“What does it look like?” she asked with a sniff, spearing her vegetables and glaring at him. “A piece of my fish.”
He wanted a piece of something from her all right. “Thanks,” he grumped, using his fingers to scoop it up. Shit was too small to be worth the work of using a fucking fork.
She sipped her cider again, picked up her fork and pushed her food around her plate.
“What did I say?”
Her face fell a little more and she flinched.
His heart dropped. “Zoann?”
“It-it isn’t that I-I don’t like your dirty talking,” she admitted, setting her fork aside and looking as if she wanted to die. “It’s just…oh, Matthew.”
Sick anger twisted through him at the sheer torture in her voice.
“I like it. I do. But—but…”
“Cee Cee,” he finished, harsher than necessary. Cee Cee had been brutal with Meggie and he hadn’t even raped her. Val could only imagine…Fuck…he didn’t want to fucking imagine what Zoann had gone through. She needed to talk about it, though. He wasn’t a counselor, but holding shit in served as slow poison.
His appetite leaving him, he got to his feet, walked to her and lifted her into his arms. She melted against him, no hesitation. No questions asked.
He sat her on the rug in front of the fireplace, then left her to get a blanket and pillows. He also pulled his rum-filled flask from his saddlebag before rejoining her, amused at her study of his body. “My fucking sweatpants getting in your way?” he asked, arranging her on the pillow. He drank from his rum and sighed in pleasure. Fucking beautiful. He hadn’t touched alcohol in almost twenty-four hours. Simultaneously leaning back and pulling the blanket over them, he pulled her into his arms and settled her head in the crook of his arm. “You okay? No pain or nothing, huh?”
Her bandages were gone, but she’d still been fucking shot, something he tended to forget. She acted so normal.
Flattening her palm against his chest, she turned on her uninjured side and faced him. “I’m fine.”
“Anything bother you, just let me fucking know.” More silence. Maybe, he should leave shit alone, but he’d purged his soul to her. The only thing—things—she didn’t know, would never know if he could help it, was the real reason Outlaw had shot him and about those damnable cameras. He’d have to rectify that shit before he was murdered. He kissed her forehead. “Tell me about that night.”
Silence. If she didn’t want to discuss it, he wouldn’t push her. But knowing about it would help him to understand what not to do. Maybe, one day…”
“Cee Cee was waiting for me,” she began in a soft, trembling voice.
Val listened, surprised his head didn’t explode, or his veins didn’t melt, from the white hot rage flowing through him. Sebastian Caldwell had been a fucking animal and the fuckhead had other sons, too, so he must not have only brutalized Logan’s daughters and granddaughter.
Fuck! Thank God for Big Joe. Zoann could’ve turned up pregnant herself.
Meggie’s old man had been fucking ruthless, but he’d taken care of his own until he’d gotten too hooked on drugs to know what the fuck he was doing.
“And, so, I kept myself bare down there for so long to see the scars, but then once the hair grew back, I liked hiding those reminders and—”
“What fucking scars?” Val asked, already knowing. He’d heard every word she’d said. Cee Cee had beaten her with his fists and a belt all over her body. “Your pussy’s marked up?”
“J-just the top.”
Just the top. Just the fucking top. She said it so matter-of-fact, as if it was okay that motherfucker had marked any of her beautiful skin. “Can I look?”
“Why?”
Because he was a sadistic motherfucker. He wanted to see and feel and imagine getting a chainsaw and cutting Cee Cee in half, using his ass crack as a starting point. “I never paid attention before,” he admitted, the other reason. “I’ve always been fucking focused on your clit and pussy hole. I never considered how delicate the rest of down there was.”
Closing her eyes, she turned on her back. “Okay,” she mumbled.
The fire had burned low. He didn’t intend to stoke it tonight. They’d go to bed soon. Still, it created warmth and the faintest glow from the embers. It reflected on her gorgeous skin and highlighted her trembling.
Gently removing his arm from under her head, he inched down her body, kissing her, although his t-shirt still separated his lips from her skin. He shouldered her thighs apart and lay between them, lifting the shirt above her belly. He rested his chin on her soft pussy bush. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he swore hoarsely. He kissed the spot below her navel, willing her to stop shaking, but understanding, too.
Although he’d taken her a couple of times since they’d arrived, the focus hadn’t been on her old injuries.
“I’m not going to look. Okay? I’m just going to use my fingers and feel.”
She nodded, her eyes shut tight.
Kissing the inside of her thigh, the scent of her arousing him, Val skimmed his fingers through her pubic hair, finding the raised skin. It felt smoother, too. The groove of one halted his exploration and his mouth. It was horizontal, longer, connecting the four smaller scars.
He couldn’t imagine the pain she’d gone through. Her sniffles made him raise his head.
She stared at the ceiling beams, ramrod stiff, tears glistening on her chin and cheeks.
“If I could take this pain away from you, I would.” Fuck. More than that. He understood Outlaw. He understood his craziness toward anyone who touched Meggie or looked at her too hard. “If I could’ve taken your place, I would have.”
She stilled. “Do you know what you’re saying?”
He rested his forehead on her pubic bone. “I’ve been with a man before, Zoann. My mother went both ways and my father dragged me into a threesome with another man.” Not only did it hurt, it disgusted him. He didn’t like feeling a hard prick on his body, loving the softness of women too much, their voices, their bodies and their pussies. “I hated it. Every fucking second. So, yeah, I know exactly what the fuck I’m saying.”
She wiggled, dislodging him, so he sat up. A moment later, she crawled into his lap and nuzzled her head against his chin.
Sobs tore through her and Val let her get it out of her system, holding her tightly, and whispering to her. She’d had years of pent up hurt. Anger, too, he’d bet. She’d held onto it, told she’d had no choice. Now, she did. Now, her problems and hurts were his, too. She wasn’t alone and she’d never be again.
So, he wouldn’t stop her, although her pain almost broke him. He applauded her strength. Whether she realized it, she was damn fucking strong. And brave.
Finally, she quieted down and relaxed against him, remaining so quiet he thought she’d finally asleep.
“You don’t think I’m a whore or a slut?”
Jesus H. Christ. “Babe, you’re so far from either until you could become a fucking nun.”
“Really?” She sounded appalled and burst into tears again.
Val drew in a breath to compose his confusion. He thought she’d appreciate his words.
“How can I ever please you?” she wailed.
In-out. In-out. In-out. That’s what girls in labor did to calm themselves through intense pain. He’d read that shit online, too. He needed something to remind himself that Zoann had just relived her trauma and she was pregnant. Pregnant chicks were really sensitive.
He stroked her hair. “You please me, babe,” he whispered in reassurance. “I’ve never felt the way I feel when I come in you with any other girl.”
She frowned.
“Shit, that didn’t come out right.”
“Okay.”
“Now, don’t get all soft on me and shit. I love the fuck out of your sass.”
Skepticism brightened her water-filled eyes. “You do?”
“Fuck, yeah, babe. Just a few fucking words put us in line.”
“You think Ryan being made is shameful?” he asked, grasping at straws to reason with her.
“No. Of course not.”
“What about consummating our marriage?”
“No. I’ve been looking forward to it.”
He had, too. “So talk to me.”
She cleared her throat. “Wh-when you were kissing the inside of my th-thigh, I-I thought…” her voice trailed off.
Hiding his smile, he rubbed her nose. “You wanted me to eat your pussy?”
Her body heated against him and she flushed. “Yes.” She buried her face in the crook of his shoulder.
Giving her a moment to compose herself, he eased her back onto the pillow, his mouth already watering in anticipation of tasting her. He slanted his mouth over hers, his hand caressing her slit. She was hot and ready for him, but she hadn’t asked for dick. He paused long enough to remove the shirt before resuming his kisses.
He swept his tongue into her mouth, swallowing her moan. His dick jumped, throbbing between them. He started to lick her throat, but paused. She was touching him through his sweatpants, her hand gripping his length. He jerked against her and grunted, pushing further into her hand and covering her mouth again.
Her fingers released him, their coolness skimming his stomach and invading his waistband to capture him again. She squeezed, timid. Val tore his mouth from hers, breathing hard and close to coming.
Dropping her gaze, she pulled her hand away. He didn’t want her to stop, and now was afraid to move, afraid she’d stop all of it. Her breathing was as short and heavy as his. She lay still, and he wondered at his next move. Earlier, after their bath, things hadn’t been so tense. He’d known what to do.
Hesitation crossed her face. She moved her hand slowly back to his dick. “C-can you come like this?” She palmed his dickhead and he closed his eyes at the pleasure roaring through him.
She used her other hand to cup his balls. A harsh groan escaped him. He wrapped his hand over hers and pumped, his mouth moving wildly over hers, cum exploding from him.
“Fuck, Zoann.”
Cupping her ass cheeks and pulling her to his mouth, he sat back on his haunches. Her feet rested on his shoulders. He lapped her clit, her legs trembling against each side of his head. He licked her slit, her hair-covered lips, the sensitive skin of her thighs, encouraged by her whimpering and her increasing slippery wetness. Tonguing between her lips, he sucked her clit into his mouth and she tensed against his mouth, shuddering violently, her sweet cream dripping down his chin.
He released his hold on her ass and held her waist, his heart galloping in his chest. But he couldn’t ruin this and just bury himself inside of her. “Can I fuck you?” he asked, need vibrating in his words.
“Yes,” she panted out, widening her legs, all the invitation he needed.
He slid into her, worked in and out of her consuming heat, bracing on his elbows and knees. She rocked against him, the trust in her eyes worth all the gold in the world. Shifting beneath him, she opened herself more. Val thrust deeper into her, pumping faster, captivated by her gaze.
“I’m coming,” he ground out, forgetting too late he shouldn’t talk to her.
She tightened her hold on him and lifted her hips, a wordless comfort to her warmth and everything he’d ever need.
Val pressed his lips against Zoann’s temple, smiling when she mumbled something in her sleep. He’d had the best two days of his life and regretted they’d have to leave their sanctuary to reenter the real world. He, more than anyone, knew how mean the world beyond these doors were. He always faced it without consideration to anyone. Just as long as he survived, he didn’t give a fuck.
But, now, he did. Thanks to Zoann and their son and the new baby. It frightened the fuck out of him, too. She could be so fucking stubborn and she wanted to return to work. Hopefully, she understood the prudence of waiting until after Moncette was dealt with.
She shifted positions, curling closer to Val and moving her head from the crook of his arm to his chest, her mass of hair tickling his chin and nose. A moment later, she lifted her head and squinted, resembling a warm, sleepy girl.
Her whiskey colored eyes focused a little more and she smiled, blinking like a fucking owl.
“Hey.”
“Hey, Puff,” he responded, the tenderness she always brought out in him front and center now.
“What time are we leaving?”
The regret so clear in her voice satisfied him. It meant she felt their connection, the peace and the friendship between them.
“Right after breakfast.” And a fuck. But he wouldn’t tell her that. He’d do it her way, caress her and coax her.
He’d never, in his life, kissed as much as he had over the past two days. But touching her and seducing her allowed him to discover everything about her body, such as how sensitive the backs of her knees were, how much she enjoyed having her clit licked. More than having her pussy lips tongued, more than having him taste her entrance. She liked direct clit licking and the faster he rolled his tongue over her little hot nub, the fucking better.
He pressed his hard dick against her side and her fingers wrapped around it. She hadn’t sucked his dick yet, hadn’t even tried again, but he was certain she wanted to by her gestures and iffy little movements. Val always distracted her. He didn’t want to be an assfuck and fuck up dick sucking by Zoann. But just the thought—
Her mouth circled his dick head and he grunted like the Cro-Magnon she always called him. Her hair cascaded down her back and pooled onto his thighs, brushing against his sensitized skin and heightening his pleasure. She slid further down, pre-cum roiling up at the sight of her lips stretched around his cock.
He hoped like fuck the taste didn’t stop her. She sucked harder, then trailed her lips and tongue—and a small bit of teeth—back up his cock. When she reached the head, she licked it, twirling her tongue all around and up and down. His dick had become her own personal ice cream cone and he fucking loved it. He’d break her in gradually about the proper way to suck. He’d even buy a fucking mouth guard. In his case, it would be a dick guard, but fucking necessity was the motherfucker of all inventions.
Another graze of her teeth made Val reevaluate his plan. If she kept it up, she’d gnaw his dick off, then he wouldn’t be able to fuck her either.
The only thing he’d ever asked her to do was to try to perform dick sucking on him. She had.
All the rest of that shit would fall in place later.
She shifted, caressing his skin with her hair, and sucked him into her mouth again. Her tongue wiggled against the underside of his cock. His toes curled at the sweet silkiness of her. She drew back to his dickhead, then gulped him in again, her top lip covering her monster teeth. Hot pleasure streaked through him and he tried to form thoughts. But he couldn’t. He jerked in her mouth and hissed, grasping handfuls of the bed linen.
She sucked him and he shouted, his vision blurring, his body quivering. Alternating between hard sucks and soothing licks, she submitted to him completely and sucked him to within an inch of his life, leaving him gasping and shaking and vowing to kill anyone who even thought to talk to her.
He stiffened, his cue for the imminent arrival of his cum. But she didn’t move her mouth. She swallowed the fountain of his jizz, not caring that he buried his hands in her hair and held her head in place, pumping into her mouth until she swallowed every drop.
She sat up and gazed at him through the sweep of her lashes. “Did I do it right?”
Fuck. “Puff,” he gasped out, closing his eyes, so fucking limp breathing was a task, “any better and you would’ve fucking killed me.”
“Okay.” Then: “Can I do it again soon?”
One eye popped open and he laughed. “Babe, my dick is yours to suck anytime you want to.”
She giggled and laid in his arms. “My cucumber practice worked, then.” She sounded so fucking pleased.
What the fuck? “Cucumber practice?”
“Meggie said to practice on a pickle.”
Jesus H. Christ. She’d gone to Meggie for dick-sucking advice? God, what he wouldn’t have given to be a fly on the wall.
“You tasted really good,” she continued.
Val groaned. This was repayment for all the times he’d wished to have her mouth on him. Not that he’d complain once he recovered from her killer mouth. He’d gotten what the fuck he wished for and more.
He’d gotten the fucking jackpot.
The moment they walked into the clubhouse, Zoann made hasty greetings to Outlaw, Mortician, and Johnnie, bristling at the girls around their table, air-kissed Bunny, then hurried off in search of Ryan.
Val signaled whoever the fuck stood behind the bar. Since K-P’s death, Mort hadn’t shown any desire to return to serving the drinks. With Kendall gone, whoever the fuck was available acted as barman. It was crowded tonight, filled with more people—girls—than it had been since before Logan’s appearance.
One of the Bobs sashayed to the table, her nipples glistening and swollen from being sucked. Val lifted a brow at Mortician, a silent question on Meggie’s whereabouts. Usually, when so much club ass sauntered about, Outlaw glued Meggie to his side. It would, however, explain why so many bitches were here. They wanted dick from Outlaw.
A girl dropped into Val’s lap and he froze but quickly recovered. All Zoann had to do was walk out and see this shit. He dumped the girl on the floor. “Don’t fucking sit on me without my permission, bitch.”
She glared at him, but seemed mollified when Johnnie held out a hand to help her to her feet.
The girls started giggling at something behind him and Outlaw. Johnnie stared for a moment, then looked away and rubbed his neck. Mortician smirked at Outlaw.
“You fighting dirty, Prez,” he said with supreme amusement and pointed his bottle of vodka. “Meggie girl fighting dirtier.”
Outlaw pretended not to look. He casually set his beer down and slanted a cool glance over his shoulder, his fingers squeezing the bottle tight enough to shatter it. Val didn’t have to turn. Meggie appeared within his line of vision, wearing a black dress revealing more patches of skin than it hid through the large gold hoops interwoven into it and the barely there length of it. She wore her hair up to show off the back with material that only covered her ass and attached the back with the front.
Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books Page 158
