Unable to stop herself, she kissed him again. “I don’t want you to be disappointed if it doesn’t happen soon.”
He tipped his head up to her, and grinned, a combination of confident smirk and disarming charm. If she’d still been wearing panties, they would’ve melted off.
“What you gonna be if it take awhile for me to knock you up? Disappointed or relieved?”
“Disappointed,” she said without hesitation.
“You sure about that?”
She nodded. “I swear.” She sighed. “You’d had a vasectomy, Christopher, so I had to make myself content that we wouldn’t have any more children unless we adopted again. A baby this time.”
“When we got Diesel he was self-sufficient. Motherfucker ain’t needed his ass-wiped. I ain’t needed to show him how to piss. He ain’t needed to be fed. If we woulda adopted a-fuckin-gain, my vote woulda been for a older kid.”
“I understand, but I love the baby stage. Yet, I-I…” Her voice trailed off as she tried to arrange the words in her head. “I don’t want to be nothing but a baby-making machine. I also have my figure back.”
“You never lost your goddamn figure. You always perfect in my eyes.”
She could never express the joy and contentment she felt because she belonged to Christopher. He kept her on a pedestal; never hid the fact that she was the most important thing in his life.
“You was just five or ten pounds heavier.”
“My stomach had paunches.”
“Your stomach had fuckin’ proof you was a ma. Your stomach goddamn beautiful. You kept my kids safe.”
“I still have the stretchmarks,” she reminded him. “My belly is toned again but there’s still reminders of my pregnancies.”
Sitting up, Christopher settled next to her, then pulled her into his arms and settled her between his thighs. He kissed the top of her head.
“You a girl, so I guess you gonna worry about your body. Baby, as long as you you, I ain’t givin’ a fuck if you a size two or a size twenty-two. It ain’t about your weight, height, or age. It’s about your fuckin’ outlook on life. It’s about what the fuck inside of you.”
Drawing her knees up, she rested against her husband. “I know, and I love you all the more for it.”
“Suppose I ain’t never had my dick snip? You woulda pushed out one or two more lil’ motherfuckers by now. Would your belly bothered you?”
Meggie thought about that for a moment, then glanced up. He must’ve felt her gaze on him because he looked down. The curve of his lips, the sight of his stubble, invited her to lift-up and steal another kiss.
“Hmm,” he murmured after she pulled away. “Can’t keep your fuckin’ hands to yourself this evenin’, huh, baby?”
She climbed into his lap and bounced, giggling when his cock stirred. “I’ve missed having you inside of me.”
He bit her chin. “I miss bein’ in you.”
She rolled her pussy against his growing erection. “I’ve missed you coming on my tongue.”
“What a dirty lil’ bitch,” he growled, thumbing her aching nipples. “We shoulda went in the cage, then you coulda wore a skirt. I woulda just lifted the motherfucker, took my big dick out and buried it in your lil’ cunt.”
As he spoke, he held her and guided them to the blanket, lifting himself on his elbows and hovering over her. Bending his head, he stole long kisses, worshipping her mouth with leisure. He slid her shirt up, exposing her belly, and running his fingertips along her heated skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps. He took care in exploring her recesses with sweet, gentle touches that left Meggie gasping.
He slid down her body, parting her thighs with his shoulders, and burying his face between her legs.
Meggie arched in frustration, needing to feel the contact of his tongue without the barrier of leather. “Take off my pants,” she whined.
He responded by sitting up and untying first one boot, and then the other before sliding her pants off, aided by her kicks.
He smirked at her. “You wantcha pussy ate bad, huh, baby?”
“Yes,” she groaned, lifting her hips. “Please.”
“Keep your ass in the air and hold your cunt lips open,” he ordered.
Trembling, Meggie followed his directions. He bumped her clit with the tip of his nose before sniffing her seam, teasing her without mercy. Her juices bubbled at the anticipation to feel his tongue on her most sensitive areas. He inserted a finger inside of her.
“Lick me!” she demanded.
His laughter fanned his breath over her wet flesh, but he stopped her torture, fluttering her clit with the flat of his tongue, circling her lips and tickling her fingers because she still held herself open to him. Moving her hands away and taking his finger out of her, he drew her sensitive bud between his teeth and sucked her.
Meggie twisted and screamed, the pain morphing into pleasure, and sending her over the edge. She came with such force she thought she might faint. Instead of giving her a chance to recover, he buried himself inside of her.
“Fuck, baby, you so fuckin’ wet,” he breathed, masculine and satisfied. Slanting his mouth over hers, he pumped into her.
His lips and tongue tasted and smelled of her, driving Meggie insane. She writhed underneath him. When he withdrew, she lifted her hips to meet his downstroke and rolled against his cock.
“Come in my mouth.”
“Fuuccckkk, Megan,” he managed, increasing his tempo into her, harsh pants escaping him. “I’m about to nut.” He withdrew from her, rose up, and brought his cock to her mouth.
She wrapped her lips around his hot cockhead, and sucked, before opening her mouth and exposing her tongue, allowing his seed to gush out. Drunk from his salty taste, she lapped every last drop, vaguely away of his strangled groans. She massaged his testicles, coaxing a last bit of cum from him. He shuddered, then stretched out next to her and drew her into his arms. Drowsy, she snuggled close to him.
“I shouldna tore your panties,” he said into the silence, a few moments later.
Meggie’s eyes popped open. “You didn’t hurt me and I have more.”
“It ain’t that, baby.” He sat up and lit a cigarette, before continuing. “I got a cock, so I ain’t gonna have pussy itch,” he offered around plumes of smoke.
Lifting her head, Meggie frowned. “What?”
“Leather and wet pussy equal itchy cunt.”
She glared at him, then sat up, her hair falling in tangles around her. “Omigod, that’s disgusting.”
“Ain’t givin’ a fuck. That shit real. And you fuckin’ know it.”
“Christopher, why are we discussing yeast infections after making love?”
“Just worried about your pussy, Megan.”
Unable to help herself, she laughed. “I appreciate that. As soon as we get home, I’ll run and take a shower.”
He nodded, satisfied. “Don’t wait to get that stuff if you start itchin’.”
“Would you shut up?” Meggie said on a sniff.
Snickering, he jammed his cigarette into the corner of his mouth, got to his feet, and straightened his clothes. Meggie thought it best to keep her own off. Just in case…
She grabbed the bag containing the sandwiches, handed Christopher his once he finished his cigarette, and sat down again, and then got her own, before opening her Coke and sipping.
She broke off a piece of her sandwich and held it up to Christopher’s mouth. He grabbed the food with his lips, then offered her a bit of his sandwich. They continued this back-and-forth until both sandwiches were gone. Opening a beer, Christopher took a deep swallow.
The conversation before their lovemaking came back to her and she realized she hadn’t answered him. “If you’d never gotten your vasectomy, I think I would’ve given the size of my belly just a passing thought. But, after the procedure, I had to satisfy myself, so I think I built up a bunch of excuses in my head.”
“Megan, the last thing I ever wantcha to fuckin’ do is think my a
ss take you for granted. You ain’t a baby-makin’ machine. You just the girl I love that got a fertile fuckin’ cunt. I just gotta look at that motherfucker and fuckin’ think about comin’ and you fuckin’ knocked up.”
They laughed together at his words, before he sobered up again.
“I’m so fuckin’ lucky that you honor me and treasure me e-fuckin-nuff to keep my babies, Megan.” His tone was quiet, almost sad. “That you…” Shrugging, he glanced away, then met her gaze again. “My ass just glad you ain’t sayin’ you abortin’ my kid cuz you tired of bein’ pregnant or we got too fuckin’ many. If that’s what the fuck you wanna do, Ima support you. As long as you happy—”
Crawling into his lap, Meggie kissed him tenderly, then placed a finger over his lips. “Stop,” she whispered. “All I’ve been hearing lately is as long as I’m happy. I’m happy because of you. My life has meaning because of you. You and our kids are my world, Christopher. And I go to sleep every night and wake up every morning knowing that I have your unconditional love and undying support for any and everything I do. What’s gotten into you?”
“Ain’t nothin’ I ain’t said before.”
She took his face between her hands. “Hey! Stop this.” She kissed him. “I know you think my kidnapping—”
He stiffened and turned his head away. “Don’t fuckin’ bring that up, Megan.”
“It affected both of us in more ways than I can count,” she admitted. “But it wasn’t your fault. You always do everything in your power to keep me safe.”
“Except kill fuckin’ Kendall,” he growled, lifting her up and setting her beside him. Sidling her a scowl, he finished his beer than opened another bottle. “I hate that fuckin’ bitch. She deserve to be fuckin’ dead.”
Her husband hated to feel powerless. The fact that he’d been unable to prevent her from being taken—and that Kendall had been the catalyst—gnawed at him. He wanted justice. Even the fight Meggie and Kendall had had wasn’t enough in Christopher’s eyes. He didn’t say it, but Meggie knew him. Knew he struggled with the helplessness of their nightmares and the fear that something else might befall her.
“Think of Johnnie and their children. If you kill Kendall—”
“I would do them a fuckin’ favor. I want John Boy to meet another bitch.”
“He’s not going to as long as he’s married to Kendall.”
“Another fuckin’ reason that bitch gotta die.”
“Christopher!”
“What?” he grouched.
“Tell me you aren’t planning to kill her. She’s on the No-Kill list. You promised me she’d be safe.”
A muscle throbbing in his jaw, he looked away. Alarmed, Meggie grabbed his face and turned him back to face her.
“Don’t kill her.” Another thought popped into her head, goaded by what he mentioned about Johnnie needing to meet someone else. “And don’t interfere in their marriage. How would you feel if someone tried to break us up by introducing me to another man?”
“First of fuckin’ all, a motherfucker try to intro-fuckin-duce you to another motherfucker or me to another fuckin’ bitch and he or she dead.”
“You’ve been…you know…talking about killing a lot recently.”
“Maybe, cuz I ain’t fucked up a motherfucker in months. E-fuckin-specially the bitch that need fuckin’ up.”
“Kendall is more to be pitied than to be scorned.” A good reminder for herself, too.
“Nope. That bitch deserve nothin’ but fuckin’ scorn.”
This was an argument she wouldn’t win, especially given the recent turn Meggie’s relationship with Kendall had taken. “Christopher, my breaking point with Kendall, doesn’t mean you have free reign to harm her.”
“Can’t harm a fuckin’ demon, Megan. You just exorcise that motherfucker away.”
“If you kill Kendall, you’ll ruin Roxy and Bailey’s wedding plans.”
“If that bitch die, that don’t mean a fuckin’ thing. Added to all the other fuckin’ shit that happened on our fuckin’ church weddin’ day was Val gettin’ shot. Did that fuckin’ stop our fuckin’ ceremony?”
Chugging his beer and lighting a cigarette, he got to his feet. “It’s gonna be dark soon. Let’s fuckin’ roll out.”
Huffing out a breath, Meggie grabbed her pants and pulled them on. “Leave Kendall alone,” she ordered, shoving a foot into her sock in a jerky motion. “Leave her marriage alone. Let her and Johnnie figure things out.”
“What the fuck ever.”
“Promise me,” she insisted.
He stared at her, then released a puff of smoke. “Yeah, Megan,” he said, then glared at her, turned on his heel, and stomped to his bike, where he mounted up and started the engine.
Glowering at her stubborn husband, she finished putting her shoes and socks on, then stood. After gathering their mess and grabbing the blanket, she went to Christopher. She stuffed the trash in one of the saddlebags, folded the blanket, and put it away, too.
Once she’d climbed into her seat and he started off, Meggie deflated. It didn’t escape her that Christopher hadn’t actually given his word about Kendall. Therefore, whatever happened, he wouldn’t have broken the promise Meggie demanded.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Wearing safety glasses, Christopher walked amongst the tables in one of the club’s warehouses, studying each plant carefully. Even though he’d relegated the day-to-day care of the grows to Slipper and Potter, club members handpicked by Christopher, he still felt as if the hydrogrows were his own personal pet project. At least once a week he visited to make sure the right amount of light from each lamp shone on the plants at the perfect angle. He checked the moisture, looking for any signs that a plant needed to be thrown the fuck out. The clones were thriving in the soil he’d mixed with coco and perlite. Still, he was using soil, which meant he had to watch for fungus, bugs, and rot.
The grow house was where he’d first made his own money. Big Joe had allowed him to experiment. The club sent out weed to sell. But Christopher hadn’t liked the middleman—paying a grower to supply such a big money maker for them. He couldn’t trust the ingredients either. The only thing Big Joe made him promise was he’d not give up if the venture wasn’t successful the first time around.
“Fail once, try again,” Boss said, a fatherly hand on Christopher’s shoulder. “Don’t just give up. You can do this. I have confidence in you, boy.”
Boss had confidence in him that Christopher himself wasn’t feeling. Still, he nodded. “What the fuck I do if I fail a second time?”
“Try a third,” Boss said instantly, as if he’d expected the question.
“I ain’t gonna keep tryin’ somethin’ that don’t get no traction, Boss.”
Boss dropped his hand from Christopher’s shoulder and lit a cigarette, all the while studying him with those too-blue eyes. “Three times, Christopher,” he said around a puff of smoke. “Try three times. If it doesn’t work, then at least you would’ve tried your damnedest.”
Since Boss was fronting the money, Christopher conceded to the man’s demand. It wasn’t so bad anyway. He was only asking Christopher not to be a fucking loser that gave the fuck up at the first sign of hardship. He stiffened his backbone, prepared to put his all into this project. “I ain’t gonna fail, Big Joe,” he swore with conviction.
Boss smiled. “I know, son. I’d trust you with my life, my money, my family. You’re loyal, dedicated, and a hard worker.” He puffed on his cigarette again. “Come on. Let’s find some pussy to celebrate your new venture.”
The memory running through Christopher’s mind sent a pang of nostalgia through him. Not for random pussy. No. He couldn’t imagine sinking into no other cunt but Megan’s. She was everything he needed.
It was Big Joe that made him so wistful. Christopher had fathered most of the man’s grandchildren—except Snake and Hopper’s son, Randolph—and married Boss’s baby girl. As a result, her life had been put in danger too many fucking times to cou
nt. Would Boss still feel the same way about Christopher with that type of statistic? He’d once told Christopher he wouldn’t want him with Megan anyway. That was before Christopher had even known her name. It had been easy for him to brush off the comments.
Was it any wonder Boss felt as he had? Megan had gotten kidnapped and almost died in a fucking hole-in-the-ground.
Maybe, Boss would’ve killed him for his negligence. Or took Megan away from Christopher. Presumably, Boss would’ve still been club president, so Christopher would’ve had to obey or die.
Even if Boss had still been alive, Christopher knew what he would’ve chosen. Death. He loved her that much. If she ever decided to leave him, he’d step the fuck aside and let her walk away. Just as he’d told her in the forest, his goal in life was to make her happy and keep her safe. But, fuck, he wouldn’t survive long without her. She held his heart and soul in the palm of her hands. Big Joe “Boss” Foy’s baby girl completely owned Christopher.
Up or down, wherever Boss might be, Christopher knew he was ridiculing the fuck out of him that he was so pussified.
The ringing phone snapped Christopher out of his thoughts. It was Megan’s ring, so he answered immediately. He swore his fucking toes had just un-fucking-curled after her cock suck this morning.
“’Law.”
CJ’s voice startled Christopher. Not because his boy didn’t call him from time-to-time. It was just that his thoughts had been all about Megan.
He cleared his throat. “Yeah, boy?”
“Whatcha doing?”
“Workin’. Every-fuckin-thing okay?”
“Uh-huh.”
CJ fell silent, and Christopher sighed.
“Ima be home as soon as I fuckin’ can,” he said. “Okay? Ima read to your lil’ ass. Hear me?”
“Uh-huh. ‘Law,” CJ whispered. “MegAnn say her cooking your favorite meal. She want to surprise you. Aunt Bun say that is a good idea. And, ‘Law, Mommie ask Aunt Bunny to take us for the night. MegAnn, her say that is a surprise for you, too.”
Christopher scowled at the phone. Of course his boy wouldn’t know the difference between telling Christopher things he really needed to know and opening his little fucking trap about surprises Megan had for him.
Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books Page 487
