Baby

by Sapphire Knight

  He shrugs the comment off, but it doesn’t stop me from touching them. “Does me doing this bother you?”

  Sinner shakes his head, holding perfectly still. “No,” he rasps. “To be honest, I like it. Your hands are soft, dainty.”

  “You like the pain or me touching them?”

  “Both.”

  His answer’s confusing. How can anyone enjoy a pain such as this? And what did he ever do to deserve something so harsh? Sinner’s a kind man; at least, he is to me. It’s hard to fathom why someone would want to torture him in such a remarkably cruel way.

  “Do the marks still hurt you?”

  He shrugs again. “Depends. They can be a slightly sensitive sometimes, but nothing I can’t handle.”

  “And what about your arms? They’re completely covered in tattoos,” I state the obvious. “Did those hurt worse?”

  “Jesus, is there any part of you that isn’t so virtuous, Jude? Have you really been sheltered this much your entire life?” His questions catch me off guard. I’m not used to him speaking much past grunts and mumbles and definitely not about personal things. Usually, he’s grouchy with random short answers, almost like he’s attempting to get me to shut up and stop bothering him, but not now.

  “Umm, well, I’ve seen stuff on TV and the internet before. I’ve read plenty of books, but if you’re asking if I speak to people about these sorts of things regularly, then the answer would be no. The only other people like you, stop at the bar on the way through town. I don’t go there, so you’re my first.”

  He groans, and I frown. What now? I didn’t say anything bad; I was just being real with him.

  “And the drinking last night—you ever drink alcohol before, sweetheart?”

  “My mom’s never cared, so I’ve tried some of her lemonade flavored malts.”

  “Fuck! You mean Mike’s Hard Lemonade?”

  “Yes, that’s the one.”

  “So, you’ve never been drunk before—like last night, ever?”

  “Nope.”

  “Why not?” He moves his back in an impatient squirm once I stop touching his scars, so I continue to rub over his skin casually.

  “I don’t know how to make drinks taste sweet and yummy. Plus, I’ve never been around anyone I felt safe with if I was like that.”

  “And you did with Saint, of all people?”

  “I do with you,” I admit softly, loving that he hasn’t made me stop touching him yet. “I know you wouldn’t let anyone hurt me, Sinner.”

  “Motherfucker.”

  Huffing, I shoot a glare toward the back of his head. “What? I don’t understand why any of this is a big deal.”

  He flips over so quickly my mouth drops open. How anyone can move that fast after a night of drinking is beyond me. He pounces, flattening me back against the bed, his body hovering over mine. He makes me feel so small, being near him like this, his body heat radiating toward me.

  All I can do is remind myself to breathe in this position. I’ve daydreamed of him like this before, and to have him just like this, is enough to make my body tingle with need. I want to touch him everywhere and let him do the same in return.

  “You don’t know shit, little girl,” he declares gruffly. Lowering his lips to linger above mine, mimicking his frame, he confesses, “I would be the one to hurt you. I‘d be the one to fuck you until you couldn’t handle it...I almost did, many times. Especially last night when you were fucking adorable, like a needy kitten.”

  Sinner’s lips close over mine in a powerful kiss. His tongue dips into my mouth, forceful and full of desire. The weight of his body warms me, as he lowers his body to mine. Gripping my hair in one of his hands, he gives it a powerful tug, causing me to reward him with a moan.

  His sturdy hips grind into mine, the perfect amount of pressure creating delicious friction where I’ve been craving him so desperately. He’s more than anything I’d ever imagined, and he’s merely just begun to touch me. A simple taste and yet I’m spiraling, ready to beg for him to never stop.

  He kisses me hard, skilled in tormenting his prey. I love it and can barely breathe—my mind and body so frantic having him touching me like this. It’s everything all wrapped up in a few movements of his mouth on mine, the surrendering, the owning, the claiming.

  If I wasn’t his before, I am now. I could never not want a man like him. No matter how hard I could ever endeavor, fighting against it…it’s no use. He calls to me like a beacon in the night. I’m meant to belong to him.

  He wrenches back barely enough to watch my face as he jerks my hair again, my mouth open as I pant lustfully after his touch. “You yearn for me to touch you, Jude. Your body fucking melts when my tongue traces it, begging me for more. Yet you let Saint have you too. Why?”

  “He said you wouldn’t care. He promised you’d like it if I let him.” My gaze shoots to the side, feeling a bit guilty, before admitting the rest. “I-I melted for him too.”

  “You think I want another man’s fingers inside your pussy when even I haven’t been there yet?”

  His words have me shuddering, just imagining the way he’d feel in my core. “Oh God.” A moan escapes as he bears down against my center. “I want you there.”

  My mind races, picturing his fingers inside me over and over making my panties soaked. “I would let you touch me if you wanted to, Sinner…Any time, any place,”I finish breathily.

  “Babe, you couldn’t stop me if I wanted to play with your pussy,” he promises, but it’s not needed because I would never stand in his way. He’d be allowing me to live out the fantasies I’ve been having of him for months now.

  I’d let him have every piece of me if he wanted. His hand hastily skirts down my side, pausing to rub the juncture between my thighs over my shorts. Sinner’s mouth meets mine again, and I wrap my legs around his waist, praying for him to quench my thirst and go further.

  Our kiss is interrupted by loud banging, and then his doors flying open.

  “The fuck?” Sinner yells, glancing behind him at the intrusion.

  “Brother.” Saint comes in, uninvited. His curious gaze flicking over us, amused. “I thought I heard moaning.” A grin eventually overtakes his mouth as his eyes seek out Sinner’s hand between my legs.

  My body warms even more, embarrassed that others could hear me but still thoroughly turned on. Sinner had me so wrapped up in him kissing me and his hands finally headed to where I wanted them that I wasn’t paying any attention to how loud I was being. I wonder if anyone else heard moaning.

  “I told you already,” Sinner gripes. “She’s mine. You need to leave.”

  “The fuck I do.” His amusement drops, irritation overtaking, “We share bitches, remember? And she’s not only yours.”

  “Y-you share them?” I stammer with a gasp from hearing him admit it aloud. Good Lord, no wonder Saint told me that Sinner would approve of it if I let him kiss me. They’re friends, but this is taking it to another level entirely.

  He chuckles while Sinner’s body tightens in response, beating him to reply. “Of course we do, baby girl. You either please both your daddies or you get the boot.” He winks playfully, and I gulp.

  “Don’t call me that, damn it.” Sinner replies with a growl.

  Saint ignores him, closing the door while wearing a triumphant grin. “You ever sucked a cock before, baby? Or two?” he inquires, and I nearly choke, not knowing what to say.

  “Saaaint.” Sinner draws the other man’s name out, a warning in his tone.

  “What?” He raises his hands. “I’m just asking questions; no harm there, brother.”

  Somehow, he doesn’t seem as innocent as he’s attempting to imply. I’d bet that he knows exactly what he’s doing and is enjoying it immensely. Saint is far from stupid; he’s too smart for his own good.

  Sinner stares down at me, and I realize he’s waiting for my answer as well. He clearly wants to know too. Shaking my head, I swallow agai
n, attempting to speak, “I, uh...no. The answer to that would be a no.”

  Sinner leans back, putting more distance between us. “We can’t do this, Saint.” He shakes his head, rubbing his hand through his sleep tasseled hair.

  “The hell we can’t.” He disagrees immediately as he approaches the bed, keeping me in his sights. “Jesus, baby.” He licks his lips, and his eyes dance with anticipation. “We’re gonna fucking ruin you for all other men.”

  Saint’s so confident in his statement, I don’t know if I should be excited or scared. I’m a little of both I think, but mostly turned on so freaking much that I feel like my body may explode if it doesn’t get some sort of attention from the two. If we’d had a few seconds more, Sinner would’ve had me satisfied with his tongue and dirty words alone. Add in Saint, and there’s no telling what they’d do to me. Or the amount of pleasure I’d receive.

  “We aren’t doing shit to her right now, Saint. We need to give her a chance to think through all this and what it entails exactly.”

  He scoffs. “You have to be joking. What the fuck is wrong with you, Sin? She’s ripe and fucking ready, brother. Let’s break her in already.”

  Sinner sweetly lifts the covers over me some more, tucking them around my breasts before replying, “I told you.” He stares into my eyes as he speaks. “She’s innocent, and she’s...different.”

  Pretty sure my heart flops over and surrenders to him with that proclamation. Different good, I hope.

  “Fuck it, fine!” Saint declares, rolling his eyes. “But if she’s not sucking my cock soon, then you will be.”

  Sinner nods, agreeing, and that surprises me even more.

  “Now that’s settled, let’s get baby girl fed. You two stay in that bed any longer, and I’ll be in it next, and I won’t be kind enough to keep my clothes on.”

  The situation’s not ideal, but it buys me some time, and it keeps Saint from killing her. I can’t believe I agreed to us sharing her, but I don’t have much of a choice in the matter. He was telling the truth about us always sharing the women before. Sure, we’ve had sex with chicks on our own, but it’s never gotten down to this, where we’re fighting over a damn woman.

  We make sure Jude has plenty to eat before Viking calls us into Church. Saint takes the seat next to me, per our usual. I’m still pissed and confused about what the hell to do, but I keep my mouth shut, ready to handle club stuff.

  “Brothers, Oath Keepers... Let’s take care of business,” Viking begins, and the gavel slams down, officially marking the start of Church. “First up, this Mafiya shit storm brought on by our thoughtful brother.”

  I can’t help but sigh as he looks to Spider. This shit storm is Saint’s fault, and that pretty much makes it mine as well for not having him on a tighter leash. “Spidey, what went down with Masters?”

  Spider shrugs. “Honestly, he was fine. Unless he can put up a front like no other, I’d say he was more entertained than anything.”

  “He’s going to let it go, just like that?” Prez’s brow furrows.

  “Yeah, pretty sure there will be no blowback. He said that he’s familiar with the club’s ties to his cousins and that he appreciates our previous business venture.”

  “Mexico,” Viking supplies with a huff.

  “Yeah,” Spider agrees. “My guess would be that it bought Saint a free pass.” His scrutiny falls on my brother beside me. Saint chuckles in return, amused by it all, but refrains from commenting, thankfully. I’m sure his two cents would only spur on more drama.

  Viking frowns. “Not too funny, brother. You could’ve fucked us, and that’s the last thing we need after dealin’ with the Fists. We still haven’t found out where they’re holding shop this time around either. We don’t need a new beef with anyone.”

  Fucking Iron Fists—it seems like they’re always around fucking with the Oath Keepers somehow. First, it was with the other charter of ours and them discovering the Fists kidnapping women. Then Twist’s ol’ lady having ties to their club and her ex, Ghost, showing up for retaliation and us torching their club in California to send a message.

  Then there’s the latest in that whole mess of them showing up to kidnap Nightmare’s kid, and finally finding a shred of peace. It was all thanks to Twist’s oldest son, Cyle, being the grandson of Puppet, the President of the Iron Fists. It’s been a total shitshow that I’m grateful has chilled the hell out for a minute.

  We’ve lost too many members going back and forth with them. Bronx was just a damn kid, and they slaughtered his ass, pulling the guts straight out of his dead corpse. They killed our other brother, Scot. That man was a father figure to a few in the club. Then there were others from our sister charter as well.

  Our compound was left unprotected, with half of us on the run up north and the other half on their way to find the Fists’ makeshift clubhouse. Blaze was pummeled within an inch of his life. We think the Fists believed him to be dead, and that’s how he ended up surviving. Princess and Bethany were beaten to shit, left alive to deliver the Iron Fists’ message to the club. And worst of all, we couldn’t kill them to get a bit of justice when it all came to light.

  The whole situation leaves a bad taste in my mouth. The last thing we need now is to start a new war with a longtime ally, the Russians. We can’t afford to lose more club members, more family.

  I especially don’t want Jude around here if we’re constantly watching our backs. It’s one of the main reasons I never considered having a woman in my life for good. She’s a liability, and with Saint, he’s like me. I don’t have to worry about him like I would with a female. If someone were to hurt her, I would go off the deep end. I know it.

  Hell, Viking and Nightmare both lost their shit when their women were injured due to MC business. That’s never been my thing, wanting someone to belong to me like they have with their ol’ ladies. But Jude...she has me thinking about things I never thought possible.

  “The keys were in it.” Saint defends eventually, growing defensive, from everyone’s mocking glares. “Half of you fuckers would’ve considered taking it to a chop shop. I only took it for a spin,” he huffs with a shrug.

  I can’t help but grin. It’s true; a few of us would’ve called an old buddy up for some easy cash. Saint does that shit pretty frequently. It gives him a rush, and he makes money from rich fuckers. It’s not right, but we never said we were good men. There are plenty of other things out there that’re much worse that we could be doing.

  “No,” Vike rumbles. “We aren’t NOMADS anymore; we need to coexist with the people in town. If we mind our own business and leave shit alone, they’ll leave us alone in return. We’ve been fortunate having the other club near; the civilians don’t look twice at us. You start boosting cars and shit that close to home, we’ll be in jail quicker than we’d like.”

  His gaze hits Torch for a second, but it’s long enough for most of us to notice. There have been a few rumors about Torch doing some time floating around. How true they are, I’ll never know. I’m not the type to delve into other people’s business, even if I am curious.

  “Fine.” Saint sulks, irritated with the Prez’s lack of enthusiasm. What can he expect, though? It’s Viking’s responsibility to keep things running smoothly. Saint’s problem is he’s not used to living by any rules. None of us really are.

  “Sinner.” The boss turns his regard on me next. “Who’s this bitch to you, and why were you flipping your shit in the parking lot over her?”

  Saint snickers, coaxing a growl from me aimed in his direction.

  “Her name’s Jude.” Swallowing, I admit the truth, “She’s the one I’ve been going off to visit this entire time.”

  Saint’s eyes grow wide, “Hold the fuck up,” he interrupts, his scowl pointed toward the Prez. “You knew where Sin was going all along?”

  Viking grimaces and nods at him. Looking back to me, he asks, “Now, she’s here...why?”

  I can hear Saint bre
athing heavy beside me. He sounds like a bull, thoroughly pissed off by the newest bit of information. I’m guessing he thought I was keeping it a secret from everyone, but it was only him. Not that the others knew about her either, but it wouldn’t have been a big deal if they’d found out. None of them cares like he does.

  “Not by my choice, Prez. I was planning on talkin’ to you about Princess maybe helping her out to come up with some sort of plan. Her mom split and left her out in the cold. I’ve been making sure she’s got shit to eat and a place to live. She’s a real good girl, taking college classes online, trying to get her future figured out.”

  “She’s young,” Torch speaks up, unhelpfully and Smokey grunts in agreement.

  “You think I can’t see that?” I retorted, glaring at him.

  “All I’m saying is, it’s fucked up her mom popped smoke and all, but is she even old enough to be in the club? Not looking to go to jail for a minor, brother.”

  I have to respect that, but for a second, I thought Torch was implying that I’m fucking a minor. Maybe he really did take a visit to jail at some point and is trying to watch his ass instead of doing a repeat.

  “She’s eighteen,” I confirm, and Exterminator, one of the NOMADs, lets out a low whistle.

  “Damn near jailbait,” he comments as if I don’t already know that. Her age is one thing that’s been holding me back from her for months. Had she been thirty, my cock would’ve already been buried in her pussy the first night I laid eyes on her.

  “She knows you buried her momma?” Saint asks, wearing a smug sneer while divulging my big secret to the table.

  “How the fuck do you know that?” My eyes shoot to his, anger rising in my chest. Jude can’t find out. Her mom may have been shit, but she doesn’t need to know she’s dead.

  “Goddamn it.” Viking’s palm slams on the table. The sound echoing throughout the room like a clap of thunder, “Is he telling the truth, Sinner? Did you kill the bitch?”

  “Yes, I did. It was an accident.” I lie. I did it on purpose, but denial is going to save me with this one. I’ll deny it to my grave if Jude ever suspects too.