Starting there, he licked his way across to the other side, flicking and dipping into her opening, finding her wet and ready. She didn’t need him to prime her. Coulda just fucked her, he thought with a grin. She’s hot for it. Flattening his tongue, he licked up her center, pressing hard on her clit. Still, wouldn’t give up a chance to have my favorite meal. He teased her, flicking and circling the nub of responsive flesh with the tip of his tongue until she cried out, shoulders rising from the mattress as she clutched the back of his head, holding him to her.
Tearing free from her grip, he lunged up her body and kissed her deep, tongues dueling as she eagerly took what he gave. Tiny whimpers fell from her lips when his hand found her center, spreading her before spearing her with his middle finger. Pumping deep, curling and coaxing her with each stroke, he shoved his other hand underneath her shoulders and up, threading his fingers into her hair and gripping hard, holding her in place while he kissed her.
He jerked reflexively when her fingers curved around his upper thigh, trailing across to his cock, slipping in the fluid leaking out of the tip. She slicked up her hand and stroked him, then explored down, cupping and tugging his sac, pulling a shout out of him when she broke the kiss, pushing up to put her mouth on his shoulder and bit down.
“Move your hand, baby,” he warned her as he opened and rolled the condom on, moving sideways between her legs, loving how they fell apart, letting him slot into place. Cradled with her limbs, he pushed against her, feeling her outer lips part for him, gliding up along his cock, wetting him. She’d moved her hand to his hip and now pulled, tugging in a clear demand.
Mouth to her neck, he set his teeth in the muscle there and bit, sucking hard as he lined up and pushed. She arched up and made a sound that made him slow, pausing to work his cock in and out those first couple of inches, letting her get used to him. Stretching around him, so fucking tight he groaned, mouthing her neck. “You good, baby?” He got a muffled response and lifted so he could see her face, shoving his forearms into the mattress on either side of her head. “You good, baby?” he asked again, keeping the same rhythm of shallow thrusts.
“You’re big.” She breathed the words and wiggled her ass, pumping up against him, forcing another inch inside.
“You’re tight,” he responded and she grinned. “Not complainin’, baby. Feels fuckin’ great.”
“Backatcha,” she whispered and wiggled again. “I’m good.”
He worked his way inside her slowly, advancing in small increments, having to pause the action for a moment here or there in order to hold his control. Staying in that position, he examined her face as she took him, seeing the tiny frowns when the stretch would burn, watching as they smoothed out and she’d nod, indicating she was ready for more.
Gave this up, he thought when he was seated fully inside her. Gave it up once. He moved, and she shifted with him, their rhythms naturally in sync. Can’t give it up again. Arching up against him, she dragged her full breasts across his chest. Teasing and nipping, she ran a hand up his neck to grip his hair, pulling his mouth down to meet hers. Won’t give her up.
Sweaty and slippery, he moved over her and in her, bringing her along with him as he followed the thread of true desire he’d only found in her bed. Over the past decade, every time he’d lain with a woman, the only way he could get off with any satisfaction had been to think about Bethy. Now that she was the woman under him, he found his dreams had fallen far short of reality. She was so much more, so good, so sleek, so wet and tight, vocal in a way he liked, her whimpers and moans floating on the air around them, feeding into this goddamned feeling of making his woman feel good with his hands, his mouth, and his cock.
When she broke, he raised his head, gaze fixed on her expressive face, and she didn’t try to hide from him. Mouth open, calling out, she didn’t hide anything, gave him everything, let him know how what he gave her was good, let him have the knowledge of how she liked it. He shifted gears then, driving in harder, knowing she would take it for him, take him however he gave it to her.
Hands under her ass, he lifted to his knees, bringing her up to meet his thrusts, fingers tight around her hips as he pulled her onto him. Her breasts shifted on her chest and she didn’t try to control anything, she lifted her arms over her head, palms flattened against the headboard as she pushed back, taking him deeper, exposing everything to him and it was that trust that finally took him over the edge. Knowing she’d given him that, was giving him that, took him there. Collapsing on top of her, he shoved a hand under her back, curving around to put a hand at her hip, holding her in place as he clutched the pillow with his other hand, burying his face in her neck and shoulder, grunting through his release.
***
Fury looked at his phone in disbelief. Not even twelve hours ago, he had received a group text with a picture attached that made him smile, even as his throat tightened with an ache. Our brother’s bundle … Faith Inez. That brief message of joy, with an image of radiant mother and infant daughter, framed in the smiling father’s arms. Now a new message to the same broad group, but with an entirely different tone. Similar to a dispatch received only four months ago, it consisted of few words, crafted to convey the loss. Hoss’ old lady passed.
Beautiful Hope.
Golden hair, a laugh that could light up the room, filled with stubborn and love in equal measures. He had seen devotion on her face towards her old man and her kid, a singular focus that only made her more beautiful.
Gone.
Fuck.
Chest tight, he thought about the times he had seen her over the past year and a half, from the first vision of her beauty and poise in Marie’s, to the last time, watching her walk from Hoss’ arms towards her car in the clubhouse lot. She had turned to wave at her man, fingers pressed against her full lips to toss him a playful kiss, belly rounded with a child who would now be motherless.
He jerked, so lost in his thoughts he startled when a hand settled on his shoulder. He tossed the phone to the floor beside his jeans, and lying back in bed, twisted to look in her face, seeing the question there. “Death in the family,” he offered quietly, not wanting to explain more. She took what he gave, nestling her face into his neck, fingers playing idly with his beard as Bethy whispered, “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
He reached down, lifting her chin to see her face. Has she guessed yet? Got it all figured out? It would almost be worth telling her, just to end the uncertainty. Dipping to press his lips to hers, he told himself he’d tell her tomorrow. Lay it all out there, let her know the truth about the three men she knew, and how they were all him.
Her hand slipped down, flat along his belly, fingers playing with the hair along his midline until his belly was jerking underneath her touch and he felt her lips curving as she smiled against his mouth. Then her hand was on him, fingers folded around his cock, thumb slicking through the fluid eagerly dripping from the slit. He kissed her hard, cupping the back of her skull to hold her in place, tongue thrusting deep in her mouth while she jacked him steadily.
“Jesus, baby,” he muttered when she ripped her mouth away for a breath, hand moving faster on him now. “You wanna ride me?” Her face lifted to his again and he saw her eyes go wide, pupils dilating. He flung off the sheet, urging her to straddle him, hands on her hips lifting her into place. “Fuck me, honey.”
He liked that he could see her face as she slid him into her this time. Liked seeing the tiny indents her teeth made in her bottom lip, watched with reverent attention as her lids slipped to half-mast, from the edges of his vision caught the way her belly sucked concave when she ground deep, bottoming him out inside her. She paused there, sleek heat all around him clenching and pulsing. Then after blowing out a slow breath, she placed her palms flat on his chest and lifted, careful not to lose the knob of his dick as she rose over him. The flare of her eyes warned him, and he was ready when she dropped on him, slapping her ass against his thighs in a rush to bury him inside her again. The concus
sion of the hit throbbed deep inside him, and he tightened his muscles, jerking his cock against the inner walls of her pussy.
“Mmhm. Yeah, fuck me. Just like that.”
She shivered at his words, a movement he saw and then felt as she quivered and tightened around him. Then she lifted slowly before dropping again. Another pumping hit followed by a grind that pulled his cock in all the right ways, dragging it down and up again. Hot, slick fluids made by both of them gave the motion a slippery sound, and he listened as the wet slapping echoed in the room. “Fuck me, baby.”
He let her ride him at her pace, getting off on her gasping moans every time she took his cock deep. Her fingers curled, nails scoring bright stripes on his chest and still she lifted and fell, rocking in a steady rhythm that made his ass clench with the need to drive up into her.
“Baby,” she whispered, and he felt it, saw her nipples tighten and peak on her breasts as they swayed with her movements. Lunging up, he captured one in his mouth, his hand pressing between her shoulders, arching her back. Pulling deep, he tongued the hard nipple fast, lashing it as he bit down gently but firmly. His other hand slipped between them, finding and pinching her clit, rubbing tight circles.
“Fury,” she called, and that word nearly stopped the show because that wasn’t what he wanted to hear. Then she was coming and all words were lost, only primal, babbling sounds that flowed from her mouth as he whipped her to her back and drove deep. She was coming down, movements less urgent underneath him as he felt the first curling threads of his own climax. She wrapped one leg around his hip, and he reached down, wedging his arm behind her knee, holding her leg up and out, keeping her open for him. Deep and fast, he pumped, thrusting faster, her hands slipping up his back to curve around his shoulders. “Baby,” she called, and he felt her pussy quiver.
“Fuck, yeah,” he grunted, then ordered, “gimme your mouth.” She twisted, and he kissed her hard, panting breaths mingling in their open mouths while she orgasmed again. He plunged deep, holding there, feeling heat pooling around the head of his dick inside her. Lifting up, he locked his elbows, staring down at her before dropping his head to place a kiss at the base of her throat, licking the salt from his lips as he rose up again.
“You wanna shower?” There were few things he’d like to do more than lay beside her in bed, something he’d done several times as Derek. They’d talked, and she would cuddle close, the sweat on their bodies drying against the sheets. Fury hated he felt this need to make things different now, because if she hadn’t figured it out and didn’t know who he really was, he wanted to draw different figures in her head. Build good associations with him here, now. He moved, pulling out and rolling towards the edge of the bed, ignoring the grumbling noises she made at the motion. “I’ll shower first, then.”
He brought out a washcloth, wet with warm water from his heating shower, washing first her face, and then her breasts before cleaning between her legs. By the time he got back from his shower she was fast asleep, dark hair tamed into a twist under her neck. Climbing carefully into bed behind her, he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her tight against him, smiling at her groaning sigh until it ended on a name that froze him in place. “Derek.”
***
Bethany
Bethy sat on the edge of the unmade bed, covers still rumpled from the activities of the night before. Phone in hand, she was locked in place, staring at the messages glaring up at her from the screen. Several were from her brother, and several, including the one that held her attention in a brutal way, were from Fury.
“How could I be so stupid,” she muttered, one hand raking through her hair, pulling hard against the snarls her fingers found there, wincing at the pain as her scalp was tugged. “Naïve isn’t pretty at my age. Stupid me. Stupidly thinking stupid things I had no business thinking.”
Mason’s communications were, as ever, terse and concise.
Nashville.
That would be his command for her to head home.
Promo OY tour.
She had already intended to continue to promote Occupy Yourself’s tour, using the media attention from the rodeo performance as a springboard, but evidently, Mason didn’t think she was moving fast enough.
He ain’t no good for you.
With Mason as a brother, and now having an idea of the pull and power he had, it shouldn’t have been a surprise that he would be capable of finding out she had spent the night with one of his men. It shouldn’t have been, but it was, and her cheeks flamed at the thought of her brother knowing what they had done…what she had done in bed with Fury.
Love you, Bethy.
Regardless of anything happening around them, Mason always—always—ended every communication, written or spoken, with those words. He had told her once that life was too short to make people wonder if they mattered, and he always made certain she knew just how much. This, all of this, made her both irritated as hell at Mason and filled her with gladness he was her brother.
Brother. Blood of my blood. Something that meant more than outsiders knew, back in the holler.
Protector. Each time I’ve reached out in need, he’s been there. He’d bent luck more times than she could remember, making certain she had what would make life better. If he knew about Michael... She thrust that thought away.
Friend. She smiled. Over the years they’d moved from being strictly siblings who worked around birth order to a solid relationship, one that she cherished.
Family. Back to blood, she thought. More though, because he was family she claimed. Unlike some of them.
Mason was all of that and more. Raised the way they were in eastern Kentucky, bonding together was the only way to survive. With only four years between them, they had been each other’s sounding board for plans and dreams, so she knew what Mason wanted to build, the family he had begun gathering almost as soon as he left the legacy of mountain and holler. He loved her, she knew it, and he made sure she knew it. He also tried to keep her safe and made sure she knew that, too.
Fury’s messages were no less short, just as concise, but they left a chill in her chest that didn’t feel as if it would ever work its way out.
Was fun.
Yes, what they had done could undoubtedly be called fun, even the bits where they were arguing. Total fun.
Recalled to Chicago.
She suspected this meant he was no longer in town, which surprised her because they had made plans for tonight. And tomorrow morning. And tomorrow night. Plans that she had been looking forward to in a big way.
Then came the final message, three words to underline the good time part of their contact.
See you around.
Time to start digging
Bethany
She’d been seated at the table in the window of the coffee shop for an hour, waiting. When she reached out to pick up the oversized mug, Bethy studied her fingers impassively, watching the tremble caused by too much caffeine. If she’s not coming, she would have texted. To prove to herself that the girls’ lunch they’d planned was still on, she picked up her phone and unlocked it, going to the last message from Dot. Nope, still just the See you there that was a definite meeting notice.
Tipping the cup, Bethy lifted it to her mouth, draining the contents. The next time the waitress came by she shook her head, declining a refill for the moment. Come on, Dot.
The door opened and she looked up, smiling when she recognized Ty’s mother. Rising to her feet, she opened her arms for a hug, sighing with relief when a moment later she was wrapped in warmth and the soft scent of Dot’s favorite perfume. “How you doin’, Miss Bethy?” The whisper in her ear was light, airy, and Bethy returned the soft greeting.
“I’m well, Dot. How are you doing?”
While she’d been in west Texas, Ty had another turn. Without her there to look out for him, it had gotten bad before help was called. Dot had walked in on her son casually playing a version of Russian Roulette, and the bullet hole Bethy had patched in
the apartment wall testified to how close things had been.
“Oh, you know me. I’m fine, honey. Just fine.”
Bethy narrowed her eyes, assessing, and then called Dot on her lie. “No, you aren’t. Have you heard from Sarge?” They pulled apart, and Bethy flicked a finger at the girl behind the counter, getting a nod in response. Dot was looking down, avoiding Bethy’s eyes as they seated themselves. “Dot, have you gotten an update from Sarge?”
“Tyrell is doin’ fine.” Dot was still looking anywhere but at Bethy. She murmured her thanks when the girl placed a cup of coffee in front of her, studiously adding three packets of sugar to the drink. “He was hurtin’, no denyin’ that. But he’s going to be fine.” Dot’s eyes darted up, then down. “What did Sarge tell you?”
“Just that Ty was back in treatment at his place, and I had a mess to clean up when I got home.” She had, too, Sarge hadn’t lied about that. There had been at least two weeks’ worth of takeout trash and spoiled food to dispose of, followed by a couple of hours of dishwashing and tidying. “He’s always terse with me, so I hoped you had a better update.”
“Tyrell was bad, Bethany.” Dot’s gaze lifted, focusing in on Bethy’s face. “Real bad, honey.” Tipping her head to one side, Dot asked, “Anything you want to tell me?” On guard now, Bethy shook her head. “You sure, honey? What happened in Lamesa?”
“What do you mean?” She shrugged. “We had a concert. Then I stayed over a few days to sort out details.”
“Ty said he got a call from a man asking him to come out and help guard you.” Bethy froze. “When he asked the guy what was going on, the man told him that you were in danger. Put my Tyrell into a tailspin, knowing his best friend was in a situation like that and hundreds of miles away.”
“Oh, no.” Bethy blinked fast, clearing the stinging wetness from her eyes. “No.”
“Yes, Bethany.” Seeming to change directions in the conversation, Dot waited until Bethy had herself under control to ask her next question. “Who is Michael?”
Fury (Rebel Wayfarers MC Book 11) Page 15
