I’m finally fucking free. The jail is nothing but a receding reflection in my side mirror. We’ve survived our latest betrayal. Five months of fucking hell it cost us; leaving my woman to struggle on her own and me locked in a manmade hell-hole. Every fucker who conspired against us is gonna pay. I don’t give a shit whether they call themselves family or friend.
Mik was who they locked up. He was stabbed and beaten; bent and almost broken by a corrupt system and a plan put in place by a man he once loved like a second father.
Mad Dog is who emerged. Spiteful, nasty, bitter, and resentful. He’s hell bent on revenge; bound and determined to rid the world of every cockhead who’s ever done us wrong.
Starting with Beast. Father of the love of my life or not, he’s going to die.
It’s with that resolution sitting in the forefront of my mind that I decide where me and Lainey are heading first. The party at the Compound can wait—the Club will still be there no matter how long our detour takes. I need to get properly reacquainted with my woman before I deal with the celebrations they have planned. Why the Shamrocks would think I want to share a beer in remembrance of the deception that saw me lose my freedom for five months alludes me. The last thing I want to do is examine the damage caused.
No, I wanna spend my first night balls deep in my woman—reminding myself of how well our bodies fit together. I need her to ground me before I put into action the plan I formulated while I was locked up. Her beauty, her innocence, the way she needs me to complete her. They’re the perfect antidote to the darkness that threatens to spill free anytime I think about Beast, about Thomas Taylor, or the corrupt fucking legal system that they manipulated to keep me away from her.
Patting Lainey’s hands where they sit snuggly around my waist, I wait until she looks at me in the side mirror before I gesture with my thumb at the left-hand side of the road. Slowing my bike, I round a sharp corner and then come to a halt in front of a huge two-story house.
Bracing my Harley with my feet, I lock my knees so the perfectly balanced machine doesn’t tilt and pull off my helmet. Patting the inside pocket of my cut, first the left side then the right, I pull out the packet of smokes I stashed there on my way out of the prison. Lighting one, I inhale deeply, holding it in my lungs as I watch Lainey look at the house, then at the sold sticker sitting proudly across the “For Sale” sign, and then back at me.
Pulling her helmet off in a rush, she stares at me with wide, bright blue eyes. “Mik. You didn’t?”
Her tone makes it obvious that she’s hoping that I did. Twisting as much as I can, I nod proudly as the smoke I was holding billows from my nose. Her delicate little nose twitches, her disdain apparent. I don’t usually smoke around her unless I’m drinking, being what you’d call a part-time smoker—that was until I was incarcerated and had nothing else to do. As of now, I have a habit. It’s just one of the many things that have changed in our time apart.
“I can’t believe—” She stops speaking and looks back at the house. Her delighted expression makes all the headaches caused by trying to purchase a house while I was locked up worth it. I was determined that I wasn’t coming home to my dad’s spare room, our room in the Compound, or the house that Lainey had rented in my absence. “My God, it’s huge. How much was it?”
Throwing my cigarette onto the ground near my front tyre, I grab Lainey’s closest hand and pull her toward me. It’s not easy, but I manage to silence her with my mouth. Slipping my tongue between her easily parted lips, I explore the recesses of her mouth as we kiss. Frustration takes hold when my hands try to touch her without success; our positions making it impossible. Pulling away from her alluring mouth, I grin when she pouts. “Hop off, Angel. Let me show you your new home.”
We walk hand-in-hand up the drive to the front door. Reaching up, I grab the key from the top of the door frame where Joel left it for me, and unlock the house. With an extended arm, I usher Lainey in before me, my eyes firmly planted on her ass that’s displayed in all its glory in her tight jeans. She comes to a stop in front of me and only my quick reflexes stop me from ploughing into her back.
Spinning to face me, she wraps her arms around my neck and plants kisses all over my face. I pull her body into mine, my eyebrows lifting as I realize how much weight she’s lost since I held her last. I knew she was struggling without me; the light in her eyes was dimming with each visit to see me in jail, yet, I hadn’t a clue she was this bad.
Placing my hands on either side of her face, I pull her away from me, ready to ask her about her much-smaller frame. Lainey mistakes my intentions, instead taking a step back and pulling her shirt over her head. When her tits come into view, pushed high in a sexy red bra, all of my questions fly out of my head. Fuck, I’ve missed her. Seeing her almost every day was torture when I couldn’t even hold her hand without running the risk of getting her visitation rights revoked.
Her shirt has barely slipped from her fingers to the floor before I’m walking her backward in search of the closest wall to lift her against while I unsnap her bra and free her breasts. We come to a stop when Lainey’s back hits the wall behind us. Mouths pressed together, tongues duelling, my fingers are nimble as I pop open the button to her jeans and yank them and her panties down past her knees. I hold them so she can step out of them, planting a kiss on her smooth mound as I straighten. Lainey starts fumbling with my pants button. My frantic movements make it hard for her so I undo it for her. Tugging my zipper down, I pull my jeans down far enough to free my cock. Her slender fingers are wrapped around me before I’m fully exposed, working my dick up and down with the finesse of a woman who’s had her hand around it many times before.
Impatient to be inside her, I knock her hand aside, push her hard against the wall and lift her with one arm under her ass. With my free hand, I guide my cock inside her tight body, burying myself to the hilt in her hot cunt with one forceful stroke. Lainey’s resulting gasp is music to my ears, as is her instinctive response to wind her fingers through my hair and tug at it.
Drawing back, I drive myself into her again. She feels fucking exquisite, gripping me with her pulsing walls, pulling me further into her beautiful body. I push my cock into her pussy, over and over, each stroke harder than the last until I’m lifting her up the wall with each thrust.
“Mik...God...Missed this.” Lainey’s words are barely audible; broken and breathless. When her legs wrap around my hips tighter, I know she’s close to the edge. I make enough space between us so I can reach her clit and still maintain my pace. Grinding my thumb against the sensitive bundle of nerves, I feel her pussy clamp around my cock as I send her over the edge into the first orgasm I’ve been able to give her in months. The tightening of her walls pushes me past the point of no return, my release spilling into her while she’s still riding her own climax.
“Fuck. Yes.” I groan as I come. My orgasm feels like it goes on and on. I’m like a boy getting his first taste of how good a woman feels around his dick. It doesn’t matter how many times you pull yourself, nothing will beat spilling your cum into a tight cunt. It’s even better when that pussy belongs to the woman you love.
Lainey slumps forward, her head coming to rest on my shoulder as the final spasms of my hips die down. She’s done for, while getting a taste of her after so long has me barely softening. It’s not gonna take much for me to be ready for round two.
I’m still buried in her, enjoying the feel of her pussy holding me inside, when the difference in her weight pushes its way back into my head. She’s always been tall and curvy—not heavy but her body was lush in all the right places. The woman I’m holding in my arms is frail. Too slender and nothing like her normal self. It’s fucking scary.
Standing straight so she’s not leaning against the wall, I walk into the kitchen and place her on the island that separates the kitchen from the dining area. Pulling my softening cock out of her, I shrug off my cut and then my T-shirt. Putting my cut on over the ribbed tee I was wearing under my T-sh
irt, I pass it to her so she can clean up. While she’s doing that, I zip up my jeans and have a proper look at her.
“Fuck, you’re a sight for sore eyes.”
My comment can be taken two ways. Her jutting collarbones look sharp enough to cut, the natural tone in her arms is gone and so is some of the fullness from her perky tits. The tattoo of St. Michael on a Harley on her hip and the rose tattoo that runs down her right side almost look too big for her now. I’m gonna smash Benji and Joel’s heads together for letting her get like this. They both promised me that they’d look after her.
Fine fucking job they’ve done.
Lainey’s cheeks flush, making me realize that she understood what I meant with my observation. She wraps her arms around herself, trying to hide her body from my prying eyes, and it’s then that I spy the white bandage on her right thigh. I’ve seen that before—a long time ago—and its presence makes my mouth run dry.
Heart pounding in my ears, I reach a suddenly shaky hand toward her leg. She sees me coming, reads my intentions in one glance, and scrambles backward on the countertop to get out of my reach. Her evasive tactics don’t stop me. I grab hold of her ankle and slide her in my direction.
“No. Mik. It’s not what you think, I promise.” The timid delivery of her protest, coupled with her continued fight to get away from me, confirm what I already suspect.
Holding her leg straight, I peel the edge of the bandage back. I find three thin cuts across the fleshiest part of her thigh. Across flesh that bears evidence that this isn’t the first fucking time. They’re not shallow because they’re done with a practised hand—a hand that belongs to the squirming woman in front of me. The bloody woman who swore on her little brothers life that she’d never do this to herself again.
“You promised.” She flinches and I watch Lainey’s blue eyes become brighter as tears well. Pulling her into my arms, I pick her up with one arm behind her back and the other under her knees and hold her to my chest.
“I’m sorry, Mik. It won’t do it anymore. Not now I have you back—” She breaks off, sobbing softly as she snuggles into me. “You’re all I need. When I have you, I feel safe. In control.”
My heart fractures in my chest for my broken woman, although, anger rises within me at the same time. Not at Lainey; at the cunts who’ve caused her to get to the point where she feels like she needs to cut her own flesh with a fucking razor in order to feel some control over her life. My body’s vibrating with rage at the cockheads behind my incarceration. They’re the reason she’s back to square one. The shit she’d already been through nearly killed her, yet, they saw fit to bring more down on her head.
“Shhhh.” I try my best to soothe her, all the while the plans I made in prison go round and round in my mind. Tonight is about me and Lainey. Tomorrow, I’m taking the President’s patch from Timber and beginning to right the wrongs done to us. Starting with my fucking father-in-law-to-be. He’s gonna learn that the Black Shamrocks MC is now mine and anyone who disputes that will join him in Hell.
Looking around the bar of the Clubhouse, I search for Mik among the gyrating bodies that surround me. Now he’s free, my need for him seems to have intensified. It was bad when he was in jail and I couldn’t touch him, now it’s almost too much to bear if he’s not within arm’s length. The four hours since his release have been a sweet torture as I’ve tried to hide my increasing desperation to be near him while basking in the glow his return shines on us all.
I can’t see him. Panic takes hold. My heart starts racing and I begin sweating. A drop runs down my chest, between my breasts, and into my bra. The swirling in my stomach that’s become a constant symptom of my ongoing anxiety picks up, making me nauseous.
“Mik.” I stand on my tiptoes, attempting to look above the crowd while I call out to him. Bile rises in my throat. I press my hand against my breast bone in an attempt to calm my heart—it feels like it’s going to beat out of my chest. Swinging in a circle, dizziness overcomes me when I still can’t find him. My eyesight fades, dimming rapidly, making the faces of the people around me blurry.
“MIK,” I yell into the loud room full of people who’ve come to celebrate his freedom. Heads turn in my direction, mouths dropping open.
“Angel?” Mik’s voice comes from behind me. He puts his arms around my waist and pulls my back to his chest. It’s not close enough for me so I turn in his arms and bury my head in the crook of his neck. With strong hands on my hips, he pushes me away from him so he can look down at me.
Shrewd eyes measure my state, recognising my terror, and he doesn’t hesitate to give me what I need. With strong hands under my armpits, he lifts me in the air so I can wrap my legs around his waist. Seconds later he lowers his mouth to mine and subdues my panic with the connection I’m craving. Our audience rewards us with their enthusiastic approval; fist pumps and laughing demands to “get a fucking room” filling the bar.
Maintaining our positions, Mik makes his way to a vacant couch. Sitting down, he ends our kiss and rearranges me until I’m straddling him with my back to the crowd. Resting my forehead on his, I take in his worried expression, guilt at my discernible weakness eating away at me. Lips pressed together in a tight line, Mik’s arms tighten around me, and he lets out a drawn-out sigh. “You’re a mess, Mo Ghrá. We need to get you back into therapy.”
As much as it pains me to admit how much I struggle without him, I nod my agreement.
“Therapy with Dr. Louise—” My man pauses, looking at me with eyes that twinkle with mischief. Lifting his hips, he rubs his hardening bulge against my core as he says, “And plenty of therapy from my cock. He knows what you need.”
The first real burst of humour that I’ve felt in months leaves me in the form of loud giggles when Mik winks at me. Once I start snickering at his blatant come-on, I can’t stop. Lowering my head onto his left shoulder, laughter bubbles from me, shaking my body and filling me with some much-needed relief. My man joins me, his matching laughter rumbling in his chest.
“What’s so fucking funny?” Timber’s gruff voice cuts into our moment. Mik stiffens under me for a short second before he lifts me off his lap and onto the couch beside him. He stands to greet his—our—best friend.
“Timber.” He holds out his hand, and they perform their usual weird-ass handshake before Mik pulls Timber into him for a man-hug and a slap on the back. “Congratulations, Dad. How’s it feel? I hear he’s a fucking giant like his old man.”
Timber chuckles as they both sit down on the couch. Mik angles himself so his back is half facing me, hiding me from Timber’s sight. The big blond giant shoots me a quizzical glance over Mik’s shoulder before he answers the questions. I shrug in response, unsure what Mik’s doing.
“It’s fucking awesome, Mad Dog. Bloody magic holding your own flesh and blood in your arms, knowing that you created this little person.”
The unnatural straightness of Mik’s shoulders and his ramrod posture alerts me to his unease so I slide forward until I’m pressed against him. Putting my legs around his hips before winding my arms around his waist, I cling to him like a backpack. His chest expands and retracts when he takes in a deep breath. Some of the stiffness leaves his frame, reducing my worry a little. I don’t understand his behaviour. Only thing I can think of is that he’s uncomfortable because Timber’s still wearing the President’s patch. The patch that’s his now he’s out.
“Can’t fucking wait until it’s our time,” Mik pats my hands where they sit on his stomach. “One day soon. Very bloody soon.”
Shifting so he can look at me over his shoulder, he smiles and then looks back at Timber without waiting to see if I agree. “But before that we need a wedding.”
It’s my turn to stiffen. Wedding? Baby? Hell, we’re not even engaged anymore so he’s getting a bit ahead of himself. Granted, we were together for over four years and planning our wedding until Mik walked away from me after I killed Brendan. The thing is, we were back together for less than forty-eigh
t hours when he was arrested. I might need this man more than I need my next breath, however, we have a long way to go until I’m in any state to get married and become a mother.
“What’s Princess think about all this?” Timber covers the seriousness of his question with a laugh. I’ve confided in him many times about my internal conflict over diving headfirst back into a relationship with my ex-fiancé. The small amount of common sense that I manage to hold onto when I’m in Mik’s vicinity shouts at me to guard my heart, in case he changes his mind about us in the future. I feel Mik’s shoulders straighten once more, his answer barked in a voice that leaves no room for argument. “She knows who she wants. Just like she knows who loves her the most. Who’ll do any-fucking-thing to keep her.”
His confusing answer makes my eyebrows knit together. I don’t have time to examine his strange behaviour because both men stand and face each other. A silent conversation takes place in front of me, narrowed eyes and strained expressions telecasting the gravity of the moment. This is not a friendly exchange; something’s going down between the life-long friends. Timber clears his throat, ceding to Mik in this instance. “I’ll leave you both to it. JJ’ll kick my ass if I don’t get back to the hospital tonight before visiting hours’ finish.”
He holds out his fist to Mik, who regards it with suspicion for a second before he accepts the offer and meets his knuckles with his own. “Have fun. Tell JJ we said hi. We’ll come see her tomorrow.”
Nodding my agreement with Mik’s assertion, I speak up, determined to break the tension between them. “When do you get to bring Kaden home?”
Timber barely acknowledges me, answering me over his shoulder as he makes his way to the exit. “Tomorrow morning, hopefully.”
From my spot on the couch, I observe Mik watching Timber leave. His eyes are hard; his nose curled in a sneer. Hands on his hips, he nods at our giant-sized friend when he turns back to look at us before he goes through the door. I’m taken aback by the sadness in Timber’s expression as he regards first Mik and then me with a solemn air that I can feel all the way across the bar. He pulls the door shut behind him, disappearing from my sight but not from my worries.
Conquering Circumstances: Black Shamrocks MC Novella Page 5
