers, but she doesn't stop fingering herself. The look on her face says it's anything but.
“And I do respect you,
princess. I respect the hell out of you for putting up with a dumb ass like me.” I set Amy's feet down on either side of me and crawl forward, kneeling between her legs and running my hand down my cock. We pleasure ourselves together, watching, the air between us quivering with tension. I milk my hand down my shaft, my ass clenching tight as I struggle to keep myself from coming all over Amy's breasts. This isn't about me, not today. I'll have my fun later, when she's swollen and pregnant with my baby. Then I'll let the feral male inside of me go wild. Right now, I want to see if I can get her to come in triplicate.
“Do you always celebrate big occasions with sex?” she asks me, and I pause, scooting back and grabbing her beneath the thigh. I push Amy's leg up towards her chest, so I have a nice view o' the downstairs. I stick my fingers in my mouth, coating them nice and pretty like, and then I thrust them inside, right beside hers. Our fingers mingle in her tight heat for a moment before she gives up and collapses back, her wet hand lying splayed across her belly.
“Is there a better way?” I ask and she nods. I raise an eyebrow as Amy pinches her eyes shut tight and arches her back. I slip in a third finger. “How do you figure?”
“A ride,” she whispers and I laugh, curling my fingers up and searching for that sweet little spot that drives women mad. I don't rightly know why they call it a G-spot, but I figure it feels damn good, so maybe that's it.
“Sugar, unless I'm riding you, I'd have to respectfully disagree.” I press my thumb into her clit, guiding it back and forth as I fuck her with my hand. Amy's pussy is already so tight, it's hard to move. I smile and hope her second orgasm is better than the first.
“Fuck me, Austin. I want you inside of me,” she groans, voice hardly audible over the slick, wet whispers of her cunt. I don't stop, not even when her small hand encircles my wrist and tries to pry me away. “I need your dick.”
I laugh and Amy flushes a bright red color that only does her full cheeks justice. I slap the pale flesh of her hip and try not to blow my load when it jiggles enticingly. Amy's in good shape, but she's still a curvy woman. The perfect woman. My woman.
“Come for me one more time, and I'll give it to you.”
“Austin!”
“Amy,” I breathe, quickening my pace and slamming my knuckles into her cunt. She writhes in place, reaching up and pressing the pillow against her face. Amy bites the fabric hard, rocks her hips up against my hand, and comes again, drenching my hand with her sweet juices. A sound scrapes from her throat, like an animal in heat. That right there does me in real good. Even if I wanted to, I can't wait anymore.
I slide my fingers out and reach under her ass, dragging her towards me with little effort. I press the head of my cock against her opening, feeling the warming welcomeness of her wet pussy. Sweat pours down Amy's exposed belly, dotting her tits with moisture. The nice little cream skirt she's wearing is pushed up her hips, leaving her fully exposed. I grin and thrust forward, filling her as she screams and writhes beneath me.
“I can't do it again, Austin,” she whimpers, keeping her eyes shut tight. I lean over her, her leg still clutched in my left hand. But if I've learned anything these past few months, it's that Miss Amy Cross is limber. I press her leg towards her chest, pausing with my lips hovering just a breath above hers.
“Open your eyes,” I tell her, and she does. Her lashes flutter open and those big, beautiful baby blues stare me straight in the face as I start to move. She's so wet and ready that I don't need to go slow. I let loose, pounding my body into hers, enjoying the slight breeze from the ceiling fan across my back. “Keep watchin' me, sugar,” I command, keeping our gazes locked, our faces inches apart. One of Amy's hands comes up and touches my chest, feeling my skin with gentle fingers. Her nails curl against my body as she groans, sliding her touch to my tattoos and tracing them with quaking fingertips. Even though she's already mine, already marked with my seed, I bite my lip hard and come inside of her, enjoying the wide-eyed expression on her heart shaped face. My release is quick and swift, ridin' over me and drawing sounds of pure, male pleasure from my throat. I guess Miss Cross likes that, too, because she drops her hand back to her clit, rubs it hard and comes like the feral little kitty cat I know she is.
Shit, and I was worried about bein' with one woman for the rest of my life? I release Amy's leg, panting and staring down at her face. I don't pull out of her though, just sit there, locked together in body like I'm pretty dang sure we already are in soul.
“You're more woman than I'd ever hope to need,” I tell her, and I hope she knows that's a compliment. Amy smiles and reaches up her right hand to brush against my jaw.
“And you,” she says. “Are most certainly the only man capable of melting my panties, and decorating my bedroom. Austin Sparks, I love you like the desert loves the rain.”
Chapter 24
Amy
I sleep straight through to the next morning, relieved to be home and thoroughly tired out by Austin's ministrations. Even thinking about it makes me flush though I'm not sure why. It's certainly not the first time we've had sex. I feel my cheeks heat, even through the redness that's already there, pulled from my skin by lazy summer warmth. Today I've dressed in leather pants, even though they're not the most comfortable item of clothing to wear. I simply want to. I had to come home wearing the clothes my mother had taken to the hospital for me. Old Amy clothes that look more like a tablecloth than anything else. I promptly dump them in the massive garbage can by the front door, filled to the brim with bits of old drywall.
“So you are still alive? What a shame.” I spin to find Mireya leaning against the wall where the counters used to be. She smiles at me, and I can tell she's only joking. Her dark hair is swept back and mussy, peppered with bits of white dust and spotted with pink paint. I always thought she was pretty when she was made up and dressed in her best biker chick gear, but in reality, I think she's prettier right now.
I smile back.
“Have you seen Christy?” I ask, adjusting my arm in the sling. It's not broken, merely sprained, but it's still a bit sore. My head throbs in time with the saw I can hear running elsewhere in the house, but I brush it aside. I have medication for that, thank you, and I haven't forgotten that I was in a small coma. I promise myself to take it easy.
Mireya pulls a cigarette from her jeans pocket and lights up.
“Think she's upstairs with Kimmi.” I raise my eyebrows and Mireya shrugs.
“Don't ask. I don't know.” I close the lid on the garbage can and head up the stairs, opening doors in my search for Christy. I hear her before I see her, laughing like I haven't heard in quite some time, like the world is open and ready to be explored. My smile turns into a grin. I turn the doorknob and step into a pale pink room, smaller than mine and Austin's, but still good sized. Christy is leaning against the wall opposite me, her blonde hair upswept and her blue eyes sparkling. When she sees me, she squeals.
“Amy!” Christy practically sprints across the room and then comes to a skidding stop when she sees the sling on my arm. I throw my good arm around her neck and give her a hug. Kimmi brushes an arm across her forehead and watches us with a smile.
“You wouldn't even know you'd picked her up from the hospital yesterday. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you hadn't seen her in weeks.” Kimmi steps back from the wall and looks at it with a critical eye. “At least you're back, Amy, and you can tell Christy what a disgusting color this is. I call it baby puke pink.”
“It's called Lady Lip Pink,” Christy corrects, moving away from me and putting her hands on her lower back. Kimmi raises an orange eyebrow.
“I've seen a lot of lady lips,” she says, making us both blush. “And I've never seen any that were this color. If I had, I'd have probably called 911.”
“You're disgusting,” Christy says, but she says it affectionately enough.
“I don't mean to interrupt your painters' party, but I thought it might be fun if we took a walk. There's a block of shops not too far from h
ere, and I'm desperate to stretch my legs.” Kimmi gives me a look, resting one hand on the paint splattered hem of her jeans.
“Things might look casual, but we're at war.” Kimmi smiles. “If you want to go for a walk, you'll have to take an entourage with you.” Her smile morphs into a grin. “Go ask Beck.”
I grab Christy by the hand and drag her out of there, praying that Beck isn't … er … occupied with Tease at the moment. I need to talk to Christy. I feel like it's important that I do. I keep promising myself that we'll spend some time together, but I never follow up on it. After the accident, which could have been much, much worse, I don't feel like I can put it off any longer. Fortunately, Beck is standing at the base of the stairs when we pass by. I grind to a stop, Christy bumping into my back, and look down at him. He grins big when he sees me.
“Well, shoot. I thought you might've come back as ghost considering I didn't get a chance to see your pretty little face yesterday, only a hell of a lot of moans and groans.” I flush again, but raise my chin haughtily.
“I'll forgive your rudeness if you promise to take us on a little walk.” I glance over at my bedroom door. I could ask Austin for an escort, but I don't want Christy to be the third wheel. It's probably better if we drag Beck along. “Bring Tease, and let's go for ice cream.” Beck squeezes his empty water bottle and tosses it over his shoulder. It bounces off the rim of the garbage and hits Mireya in the leg. She scowls at him, but doesn't say anything.
“I could never say no to such a lovely lady,” he says, motioning us down the stairs. “Get your asses over here, and let's go.”
Chapter 25
Amy
“Are you happy here?” I ask Christy as we hold hands, walking down the street at a leisurely pace. Beck and Tease are a good distance behind us, but I don't doubt their ability to keep us safe in a crisis. Beck is a machine, and Tease grew up with this life. I'm not worried. Besides, things seem almost conspicuously silent. I get the feeling we're not going to be dealing with any more feints or jabs – when the next wave of trouble comes, it's going to be big enough to block out the sun. That's just my guess, of course.
Craving Me, Desiring You Page 11
