A Ride or Die Kind of Love

by Chelsea Camaron

  Cillian slid inside of me and the sheer thrill of him being there felt like he’d come home again. If I knew how a man’s mind worked, how he could separate what he did with Chiara as sex while he slowly made love to me, everything would have been so much easier for me to understand.

  I was in a prism of chartered waters and a sensation so familiar to me, it was almost sad I couldn’t believe we hadn’t shared one another’s bodies in thirteen years.

  The way he thrust in and out of me as he grabbed my ass and drove me closer to yet another orgasm set my whole soul on fire. I was the one who would be torched and burned beyond all recognition when everything was said and done.

  My hips rose to meet his own until we were skin against skin and I couldn’t keep up with his slow pace because it was a rush to the end. I needed to get off and get him out of me before he did damage beyond my control—or his—and I would find myself coming full circle.

  Fuck it, we’d come full circle because there was no doubt in my mind I was in love with this man yet again and that would be my undoing.

  Cillian slid a hand around my throat and made me face him. “I want to see your eyes and that gorgeous face of yours when I make you come again.”

  “Why?” I knew I sounded annoyed and in a way, the casual tone from him burned the fuck out of me.

  If he knew how much he could still affect me, he could use it to his advantage and that was a dangerous game I had no wish to play.

  “Because, babe, I fuck everyone doggy-style. I don’t want to see their faces because every woman I have fucked becomes you and I know it isn’t you because I can’t smell you, can’t feel your soft skin against mine. It makes me upset and I’ve lost me temper more times than I can count.”

  He was no longer moving inside of me; his eyes—the windows to the soul—were looking into mine and I could see every contour of his gorgeous face. Time had been kind to him and he didn’t look his age nor did he look like a biker. He could have been anyone with the tats on his arms and his hard body. He bore the scars of his hard life, old knife wounds and a bullet he’d taken to the shoulder, but those imperfections made him more real, more human, more of a man.

  Cillian flipped us over and I was on top of him though he was still buried inside of me. That was when he slid off my pajama top and I was completely nude. His hands grazed my soft flesh, reached for my breasts and traced their shape before he sat up and leaned against the headboard.

  “Now you can ride me and I can see your lovely face when you come, mo cheann álainn,” he whispered and made my heart gallop faster in my ribs.

  “If you keep throwing in all these Gaelic phrases when you make love, I can understand how you’ve had no problem with the ladies all these years.”

  He pulled my body closer to his until my nipples brushed his chest and he supported my back fully. “I don’t have a problem with the ladies because of who I am…not because I serenade them with Gaelic phrases. And correction—I don’t make love to anyone but you…all the other women, I fuck. Has it been different for you?”

  “No, not at all.” There was no use beating around the bush. “I’ve never made love to any man but you either although I have fucked a few in my time since we’ve been apart. I’m not a nun—”

  “Then I don’t wanna hear about how other men have been inside of you, baby. It hurts me and it pains my heart that no one has ever seen you the way I did, the way I still do right now. You’re amazing and they’re fookin’ knob heads if they can’t see you’re such a wonderful human being and you deserve to be loved, not fucked.”

  I reached toward him and kissed his mouth, hard, if only to shut him up about me being so fucking special. His tongue and mine did things to one another I could only dream about as I began to move on top of his and our bodies fell into sync as he thrust inside of me while my hips bucked to match his movements.

  I couldn’t simply describe what it was like to have him inside me because the whole act took me to another time and place. We were no longer fumbling teenagers but I still felt what we were doing was just as dangerous and forbidden.

  I rose and fell on his cock, the fullness of him buried so deep inside me was amazing and tortuous at the same time. He pulled us together before he laid us down and again, he was on top of me with my legs wrapped around his waist, wanting, needing more and not able to tell him.

  His dick ground into me over and over again as I kept pace with his movements. Cillian alternated between kissing my mouth and nibbling on my neck as he began to fuck me harder and I welcomed his invasion as I moaned out loud.

  My orgasm was a slow burn this time but when it finally came, I cried out in ecstasy and clamped down on my kegel muscles before he joined me with low moan in my mouth as his seed spilled inside of me. There was no going back now; we’d shared something together that could never be taken back ever.

  We were both silent for several moments before he pulled out and jumped off the bed. I covered my face with my hands while my legs were still splayed open in an obscene manner.

  I’d promised myself I would never let this happen again. The one thing I’d sworn up and down would never become my reality had happened. There wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it yet I didn’t hate myself and I had no intentions of stopping what transpired between us even if I could have.

  Cillian walked out of the bathroom with a hand towel and sat on the bed before he wiped me down to prevent a “wet spot” in bed when all his spunk would eventually spill out of me. He’d always been like that with me, attentive, aware, a gentleman.

  I wasn’t surprised when he tossed it on the floor and righted me so that we were both in bed, on pillows, under the covers and he spooned me while stroking my hair.

  “Fuck, I don’t want to leave here. I don’t want to let you go. I just wanna stay right here in your arms. I don’t want to have to think about tomorrow or Brianna or the Club. I’ve fuckin’ missed you like mad. How do I let go of you now that I have you? You tell me.”

  What was I supposed to say to a declaration like that? Of course I felt the same way but he’d never know, not right now, not when I bruised too easily.

  At least when it came to Cillian.

  “Well, maybe you shouldn’t be worried about what we have until you solve your issues regarding Brianna and the ‘errand’ you have to run tomorrow night.”

  “You’re right. How the hell did my life get so fucked up and out of control? I ask myself that all the time, and I know this is all my fault but I need to know you’ll give me another chance?” His voice pleaded with me and yet, my heart still remained half-frozen.

  Yes, I was in love with him but I couldn’t take another heartbreak. It was as simple as that and until I knew he was serious about leaving Brianna then all bets were off. I already had a relationship with a married man I would have to break off and no matter how I voiced it to Leo, the situation wouldn’t end well.

  I felt sorry for Leo’s wife and even sorrier for myself that I felt like I had to debase myself just to have what I thought was a functional, emotionless sex life.

  Now, I found myself in the same position with Cillian, and I couldn’t do it again. Not only because of Brianna but because I was in love with the fucking guy.

  “Leave Brianna and we’ll pick up this conversation at another time. Until that happens…I don’t think I can do this.” My voice was small but firm.

  He crawled over my body so he could face me. “Now you’re not playing fair. I told you I would leave her and I will. You can’t deny me—I won’t be able to do this without knowing you’re by my side.”

  “And I will be when that Irish bitch is out of your life.” I gritted my teeth together. “You left me in a foreign country for her and drop kicked my ass outta your life. Now, I’m supposed to drop everything because you give me a few empty promises after mind blowing sex? I want to believe you but we’ve got too damn much history between us, babe. I need to see some actions before I commit to anything.” />
  Cillian smiled wryly. “Always the fucking attorney. Fine, I’ll show you actions but you better keep up your end of the bargain.”

  I turned over onto my side away from him. “Don’t worry about me. Unlike you, I don’t make promises I can’t keep.”

  Chapter Five

  Cillian

  Cillian awoke early, climbed out of Gisela’s bed, dressed quickly and left her condo a half an hour before her alarm would go off.

  He just didn’t care he smelled like her and Brianna could go suck a big fat cock if she gave him any shit—though she did that more than enough as it was so he wasn’t exactly looking forward to seeing his slutty old lady.

  He climbed on the back of his bike, a Harley CVO Road King, and started the engine before he put on his helmet. The helmet was a custom job, like his bike, completely bulletproof and with all the latest technology to drown out the sound of the engine.

  Desmond had given him shit about it but he thought it was better to be safe than dead. As for his bike, his father hated it and still rode on a classic-style Harley. No way would he ever upgrade but Cillian didn’t give a shit about all of that. He loved his bike and would never trade it in for one of those old-school Harleys. It wasn’t him.

  He was from a new generation and thought his bike should reflect that. Wasn’t it bad enough most of the time he wore shitkickers while he was on his bike? He preferred Chuck Taylors and owned more pairs than he could count; when he drove his truck, he wore them too. The old man couldn’t call all the shots, and he had to draw a line in the sand at a certain point.

  Fuck Gisela and her fucking demands.

  She would be the death of him and she didn’t even know it. All he could think about was fucking her and having those silky legs wrapped around his waist. Her pussy affected him like fucking Kryptonite but he desperately needed her, if only to get through tonight. He wasn’t looking forward to killing anyone.

  Riley was a dickhead and a waste of space but he was only doing his job and didn’t deserve to die behind it. He knew a bit about the Club but not enough. He was just a business associate Quinn had gone to school with who claimed he was now working on the wrong side of the law but he had Fed written all over him.

  The worst part was that he hadn’t even served any time in the military branches so he wasn’t battle hardened. Not like some of the older fellas who’d come straight out of the IRA or even himself. He’d worked with the Real IRA, knew how to build bombs and shoot someone from fifty meters away. He’d killed his first human being the same day Gisela went into a labor. A guy from the Unionist faction. He was given a crappy fucking .45 and told to shoot the motherfucker in the head. Of course the fucker had jammed on him and he’d end up beating the man to death with the gun instead.

  The moment he saw the guy’s skull split open and his brains coming out, he knew the bastard was beyond saving.

  Fuck!

  Why the hell was his father putting him in this position again? He had his own demons he had to deal with, and compartmentalizing them into the far off recesses of his brain he never accessed worked just fine for him. But the older he got, the harder it became to just forget that shit.

  Cillian drove even faster, the wind whipping past him as he passed tall pine trees on narrow highways but it was the best therapy he had to get rid of all of the macabre and sick shit he’d seen in his short life.

  Riding his Harley and riding Gisela were the only two activities that made him feel human and murdered the feeling of him being evil incarnate. He could go home and face Declan and Caitlin and smile at them because he truly did feel at peace after a ride.

  Now he’d done both his favorite past times, he could also grow a pair of balls and tell his skanky fucking old lady she was gone after this week. He’d move the kids out to his parents’ house while he would stay at the Clubhouse until she left and decided what she was going to do. As long as she agreed to leave Northern Nevada, he was cool with where ever the fuck she went.

  She had an aunt and uncle who lived in Boston but something told him he wouldn’t get that lucky. The bitch would want to go to Las Vegas or L.A. She had such delusions of grandeur and was so in love with herself, she really did believe fucking different men made Cillian jealous.

  It just made him fucking disgusted with her.

  Especially since she’d been through half his blood brothers. There was a line a woman didn’t cross and fucking his brothers was it.

  Then she’d gone and committed the ultimate sin.

  She’d fucked a Demon’s Bastard.

  Trey fucking Lennon.

  And got pregnant with his baby.

  Caitlin was not Cillian’s biological daughter though he’d raised her like she was and would never allow another man to touch her, including her sperm donor father. As far as he was concerned, she was his daughter and he’d be damned if she would ever call another man, “Dad.”

  Cillian pulled into the driveway of his house. He lived in a new housing tract in Birch Tree. The gated community—ironically titled Serenity Village—was a mixed community of both one-story and two-story homes. It also contained a swimming pool, several parks for the family friendly image, and its own Fresh & Easy grocery store.

  His home was a canary yellow two-story with white trim, a large grassy area in the front of the house, and a three car garage. He opened the third garage door and guided his bike in backwards before he cut the engine and got off after securing the kick stand.

  Although the house was only a year old, 3,200 square feet with three bedrooms, three full bathrooms, and included a half bathroom near the living room, it would have been a perpetual pig-sty if he didn’t employ a maid, Griselda, who came in twice a week to clean.

  Brianna did not do dishes, occasionally cooked when she felt like it but mostly, they lived on take out, and rarely paid the kids any attention.

  He walked into the laundry room from the garage and loud music assaulted his senses immediately, despite it being a school day for the kids.

  Mike Will Made It’s “23” played on the stereo while the sixty inch television was turned on though the sound was muted. His old lady danced by herself and still wore what she’d had on the day before. A short, spaghetti-strapped scarlet dress that ended at mid-thigh, black fishnet tights and a pair of black “fuck me” heels.

  She’d had her hair done recently because instead of it being straight honey blonde, it was now her natural dark auburn with large honey-blonde chunks throughout. She looked like a skunk as far as he was concerned though she probably thought she appeared to be old lady, biker chic.

  Brianna turned around and faced him but continued to twerk while her steel-gray eyes bore into his own eyes. He nodded, indicating the music, and she turned it down low enough for them to carry on a conversation.

  “What the fook are you doin’ here? I thought you were sleepin’ at the Clubhouse.” Her Irish accent was more pronounced than his but then it would be; she’d grown up in Belfast her whole life.

  Her mother was a hard-core heroin addict and her father was an alcoholic who’d dipped in and out of her life. It was her vulnerability that had first attracted her to him. She needed him to rescue her; Gisela’s parents had barred him from the hospital and had a bodyguard for their daughter. He couldn’t even see her or get a message to her.

  When she’d gone back to the States, her cell phone number had been changed and every letter he sent to her was returned unopened.

  Brianna was there and she was so beautiful then, only fourteen but so worldly because she had no one to depend on and she was streetwise.

  It wasn’t love at first sight but lust definitely played a huge role.

  “Yeah, I thought I’d come home in time to take the kids to school.” He attempted to walk past her before she grabbed his arm and turned him toward her.

  She was still a beautiful woman at the age of twenty-seven but a life of booze, drugs and late nights was starting to catch up with her. She wore too much mak
eup though she was naturally beautiful. She had a tattoo half-sleeve on her right arm while she had a portrait of her little brother on her left forearm. Her alabaster skin looked gorgeous and bright thanks to all her beauty treatments and she was still a perfect size four but that didn’t make him love her any more than he did.

  At one time, Cillian felt sorry for her but now, he only wanted her to get the fuck out his life.

  “Mmm, that’s a new one. Since when have you ever worried about the kids gettin’ to school on time? ” She let go of him long enough to grab a Marlboro Silver and light it with a silver Zippo lighter. “I thought you had Club business today and you couldn’t be arsed.”

  “Does it matter?” He breathed deeply and grabbed a Camel from his jacket before he took it off and grabbed her lighter. “Listen, drop the kids off at my parents after school.”

  “Why? Because you don’t want me to be your old lady anymore and want that bitch you left to be with me for?”

  Cillian’s crystal blue eyes paled as she raised one of her perfectly shaped eyebrows. “You stink of her, you know. She’s the only cunt I know around these parts who wears French perfume.”

  “You don’t want me or you’d know how to be faithful—”

  “Ah, is that what it is, luv? I’m not faithful to you and that gives you the right to divorce me? Even if I had been faithful to you, you’d still be fucking every hot skirt on two legs. What’s good for the goose is good for the gander or is it perfectly okay for you to be a manwhore while I’m stuck here with your children?”

  “Fuck you, bitch. We both know the truth about Caitlin so don’t act so goddamn innocent. If you were Ronan’s old lady, he would have murdered your ass. Hell, if my mother had tried that shit with my father, she would have never lived to see old age—”

  “But it’s okay for your Da to have three illegitimate kids?” she screamed back at him. “Yeah, I know about Kaz and Loire…who’s the fookin’ third one?”

  “Not my issue, and not my fucking problem, Bree. I don’t fuckin’ know and even if I fuckin’ did, I wouldn’t tell your dumb ass.”