He shook his head and turned to my sister. “You have someone outside wanting to talk to you.”
She left quickly, almost as if she knew exactly who was out there.
Once the door shut behind her, I moved closer to him.
I raised my brows. “Who?”
He shrugged, “Roberts. He says he has something he needs to talk about. I didn’t ask, though. None of my business. Now you, on the other hand, are most definitely my business.”
Pulling up my shorts, I turned around and pulled the shirt up, baring my butt to his gaze.
“What do you think of my shorts?” I asked him, truly interested in the answer.
He looked down, and a grin started to spread across his face. “I like it a lot. Now,” he murmured, sliding up behind me. “Take them off.”
I gave him an amused look and started towards the door. “Nice try, big boy. We have guests waiting for us to cut the cake.”
He was already prowling towards me, completely disregarding my ‘no.’
My blood started to course thickly through my veins.
Within three steps, he was on me, and his whisper sent shivers down my spine. “If you don’t take them off, I’ll do it for you. Then you’ll have to put the dress back on because there won’t be anything left of them.”
Nerve cells on fire, I hooked my thumb into the waistband of my shorts that read, ‘Mrs. Trammel,’ and pulled them down, bending over slowly as I did so.
He growled low in his throat, and his fingers ran down my backside, curving around my inner thigh until his hand rested on my sex.
“Don’t worry, honey, I’ll make it as quick and painless as possible. We have to be ready to cut the cake shortly, after all,” he growled.
Shivers danced down my spine, and I leaned forward, resting my forearms on the door.
He took that as the invitation it was and slowly pulled open his belt.
The clink-clink of the two pieces separating seemed to echo off the wall, making the sound seem loud in the empty space.
His pants hit the floor with a dull thud, most likely due to the cell phone still in his pocket.
My eyes closed as I felt the head of his cock kiss the outer edges of my vagina, and I canted my ass up even more, offering him all I had to give.
He took his cock in hand, and rubbed the length of himself down the lips of my sex, coating himself in the juices flowing freely from my core.
Each pass of his cock hit my clit, and I clenched tightly, try hard not to come.
“You’re already close, aren’t you?” He asked, as his free hand came up my side, underneath my shirt.
When his hand found one nipple, I had to clench my hands into fists, digging my fingernails into the palm of my hand to keep my mind distracted.
This was a new game of Grayson’s, seeing how much he could tease me before I came.
Most of the time I could wait at least until he was inside me, but today he’d been sending my sexy texts, as well as bordering on pornographic photographs since early this morning.
I’d been needy and ready to go nearly all day, with no relief in sight.
He chuckled darkly against my ear, and I felt the broad head of his cock against my pussy.
Slowly, he started to push his way inside, sliding in deep with the first thrust home.
He hissed when he was seated fully, while I panted from the fullness.
“Like a fucking dream,” he murmured, pulling back slightly and slamming his hips back forward.
My arms braced harder on the door, and I bent over even more.
With each forward movement, his balls swung, colliding with my clit and sending me closer and closer to the edge.
As if sensing my pending release, he started to pick up the momentum, slamming into me until I had no other recourse but to collapse my body against the door.
He used me hard, and I loved it.
“Close,” he panted into my ear.
Letting my hand wander down to my clit, I started rubbing it in slow circles.
It didn’t take much until stars started to explode behind my eyelids, and pleasure so pure started shooting through me.
Down my spine all the way to my curling toes.
Looping his arm around my hips, he yanked me down hard in time with his thrusts, and within moments he was joining me.
With three short, jerky thrusts, he came inside of me. Grunting with each spurt.
“Mmmm,” he murmured shortly after, stilling inside of me and running his nose along the line of my jaw.
“I’m tired now. I don’t think I can stay awake for cake,” I teased.
He laughed. “That’ll be the day.”
I would’ve hit him if he’d given me the opportunity.
However, one second he was still pulsing inside of me, and the next he was across the room laughing at his hilariousness.
“Not funny,” I glared.
His eyes went hooded as he took in my disheveled state.
“Time to get cleaned up, baby,” he said, tossing me a towel of the nearby table.
I didn’t argue.
I caught it and cleaned myself up, folding it in half and placing it in the trash.
“Yes, dear,” I quipped, as I replaced my shorts around my hips and worked on my shoes and socks.
He came to the seat beside me and waited until I’d gotten my laces tied before pulling me into his arms.
“You’ve made me the happiest man in the world,” he whispered.
I looped my arms around his neck and hugged him tight. “Back at ‘ya, baby.”
He grinned and slapped my ass, the sting jolting me forward.
“Now, let’s go cut our cake,” he said. “I’m pretty sure I heard your mom asking where you were before I came in here.”
He took off out of the room before the roll of toilet paper I threw at him could hit him.
Dammit. She was totally going to kill me.
***
“Grayson, excuse me, y’all know him as Torren, said that if I did a good job tonight, I could be the best man at his next wedding,” Ross coughed. “I mean…oops. Sorry bro.” Ross winked. “So I’ve come up here and stolen this beer bottle to give my obligatory brother speech, and to tell everyone how happy I am for my brother.”
The crowd laughed and Grayson shook his head.
I turned my head and whispered into Grayson’s ear. “You really did say that, didn’t you?”
He closed his eyes and laughed. “I’ll never tell.”
“Anyway, since my brother felt an obligation to make me the best man, I now feel an obligation to ask all the ladies in the room to give up their keys to Grayson’s house. They’re officially married, and I won’t have any women coming into his house. That’s disrespectful to Tru,” Ross continued.
Silence.
I just shook my head. That man just thought he was so fucking funny.
Then, I shit you not, every single fucking woman in the room, including my own goddamned sister, got up and placed key after key in front of Grayson.
Grayson sat stunned as what had to be a hundred keys sat on the table in front of him.
He looked like he’d been punched in the solar plexus.
“Thank you ladies, that was sweet of you.”
Grayson took the mic from his brother and shook his head. “Everybody, the comedian, my brother.”
The crowd roared in laughter.
“Anyway, thanks for that. Now we have Tru doubting the sanity of our line,” Grayson drawled.
Ross bowed once before taking his seat beside my mother, who drew him into a big hug.
Ross was a good fit to our family, and since the day Grayson and Ross finally met in person, they had formed a bond that would never be broken.
“Anyway, I’d like to thank you all for being here tonight. Please, enjoy the free booze. I, of course, know that my fellow Dixie Wardens MC will have no problem doing that, but don’t let them scare you off.” Grayson gave a few of the me
mbers a stern look, causing them to chuckle.
Looking into my eyes, he warmed my heart impossibly more.
“A year ago if you’d have asked me if I’d be here today, I’d have told you that you were nuts. Now, though, I couldn’t imagine my life without Tru in it. Her smile makes me want to get up in the morning. Or maybe it’s the way she shoves her cold feet between my thighs. Whatever the reason, I love the hell out of it, and I’d take a thousand cold feet next to my nuts if that’s what it took to keep her at my side.”
As the crowd laughed, he walked towards me and offered me his hand.
I took it and stood close to him as he spoke one final comment into the mic before setting it down and drawing me into his arms. "And absolutely, under no circumstances, are you allowed to have more than six cats. Ever."
I buried my face into his neck and laughed.
My husband was a fricking’ comedian.
Life went on. For people other than me, too.
I was preoccupied in my new world. The world that Grayson and I had created. It was an awesome world.
One where we were so blissfully unaware of things to come.
Chapter 22
Ice. Bank. Mice. Elf.
(Say it out loud)
-Text from Tru to Torren
Torren
Marriage-Month one.
“She’s driving me fucking insane,” I murmured, head falling back to rest on the pillow beside my wife.
My wife snorted, but continued to read the book that she hadn’t gotten more than a foot away from her face since I’d gotten in.
She was mad at me.
She knew that I knew it, too.
But the fact that she was mad at me for something so inconsequential really blew my mind.
I mean, seriously. It was a goddamned horse dog! Why the fuck did she want a dog so goddamned big?
But no, she wanted the dog. So we got the dog. And now she was locked up in the cage where I’d told Tru she had to stay while we were potty training her.
I’d stepped in a puddle of pee in my bare socks yesterday, which had been the final straw.
Not to mention the laces from my boots had been chewed off this morning as I’d laced them up to go to work on an engine at my shop.
The look Tru had sent me as I walked into the door later had been positively glacial.
I’d had a cage delivered from Trance while I was gone, which should do for the first couple of months or so. Not forever, but I didn’t plan on having her in there forever. Just until she learned how to piss and shit outside, which my wife didn’t seem to be understanding.
The dog continued to bark, but since I was used to annoying noises when I tried to sleep, I eventually did, much to the chagrin of my wife.
I woke to quiet sniffling, and rolled over to find Tru huddled in on herself, curled into a ball, crying as quietly as possible.
Reaching over, I pulled her limp body into my arms and cradled her against my chest, curling my body around hers as she wept.
“Why are you crying?” I asked quietly.
“My book was awful. The hero died,” she sniffled.
I blinked, surprised by that answer.
“Okay…I don’t really know what to say to that. Don’t read books by her anymore,” I offered a solution.
She sniffed. “It was beautiful. I’m glad I read it. Although, I don’t think I’ll read it again. I got very attached to the character, and he died of cancer before the book ended. Romances aren’t supposed to have bad endings like that.”
I wanted to roll my eyes and, instead, said nothing.
I was pretty sure she wouldn’t like me telling her she was being ridiculous.
“Grayson?” Tru asked after my eyes started to drift closed.
Keeping them closed, I grunted, “Hmm?”
She traced an imaginary circle on my skin with her finger before she finally broached what was really bothering her.
“Would you think less of me if I got cancer and decided to take a medication that helped assist in suicide?” She asked.
My heart froze in my chest, and all signs of sleep were drained from my body. Replacing it was terror.
Getting up on an elbow, I flipped the light on and stared into her eyes. “What’s really going on?”
She squinted at me, the bright light bothering her eyes.
Leaning forward so it wasn’t directly in her line of sight, I stared at her beseechingly.
She took a deep breath. “You know it’s possible that I could get breast cancer. It runs in my family.”
I nodded. “Yeah, but only with your mother. And that could’ve been just a fluke of nature. Why are you saying this?”
She shook her head. “I’m not really sure. I just wanted you to know that it was a possibility. And I wanted to know if you’d let me go if I wanted to be let go. If something where to happen, and I was to live half a life, I would hope that you’d let me go.”
Leaning forward, I kissed her softly on the mouth.
“How about we worry about that when it comes down to it. But know one thing,” I said, leaning in close. “I’ll never give up on you. I’ll fight Satan and God himself to keep you with me. You’re mine, and I’m yours. And you will fight for me if it ever comes down to it. Because if you’re gone, what do I have left?”
She wisely chose not to answer that, and instead closed her eyes, leaning her head against my bare chest.
I reached over and turned off the light, bringing the covers up high over our bodies before I lay awake for nearly another hour thinking about what she’d said.
I really would never give up on her. Ever.
***
Torren
Marriage- Month three
“Your woman’s here,” Kettle said, pointing in the direction of my wife who was pulling up at the four way stop.
I smiled at her and started jogging toward her.
We were in the process of having the annual ‘Fill the Boot’ donation drive that would provide the children of Benton, Louisiana with a new jungle gym. Each year, we chose a different charity to donate to, and all the money we collected, while working the main intersection, would go to filling that charity’s need for that year.
Then we’d stand at the intersection and collect money from the motorists who passed through the intersection.
Each year we’d collect right around two grand. Then we’d match whatever we made, making it a sizable donation for a worthy cause.
She smiled up at me when I got to the car window and handed me a box.
“I just wanted to bring this by to you. Give me a kiss, I’m meeting some friends,” Tru said, handing over a long slender box wrapped in red with a giant (and by giant, I mean the size of my head) bow.
“Who’s it for?” I asked curiously.
She laughed as she started creeping away, “It’s for you, silly. Maybe you should sit down while you open it. Wouldn’t want to break anything.”
With that cryptic comment, she accelerated through the intersection, stopped where Kettle was standing, and tossed him the entirety of her change tray before driving away.
“What’s that you got there?” Sebastian asked once I got back to my post.
I shrugged and opened the package, ripping the massive bow off and letting it fall carelessly to the ground.
“That’s littering,” Kettle yelled across the intersections.
I gave him a hand gesture and ripped off the paper, surprised when there was nothing in the box.
Folding back the paper, little pieces of pink and blue confetti floated down to the asphalt at my feet.
“There’s nothing here,” I said as I emptied the box, shaking it.
Sebastian’s eyes flicked to the paper, the box, then he gestured towards the paper that was at my feet. “What’s that?”
I looked down at the pieces of blue and pink paper, dropping down to my haunches to get a closer look.
Picking up a handful, I held it out to him.
Holding it between two fingers, he held it up to my face, and I read.
A car stopped and handed Kettle a five dollar bill, but I couldn’t even muster up a smile.
It was a good thing I was squatting down already, because the next thing I knew I was flat on my ass.
“Holy…fucking…shit,” I breathed.
“What?” Kettle yelled once the truck sped off.
Sebastian was laughing his ass off, so much so that he couldn’t even manage to tell Kettle what the deal was.
I, of course, couldn’t either. My mind was in a fog.
Kettle jogged over, and I watched him come as if I was in some sort of time warp.
Was she really?
“Well?” Kettle asked, once he reached our sides.
Sebastian pointed at the pile of confetti at my feet, causing Kettle to bend down and pick up a handful.
Then, without further ado, a brilliant smile lit his face and he whooped. “You’re gonna be a daddy!”
Black spots started dancing in my vision, and I felt what amounted to panic welling my throat.
But a weird sense of pride was there as well. Love. Hope.
“Boom, bitches!” Kettle whooped.
I shook my head, clearing my vision just in time to see Sebastian snapping a photo of me, smiling. “That’ll be going on the wall at work.”
I flipped him off.
A dad.
Holy shit!
***
Marriage- Month five
“You got eyes on him?” I asked Silas.
We were all crowded around the bar. Eight Dixie Wardens strong. As well as Daniella, Frank, and my brother.
It’d started out as a party, and turned into a clandestine meeting to talk about what we were going to do with Bobby. The man who had it out for my wife.
Silas nodded. “Still in prison. He’s gonna make parole, though. He’s not gotten into one single fight the entire time he’s been in there. Boy’s good. Knows to keep his nose clean. Not even a single complaint from guard or prisoner alike.”
I ground my teeth together.
That ‘boy’ was dead-fucking meat.
Bobby Prescott deserved a lot more than two years in prison, with the possibility of parole at fifteen months. Eight of which he’d electively served as he waited for the trial. Which meant he would be eligible in a little over six months.
Charge to My Line Page 17
