The Devil Don't Sleep

by Janine Infante Bosco

  “You’re wrong. For the first time in a long time, I’m thinking clearly,” I rebut. “I’ve never been a selfish mother and I never will be. Ryder wants you in his life, Bas and so do I. I would never take him away and stand in the way of what you two are building. But just because you want to have a relationship with your nephew does not mean you’re required to have one with me.”

  Pausing, I take a breath and cock my head to the side.

  “I’m glad I told you the truth. I think I needed to say it as much as you deserved to know it but, it doesn’t fix what’s broken between us. If anything, it just reaffirms what we both have known since you came home and learned I was pregnant. We’re over, Bas. The people we were are not who we are anymore and while you may not hate or blame me, you’ll never be able to look at me like you once did. You’ll always see what happened to me. You’ll look at me with pity and I’m past that. I don’t want to be a victim. I played that role for six years and now, he’s gone and I don’t have to. I can finally move on and find myself. I have the opportunity to introduce my son to my true self and I don’t want the shadow of what happened with Junior looming over me while I do it.”

  “I don’t look at you with pity, Mac,” he says, turning to me. “I look at you and wonder how the fuck you’re ever going to forgive me.”

  “Forgiveness requires a wrong doing and you didn’t wrong me,” I remind him.

  “Sure, I did. You said so yourself. If I would’ve looked into your eyes, I would’ve known the truth, I would’ve seen you needed me. Instead, I left you there and I’ve been too much of a fucking pussy to ask you what happened after I turned my back on you,” he says hoarsely.

  Maybe he’s right. Maybe I am a little lost in my head for thinking I could gloss over what happened after he left. Maybe I’ve been too eager to leave it behind me, that I haven’t realized I need to acknowledge it before I let it die.

  “I want to make it right, as God as my witness, I want to make up for every bad thing I let happen but, not knowing is driving me crazy, Mac,” he confesses. “It’s forcing me to think the worst and I’m having a hard time separating whatever happened to you with what happened to Ally.”

  “Ally told me what happened to her, Bas. They abducted her as a kid—”

  “And they raped repeatedly for years too.”

  “Is that what you think happened?”

  “Is it?” he asks hoarsely. Staring into his red rimmed eyes, I shake my head.

  “No,” I whisper. “The last time was when Ryder was a couple of months old,” I admit. “It turned out Junior wasn’t a fan of big tits and stretch marks. He preferred a woman with less meat on her bones and I had gained thirty-five pounds during my pregnancy with Ryder. After he was born, I lost about fifteen. The other twenty I held onto tight. I thought they would keep Junior away from me but, he was done with me anyway. He didn’t have to worry about competing with you and had fallen into place right next to Crank. The only reason he didn’t kick me to the curb was because Milly wanted her grandson close to her. He resented me for it and when he got high, which was frequently, he would hit me. Mainly just because he could, but also because he felt I ruined his life by not having an abortion. He felt I owed him something and he took my confidence and self-respect as payment.”

  Bas swipes a hand over his face.

  “So, you haven’t had—”

  “Sex?” I interrupt.

  He nods his head and I take a moment to gather my thoughts before answering.

  I think some people have certain expectations of rape victims. They assume sex is the enemy and call it a trigger. If you’ve been sexually violated they can’t comprehend you ever enjoying the act again. That it will only serve as a reminder of a time when you said no, and no one listened.

  Yes, rape is a horrific violation of a woman’s body and it leaves invisible scars on her mind, body, and soul. But I think for one to heal and be able to move past it, they need to separate the act from the crime. For me, the greatest tragedy of my story has always been losing myself. I chose not to let rape define me because then it would define Ryder and he’s too precious to be perceived as anything other than a blessing.

  That doesn’t mean I don’t have issues I need to deal with. Like I said, in between losing the love of my life and becoming a mother, (see what I did there) I lost sight of who I was. I allowed myself to be controlled by people who had no business controlling me and that is not okay.

  Yes, I want Bas.

  I want the life we were supposed to have but, if that doesn’t happen—if too much time has past for us to find our way back, then I need to be okay with that. I need to move on and I need to make a life for myself and my son.

  With that decided, it’s time for Bas to make a decision of his own.

  “No, I haven’t had a man touch me since mine went to prison,” I whisper.

  Then my eyes do the talking.

  Are you going to dance in the rain with me?

  Or are you going to watch from the window?

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Anytime I let myself think about the day they released me from prison, I always think back to how my heart broke stepping into that clubhouse and seeing Mac. I very rarely let myself recall how I felt during the minutes leading up to that moment.

  I felt like I was on top of the fucking world.

  After five years of being deprived of that sweet pussy, I was finally going to have it again. Thoughts of running my mouth over every inch of her skin were driving me mad. I couldn’t wait to feel her cunt on my tongue and wrapped tight around my cock. I remember hoping Mooney didn’t follow me inside or the poor bastard would get a front row seat to me ripping Mac’s clothes off. I’d fuck her bare, and we’d go all night long.

  I’ve been on a downward spiral ever since the missed opportunity, fucking one whore after another, trying to forget how badly I still craved Mac or that she was with my brother. Since finding out the truth and finally being able to taste her mouth, it’s taken every bit of self-control not to finally take what has always been mine.

  The ache in my balls was becoming painful.

  I needed her like one needs oxygen.

  Yet, I wasn’t going to take her and fulfill my needs when I wasn’t sure she could handle it.

  When I wasn’t sure she could handle me.

  Because the one thing I knew for certain is once she gave me the green light, I was going to fuck her into another realm.

  The green light came, and it came in the form of the sweetest words she might’ve ever uttered…

  “Say it again,” I say, watching her throat as she swallows.

  “I haven’t had a man touch me since mine went to prison,” she whispers. Taking a breath, I look into her eyes and instead of finding the sad truth of a story that’s already been told, I find the parts that have yet to be written.

  A future that has yet to be embraced.

  A fucking ending that has been forgotten.

  “I’m here now,” I say roughly.

  “Funny, so am I,” she murmurs.

  “And, I ain’t going anywhere this time,” I add.

  Placing my hands on my knees, I push myself off the lounge chair. Rising to my full height, I hold out my hand for her to take and meet her soft gaze.

  All honey.

  All Mac.

  My Mac.

  “Don’t leave me hanging,” I say, tipping my chin toward my hand.

  “I don’t want to be some pity fuck, Bas,” she rasps as she nervously gnaws on her lip.

  She’s still crazy.

  Fucking certifiable.

  Still my Mac.

  “Take my hand, Mac,” I demand softly. “Take my fucking hand and claim what’s always been yours because I’ve been waiting a fucking decade to take back what’s mine.”

  Something flashes in her eyes and she slides her fingers over mine, slowly lifting her back from the chair. Threading them together, I take her other hand too and pull her to h
er feet. Standing in front of each other, there are no words left to speak.

  She takes a step.

  I take two.

  My mouth lowers.

  Her eyes close.

  Our lips meet.

  The world around us drops away from our feet as I untangle my fingers from hers and reach for her face. Holding her in place, I pry her lips open with mine. Years of built up frustration set the pace and fuel the passion embedded in my soul and we quickly become a frenzy of clashing tongues and teeth. My fingers comb through her wavy hair and cup the back of her head, angling her just enough to delve deeper.

  Mac’s legs part as she presses herself into me and my cock swells. Fisting her hair, I groan and rub myself against her leg, letting her feel what she does to me.

  What she’s been doing to me since the moment I first laid on her all those years ago.

  “You want me to go slow?” I ask, tearing my mouth from hers.

  “No,” she pleads. “I think we’ve gone slow enough.”

  Thank fuck for small favors.

  With a quick nod, I bend my knees and lift her into my arms. Her legs wind around my waist as her fingers press into my shoulders and she holds on for dear life.

  “Mouth. Now,” I demand as my hands squeeze her ass and I walk us into the house. Bending her head, she kisses me.

  She kisses me like she used to.

  Like I’m her fucking hero.

  Her fucking man.

  The guy who owns the deepest parts of her heart.

  Reminding myself this is a first time for us— the first time in ten years, the first time with a kid in the house, the first time for the new us—I set her on the kitchen table and pull out one of the chairs. She peers up at me with curious eyes and I press a chaste kiss to her lips before replacing my mouth with my finger.

  “Nod your head if you trust me,” I command softly as my free hand moves to her hip and giving it a squeeze.

  She nods.

  “No more words,” I say, removing my finger from her lips as I take a seat between her legs. Shuffling closer to her, I reach for the hem of her shirt and my fingers work the tiny buttons, popping them open one at a time. Undoing the last one, I run my hands from her neck and over her breasts. Her tan skin glistens in the moonlight and I drink every inch in, taking in the changes and memorizing the faint lines of where Ryder once grew inside her. Bending my head, I let my tongue trace the zigzag patterns of the lines.

  Wrapping her hands around my neck, she releases a gasp. Without stopping, I lift my eyes and meet her gaze.

  You’re beautiful, so fucking beautiful and these lines are beautiful too.

  Once I’m sure I’ve worshipped soft line, I lift my head and push the shirt away from her shoulders, watching as it falls down her arms and pools at her waist. Removing it completely, I push a finger under the bra strap and slide it down her shoulder.

  My attention moves to her tits. They are so much more than I remember and spill out the cups of her bra. Her hands wind around her back and I lean back, watching as she unhooks the clasp. Bringing her hands back around, she lets her arms hang at her sides and the straps of her bra fall. With one hand, I reach between her breasts and pull the bra away from her, freeing her tits.

  “Goddamn, Mac,” I hiss, tossing the bra to floor. Once just a handful, they are now so full. Her nipples are darker and rounder than I remember too. Taking them in my hands, I familiarize myself with the weight of them, and bend my head, sucking one into my mouth.

  “Oh God,” she whispers as she pulls at the rubber band on top of my head. Once she gets it out, she fists my hair and rocks against the table.

  Nipping and sucking on one nipple, I roll and pinch the other between my fingers. After a few more licks, I pull away to catch my breath and stare at the rise and fall of her swelling tits.

  “You’re fucking perfect,” I mutter, licking my lips.

  “I need more,” she pants.

  “Oh, I’m going to give you more,” I growl, reaching for the button on her cutoffs. Popping it open, I drag the zipper down and lift my eyes to hers. “I’m going to give you everything,” I swear, lacing my fingers through the belt loops of her shorts. “But first, lift your ass and let me at that pussy.”

  Complying, she raises her hips and I work the scraps of denim down her thighs. Pushing the chair back, I lift one leg and then the other until the shorts find its rightful place on the floor, next to the rest of her clothes. Dropping her legs, they dangle over the edge of the table and I watch as she brings her hands to her knees and pushes them apart.

  My cock strains painfully against the zipper of my jeans and I press my hand against it giving it a little relief as I stare at the scrap of cotton covering the apex between her thighs. Spotting the wet spot covering her pussy I lean forward and press a finger over it.

  “Please, I’m going to die,” she whispers.

  My lips quirk as I slide my finger under her panties.

  Fucking soaked.

  Lifting my eyes to hers, I remove my finger and use both hands to drag her panties down her legs. Completely naked, she grips the edge of the table and hops off before I can eat her.

  “What are you doing?” I growl as she shoves my shoulders back and straddles my lap.

  “I don’t think you understand how bad I need this,” she pants, rocking her pussy against my cock. “You can fuck me with your tongue after I’ve had your cock.” Grabbing my shoulders, she starts humping me through my jeans. “It feels so good,” she hisses.

  Arching my hips off the chair, I give her a taste of the friction she craves before pushing her off me. Once I’m on my feet, I kick off my boots and reach behind me, pulling my shirt over my head in one fluid motion. Mac makes quick work of my jeans, undoing the button and dragging the zipper down. Hooking her thumbs into the sides, she pulls them down my thick thighs before stepping back and giving me room to kick them off the rest of the way. Next, we both reach for my boxer briefs and together we work at removing them too.

  Her eyes dart to my cock and I watch as she teeth take hostage of her bottom lip. A moan sounds—whether it’s hers or mine, I have no fucking idea. Wrapping my fist around my cock, I glance around the kitchen, looking for the perfect place to lay her out and fuck the shit out of her. Before I can decide, she lunges for me. Gripping the globes of her ass, I find my balance and spin us around. Her back hits the stainless-steel refrigerator. Gasping, she arches her back and presses her wet cunt against my stiff cock.

  “I don’t got a rubber,” I tell her.

  “And I don’t got a fuck left to give,” she hisses, pushing the wild sweaty curls away from her face.

  A chuckle escapes me.

  There you are, Mac.

  Spreading my legs, so my feet match the width of my shoulders, lean all my weight against her and hold her against the fridge with one hand. With the other, I position my cock and then I put us both out of our fucking misery. Pushing in between her lips, I slide inside her tight cunt, one inch at a time, stretching and spreading her until she fits around me.

  “Yes, yes, yes,” she pants as my fingers find her clit.

  “Work with me, baby,” I grunt. “Get lost in me and you.”

  I don’t know if she needed to hear me say those words or if something inside her just snapped but, Mac started bucking against me, taking me deeper. She whispered things I couldn’t quite make out and dug the heels of her feet into my ass as she road my cock like the fucking champ she was.

  I was really trying to keep my head and not lose control but the minute I felt her pussy squeeze my cock, I knew she was coming and I was gone. There was no coming back from this moment.

  “Look at me,” I demand.

  I needed to see her when she came.

  I needed confirmation this wasn’t another sick joke Satan was pulling on me.

  “Mac,” I growl. “I need your eyes.”

  Lifting her head from my shoulder, she turns her face to the side and her ey
es find mine.

  Relief course through my body as my cock slides in and out of her and I realize I’ve spent more time missing her than I did loving her. Now, I had her again. We were both finally right where we belong.

  Never let me go again, her eyes say.

  I won’t, mine reply.

  The Devil himself couldn’t ever keep me from this again.

  The need to brand her from the inside out consumes me and with a final thrust, I take us both home.

  To where the story continues and knows no bounds.

  A place where two people finally find peace.

  A place where the motherfucking hero gets the girl and this time, this last time…he keeps her.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  The next seven days, I spent every possible moment reconnecting with Mac. When we weren’t fucking ourselves senseless, we were with Ryder, making memories and laying plans for the future. Any talk of them going back to Kentucky died out on the back deck that night and things finally started turning around for us.

  They were great.

  Then again, they always are before they turn to shit.

  I couldn’t shake the feeling that the Devil was creeping and the longer it took for this cartel bullshit to come to a head, the more on edge I became. So, when Jack called this morning, informing me that the bounty hunter got a hit on the guy from the zoo, I left Mac and Ryder and headed straight for the garage.

  Now, I’m sitting at the table, anxiously fidgeting and waiting for Jack to slam the fucking mallet down. I wonder if he knows he stares at the thing for a solid thirty seconds before he lifts it with disgust and calls order to the club.

  He’s getting a wooden gavel for Christmas.

  For his birthday, I’m getting the poor bastard a flip phone.

  He deserves both.

  Of course, that means I’m going to have to ask him when his goddamn birthday is and because he’s a pain in the ass, he’s going to give me that whole property of Parrish nonsense he gives everyone.