Sinful Rewards 12

by Cynthia Sax

  His joke falls flat. “He won’t lose you.” When discussing my man’s health, I have no sense of humor. “I won’t allow that.”

  “I love that you’re protective of me.” Hawke squeezes my hand. “You’ll make a great mom.”

  “I learned from the best.” I only recently appreciated how truly wonderful my mom is. “Thank you for asking her permission.” He asked the wild woman of Happydale for my hand in marriage, treating her with respect, with sensitivity, with caring. “That meant a lot to her and to me.”

  “Your mom worries about you.” Hawke shrugs. “She deserved to know my intentions.”

  Mack approaches us, carrying a cardboard box. “Sir.” He holds out the package.

  Hawke is in no state to lift anything heavy. A part of me knows I’m babying him, overreacting to his tattoo, but I can’t help myself. Now that I love him and know he loves me, I won’t allow anything to happen to him.

  “I’ll take that.” I grasp the box. My name is on the plain white label. Excitement bubbles inside me. This is my reward.

  “It’s for you.” My military man opens the office door. The space is meticulously clean, not one speck of dirt on the gray carpet or the vividly painted walls. The bright blue wooden desk is bare, the superhero red leather chair immaculate.

  “Sit down.” I place the box on the desk and close the door behind us, blocking the outside world, creating a sanctuary for him and me. “I’m taking care of you today.” I’ll show him how deep, how true my love is.

  “Belinda.” I see the protest in his eyes.

  “I’ll treat you well, Hawke.” I undo my blouse slowly, slipping each plastic button through the finely stitched openings, revealing pale skin, the hint of curves, the white silk of my finest bra. “Don’t you want that?” I drop the garment to the floor, forcing myself to ignore the mess.

  Hawke sits with a thump on the leather seat, his mouth hanging open. “Hell, yeah.”

  “Good.” I unzip my black pants. “Because I want you.” I swivel my hips, dancing to a beat only I hear. “Badly.” The fabric lowers, lowers, lowers and then falls, forming a puddle around my shoes.

  “Do you see how wet I am?” I widen my stance, posing in my bra and panties, aware that a flimsy wooden door separates my near-nude form from the gazes of a dozen or more burly bikers. “Can you smell my hot pussy?”

  Hawke breathes deeply, his nostrils flaring, his eyes darkening to a brilliant blue. “You smell delicious.” His tongue darts over his lips, leaving a trail of moisture. “You’d taste even better.”

  “You can lick me clean after we fuck.” As I say these naughty words, freeing my inner bad girl, I run my hands over my damp panties, petting the silk. His heated gaze tracks my caresses, the ridge in his jeans pronounced. “After you’ve filled me with your hot cum.”

  His eyes flare with fierce emotion. “I have condoms.”

  “I don’t want there to be any barriers between us.” I reach behind me and unfasten my bra. “I want to feel every inch of you.” I roll my shoulders, discarding the sexy scraps of lace. “Your tip pressing against me.” My nipples tighten in the cool office air. “The veins in your shaft pulsing, your cum heating my pussy.”

  A strangled noise comes from deep inside Hawke’s throat.

  I shimmy out of my panties, leaving more of a mess on his office’s clean carpet. “Don’t you want that too?”

  I brazenly straddle him, perching my ass on his denim-covered knees, my body open to him. He can see everything, my bare breasts, my pink folds, my empty entrance.

  “I want, fuck me, do I want.” His voice is a bottomless abyss of raw need. “But there’s a possibility of—”

  I place my fingertips over his lips. “Of what? Of expanding our family? Of creating a stocky little baby boy with his daddy’s blue eyes and brown hair?” I lower my hands, splay my fingers over my flat stomach, imagining the pale skin rounded with his child. “What would you do, then?”

  “I’d be the happiest man on the planet.” Hawke gives me the reassurance I need, easing my lingering fears. “I’d love and protect both of you with everything I had.”

  “You truly love me?” I need to hear these words again also.

  “I fell in love with you at first sight.” He meets my gaze, his expression solemn, sincere. “I knew you were mine. And every moment I watched you, I loved you more. By the time we finally met, I was twisted up with wanting, desperate for you.”

  I touch his square chin, his stubble-covered skin, his silver scars, struggling to absorb this revelation, knowing in my heart, it’s true. He loves me. “When you called me ‘love’ that first day—”

  “I meant it.” Hawke turns his head, kisses my fingertips. “You were, are, and will always be my girl, the only woman I’ll ever love.”

  “Oh God.” This is too much. My world is spinning and I need him to ground me. I pop his button fly, freeing his hard shaft. “I need you inside me now.” I push the faded denim downward. He lifts his ass, helping me. “Show me where I belong.”

  “You belong with me, Belinda.” Hawke cups my ass, holds me above him. I position him at my entrance. “If you ever doubt that, look at your name on my body.”

  He lowers me slowly. The slide is endless. The fullness is divine. I savor every delectable inch, the connection tightening between us.

  My military man feels our link too, his face reflecting awe and amazement. His fingers tremble against my back. My sensitive flesh touches his unrelenting base and we both groan, his baritone underlying my higher pitch.

  “You’re a part of me, permanently.” Hawke’s eyes flash with triumph.

  “And you’re part of me.” I squeeze his shaft with my inner muscles and he jerks, his lips flattening. “We’ll never be alone again.”

  I glide my palms under his ugly black T-shirt, his skin hot against my fingers, his muscles rippling. Sex without a condom is better. I feel everything, all of him, our bodies meshing, bonding, becoming one.

  Unable to remain still, I rock, a gentle wave of movement rolling throughout my form. Hawke undulates just as leisurely under me, his gaze fixed on my face, as though he can’t believe I’m here, with him, loving him.

  I think of how I almost chose another man, almost settled for okay, forgoing this wonder, and I ride him harder, faster. All of the pain, the disappointment, the abandonment led me to this, to Hawke, the most honorable, steadfast, badass man I know.

  And this former marine loves me. He lifts me higher and higher, thrusting upward as he drives me toward him, impaling me on his rigid shaft. I pant. Hawke’s breath blows hot against my right ear. The chair squeaks under us, protesting the movement, our combined weight.

  The proof of his commitment is all around me. The dog tags Hawke gave me shine between my bare breasts. The bandage on his left hand protects my claim on him.

  He plunges his cock in and out of me. No condom separates us, its absence a declaration of intention. He’s with me forever, will never leave me, and I trust him to stay, to keep his vows.

  This knowledge spirals my passion toward the unadorned ceiling. Our bodies bump again and again. My arms and legs tremble. Sweat trickles down my spine, between my ass cheeks. I curl my fingers, digging my nails into his skin.

  “Yes.” Hawke bucks. “Mark me, love.”

  I lean forward, kiss his chin. His stubble burns my lips. His chest flattens my breasts, the soft cotton of his T-shirt teasing my aching nipples.

  “You feel so good.” Hawke’s rhythm grows wilder. “You’re hot and wet and mine.” He grunts each word. “I’ll never let you go.” His arms close around me, his fingers pressing against my back. “Never.”

  God. I arch my back. He knows what I need to hear. My pussy constricts around him, the friction escalating my desire.

  “Can’t. Need.” My mind splintered by his touch, I’m unable to form complete sentences. “Hawke, please.”

  “I have you.” He sinks his fingers into my hair, pulls my head back.
I shudder, pinpricks of pain shooting over my scalp. Sweat glistens on his face. His shaft swells inside me.

  He’s close, as close as I am to release. I resist the urge to squeeze his shaft, wanting to plunge over the edge with him.

  “Come for me.” Hawke scrapes his teeth along my neck and I shudder, my grip on reality loosening. I can’t last. I can’t—

  “Now, love.” He tugs on my hair.

  The pain breaks me, and everything inside me contracts, my pussy clenching down on his cock, my fingers curling into fists. I open my mouth to scream.

  Hawke covers my lips with his, swallowing the sound, adding his roar to the mix. Liquid heat shoots from his tip, bathing my battered pussy, the sensation unlike any I’ve ever experienced. He pushes deeper, his ass lifting off the chair, as though he wishes to brand as much of me as he can with his essence.

  Hawke holds this impossible pose for one, two heartbeats, and then falls. His bare skin smacks against the leather seat. My ass slaps against his legs, setting off an after-tremor of pleasure within me.

  I quiver with delight, the ecstasy of our joining too good to comprehend. He rubs my back, murmuring words I’m too fractured to decipher.

  As the fog of bliss clears, I remember his new tattoo. “Did I hurt you?” I pull back, grasp his left wrist, examine his finger. There’s no blood on the white gauze. “Are you feeling okay?” I touch his forehead. His skin is hot and moist. “Did we overdo it?”

  “I’m better than okay, love.” Hawke’s eyelids are partially lowered, his face soft. “Remember how you felt when you walked into the Road Gator and everyone cheered?”

  “It was one of the best moments of my life.” Until a few minutes ago, our arrival at the Road Gator had been the very best moment. But this was surpassed when I saw my name tattooed on Hawke’s body, heard him declare his feelings for me.

  My military man meets my gaze, the love in his eyes taking my breath away. “That’s how I feel right now.”

  Chapter Six

  HAWKE LIFTS ME off him, setting my ass on the desk. Warmth rushes down my thighs and I gaze downward, dismayed. “Sex without a condom is messy.”

  He chuckles, pulls his jeans up, fastens them. “Hold still, love.” He scoops my white blouse off the carpet. Before I can protest, he kneels before me and sweeps the soft cloth over my skin, cleaning me gently, thoroughly.

  “I have to wear that blouse.” I frown. It will be stained with his cum.

  “Do you?” He presses his lips to my right knee, his impulsive kiss curling my toes. “I could keep you naked.” He kisses the left. “And at my mercy.”

  I’m already at his mercy. “When we leave this office, your men will get quite a show.”

  “They can look. They can’t touch.” Hawke straightens, hands me the brown cardboard box. “You’re mine.”

  I turn the box, examining it from all angles. “Is this one last reward?”

  “This is one more reward.” He sits beside me, completely clothed. I remain naked. “The missions, if you choose to accept them”—my military man grins—“will continue indefinitely.”

  He’ll continue to test my sexual boundaries and surprise me with luxurious rewards. Excitement zips through me. “I will choose to accept them.” I consider the size and shape of the box, speculating at its contents. “The rewards don’t have to be as extravagant as they have been.” I’m aware that we have three households to maintain—ours, my mom’s, and Cyndi’s—and that we both have businesses to grow. “I only need one purse, one evening gown, one beautiful hair comb.”

  Hawke brushes a strand of hair away from my face. “You like to have a relationship with your pretty things, to use them often.” He’s aware that I don’t abandon anyone or anything. “I’ll only give you rewards that you need, love.”

  He believes I need this recent gift. Unable to prolong the suspense any longer, I rip open the box. “Your Reward” is printed across white card stock. I move this message to the side. “I keep all of these.”

  “I know.”

  Hawke watches me. He knows everything.

  I brush the brown tissue paper aside, revealing light blue tulle. My fingers tremble as I shake out the fabric. Clusters of pink and dark gray glitter embellish the Mary Katrantzou blouse. “This is so beautiful.” I hold it up to me. “And sheer.” I lift my eyebrows. “Your men will see everything.”

  “It matches my eyes.” Hawke’s voice is husky. “And there’s more.”

  There is more. A black silk cami is neatly folded in the box. “It’s perfect.” I feed the undergarment between the tulle, admiring the combination. “So delicate.”

  “Like you.”

  My lips twist. “If that’s a short dig, I’ve come to terms with the fact that I might be a little bit smaller than the average woman.”

  “A little bit smaller?” Hawke chuckles.

  I roll my eyes and gaze into the box. “Oh my God. That wasn’t all of it.” I pull out a pair of black Stella McCartney Jasmine wool-twill straight-leg pants. “Look at this tailoring.” I show him the seams.

  He feigns amazement, humoring me. The man has no concept of fashion.

  But he does know how to choose rewards. I hug the clothes to my body. “All I need is shoes.” I glance in the box. “You sent those too.” I gaze at the Gianvito Rossi sleek black point-toe flats. “I’m never wearing the ballerina flats again.”

  “The shoes have buckles.” Hawke flicks one of his thick fingers at the delicate ankle strap. “So they won’t fall off when you ride with me.”

  If I wore this outfit, I’d be the best-dressed old lady at the Road Gator. I pause, thinking. Is that his plan, why he sent me such an extravagant reward today, hinting I’d need it? Does he want me to look nice for his friends?

  Then I won’t disappoint him. I find my panties and bra, don them quickly, eager to try on my new clothes, to make him proud. “Mack brought my helmet.”

  “I’m glad.” Hawke watches me dress, his pale blue eyes glowing with appreciation. “Because we’re riding today.”

  He does want to show me off. I tuck my camisole in and zip the pants. They fit as though they were made for me, hitting my ankles in exactly the right spot. “Will Gisele be okay?” I slip my feet into the shoes. “I don’t want her to run out of food. She’s already so skinny.”

  “She’ll be okay, love.” Hawke carefully buckles the straps around my ankles. “Gisele has enough food for a week, and she’s a cat. Cats like to spend time alone.”

  “I thought I liked to spend time alone too.” I fold my dirty clothes. “Then I met you and I realized I was wrong.” I place the clothes in the cardboard box, line up my tattered ballerina flats by the desk. “What should we do with these?”

  “We’ll retrieve them later.” He holds out his right palm. I grab his fingers.

  We exit the office, hand in hand. I brace myself for the knowing looks and the teasing from Hawke’s men. The space is surprisingly empty. Only the blonde, pierced Amazon woman and her bald client remain.

  “Is it closing time?” The sliver-thin heels of my new shoes tap against the gray concrete floor, the happy tempo matching the one in my heart.

  “Not exactly.” Hawke holds the door open for me.

  I step into the sun. Leather-clad men on a dizzying assortment of pretty motorcycles block the road to our right. I recognize many of the weathered faces, Mack, Demo, Prick, and Ed leading the pack. Some of the men are accompanied by their old ladies. Very few women and none of the men wear helmets.

  These are the people Hawke wants me to impress. I smooth down my blouse. “Are we going to the Road Gator?”

  My helmet and Hawke’s sunglasses have been set on the seat of his bike. “We’re riding.” He grabs the helmet and places it on my head.

  “With your team?” I tilt my chin upward, allowing him to adjust the straps.

  “With our team.” Hawke taps the tip of my nose and I blink.

  I’m part of a team. We won’t be riding
alone. We’ll be surrounded by friends, by our motorcycle family. I grin at the bikers. Mack winks at me.

  Hawke dons his sunglasses, covering up his beautiful eyes. The bike dips as he straddles it. “Hop on the back.” He twists his torso and pats the tiny wedge of seat behind him, his palm smacking hard leather. “I’ll give you a ride.”

  Those were the same words he said to me the first time he offered. My eyes mist with unshed tears. “You have a helmet for me this time.” I tap the accessory.

  “I’ll be careful with you.” He looks at me with love. “You’re safe in my hands, Belinda.”

  “I always knew I was safe with you.” I climb onto the bike, the warmth of the leather seat felt through my pants. “I refused that first ride because I didn’t trust myself.”

  “You can lose control with me.” Hawke grasps my knees, pulls me closer to him. His denim-clad ass presses against my fabric-covered pussy, his leather, engine grease, and man scent engulfing me.

  I wrap my arms around him, rest my helmeted head on his back and my brand-new Gianvito Rossi flats on the rear footrest. He revs the engine, the vibration felt in my soul, and we shoot forward. I grin. It’s like flying, with zero risk of falling. I know Hawke will protect me.

  The sun’s rays heat my shoulders. The wind plucks at the sleeves of my blouse, my military man’s big body blocking most of the displaced air.

  The other bikers follow us, allowing Hawke to lead. Engines roar. Pedestrians stop and stare, looking at us. I splay my fingers over my biker’s cotton-covered stomach. His abs undulate under my palms.

  More bikers wait for us at intersections. They join our makeshift parade, falling into line behind us. Many of them have military motifs on their jacket patches. They served our country, could be part of the Organization, Hawke’s company.

  I don’t know where we’re going. Hawke maneuvers around potholes, moving with his bike, man and machine acting as one. I try to do the same and fail miserably, my reactions delayed.

  His chest shakes, the damn man laughing at me. I slap his rock-hard stomach. This makes him laugh harder. I shake my head. I’m in love with an idiot.