Butcher glanced at his watch. “It’s lunch time and Andrea is expecting you guys to come over and eat, so let’s head out and the truck will be ready by the time we’re done.”
Sting sighed, his belly growling in protest. Yeah, shit does roll down hill and that looked like that was what he’d be having for lunch.
Durty must’ve heard the sigh and patted his stomach. “I’ll go get us something and bring it back.”
Kissing her with a nod and a thank you, he turned to an eager looking Spock, who looked like he was salivating at the thought of Butcher’s wife’s cooking. “Are we going?”
Sting snorted as Spock took a step to follow the other men. Grabbing his neck, Sting thumped him on the back of his head. “No, they’re going. Steel asked us to load the truck, so that’s what we’re doing. I need you to grab a couple of guys while I go and get the truck. You need to put these names on the specific bike that I have listed, before I get back.”
Spock looked at the list Sting handed him, then back up to Sting. “We’re not gonna eat?”
Sting was turning away from the kid, but paused to look over his shoulder, clearly frustrated. “Did you hear what I said, Spock?” The only response was a blank look from his prospect. A bit harsher, he snapped at him, “Assemble your away team and get moving!”
Chapter 48
Adorn
Durty drove over to The Four Horsemen café and ordered two burgers, a large order of onion rings, and their specialty fried pickles. Yes, it was a heart attack waiting to happen, but she knew Sting had to be famished.
She sat down with an iced tea while she waited for her order, giving her a moment to think. She wanted all the details of what happened at the Warrior clubhouse; though she knew Sting would be tight lipped about some of it. He’d come back looking tired and wore down, more than usual.
And what was with this is Reaper dude? She’d heard of him, but with how Lace acted, she doubted the stories were true. Then again, there was a part of Lace’s life that very few knew about. Durty assumed he belonged to that part of her life.
Her thoughts wandered back to Sting and how worried she was while he was gone. It was a feeling she had to take a moment and examine. She hadn’t worried about any other human being, other than her sisters, in ages. It was a foreign feeling to her and she wasn’t sure how she felt about it, or exactly how to deal with, except to embrace it and move on. He was in her life and she was madly in love with him.
She wasn’t sure the exact moment it happened, but it was there. She knew to start a relationship that was founded on lies wasn’t exactly the way to go, but they’d cleared that up. Could someone fall in love in such a short time? It’d only been two months that she and Sting knew one another, and sure, they had a ton more to find out, yet, she didn’t care.
Sting was there for her worst, and he was still there at her best. He was the one to stop her from making the grave mistake of leaving the Angels and she’d always be grateful to him for that. He knew her better than she knew herself. Wasn’t that how it was supposed to work?
Hearing her name called, she snapped out of her thoughts, grabbed the food, and headed out. The drive was short back to the yard. Scooping up the food, she made her way toward Sting as he and Spock closed the trailer door on the semi-truck, locking it up tight.
“Here, Spock.” She handed off an extra bag, having thought of him last minute and grabbed him a bite to eat as well. She knew the boy hadn’t had anything in several hours, and prospect or not, the boy had to eat.
The kind gesture earned her a hug that almost knocked her over. A laugh bubbled from her, hugging the prospect back. Spock turned to Sting. “May I?”
Sting nodded, pointing to the business’s cafeteria. “It’s unlocked. Be sure to clean up after yourself. I don’t need my ass kicked for you being messy.”
Spock darted off at Sting’s consent, leaving the two of them alone. Finally.
“I got us some food from Four Horsemen.” Durty dangled the bag in front of him, like a carrot for a mule. “Let’s go eat some place quiet?”
Sting tried to snatch the bag from her, but Durty was quick enough to jerk back and keep it just out of his reach. Wagging his finger at her, he chuckled. “Asshole. Fine, we’ll go to my place.”
The smile in his eyes held s sensuous flame which sent a shiver down her spine. Her mouth curved in an unconscious smile, matching his. Taking his hand, she followed him to the small shack that he called home.
Her nose crinkled, not meaning to pass judgment, but really? Durty heckled him in a light manner. “Seriously? How’d you expect all my things to fit in here?”
Sting was laughing gently as he opened the door for her. “I had to make the offer. I wasn’t going to be like ‘hey, I really want to move in with you, but I live at work’.”
Durty swept past him, looking into the small apartment. It was a bit bigger than she expected. It reminded her of the hotels that got rented as apartments. A kitchenette led to a bedroom with a bathroom on the side. He had a two-seater table with his TV just off to the side.
Setting the bags on the table, Durty started pulling out the still hot food. She swung her head lazily to the side, while he flopped back onto the bed with a groan. “Come on, get up and eat before it gets cold.”
“Nuhuh, let me get a shower.” Sting sighed out of sheer exhaustion. He lowered his hands to his belt, unbuckling it, followed by opening the button and unzipping his pants.
“Baby, you need to eat. The shower can wait.”
Sting argued, struggling to rise back up and grab his foot to remove the boots. “I’m dirty, I smell like road grime. I want to wash my hair and see the fucking damage that prick did.”
Plucking out an onion ring, she waved his under his nose, trying to entice him. “I got your favorite burger and fries. You need to eat, or else you might fall out in the shower. How’d it look if I have to call Steel because you DFO’d in the shower?” She hated to put it that way, but if he did pass out in the shower, he’d hate to be seen that way.
Letting his foot flop to the floor, he bit into the onion ring. “I hate you right now.”
“And you love me because I’m going to feed you and not put up with your macho bullshit.” With a wink, she fed him another onion ring. Picking up his foot, she placed it on her thigh to unlace it. Pulling the laces apart, she slid his foot out from the boot, and repeated the process to the other foot.
Picking up his mushroom, sautéed onion, barbeque, and Swiss cheese double bacon burger, Durty unwrapped it enough that he wouldn’t spill it on himself or anywhere else. When he took it from her, she unwrapped her own pastrami burger, pulled out a chair and sat down. Reaching for another onion ring, she popped it into his mouth.
“How’d it go today?” She was hesitant to ask, but her curiosity was getting the better of her.
“We went, we saw, we conquered.” He bit into the burger with a well satisfied sigh. His eyes drifted closed as he seemed to happily chew. Swallowing, he opened his eyes half-way, staring at her from under his lashes. “We burned the bitch down though, with all the cuts, but the one Reaper brought back.”
Just as she figured, he wasn’t going to tell her. She could order him to, but she’d never do that. As long as he was alright, that was the answer she’d live with. She couldn’t blame him, he was being loyal to the brotherhood, and if she was in his place, Durty probably would’ve done the same thing.
“I’m glad you came home safe.” Sinking her teeth into the mouthwatering burger, she chewed slowly.
“You know the patch over party is Saturday, right?”
Wiping her mouth with a napkin, she swallowed with a nod. “Mhmn, it’s just a Santa Maria style BBQ, but it’ll be fun. The girls are pretty excited about it.”
Wadding up the trash in his hands, he tossed it into the can. Standing up with a groan, he staggered to the small fridge. Pulling out a beer, he twisted it off, snapping it into the
can too. “Want to ride with me?”
“I can’t ride with you.” Durty frowned, setting her burger down. Snaking out another onion ring, she nibbled on it. “You know I have to lead the pack.”
“I meant ride on the back of my bike,” he muttered, taking a long drink from his bottle.
“You know I can’t. If they’re all leaving from a central point, I have to ride point.” Durty couldn’t stop the frown from forming. She would’ve loved to ride behind him, but this was one of those things that wouldn’t ever happen at an Angels club function.
A slow smirk formed, Sting’s eyes lighting with a deviousness Durty had come to love.
“What did you do?” she accused him, unable to hide the laughter in her voice.
“I already talked to Lace about it, and she agreed this one time, she’ll let you ride behind me at an Angel’s event. She said that if you guys come to a Roja event, and you want to come as my ol’lady, then you have to remove your cut while you’re on my bike.”
“You went to Lace,” she asked, almost accusatory. She hadn’t meant to sound that way, but it threw her off that he took it a step farther than she would’ve thought he would. “You really want me behind you that bad, huh?”
“You can rub it in Barbie’s face.” Sting waggled his brows at her.
“You play dirty, cowboy.” She rose up, moving toward him. Sliding her arms around his waist, she leaned into him. “I’ll ride behind you then.”
He leaned forward to set the bottle onto the table. Running his fingers through her hair, he urged her head back with a gentle tug. “Thank you. Now, I’m going to get my shower.” His lips were tender as they brushed against her own, sweet and filled with promise.
Pushing off of him, she turned to grab up their garbage, tossing it in the can. Picking up her phone, she glanced through the messages to see if any of the girls had checked in. Letting out a puff of air, she tossed her phone on Sting’s bed just as the shower turned on.
Facing the door, Durty crossed her arms over her chest. Fuck it.
Two steps and she was in the bathroom, stripping off her clothes with amazing quickness. Tossing them to the side, she jerked back the shower curtain. She tried to suppress her giggle, with no luck, when Sting nearly jumped clean out of his skin. Durty stepped into the tub as Sting moved, allowing her room to do so.
“Here, let me.” She took hold of his hips, maneuvering his body so his back was under the stream of the water.
Durty wasn’t a bold person when it came to sex, but she found a new part of herself she wanted to explore, and Sting was going to be her loyal subject. There was a glint of wonder in his eyes when her hands reached up, brushing his hair back, forcing his head to follow.
She was gentle with her movements, not wanting to pull any more hair out, running her fingers through the long, wavy strands of silk. His lightly haired chest rose and fell as a sigh of relaxation passed his lips. His eyes fell closed, allowing her to tend to him, trusting her completely.
Turning just enough to pick up the shampoo, she let her gaze wander over him. He was the most perfect specimen of a male she’d ever laid eyes on—especially in the shower. Dear God, how had she been so stupid to almost lose this man? She knew it was more than just his looks, but holy hell, that just added more.
Her eyes settled on the powerful set of shoulders that led to a perfectly proportioned chest, lightly peppered with hair. Following the trail of hair toward his abdomen, to that perfect V shape she wanted to sink her teeth into, completely showed off the slimness of his hips, to only emphasize the force of his thighs.
Placing the shampoo bottle back, she met his fiery gaze. Lifting her hands, she ran them over the mass of hair, making sure the shampoo spread evenly. The tip of her tongue darted out, lapping at a droplet of water sliding down his neck. Her whole body vibrated with the low growl that emanated from deep within him, tightening with anticipation.
Durty hissed as his hands caressed her hips, calluses on his palms scraping lightly along her goosbumped flesh. Sting’s fingers dug into her meaty hips, trying to bring her closer to him.
She didn’t resist.
Pressing her body against his, his muscles jumped when she brushed her juncture against his very core. Making sure his hair was free of shampoo, she took hold of a wash cloth and soap, lathering it up.
Stepping back, her voice was huskier than she ever remembered it being. “Turn around.”
Sting raised a single brow at her order, doing as she instructed. Placing his hands against the wall, he stood at an angle for her to reach any and every part she desired.
Smirking, she placed the cloth on the back of his neck, scrubbing just enough to be effective in cleaning him, but purposefully tantalizing him at the same time. Raking her nails delicately along his hip bone, the half groan, half grunt from Sting was music to her ears.
He pushed off the wall and tried to turn to face her. All that got him was a light smack on his ass cheek in reprimand. “Did I tell you to turn around yet?”
His chuckle was low and throaty, a shake of his head given in response. “No, you didn’t.”
Running her nails over the now pink cheek, she followed behind with the wash cloth. Dropping to her knees, one hand washed one thigh while the other caressed finger tips over the tense muscles. His breathing was ragged, his legs trembling as she moved to the calves.
“You can turn around now.”
Sting did as he was told, a gasp emitted from him as he grasped the shower curtain rod with one hand, to balance himself when he looked down. “Sweet Jesus.”
Durty tilted her head back, parting her lips to breathe in deeply. His whole body was rigid, waiting for her next move, and who was she to deny him that? Flicking out her tongue, the pink muscle passed over the skin of the mushroomed tip that was standing proud.
The deep, feral groan was more than she could’ve asked for, urging her to take more control. Her hands gripped his thighs as her tongue explored the very length of him, before swirling the wet muscle around the bulbous head. Mouth opened further to accommodate his size, she sucked the stiffened flesh deep into the chasm of her mouth.
“Fuck,” Sting croaked out, one hand dropping to her head, trying to pull her away from him.
His thighs shook under her hands, taking him fully into her mouth, ignoring his pleas for her to stop. Durty slid her hands around to his ass cheeks, pushing him further into her, moaning against his shaft. Sliding her mouth off of him, her tongue rolling over the head once more, her gaze lifted to meet his.
The normally pale blue eyes were dark and laden with desire. Sting groped for her, urging her up and onto her feet. “I can’t take much more of that, Durty. Please.”
She allowed him to lift her and press her back against the cool shower wall. Her body was screaming for him to possess her, her breasts heavy with the need for his touch. Sting’s mouth lowered to grasp a tight nub between his teeth, playfully darting his tongue over the sensitive flesh.
Durty couldn’t stop the cry of illicit pleasure, arching her back, forcing her breasts toward him. He tenderly palmed one, kneading the flesh as he twisted a nipple between his thumb and forefinger, as his mouth devoured the other.
Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer to her, eyes half closed. Durty shuddered as the tips of his fingers caressed along her inner thigh toward her throbbing center. She’d never wanted a man like she wanted Sting. He drew out the uninhibited passion in her. Thrusting her hips forward, his fingers brush along the border of the now slick delta.
Sting moved his head from her breast to claim her mouth as his own. His tongue assaulted hers, wrestling against hers in a macabre dance. The hunger for each other wasn’t hidden as their tongues warred in a battle neither one would win.
Durty obliged his urging hands, lifting her thighs to wrap about his waist. Using her back to push against the wall, her body was open to him.
Sting didn’t need a
ny more of an invitation. One solid push of his hips, and he was buried deep inside of her.
His mouth muffled her cry of joie de vivre. There was no way to comprehend the feelings taking over her body. She’d never felt a connection like this before. It was as if their souls finally merged into one, uniting them for all time.
Their bodies moved in unison, the mixture of heat from the water, hitting their cool bodies was enough to take her to the brink. Each buck of his hips sent a jolt of decadence through her, her walls tightening around his thickening shaft in return.
The unbridled moan from Sting pushed her over that precious brink into the kaleidoscope of delectation. She didn’t care who heard her as her vocal sonnet praising him grew in volume. His body tensed before he thrust erratically against her, growling between clenched teeth, forcing her body to squeeze tighter around his thickness, milking him dry.
Slumping against him, burying her face in his neck, planting tiny kisses along his skin was about the only thing she could do in her complete state of euphoria.
Not removing himself from her, he reached over to turn off the water, and then carefully turned around to leave the shower. Not bothering to dry them, he carried her to the bed, never breaking contact with her.
Once she was laid back onto the bed, she pulled him closer, gripping her thighs around his waist. “Round two?”
Chapter 49
Right Down the Line
Durty felt naked—naked, but in love.
She was straddled behind Sting on his bike, her arms slung lazily around his waist, chin resting on his shoulder as best she could with them both wearing full faces. She was without her cut, and it left her feeling vulnerable, but she knew she was safe with Sting.
Policy of Truth (Sacred Heart Continuum Series Book 1) Page 32
