CONTROL: A Dark Bad Boy Baby Romance (Blackened Souls MC)

by Naomi West

  “We’re heretogether, aren’t we? That ought to be something,” she replied. “So yes, I do see some good in this ‘mess.’”

  He sighed and sank back. “Goddamn, Katrin.” There was no heat in the words. “When I saw you, all I could think was good Christ, I wanna go to bed with that girl.” He paused. “Sometimes I wish I’d just kept it at that.”

  Katrin flinched. The words stung, enough to make her angry. Every time they started to open up to one another, he pulled back. It stopped here.

  “God, Pistol. You really want to go on being that guy? That’s the kind of man you want to be?”

  “That’s not what I said.”

  “Yes, maybe life would be simpler if I hadn’t been Leonard Smith’sdaughter. If you’d just fucked me and gone on your way. But we’re here now, and I’m trying to tell you that I care about you, that I’mgladI’m here, and you’re acting like you miss being the guy who thinks women were just put on this earth for his amusement. That guy’s a sham. You know it, and I know it. So stop pretending.”

  “It ain’t about women.”

  “Itis about women.”

  Pistol’s jaw tightened. “You wanna tell that bitch who raised me that her fucking kid wasn’t put on this earth for her amusement?” He shook his head, teeth gritted. “You want to pretend chicks are all these innocent fucking victims of big bad wolves like me? You didn’t know her. Fuck her. Seriously, fuck her.”

  Katrin didn’t waver. “She was wrong, Jax. Wrong to treat you the way she did. But that’s not an excuse for the way you treat women.” Katrin’s temper rose. “What if you have adaughter someday? What do you want to teach her?”

  “Well, I don’t have a daughter, do I? So it’s a moot point.”

  “But if? You want her to grow up thinking she’s a piece of meat? That if she’s lucky enough, maybe a hot guy like you will spend one magical night with her?”

  “Maybe I’ll respect her fucking adult decisions. Maybe I’ll trust her to know whether she wants a night of fun with no strings attached. Casual sex isn’t a crime, Katrin. I thought we’d been over this.”

  Katrin tried to ignore the disappointment that flooded her at his answer. Maybe she’d been a fool to think this man could ever make a decent husband or father. “It’s not about the casual sex. It’s about — it’s about entitlement. Thinking you own the world because you’ve got a big bike and a big gun. I’ve seen a better side of you, Jax. A side that truly cares aboutpeople.”That cares aboutme.

  He grimaced. “Your point?”

  “You need to take a good hard look at your life. You’re mired in the past, licking old wounds. There might never be justice for the wrongs you’ve suffered. It’s time to move on.”

  His eyebrows slanted downward. “Thanks for the lecture, sweetheart. But I don’t need your opinion on my life choices.”

  Condescending prick.

  “I’m trying to help.”

  “Yeah? Well what about you? Jumping whenever Daddy says jump?” Katrin recoiled, stung. Pistol went on, “Why do you still defend him? Because you feel guilty about your mom?”

  She rounded on him, furious. “You have no idea what my life’s been like since she died. No idea!”

  “Yeah, well, what’d you tell me? Time to move on. Grow up, little girl. Get out of Daddy’s pocket and try living your own life.”

  She leaned forward, stunned and nearly spitting with anger. “You are such a — such an—”

  “Go on, say it. Let it out.”

  “An asshole!” It felt good. Damn good, to say it.

  “Yeah” He’d leaned forward too, eyes lit with something that didn’t quite look like anger.

  “Tell me how much of an asshole I am.”

  “The biggest fucking asshole. You’re a confusing, infuriating, crude—”

  His lips were on hers, and she was ready, heat roaring up through her body, her spine arching, her breasts pressing against his body. She claimed his mouth with hers, then took his lower lip in her teeth, nipping sharply.

  He gasped, and she placed a hand on his chest, pushing him back gently, mindful of his shoulder. She was about to show him exactly who owned who here. When he was on his back, she straddled his hips, crossing her arms in front of her and pulling off her T-shirt. She gazed down at him, her breath quickening, heat pooling deep within her. His eyes widened slightly. She reached behind her and unhooked her bra, freeing her breasts, and let it fall from her body. The cold was a bit of a shock, but she didn’t care. She’d be warm soon enough.

  She urged him up so she could slip his open jacket off and then she tossed the garment aside. Her hair, still tangled from the motorcycle ride, swept over her bare shoulders as she leaned down to kiss Pistol. Her hardening nipples grazed his chest, sending shivers through her that had nothing to do with the chilly desert night.

  The flashlight flickered again. Pistol’s tongue pressed into her mouth, eager, needy. She sucked hard on his tongue until he moaned, trying to squirm under her. She placed her hands on his pecs, her thumbs circling his nipples, tracing the circles of light brown hair around them. Her pussy was already clenching hard, desperate to feel his cock. She arched backward slowly, keeping her hands on his chest and then tossing her head back, rising onto her knees once more to unsnap her jeans.

  Pistol fumbled, trying to help her tug her pants down around her thighs. She un-straddled him for a moment and stood to finish undressing. She gave him a show, toeing off her shoes and then bending to slide her jeans all the way to her ankles, then slipping out of them. She stood there in nothing but a pair of purple cotton panties. She grinned down at him wickedly as he drunk in the sight of her.

  She pouted her lips and said, mock-kittenishly: “Should these come off?”

  He nodded frantically.

  Then she hooked her thumbs in her waistband and sent the panties the way of her jeans. She kicked them away and stepped toward Pistol, ignoring the rocks that bit into the bottoms of her feet.

  She knelt on the blanket again. Pistol had already toed off his shoes and unsnapped his fly, but she brushed his hand away and finished tugging down his worn jeans. She breathed in the scent of his arousal, leaning down to mouth his gray boxer briefs. He inhaled, his thighs flexing, his head tipping back. The muscles in his neck bulged, creating cords as she breathed on the bulge in his underwear.

  She undressed him slowly, pausing to caress nearly every inch of him. By the time he was naked, he was panting heavily, his cock thick and flushed, nearly touching his belly. She straddled his hips again, tossing her hair away from her face. She smiled down at him. “Gonna ride you harder than I rode that bike of yours.”

  Okay, so she hadn’t had much experience with dirty talk. But it felt natural, to talk to him like this — to let this be playful, sexy, to offer herself to him and take what he offered in return.

  He let out a strained laugh. “I’m not gonna last thirty seconds, you keep on like that, honey.”

  “You’d better.” She bit her lower lip and smiled again. “Because I’m not gonna stop until I’ve had my fill.”

  He groaned with what sounded like a combination of pleasure and agony as she took his cock in her fist. “Katrin…”

  “Hmmm?” She feigned innocence, stroking his thick shaft slowly.

  His head dipped back again, and she watched his Adam’s apple move as he swallowed. He tried to raise his hips, but she sat back on him, keeping him in place. She pumped him, and he reached up with his good arm and cupped his hand around her left breast, kneading it softly. Her breath hitched. He ran his thumb gently back and forth across her nipple, until she was dripping wet, until she couldn’t stand the anticipation anymore.

  She lifted up and positioned herself over his dick, then lowered herself onto it. She gasped as it breached her, the friction driving her wild. She let gravity do its work, until she was seated on him and he was groaning, twisting his hips, shaking with the apparent effort of holding back. He was as deep inside her as it w
as possible to get. “Oh God,” she whispered. She could feel every inch of him. That hot, smooth shaft, the hair of his balls against her pussy lips.

  She started to move, rocking back and forth at first, then lifting and lowering herself, whimpering as she found an angle that rubbed her G-spot with every stroke. The pleasure built inside her, and the sight of Pistol straining not to come, the feel of him rolling his hips in an effort to add to their mutual desire, made Katrin soar. She rolled her pelvis, sitting back hard on his dick, making herself cry out with the intensity of the pleasure.

  Pistol placed both hands on her hips, and while she could see him gritting his teeth in pain, apparently pleasure overrode it, because he dug his fingers into her sides and pulled her down on top of him, thrusting his hips up sharply to meet her. She cried out again, every nerve in her body lighting up.

  A gust entered the cave, meeting the heat of her skin, and suddenly the flashlight went out. She made a startled sound, and then they both laughed. From there, it was just their harsh breathing in the pitch darkness, the sensation of skin against skin as Katrin rode Pistol toward orgasm. His fingertips trailed down her hips, and then strong, warm hands cupped her ass, pulling her closer. In the dark, every touch became an unexpected delight, and she found herself paying closer attention to his body, trying to sense each movement before it happened and use her own body to harmonize with it.

  He began to use short, sharp thrusts to stroke her G-spot. Her cries grew higher and breathier; his groans deeper, and finally she went over the edge, bucking as waves of pleasure overwhelmed her. Just when she thought she’d gotten a handle around the sensation, she jerked as a new wave hit her and she rode her way to a second, even more powerful orgasm. She let out what was almost a sob, contracting her pussy around the length of velvet steel within her.

  She gasped, collapsing on top of him. He pumped twice more and came. “Holy shit,” he whispered. He whispered it over and over as she slid off of him and stretched out beside him on the blanket. She was panting so hard she couldn’t hear anything else but the harsh echo of her breath against the cave walls in the dark.

  Pistol was panting too, still swearing under his breath. He rolled slightly. Stroked her hair with his uninjured hand. His touch stilled after a moment.

  “We didn’t use a condom.” His voice was hoarse.

  She went rigid, all of that wonderful post-orgasm relaxedness leaving her in an instant. This was her chance. This was where she told him she was already pregnant, that a condom only mattered if he wasn’t clean.

  But did the fact that he didn’t seem upset that he might have just gotten her pregnant…did that mean it was safe to tell him?

  A memory came to her of her mother — just after Jess had been diagnosed. She’d come into Katrin’s room. Sat on the edge of Katrin’s white-and-lavender bed and told Katrin what the doctors had said.

  Katrin had been stunned — even more stunned to learn that she was the first person her mother had told.

  “What about Daddy? You’re going to tell him, aren’t you?”

  “Eventually.” Katrin’s mother had given a long, pained sigh, closing her eyes.

  “But why haven’t you told him?” Katrin had been able to feel the panic welling up inside her, tightening her throat. Her father would know what to do. They needed to tell him, so that he could help.

  “A woman’s body,” her mother had said, gazing at the floor, “has a right to its secrets. Throughout all of history it has been displayed, scrutinized, regulated, commodified.” She looked up at Katrin. “If something is happening with your body, and you’re not ready to talk about it, then don’t. Not until you know it’s safe. Not until you’re sure that any choices you make will be yours and no one else’s.”

  Katrin hadn’t quite understood at the time — though something about her mother’s words did make sense to her, deep down. “Do you not trust Dad?”

  “It’s not a matter of trust. I just … need some time to be alone with this.”

  “But you toldme.” Katrin struggled to keep her voice from breaking. The thought of anything being wrong with her mother was too devastating for words.

  Her mother took her hand and squeezed it. “I’m sorry. About all of this.”

  “Don’t be sorry,” Katrin whispered. “There’s nothing to be sorry about.”

  “It’s going to be okay.” Her mother half smiled. “We’re going to fight this.”

  We? Katrinhad thought.Just me and you?

  A week later, Jess had told Katrin’s father. Katrin had been listening from the stairwell. Had heard her father cry for the first time in memory.

  I just … need some time to be alone with this.

  To make sure it’s safe.

  She sought Pistol’s hand in the dark. Tugged it to her lips and kissed it.

  “I know. I wanted it,” she whispered. “I wantedyou.”

  He wrapped his arms around her. Held her safe in that strong embrace until she fairly melted into him. “I wanted you too,” he said against her hair. “I’m sorry,” he said after a while. “For earlier.”

  “Me too. I shouldn’t have pretended to know your story. Your situation.”

  “Same.” He squeezed her hand, and though she couldn’t see him, she heard the smile in his voice when he said, “Though I do think I’m starting to get to know you pretty well.”

  “Oh yeah?” She smiled too.

  “Yeah. Some nights, I feel like…” He paused, and she waited, breathless, for whatever he was going to say. She cherished these moments when he spoke to her honestly, intimately.

  “Like your snoring is music I could sing along to.”

  She gave a loud, surprised laugh and slapped his chest lightly. “I donot snore.”

  “You sure do, darlin’.”

  “You sound like a train applying the emergency brake.”

  He chuckled. “You’re not the first person to say that.”

  Katrin felt an unexpected flare of jealousy, thinking about all the women who’d listened to her husband snore. That’s in the past now. He says he’s faithful to you now.

  Do I believe him?

  She did. She’d seen how loyal Jax could be to his brothers. She believed he was capable of being faithful to her.

  But if I’m wrong … I don’t want to tell him about the baby unless I’m sure.

  She pushed the thoughts aside. Ran a hand lightly over Pistol’s chest. “I know you pretty well too. Even in the dark, I know what your body looks like. I can see it in my mind. All your tattoos.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Mm-hm.” She traced lightly around his nipple. Felt him shiver. “I’ve been studying.” She leaned over and kissed his shoulder. “But I don’t know what all of them mean.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  She outlined an area on his left pec. “Right here, there’s Darth Vader on a Harley.”

  He laughed. “Yeah. No regrets.”

  “When did you get that?”

  “I was twenty-one. ’Rango dared me.”

  She swept her hand down his side, tracing what she imagined was the outline of the long, winding highway inked along his ribcage. “This is my favorite one. There’s a speed limit sign, mountains in all these … subtle greens and browns. A sun sinking behind them. I think about this one a lot. The empty road, and the mountains.”

  “That’s Three Sisters. My favorite place to ride. To escape.”

  “What do you need to escape from?” she murmured.

  He didn’t answer right away. “I love my brothers. But sometimes I still need time alone. Or with just Deion. And the mountains there are incredible. Just feels so quiet and peaceful.”

  She moved down to his hip with one finger. Felt him twitch a little. “Ticklish?” she asked with a smile.

  “I dunno. You’re the expert on my body.”

  She laughed and traced the same path again. He jerked. “Youare. How about that?”

  “Why do I have a feeling
you’re going to use that against me?”

  She giggled. “Never.”

  “Uh-huh. So what’s there, Miss Smartypants?”

  “A meat cleaver. Which I don’t understand.”