by Rie Warren
Ahhh. The horrifying circumstances surrounding the reason for Grace’s pregnancy.
I hardly knew the woman yet I had a hard time not tearing up.
Thank goodness she’d been saved, and it seemed like she’d saved her man as well.
All the men were captivated by the new baby, none more so than Slade who cradled her in his big arms as if she was the most treasured child in the world.
“Oh, she’s precious.” I sighed.
Saint nuzzled my temple. “She is, right?”
“There’s Grace!” Mercy waved and cried all at the same time.
The woman in the hospital gown with the long curly hair definitely had the mother-glow about her. Slade led her to a rocking chair in the near corner and placed Haven in her arms before pressing a kiss against her lips.
Then . . . oh then. A moment that had me squeezing onto Saint’s bicep and everyone spellbound.
“Is he . . . ?” Angel’s voice rumbled low.
“Holy fuck. ’Bout damn time.” Saint’s arm ringed around my waist, fingers trembling.
“Get it, man!” Revenge shouted.
And everyone ssshhhh’d him.
“If I faint right now, I want a big strong sexy man to catch me, m’kay?” Paul was as breathless as the rest of us.
With Grace holding their precious Haven, Slade went down on one knee.
A tear escaped from Grace’s fluttering lashes as her lips parted.
We couldn’t hear anything, but Slade’s intent and their all-consuming emotion were so blatantly obvious no words were needed.
Slade dipped his head then peered up at Grace as she caressed the side of his face. He took her hand, kissed her fingers, then presented a ring that shone as brightly as their eyes and their love.
Her reaction was palpable. She nodded vigorously, kissing all over his face until he lifted her from the rocker—holding both fiancée and new baby—to slide the engagement ring home.
The silent loving tableau was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
I sniffed, and I wasn’t alone.
All of Blood Legion and Paul tried to stay quiet but they were obviously ecstatic with huge grins and thumbs up and fists in the air.
“That was wonderful.” Turning into Saint’s arms, I gazed up at him.
Eyes mossy, he hooked his hands around me. “It was.”
The silence seemed to extend into something more intense—a private haven between Saint and me.
Something about the excitement of a birth and the pure happiness of Slade and Grace’s engagement made me forget any last reservations about this MC. Made me forget any misgivings I had about Saint.
Saint smiled at me. “What now? Wanna come back to Thunder Road?”
I looked at him as if considering his invitation, but I already had something else in mind.
Caleb was on an end-of-the-year overnight school trip, and Momma Joan had volunteered to chaperone. With a perfectly framed lie to tell Saint and a house all to myself, I couldn’t imagine a better way to make use of my place.
Tucking two fingers into the waist of his low-slung jeans, I invited, “Want to come back to my house?”
Chapter Thirteen
SAINT
DAMN. COULDN’T BELIEVE HONORÉ was putting the moves on me this time. And inviting me back to her place?
Must be something lucky about weddings and births, and I was ready to take full advantage. But . . .
I pulled her teasing fingers from my jeans and tucked her under my arm. “Where’s Momma Joan gonna be, because I know you’re not gonna be able to keep quiet.”
“She’s away on a girls’ trip.”
“Girls?”
“Well, that’s pretty much how she still thinks of herself.” Honoré bumped her hip into my leg, and it was a good thing I’d shifted her to my side otherwise she’d have come right up against the hard encroachment of my cock.
The rest of the Blood Legion crew milled away from the nursery, more than one of them swiping at their eyes.
Yeah, it was about damn time Slade finally proposed to Grace. Couldn’t imagine a better time for it either than after the birth of little Haven Elizabeth.
Even all pink and scrunch-faced, the tiny baby was pretty damn cute. She was gonna be doted on by all, that was for damn sure.
We trooped to Grace’s room, which was still vacant, and loaded up the surfaces with our baby loot. The balloons, the flowers, a box of cigars for the proud papa, and of course, the dozens of presents.
“How’s Grace gonna know this is from me if I don’t hand it to her personally?” Revenge moaned. “Want her to know I didn’t shank her on the baby gifts and things.”
Paul strode over to him then dragged a finger down his chest. “Well, hottie sexy biker candy, didn’t you add a gift card?”
“Didn’t think of that.”
Come to mention it, neither had I.
In fact, all of us idiots had forgotten to add tags or whatever to our presents.
In the end, we just scrawled our names in Sharpie on the various packages and bags.
Not Paul though. Of course not.
He had the biggest gift of all, done up in ribbons and bows so it was just as flamboyant as his Mistress Bunny persona. Just hoped he hadn’t mixed up a sex swing with a baby swing.
After we reached the lobby, Angel called over to me and Honoré. “You guys coming with? Going back to Thunder Road to turn it up.”
“Nah. Got other plans.”
Hell yes I did. I had a woman in heat to see to.
Back in her car, I tried to notch the seat even farther back but got no traction. Didn’t matter, the sedan was serviceable enough. Nothing merely serviceable about the stunning blonde beside me. Fuck, given half the chance, I’d make it my whole life’s mission to keep her happy.
Happy and well fucked.
At her house, I hopped around to grab her cello from the trunk before plucking her from the car.
She smiled at me like a man had never been a gentleman with her before.
Not that I had a lot of experience with that either, except I for damn sure knew how to treat a lady like her.
I unlocked her front door and stepped back to let her enter.
Shutting the door while she flicked on some lights, I held up the cello. “Where’s this go?”
“I’ve got a little room at the back. Could you?”
I could do any damn thing she ever asked of me.
Again, I didn’t snoop behind closed doors, instead I headed straight down the hall to what had to be her music room, converted from a screened-in porch.
Blowing out a low whistle, I freakin’ marveled at the collection of instruments. I gently placed the cello down then walked slowly around the red-painted room. An upright piano, her accordion, the violin, an acoustic guitar . . . There were several stands with potted plants and one large oak desk—no chair—absolutely covered in sheet music. Some of which must’ve been her originals because they were penciled in.
Dating a musical genius. Holy fuck.
“What do you think?” she asked from behind me, a husky quality to her voice that came out when she sang.
“I think you’re goddamn amazing.” I made tracks back to her.
She laid her hands on my bare forearms. “I think you are too. My own sexy tattoo artist.”
Walking her backward to the nearest wall, I was intent on proving how amazing we were together . . . when we fucked.
Her shoulders hit the wall then my groin crashed against her belly.
Her eyes jumped to mine, and her voice rose. “Want something to eat?”
I nipped at her lips then lathed her mouth with my tongue. “Damn right. I expect my woman to cook for me.”
She punched me in the ribs.
“I’m kidding. How about we clobber some sandwiches together?” I laughed. “But first . . .”
Dipping down, I claimed her mouth. My tongue rippled against hers, and I drew her hands up, pressing them
against the wall. With the angle perfect, I slowed the kiss, groaning into her succulent mouth with my tongue slashing inside.
I finally drew back, heat gathered in my cock and cum brewing in my balls.
“How’s about that food?” My voice rumbled, and I released her from the wall.
I swatted her ass on the way to the kitchen, and she retaliated by stopping, flipping up the back of her skirt, and slowly lowering her panties all the way down her legs and off her feet.
She stepped out of the silky scrap, flinging back a flirty look. “Why don’t you just spank my bare ass, Saint?”
And I had one final look at her peachy ass before she dropped the skirt back in place and continued to the kitchen.
Well, Christ.
Honoré was on fire tonight.
I thought about not pocketing her panties. For about one second. The warm fabric scrunched in my palm, I grunted in a deep vibration.
In the kitchen, I discovered her bent over with her head inside the open fridge. Fucking hell, the pearly lips of her pussy peaked out beneath the short hem of her skirt.
I walked up and yanked her right back against my cock.
“You make me so hard, baby.” One of my hands gripping her waist, the other tucked under her skirt and clasped the front of her thigh.
Blue eyes ignited, she glanced back. “Are you going to fuck me right here, Saint?”
“Goddamn should.” Reaching up, I palmed her tummy beneath the vest, snaking her lower body against mine.
Then I pushed off her. “But we’re not getting’ out of bed again tonight, so I need you to keep up your strength.”
With an armful of vegetables and bread and meat, she booted the fridge shut. “Maybe it’s you who needs to keep up his strength.”
“We’ll see.” I smirked, knowing I could go all night with her.
No problem.
I took the food from her arms, and she went back for mustard and mayo. I found a cutting board and a big kitchen knife—though I could’ve just used the bowie.
“Want a beer?” she asked.
“Please.”
Her free hand skated down the center of my back to the top of my ass when she placed the beer in front of me.
I tried not to squirm, but beads of sweat popped out on my temples.
And I watched when she drew a fingertip down the salty track on my skin then popped it into her mouth.
She winked.
I almost nutted.
She made her way across the kitchen, and I inspected the ingredients in front of me. I wasn’t a frigging chef or anything, but I knew how to stack a sandwich. We had lettuce, tomatoes, ham and turkey meat, and cheddar cheese.
Honoré’s low melodious humming cut into my concentration, and I glanced up.
Then I didn’t blink.
Standing a few feet away as she lounged against a counter, she took several long draws of her beer, and I did the same. We stared at one another the whole time, and the heat just kept spiraling between us.
Sauntering close again, she made a whole show of reaching up—skirt hiking high—to get some plates and bending down—face at cock level—to gather utensils from a drawer.
Her breath fanned across my thigh, and if I turned just a little, I’d be able to muzzle her with my cock and balls that were trapped inside my jeans.
My tomato slicing faltered, and my voice nearly did too. “What do you want on yours?”
“What do you want on yours?” Still crouched down, she peered directly at the large bulge my dick made in the denim.
I clenched the edge of the counter then, with shaky fingers, I opened my jeans.
I turned to face her, ordering, “Take my cock out.”
Her hand dove into the parted denim, and her fingers met the hard barrel of flesh.
My jaw clenched.
My teeth grinded.
She dragged my cock out through the opening, the piercing already wet with jizz.
She gasped, leaning forward, but I took a handful of hair and stopped her.
“Open up.” I tapped the enflamed crown of my cock against her mouth.
Her lips parted, and I pulled back to keep my meat from her.
I didn’t let her taste until she started trembling and whimpering.
Then I cupped the side of her face, thumb pressing into the corner of her lips, and slowly eased the bloated purple head into her silky wet mouth.
Her eyes flared, and she stared up at me, lusciously swirling her tongue all around the blood-engorged tip and the glistening steel piercing.
“You look fucking good like this, baby,” I whispered roughly, balls jostling with seed.
She tried to drive me deeper inside, but I only let her have the head and the first inch, the rest of my cock bucking and straining, and her little moans making my senses seethe.
Could’ve unloaded into her mouth right then and there, but that wasn’t part of my plan.
Withdrawing from the oval of her lips, I muttered, “That’s all you get for now.”
“Saint,” she keened my name, fingers digging into my thighs while I worked my swollen dick back into my jeans and closed all but the top button.
I knew my grin was completely dirty as I pulled her up to her feet.
I squeezed her ass then let her go, and she stumbled a little. But by the lusty look on her face I knew she wasn’t done tormenting me yet.
I wasn’t wrong.
I busied myself layering slices of bread with meat and cheese, and she lounged right beside me, staring at each move of my hands.
I finished slicing tomatoes, and she slid around behind me. She pressed her irresistible body against me, her roaming fingers walking down from my ribs to the front of my jeans where my cock continued to ache.
“I’m gonna be eating something besides sandwiches if you don’t quit that,” I murmured hoarsely.
With a sexy purr, Honoré reached lower to palm my crowded balls. “You don’t like it?”
“You can damn well tell I like it.” I made myself remove her fingers then hurried to finish assembling the sandwiches.
We sat at the small kitchen table with fresh beers and fresh food . . . and one very fresh woman.
She kept stroking her bare toes along my calves and even somehow managed to make drinking from her bottle a lewd act.
Eating was more like gulping down the sandwiches as fast as possible while trying not to look like I was about to throw her on top of the table so I could ravish her tight body.
The only damn reprieve I got was when she excused herself to the bathroom. I took the opportunity to adjust my hurting cock.
I didn’t know what had gotten her so fiercely horny, but I liked it.
I was biding my time, clearing off the table, when her phone chimed.
I glanced over to see a text on the screen. A text from some dude named Caleb.
The message said:
Miss u! See u tmrw
What the fuck?
An unexpected jolt of jealousy shot through me. The unusual feeling made me all too freakin’ ready to possess my woman again.
Make her mine.
Still wanted to tattoo her too.
Mark her as mine.
Wasn’t gonna ruin the moment by mentioning the mysterious text. Hell, I was the one who shouldn’t have been snooping on her phone. But I sure would like to know who that Caleb guy was.
By the time Honoré returned, I was ready to take full advantage of her.
“C’mere.” I lounged against the sink, arms crossed over my chest.
Her hips swayed sensually as she approached. She’d undone a couple buttons on the vest. With the inner curves of her plump tits peeking out, I could tell I’d been right. No bra.
She stood in front of me, no taller than the top of my sternum, and we didn’t touch.
Sizzling expectation electrified the air around us, and I dragged just the tips of my fingers up from the tats on her hands over her bare arms to settle lightly on the sid
es of her neck.
“You ever fuck in that music room of yours?”
The icy blue of her eyes melted even more, and she gulped. “I’m afraid you might break one of my instruments.”
I hit her with a dark smile. “Another time then. I’m imagining you naked, maybe playing your violin.”
She visibly shivered.
I leaned closer to her ear. “And I’ll be eating that pretty pink pussy of yours.”
“Another time? But that’s what you said about tying me up.”
“I guess it’s this time for that then.” A quick snap of my arms, and I’d scooped her up.
She laughed huskily, arms looped around my neck, legs wound around my waist.
I strode from the kitchen, and she directed me to her room. My hands cupped her bare bottom, fingers dipping along her delicious slit she’d been tormenting me with all evening.
Moaning, she snaked against me, riding along the clothbound ridge of my cock until I groaned and held her tighter.
In her room, I deposited her to the floor and looked her over from head to toe. She looked perfectly primed, gorgeous, and fuckable.
The way her greedy gaze roamed over me in return made me feel feral.
Violently horny.
Possessive.
I slung off my shirt and quickly got rid of my boots and socks. Only in my jeans that still weren’t all the way buttoned, I stalked toward her like a predator.
And she didn’t shrink back from me.
I devoured her hot mouth, savage passion rising inside of me. My fingers went right for the vest, and I thumbed open the buttons before yanking the thing off her arms.
I briefly filled my hands with her tits, our mouths clinging, tongues circling then I hauled back.
A pink blush stained her cheeks, and she toyed with the top of her skirt before slowly lowering one side then the other. Her teasing was driving me out of my mind, but I refrained from ripping the skirt off her. I watched, breath chugging in and out of my chest, as she eased the fabric down, down, down . . . off one hip then the other. The small tuft of blonde hair appeared and, finally, the lush sweetness of her cunt.
The skirt whispered to the floor, and I wanted to attack her so badly I was straining all over.
“Get on the bed,” I demanded.
She arched a brow, and I thought she might sass me back, but lo and behold, Honoré slowly climbed onto the mattress. Her tits hung down, and her plump rump and silky slit were on full display before she rolled to her back.
