Shift (The Disciples' Daughters #2)

by Drew Elyse

  Call me a pervert, but her anger always did something to me. Ash didn’t get angry easily. She wasn’t one to show that kind of emotion often. When I got it, it always got to me. Probably because I knew I was the only person she would blow up at like that.

  “No. I didn’t say that. I’ve fucked other women. You were gone and eventually I had to accept that. Now, you’re not gone. You’re right fucking here and I won’t settle for anything else anymore.”

  “I—” she stuttered. “What are you saying?”

  I moved across the room, not containing my grin when she backed into the wall, trapping herself. I got right up against her, feeling her tits press into me, loving the slight tremble I knew wasn’t fear moving through her, glorying in the way she jerked from my hard-on only to press back against it.

  “I’m saying,” I answered, leaning down so my mouth was right at her ear, running my tongue along the shell, “you’re mine.”

  “No,” I whispered, trying to hide the way my voice shook.

  He was right there, right on top of me, his big, hard body against mine. I could feel exactly how big and hard he was for me.

  He didn’t move away from my ear, his breath blowing across the sensitive skin when he answered, “Yes, Ash. You’ve always been mine.”

  He was right. He was so absolutely right. I’d been his since we were kids. I’d been his when he gave me my first kiss. I’d never stopped being his in all the time I was away. No one would ever have me, not the way he did.

  But, I couldn’t admit that to him.

  “I’m not anyone’s.”

  One of his hands, large and so warm it felt like it was burning through the t-shirt I had on, settled on my hip. Slow, too slow, it lifted, the shirt coming with it.

  “Bullshit, sweetheart.”

  I tried to come up with a response, I did. I turned my brain over, searching for a way to make him stop, to get him to turn around and leave. It should have been easy—there were plenty of things I could have said to make him walk away—but there was nothing harder in the world than denying yourself the thing you wanted most. No matter how I tried, I couldn’t bring myself to stop this.

  His lips moved along my jaw, just a whisper against my skin. Chills erupted down my body. It was intoxicating. He pulled back before he made it to my lips and looked down into my eyes, waiting.

  Not giving myself a chance to think it through, I made the same choice I made once before. Standing at the edge of us with him waiting for an answer, I leaned in and kissed him.

  That was all he needed.

  He was on me, his lips coaxing mine apart, his tongue invading. His kiss was consuming, a tide pulling me under. I was drowning in it, and I went down happily.

  His hand continued to smooth its way up my side, the tips of his fingers coming to the edge of my bra. The skin of his hands was rougher than I remembered, his grip stronger. He managed to caress and make me feel as though he was holding me in place. I was so caught up by the sensations, I missed his other hand moving to the front of my jeans until the button released.

  “Sketch,” I gasped against his lips.

  His head went back, his eyes harsh as he looked at me.

  “No, Ash. You don’t call me that when I’ve got you like this. I want to hear you say my name.”

  I was shocked, too shocked to say anything before he claimed my mouth again. Road names were sacred. I never knew most of the brother’s birth names. Their road name became who they were. For him to demand I use his real name was…

  It hit me, and it hit hard. He’d never been Sketch when we were together. The road name had come later, after I left. Every time we were together, I had only called him Gabe.

  I couldn’t process that. Not then. Maybe later, some point far down the road when I allowed myself to think about what we were about to do. In the moment, it was too much.

  He unzipped my jeans, but his hand didn’t go inside. He drew his fingertips along the exposed skin between my hips and dipped only so far as to trace the top edge of my panties. I jerked in response, the sensation tickling and inciting all at once. I wanted more, I wanted it to stop—I wanted it lower, stronger.

  In the midst of that torture, his other hand moved away from my breast aching for his touch and around to my back. I began to squirm in the little space he left me between him and the wall. My body was alight with a need I couldn’t vocalize.

  The clasp of my bra released and my head fell back. He wasted no time moving from my lips to my exposed neck, licking and sucking at the skin.

  “Let go,” he murmured to me.

  “What?”

  “My tee, babe. Let go.”

  Fighting to drag my focus from his lips and the teasing his fingers were doing just above where I needed him, I realized my hands were fisted in his shirt so tightly, it was a miracle I hadn’t ripped it. I forced myself to release him.

  In the work of a moment, he had my shirt off and away. I slid my bra down my arms. His hard body moved back into me, his hands dropping to my hips. He gripped me and some part of my brain understood the signal from my old life. I wrapped both arms around his neck and let him lift me. His body moved between my legs as they circled him, the solid plane of his stomach hitting right where I was desperate for him.

  My moan turned into something far more feral when his mouth captured my nipple. His wet, hot tongue insistent in its teasing, I couldn’t take it.

  “Please,” I begged.

  “Please what, baby?”

  I didn’t think about my words, didn’t weigh the repercussions of admitting it to him, I just blurted out the truth. “I need you.”

  He didn’t hesitate. With one hand supporting my ass, the other dove into my panties and hit its mark. I cried out at the sensation, nearly coming just from that touch.

  “Fuck. You’re soaked.”

  I responded the only way I could, by shifting my hips and rubbing against his fingers. He didn’t leave me wanting. He rubbed my clit hard, circling, pressing. I was going to lose it. I wasn’t going to be able to hold back.

  Just as I felt it take hold, as the first tremor of an orgasm moved through my body, he pushed his hand in farther and thrust two fingers inside.

  I shattered.

  I knew we were moving, but my focus was on the glorious spasms moving through me, the undiluted pleasure seeming to never end as he moved his fingers inside me. His name came from my lips like a prayer, “Gabe.”

  When it left me, I was on my back on the bed. Gabe was kneeling between my legs. I watched, rapt, as he shed his cut then pulled his shirt over his head. I was awe-struck at what he revealed.

  Gabe had been getting tattoos since his eighteenth birthday when I bought him his first. He’d had more planned and drawn out than I could count long before then. I could still remember every bit of ink on his body before I left. He had eleven tats at the time. I’d sat by his side while he’d gone under the needle for each one. Gabe loved tattoos. He was in the second year of his apprenticeship to become a tattoo artist back then. I hadn’t heard if he followed that path, but he clearly hadn’t stopped loving the art.

  He was nearly covered in ink. Everywhere. From neck to hands, all along one side of his chest, down his abs, and disappearing into his jeans. I wanted to study them, to spend hours looking at every piece of art he’d put on his skin, but I knew I wouldn’t have the chance.

  Instead, I watched those tattooed hands settle onto my pale stomach. Dark on light. Unrecognizable skin on a body forever changed by carrying my daughter. It was like we were strangers, yet we knew each other well.

  Gabe bent over me, his lips coming to my stomach. His hands pushed my jeans down my hips.

  “You’re softer than before,” he said. I felt myself tense as he moved down to nip at my hipbone. I wasn’t in the same shape I once was, I knew that. I hadn’t thought of how different that would look to him. “More curves.” I held my breath. His eyes came up to me, a wicked smile on his lips and in his gaze. �
��I fucking love it.”

  I inhaled a breath at his words and it turned to a gasp when he yanked my jeans and panties down my legs. He tossed them aside, ripping at the button on his own. His need amped up mine, and suddenly, it was like I hadn’t even had a release. I needed him more than I could remember needing anything in my life.

  “Hurry,” I panted.

  With a growl, he was back on me, his lips on mine, satisfying me and making me hungrier. His body on top of mine—hot, hard, and so ready. I could feel him between my legs and my hips lifted.

  “I’m clean, babe. I don’t want anything between us,” he gritted out as I continued to move my hips against his length.

  “I’m not on anything.”

  “Fuck.” He pressed his hips down on mine, stilling me. “You need to fix that. Tomorrow. I won’t have shit between us for long. You go on the pill or get pregnant and give us another kid, I don’t give a fuck which. Actually, the second sounds pretty fucking good.”

  He couldn’t have just said that.

  No way.

  I was in shock as he sat up and reached for his pants. He found a condom in his wallet and rolled it on, but all I could do was lie there. He seemed so sure this was going to happen again. And he said he…wanted me to get pregnant?

  Gabe came back to me and grinned at what he saw. “Freak out later. I want to fuck you now.”

  That was all I needed. The panic disappeared beneath the resurgence of heat. He was right.

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  His hands ran up my thighs, pulling my legs up to circle him. He sunk down onto me, kissing me. His tongue met mine at the same moment he pushed inside me.

  “Gabe,” I gasped as he cursed.

  He rocked in and out with slow, gentle movements. His whole body was tense and I knew he was holding back.

  “Take me.”

  His eyes flew open. “Ash—”

  “Please, Gabe. More.”

  His control snapped. His face went into my neck and he fucked me—hard, fast, and glorious. My hands went to his shoulders, my nails digging in. His panting breaths and groans in my ear pushed me higher still. Every thrust of his hips brought me closer to an orgasm that was going to destroy me.

  “Ashlynn,” he moaned, “you feel fucking incredible, babe.”

  “Gabe.”

  He slammed into me harder than I thought possible.

  “You’re mine,” he grunted. “You’re fucking mine.”

  With his words, he thrust in hard and sent me flying over the edge. I cried out. His name, “oh my god”, my absolute devotion—I have no idea what left my lips.

  All that existed for me was Gabe: his face the picture of gorgeous masculinity as his head went back and he roared his release, his cock still driving into me, his body anchoring me as I flew off into heaven.

  I didn’t come down even as it left me. I lay beneath him, still floating.

  He pulled out and got rid of the condom, but none of it registered.

  I had forgotten what it was like. I forgot being with Gabe was like coming home. There was nothing on earth that could touch the feeling. Nothing I had ever experienced made me feel so complete.

  When he came back to me, he switched off the lamp beside the bed before climbing in. His arms wrapped around me. I thought about fighting him, telling him it was time to go, but I couldn’t. If I had only one night, I was going to make the most of it. I was going to enjoy everything, and nothing beat the feeling of curling up against him. I had never forgotten that. I remembered it every night when I went to bed alone.

  Gabe pulled the comforter over us and settled in. My head was on his shoulder, his arm curving around my back. My arm wrapped around his middle and I threw my thigh over both of his. He brought his other arm down, tracing patterns up and down mine. It was ecstasy.

  And then he brought me crashing down.

  “You’re mine, Ash. I waited five years for you to come back to me. Now, you and Emmy—you’re mine.”

  Crap.

  I disappeared in the morning before Sketch woke. He’d always been a heavy sleeper, and I was glad to see that hadn’t changed. I knew we’d have to have the confrontation that was coming at some point. He thought we were getting back together. He thought we were going to be a family.

  God, that sounded amazing.

  But it wasn’t going to happen.

  He’d fight me on that. He wasn’t just going to take no for an answer. He was going to get pissed. Eventually, we’d probably be back at him demanding a paternity test. I had no idea how I was going to deal with that. What I did know was I wasn’t prepared to deal with any of it first thing in the morning.

  Roadrunner was expecting me at nine to pick up Emmy. I was out the door of the clubhouse before seven. I drove into town, picked up a few necessities, then got a cup of coffee I was less than interested in, and sat around for almost an hour pretending for whatever reason to drink it.

  In all honesty, I should have used that time to figure out what to say to Sketch. I should have been making plans. Instead, I picked the avoidance method. I watched customers come in and out. I tried to guess what they would order as they approached the counter. I allowed myself to become invested in a conversation between two women at a nearby table while they discussed how one wanted to talk to her husband about having a baby. I wondered how long their friendship would last when the other friend changed the subject to how she wanted to go clubbing and find a guy for the night. They were in different places in life, and the hopeful future mom knew it. I decided I needed to call Jasmine. She was the only female friend I’d ever really had. She was also the only one who knew my whole story. Maybe she could help.

  Finally, when my hundredth check of the time told me I could go get Emmy, I left.

  I was distracted with trying to keep my mind occupied and missed that the bike parked in Roadrunner’s driveway wasn’t his.

  The minute Roadrunner opened the front door, I heard my girl was in seventh heaven. The distinct sound of Immortals by Fall Out Boy told me Big Hero 6 was on. She wouldn’t listen to the song for no reason, and I imagined Roadrunner was not trying to convert her into a fan. She was probably watching Honey Lemon and imagining she had a purse that helped her fight crime.

  “Mornin’,” Roadrunner greeted, leading me inside. “I’ve got pancakes on the stove. Put on that movie for her while I got them ready.”

  “I’m surprised she waited until this morning.”

  He grinned at me. “She didn’t. We watched it last night, too.”

  That, I absolutely believed.

  Then, I heard another male voice. “Fred? What kind of superhero name is Fred?”

  “I don’t know,” Emmy snickered.

  “At least he breathes fire,” Sketch returned.

  Emmy caught sight of me. She had on princess pajamas with a matching thermal shirt and pants, and her curly hair was everywhere. Such was the curse. Curls couldn’t be slept on. It was the knowledge of all women in the club.

  “Mommy!” My baby beamed up at me, but didn’t come running. This was a surprise. Apparently, she was perfectly happy to stay on the couch beside Sketch. I told myself that shouldn’t sting. I was being ridiculous.

  “Hi, sunshine. How was your sleepover?”

  “So-o-o amazin’! I want to sleep over with Roadrunner every day!”

  Roadrunner’s voice carried in from the kitchen. “You can sleep here any time you want!”

  I was starting to wonder who would be more upset when we went back home, Emmy or the guys.

  “Guess what, Momma?” Emmy asked on an excited yell.

  “What?”

  “Sketch said he’s takin’ us to the zoo!”

  Wait. What?

  Sketch said what to my daughter without talking to me?

  “He did?” I asked, my gaze leveled on the man in question.

  He gave me an unrepentant grin in return.

  “Emmy,” Roadrunner called, “your pancakes are ready.�
��

  “Pancakes!” With her typical little-girl enthusiasm, she took off, leaving Sketch and me alone.

  “So, you’re taking Emmy to the zoo?” Sketch didn’t reply, just kept grinning. “Did you think of talking to me before deciding that and telling Emmy?”

  “Did you think of waking me before you snuck out of your own bed this morning?” he returned. “Or how about taking someone with you seeing as you’re here so we can protect you?”

  Oops. I hadn’t really thought about the safety side of my running around this morning. Well, nothing happened. All’s well that ends well, right?

  “We’re not talking about that.”

  “Too bad. That conversation is far more interesting to me.”

  God, he was so infuriating. How had I forgotten that?

  “Well, I’m more interested in the fact that you just decided you’re taking my daughter somewhere without discussing it with me.”

  Sketch got to his feet and started moving toward me. I might have been pissed, but I couldn’t deny it was a sight to behold. His tall, muscled body in battered jeans, a tight white t-shirt, and his cut. The heavily tattooed arms making him all the more intimidating. The lithe way his body moved that could make any woman think of sex, but especially me, seeing as I’d been reacquainted with his prowess the night before. It was almost enough to drive me to distraction.

  Almost.

  “First, I’ll say it now and I expect you’ll take it to heart. You need to have someone with you when you’re out. You definitely can’t just disappear like that. That’s not anything about the issues you and I have to sort through. That’s about your safety. You came here for the club’s protection, so I think you get it’s important. I’m also thinkin’ you had shit on your mind this morning and didn’t think of it, so I’m not going to keep pushing. Just remember next time, yeah?”

  Fair enough, I thought, but didn’t say. He was right on. I hadn’t been thinking straight and I wasn’t going to make that mistake again.

  “Second,” he went on, “I’m not taking your daughter somewhere without discussin’ it. I’m taking you and our girl to the zoo, and we’re discussin’ it right now,” he replied.