“I’ll take her back,” Dom said from the other side of me.
The two men looked at each other, holding each other’s stares and having a silent conversation.
“I’ll stay with her tonight,” Dom continued. “Need to get out of here, brother. Death don’t sit too well with me right now.”
Casa nodded and looked down at me. “You okay with that? I can come, I don’t mind.”
I smiled. “It’s fine. Dom will stay with me.”
Casa leaned down, his lips catching mine, and I opened for him, kissing him back. Desire flared to life inside me, need blossoming at the apex of my thighs. I pulled out of the kiss and stared into Casa’s face.
“You sure I can’t come with you, H?” he murmured, his thumb tracing my bottom lip.
“You need to stay with your brothers. There’s always tomorrow,” I said with a smile.
“And the day after,” he agreed.
“And the day after,” I replied.
“And the day after that.”
I smiled and let Dom pull me up to standing. We walked to my room hand in hand and went inside. Since I was an official old lady now, the club had given me and Casa our own room to stay in while the club was on lockdown. It was nice enough—or it was after I’d cleaned it and bought new bedding—but it wasn’t Casa’s home. Our home. I looked forward to the day that we could try and live a somewhat normal life.
I stripped out of my funeral clothes and grabbed my bed shorts and tank top off the pillow, not caring that Dom was there. He wasn’t interested in what I had to offer anyway.
His fingertips grazed my thighs where the red marks from Machine’s leather belt were still visible, his brow furrowed and his jaw twitching.
“Hey,” I said softly.
“Wish I could go back and kill him myself,” he said.
“It doesn’t matter now. He’s gone and I’m okay.”
He looked up from my legs, his eyes connecting with mine. “I’m sorry you got hurt in all of this. Women are normally off limits no matter what happens.”
“Guess the Razorbacks and the Reverend don’t play by the rules,” I replied, swallowing down the lump in my throat.
“I’m going to kill every one of them for you,” Dom replied, his gaze darkening.
“Don’t do it for me,” I said sadly. “Do it for Axle. Do it for River. But mostly, do it for his boys, who have to grow up without a father.”
He nodded. “We’ll all help raise them kids. They’ll be fine.”
“I know, and they’ll be lucky for that and that alone.”
“Even gave them nicknames, since they’re always fucking running everywhere,” he laughed, the happiness in his laughter not reaching his eyes.
“Yeah, what did you all name them?”
“Nitro and Drag 98,” he said with a smile. “Speedy little fuckers!”
I laughed at that, because yeah, I had seen those boys running left and right, never slowing down for nothing and nobody. I had a feeling they would be bikers that would make their dad proud when they grew up.
I climbed into bed and Dom kicked his boots off and climbed in next to me, pulling me against his chest. His scent wrapped around me, dragging me back to a time when we were just kids and he had been my world. Now he was still my world, but in a different way.
“You know I love you, Red?”
I closed my eyes. “I do. And I love you.”
“If I could love you the way a man should, you know I would, right?”
“I know.”
“I tried for so long,” he said on a sigh. “I never wanted any of this.”
“We never do.”
“Butch…” Dom spoke his name, and for the first time it didn’t hurt me to hear his name. “Butch showed me who I really was. He made me see what I didn’t want to see. He made me look at the world in a different way. He made everything make sense.”
“Love does that,” I said, draping an arm over his hard stomach.
“I don’t know how to live without him,” he admitted. “Everything just feels dead, colorless, empty, cold…I don’t want to be here without him, Red. I never got to tell him that.”
I pushed up on one elbow and looked at my friend, my first love. His eyes were filled with tears he refused to shed, no matter how hard it hurt him. He stared up at the ceiling stubbornly.
“You need to let the pain go,” I said. “Look at me.”
“I can’t. I can’t let it go.”
“Why?” I asked.
“I’m afraid, Harlow. I’m afraid that if I let it go then I’ll move on, and I don’t want to. I’m not ready to live without him yet.”
His face creased in pain, and I cupped his cheeks in my hands and pressed a kiss on his lips. His hands moved to my hair, twisting in it, and he kissed me back. Our mouths were closed, but it was a kiss filled with passion, pain, love, need, and desire unfulfilled. When I pulled out of it, tears were streaming down his cheeks.
“You have to live, Dom. Because I still need you. And Butch still needs you.” I was crying too then, which was crazy, given the amount of tears I had shed in the past week. “You don’t ever move on from someone you love. They’re always a part of you and a part of your life, but somehow you learn to accept their absence.”
“I don’t want to accept it. I want him here,” he said, pulling me to his body, his shoulder shaking as he finally let go of the pain he’d held onto. He moved lower down the bed and pressed his face against my stomach and I stroked his hair.
I’m not sure who fell asleep first, but when I woke up, Casa was sliding into bed with me and Dom was gone. I turned over and Casa pressed his front to my back, alcohol and smoke and the familiar scent of Casa wrapping around me as I fell back to sleep.
“I got you, girl,” he soothed, and I drifted back off.
Chapter Thirty-eight:
Dom
I knocked on the wooden front door, watching as a light came on in the hallway. There was the sound of a lock turning and then the door opened and I looked into Parker’s face, my expression grim.
“Everything okay, Dom?” he asked, his brow furrowing as he scanned the street behind me.
I couldn’t speak. Wasn’t even sure why I was even fucking there. It was five o’clock in the morning and this shit could have waited. Yet I’d woken in a cold sweat, the feel of Harlow’s warm breath against my chest, and I had known I needed to come and see Parker.
Maybe it was because he was the only other person in the world that could truly understand the pain I was going through. Or maybe I just had to see the man that had last spoken to Butch the night he’d died.
Parker looked back to me, his features softening. “Come in,” he said, holding the door wide for me.
I walked inside, my hands stuffed deep in my pockets. I followed the hallway down into a small living room to where a small lamp was lit, shrouding most of the room in shadows. An open bottle of whiskey sat in the center of the table with a half-filled glass next to it. I turned when Parker came into the room behind me.
He glanced at the drink, nodding toward it. “You want one?”
“Yeah.”
He left the room to grab another glass, and I took the time to look around the room. My heart almost jumped out of my chest when I saw a Polaroid of Butch and Parker together. Butch had his arm slung over Parker’s shoulder in his usual way. I smiled and picked it up to look closer.
“It’s the only picture I have of him,” Parker said from next to me.
I looked across and he handed me a drink. I took it and looked back to the photo. “He’s young here,” I said.
“Yeah, only nineteen or so.”
“Didn’t realize you’d known him that long.”
Parker didn’t reply, and I put the Polaroid back and turned to him. I took a long swallow of the whiskey. I looked everywhere but at Parker, still trying to work out what I had hoped to accomplish by showing up there—what the fuck my plan had been.
“
What do you want?” he asked, as if reading my mind.
“Not really sure. Just needed to be here tonight. That okay?”
“Sure.”
Parker walked over and sat back down on the small sofa, and after a second I followed him, sitting down next to him. I’d hated this man for a real long time. He was the man that Butch went to when I wouldn’t give him what he wanted. When I wouldn’t let the world know that I was his and he was mine. He’d punished me by coming to Parker. Tried to bait me into coming clean about who I really was. It was a shitty thing to do, I now realized with some anger.
Parker set his glass down on the table, and then he placed his hand on my thigh in a move that was both bold and fucking stupid. Cop or not, I could and would kill him if I chose to. Pull out the gun at the back of my jeans and blow his fucking brains out. I gritted my teeth, breathing through the surge in emotions—hate, anger, want, need. I looked across at him with a scowl.
His face was masculine—strong jawline, defined lips, dark eyebrows. But it was his eyes that held me in place, though. Gray, like mine, swimming with emotions as he fought the same feelings that I had.
He hated me as much as I hated him, I realized.
I was the man that Butch was in love with. The one he always went back to. And he was just the placeholder. I wondered who had really gotten the shittiest end of the deal in all of this.
Parker’s hand stayed where it was despite my thunderous look, and I threw the last of my whiskey to the back of my throat and slammed my glass down on the table, holding Parker’s gaze the entire time.
“Why do you think you needed to come here?” Parker asked, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. His eyebrows pulled in, his jaw twitched, and he let out a heavy breath.
“I told you, I don’t know. I just needed to,” I replied angrily, my expression hard and unforgiving.
“You think you know hate, Dom?” he asked, his hand sliding up my leg.
My nerve endings exploded under his touch, my skin breaking out in goose bumps.
I slammed my own hand down on top of his to stop him from going any further. “Yeah, I know a little somethin’ about hate, Parker.”
He chuckled in response. “You don’t know shit.”
I scowled and he chuckled again.
“He fucking loved you.”
“Yeah, how much? Because he kept running to you,” I bit out.
Parker shook his head. “He played us both.”
I sighed heavily and it was my turn to laugh. “Fuck yeah, he did.” I let go of his hand and swallowed. “You think he’s laughing at us right now?”
Parker smirked, and I couldn’t hold back my own small smile because I could see what Butch had liked about him. Parker was daring, confident, and spoke his mind—all the things Butch had liked in a man.
“Definitely,” he said, and let go of my leg. He picked up his glass, swallowing the whiskey in it.
We were both drunk and half-crazed with pain and anger, hating each other and resenting Butch all at the same time. But the one thing we had in common was that we had both loved the same man, and there ain’t no pain like losing someone you loved. No one understood that pain, no matter how much they thought they did. Not Shooter, not the club, no one.
No one but Parker.
I turned and looked at him and our gazes met.
The same misery and loss clouded his eyes. The same sadness and grief constricting his arteries, just like it was doing to me. He reached up and dragged a hand over his chin as if he had a beard, when in reality there was nothing but a light stubble there.
“I miss him,” he whispered, and I nodded in agreement. “Sometimes it hurts to fucking breathe.”
My heart was beating so hard I could feel it pulsing through my fingertips. I opened my mouth to say something but the words wouldn’t come out. So instead I leaned over and pressed my traitorous lips against his. He opened to me immediately, our teeth clashing as our tongues found one another’s and collided. My hands moved to his hair, gripping it tightly and pulling him closer to me. His hands gripped either side of my cut, pushing it back off my shoulders, and I shrugged out of it, pulling out of the kiss so I could drag my tee over my head, and watched as he did the same with his.
I leaned back in, feeling his hands moving over the muscles of my chest as I kissed him harder, needing this—needing him. I stood up abruptly, my chest heaving and my mind a fucking mess as to what I was doing. Parker stood warily, his gaze never leaving mine. His hands reached for my jeans, unbuckling them with a finesse that told me he’d done this many times before. I reached over and did the same to his jeans, my large hands shaking. I swallowed, uncertain of whatever this was but also unsure if I could stop it now that we had started.
We stared at one another, our nostrils flaring and sweat glistening off our chests as we decided if we were really going to do this or not. It was never really a choice, and I knew then why I’d had to go there that night.
I reached down and grabbed the bottle of whiskey from the table and brought it up to my mouth, and then I tipped it back, gulping down the smooth, fiery liquid. When I’d had enough, I slammed it back down on the table and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and looked back at Parker. He was still watching my every move, his eyes hooded and his mouth open as he breathed heavily.
Fuck me, he looked beautiful right then—shadows playing across his chiseled jaw and muscular shoulders, a small V going down to his cock like a fucking arrow. I sucked in my bottom lip and then reached over and grabbed the back of his head, pulling his mouth back to mine. The kiss was violent and needy, more anger than desire racing through both of our bodies as we touched and felt each other, learning a familiarity that only Butch had experienced with us both.
Parker’s strong hands found the waistband of my jeans and shoved them down, and then he was pushing his hands inside my boxers and sliding his palm along my hard length. I sighed and growled against his mouth, wanting and needing more. Passion and fury in equal measure exploding from me as I put my hands on his shoulders and pushed him down to his knees, showing him what I wanted.
Parker dragged my boxers down to my ankles and I kicked them and my jeans away from us. I looked down at him and he looked up, my cock a hard, throbbing thing between us. Slowly, Parker reached over and held onto me, his grip wrapping around my length as he leaned in and took me into his mouth. His gaze held mine as he sucked me in deep, and my stomach clenched tightly, almost ready to blow my load already. It had been too long since I’d felt this. Too long since I’d had exactly what I needed. And a man should be able to have what he wanted. It was his God-given fucking right.
Parker slid me in and out of his mouth, sucking me deep and hard, running his teeth lightly against my length until my balls drew tight and I had to push him away before I came down his throat. Because I wasn’t nearly done with him yet. There was no way I was ready for it to end. Not yet.
I got down to my knees and leaned in, kissing him roughly again, tasting myself on his tongue as his hands went to my waist and my hands gripped his hair. The difference between kissing Parker and kissing Butch—the only other man I’d kissed before—was obvious. Mainly in the fact that Parker was almost clean shaven where Butch had been like me, covered in a thick, heavy beard. But it was nice—the difference. Meant I couldn’t forget that this wasn’t actually Butch.
“You sure you want this?” Parker asked as he pulled out of the kiss.
I scowled at him and dragged his lips to mine again, thrusting my tongue in deep. “That answer your question?” I said gruffly.
He smirked, a small dimple on his left cheek showing. Fuck me, if Butch was there I’d punch him in his face for fucking such a pretty boy. But I couldn’t deny the attraction. Parker wasn’t nearly as big as me, but he was strong and muscular, flat stomach, taut abs, and a motherfucking dimple. I pushed Parker’s shoulders so he was lying down and then I lay down next to him, my hand moving down to his cock. I was nervou
s, no matter which way I looked at it. I’d only ever done it with Butch, and a thousand questions rolled through my head.
“Cock’s cock, Dom,” Parker said, as if reading my mind again.
My eyes jerked to his.
He grinned again, flashing that dimple of his. “You held one, you’ve held them all. Same as pussy, only better.” He smirked and I barked out a loud laugh, surprising us both.
“I ain’t ever done it with anyone but him,” I admitted, feeling foolish. I reached for the bottle of whiskey again but Parker grabbed my arm and stopped me.
He guided my hand back to his cock, and I slid my hand up and down the length a few times, wanting it, needing it more than I’d realized. He grabbed his jeans and pulled out his wallet, fumbling for a moment before he pulled out a condom and handed it to me. I took it and tore the packet open, sliding it down my now rock-hard length, his eyes on me the whole time.
I dragged my hands through my hair as I stared down at him. Jesus, I felt hot. My cheeks felt like they was burning up, and I was in two minds as to whether to ask Parker if they were. Instead I reached for the whiskey again, swallowing a mouthful down before taking another mouthful of it and leaning over him and dribbling it over his lips. The whiskey trailed between us like liquid fire and Parker opened his mouth, taking as much of the whiskey in as possible. I licked my tongue across his top lip, sucking it into my mouth before pulling away. His lips glistened and he ran his tongue across them and smiled up at me.
I lifted his legs to my shoulders and then reached over and grabbed a cushion from his sofa before shoving it under him so that it lifted his ass up higher, and then I lined myself up with his asshole and pushed forward gently, half expecting him to tell me to stop.
His eyes widened as the end of my cock pushed inside of him, and I sighed, my body shuddering and begging me to surge forward. My body needed this, had been waiting for this and wanting this since Butch had died. I slid myself deeper in, until I was balls-deep, and then I let myself settle inside, feeling his muscles tight around me. I took his cock in my hand, letting my grip move up and down a few times, watching as his pre-cum dripped from the end. I gripped his legs again, holding them tight as I started to slide back out, his muscles gripping me tighter.
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