by Deja Voss
“What are you doing up?” he asks.
As he turns to look at me, I realize how bloodshot his eyes are. It looks like he’s been standing here crying. It’s terrifying, knowing whatever this man did tonight broke him. Guys like that don’t break. Guys like that do the breaking.
“What did you do?” My lip trembles as I push myself another step closer to him. I don’t care what he did, I just want to know how how to make it better. “Are you okay?”
“Everything’s going to be fine, Jewel.” He straightens his posture and runs his finger through his hair like he just snapped out of something. “Go to bed.”
“I want to make you better,” I say. “Let me help you.”
“Go to bed.” He leans in and whispers in my ear, “and take off that ridiculous outfit. All of it.”
My heart flutters at the feeling of his breath on my neck. My mind races at the idea of his command. I know my body is a wreck, but I’d rather him use me for whatever he needs than go out and do whatever he did again. We can talk about all this in the morning.
I shut the door behind me and slowly make my way to the bedroom. My pussy throbs at the thought of taking all of him, of letting him fuck me through the wall as dumb as it is right now.
I maneuver my way to the bed, sliding out of my clothes until I’m naked under the sheets. I lay there waiting, feeling like a rat about to be fed to a snake, only I’m extremely turned on. Even the feel of the cool sheets on my flesh feels like it could push me over the edge as my nipples harden and my hands travel between my thighs.
I smell him before I see him, the scent of sandalwood and cloves from his body wash and it turns me on even more than I thought. His shadow appears in the doorway for a brief second and to my surprise he turns the lights on. My eyes struggle to adjust to the brightness.
Standing before me is a man who looks like he wants to devour me alive. He licks his lips and tugs the sheets down and I am fully exposed, ready for the taking.
“I said all of it,” he says, thumbing at the elastic of my panties. He pulls them down over my thighs, and before I can say a word, he pushes them into my mouth. My eyes grow wide and he stares into them with a twisted smirk on his face. “Fucking beautiful.”
His dick is rock hard in his black boxer briefs and his abs ripple underneath his sexy layer of chest hair. I breathe through my nose, and let out a little squeal through my fabric stuffed mouth, pointing at my busted arm with my good arm. I would let him break me into a million pieces if he wanted, but I don’t want to get carried away.
“I’m not gonna hurt you, beautiful,” he says. “Not right now, at least. Gimme some time and I’m sure I’ll fuck this all up.”
His words sting. They make whatever we have right now feel suddenly temporary. I try not to read into it as he kisses down my neck, my skin turning to goosebumps everywhere he touches.
“I just want a taste tonight,” he growls, his lips lingering on my hip bone, until my back arches into the mattress. “When’s the last time you had your pussy worshipped, sweetie?”
A chill runs down my spine as he nibbles on my hip. He parts my legs with his big strong hands, his fingers digging into the flesh of my thighs and instinctively I go to close them. He looks up at me, a knowing smile on his face. “So wet for me,” he whispers. I nod, and before I can even blink, his tongue is teasing my clit with soft little flicks, not enough to release the pressure building inside me, but more than enough to stoke the fire.
I feel both helpless and empowered, and the look in his eyes tells me he knows exactly what he’s doing. He flattens his tongue, lapping me up and down as the juices pour from me. Every time he moans, I feel like I’m about to go over the edge.
“I could do this every day if you’d let me,” he whispers, and shoves a finger inside of me, slowly pushing it in and out. I moan through the fabric in my mouth as my eyes roll back in my head. I would let him do this all day every day if he wanted. Whatever makes him happy. I feel like I hit some sort of fucked up jackpot, and the prize is endless orgasms and home cooked meals whenever I want.
Maybe this is my reward for all the pain in suffering in my life, or maybe Brass is right, this is just the hint of pleasure I get before all the pain comes crashing over me like it always does.
My pussy trembles as he flattens his tongue to my clit, the orgasm violently overtaking my body. For one glorious moment, I am not inside my body. I am on the ceiling watching down over this gorgeous man playing my body like a well tuned fiddle. My thighs tremble and he gently traces his fingers up and down my flesh, prolonging this glorious moment as I struggle to catch my breath.
He kisses his way back of my stomach with such tender care, and he pulls the panties out of my mouth and presses his lips to mine with this fiery passion, sharing my taste with me.
“I want to make you feel good,” I plead. I want to taste him, touch him, give him my everything, even though my battered body really isn’t up for the task. I want to hold on to this night forever, and never let him go. I made that mistake once, and I’m not doing it again.
He kisses me gently on the forehead. “You already did, beautiful.”
He spoons up next to me in the bed, his warm body delicately encompassing mine in a gentle embrace. His lips press into my back, and before I can gather my thoughts, he’s fast asleep.
Am I really this lucky or am I really just fucked? I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to not think about tomorrow, trying not to play what he said on a loop in my mind, trying not to think about the blood or the tears or what the fuck actually happened tonight leading up to this. What the fuck even happened in my life leading up to this?
I’m crazy about him. I want to be with him. I want to spend the rest of my life with him if he’ll have me.
Nothing ever comes easy for me. Oh, to be the kind of person who could just pass out like him, not a care in the world.
Chapter Eighteen
Brass:
I’m the happiest fucking man on the planet, and it’s only seven am. I already ran twelve miles, showered, and started making a breakfast feast fit for a king. Or, my queen, I suppose.
I whisk the eggs in the bowl and toss in a little bit of vanilla, cinnamon, and some butter extract, a trick my mom taught me to make the pancakes extra decadent. Bacon sizzles in the frying pan and I start a pot of coffee brewing.
If I could live every day of my life like this, waking up next to that sweet angel and doing everything in the world to please her, I would. I know sooner than later our little fantasy bubble will be coming to an end, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to stop trying like hell to make her want to keep me around.
She appears in the doorway dressed in sweatpants and robe, and I salivate at the way her tank top is stretched so tight across her chest I can see the outline of her perky nipples. She props herself up on one crutch and stands there like she’s waiting for a fucking written invitation to come inside.
“Good morning beautiful.” I walk over to her and plant a kiss on her forehead. She sinks her head into my chest. “I wasn’t sure if you were a pancake or a french toast kind of person, so I made both.”
“Brass, we need to talk.” Her voice is stern, and it crackles a little bit as she speaks.
“No, I don’t think I like the sounds of that,” I say. “No talking until you have a good breakfast in you.”
She rolls her eyes at me, but sits down at the table, and I pour her a fresh glass of orange juice. “Just because you’re cute and make good food, doesn’t mean you’re off the hook.”
At least she thinks I’m cute. I don’t think anybody’s used that word to describe me since I was a baby.
I put a stack of pancakes in front of her and rub her shoulders as she coats them in syrup.
“Brass, what happened last night?” She pushes her food around her plate with her fork, looking up at me with her big brown eyes. “Why did you run off?”
“I had to take care of something.” I’m not used to bei
ng held accountable for the things I say or do. I don’t answer to anybody.
“Were you with another woman?” she asks, dropping her fork to her plate. Her hands are shaking and she looks like she wants to crawl out of her skin.
“Why would you say that?” I ask. I feel like I’m being stabbed in the heart. Since the day I laid eyes on her, it was only her. It was only ever going to be her. Any woman I was with in the past isn’t even a footnote in my life. It was always Jewel.
“This isn’t my first rodeo. You think I didn’t know where Barney ran off to every time he got pissed about something? You think I didn’t see it happen before my eyes when I worked at the bar?”
“I’m not fucking Barney,” I say, tossing the frying pan into the sink. I want to throw more stuff. Punch more stuff. I don’t know how to get it through her head. Barney was a piece of shit who didn’t even deserve to breathe the same air as her.
I storm off down the hallway.
“And there you go, running away again,” she calls after me. “This isn’t fair, Brass. I’m here one hundred percent of the time. You’re my only access to the real world. I’m expected to believe everything you tell me, but you don’t tell me shit!”
“I’m trying to protect you.” I stand by the backdoor, looking out the window, knowing I could turn that knob and escape this conversation and she wouldn’t be able to do a damn thing about it. Why can’t she just let me be the man I want to be with her? I am trying to give this girl the world on a platter, and she wants more. She wants the one thing I don’t want to give.
I slide to the floor, curling up in a ball, clutching my head in my hands. Why can’t she just believe I’m a good guy? I’ve never given her a reason to think otherwise.
Her hand is cold on my face. “I saw the blood on your hands last night. I saw the way you were looking in the mirror. You looked so sad, Brass.”
“You weren’t supposed to see that.” I squeeze my eyes shut, holding my body perfectly still, hoping if I don’t move, she’ll just go away and let me be a weirdo all by myself.
“I was supposed to see that, Brass. If we’re going to be together, I’m supposed to see it all. Good, bad, I don’t care. It’s not always sunshine and rainbows.”
“If we’re going to be together, I need to protect you,” I mumble.
She slides down to the floor next to me, and wraps her arms around me to the best of her ability. “Did you go to Floyd’s place last night?” she asks.
I still haven’t processed what went down at the farmhouse last night. As enforcer of the MC, I know I did what I was supposed to do. I eliminated the threat. I got the bad guy. I cut off the head of the snake. The things he said to me about my dad are still ringing in my mind, though. “Yeah.”
“Then what the hell do you need to protect me from now, Brass? If you took care of Floyd, who do you need to protect me from?”
“I can’t do this,” I mumble. It hurts worse than any punch, stab, or bullet wound, knowing I’m breaking this woman’s heart by not letting her in.
She presses her lips to mine softly. “I want it all, Brass. Look at me. I can handle it.”
I take her hand in mine and bring it to my lips. I stare into her eyes, trying to figure out if she’s truly serious about her request. Her eyes say yes, but I don’t talk about this shit with anybody. I’ve built up these walls on purpose, so that nobody else has to go through the hell I’ve been through.
“Gin told me about your mom,” she says. “I’m very sorry about what happened to her. That had to have been really sad.”
“It hurts me every day. Whenever I think I’ve moved on, there’s always something there to remind me of how bad I failed her. Everything I do is because of her, Jewel. The way I live my life, I’m always repenting.”
She runs her fingers through my hair then places her hand right on my heart. She doesn’t say a word, doesn’t push me, doesn’t ask me any questions, and for some reason, it makes me want to rip myself open and let her inside. It makes me want to give her everything. This woman understands me, and all it takes is one look.
“Do you maybe want to go for a walk?” I ask. “It’s really nice out today. The doctor said you need to start moving around more to get the blood flowing.”
“Outside?” she asks, her eyes lighting up.
My heart breaks again thinking about how this woman has only seen these four walls for the last month and a half thanks to my club and our choices. I don’t ever want her to feel trapped again. I want her to be free to live however she wants, and somehow opening up to her gives me this freedom that I’ve been craving my whole life. Better than my bike. Better than the gym. Better than sex and drugs and booze and whatever else I can shove in my body to try and numb it all. I want to tell her everything and I want her to tell me everything.
“Can we go finish those pancakes first?” I ask. “I ran twelve miles and I gotta get some carbs in me before I wilt.”
She laughs through her nose. “I don’t think I’ve ran twelve miles in my entire adult life. What the fuck was chasing you?”
“Do you really want to know the answer to that?” I ask, scooping her up in my arms and planting a kiss firm on her lips as I carry to her to the kitchen. She doesn’t need to know about my fear, my addictions, my regret, this heavy weight I carry with me everywhere I go. She doesn’t need to know that I just found out last night my father is even worse than I thought, and that when he gets out of prison, he’s probably going to make both of our lives a living hell.
“You know I do,” she says, a single tear running down her face. “I can’t make you better unless you let me.”
She might not know it, but just by existing she’s making me better. I wipe her tear with my hand, and promise myself I’m never gonna make this girl cry again.
Chapter Nineteen
“If you start hurting too much, we can stop. I can carry you. We don’t have to keep going.” She steadies herself on my arm as we walk across the backyard. I can tell by the look on her face, she’s fighting back a grimace.
“You’re not carrying me,” she says with a chuckle. “We might have to stop and take a break soon, though.”
“Whatever you need,” I say. It makes me feel like the luckiest man on earth having her on my arm. Out here in the woods, just the two of us, I don’t have a care in the world. I can’t remember the last time I felt so at peace, other than last night when I was between her thighs. Being with her is like meditation on steroids, like nothing could ever go wrong.
“I feel like such a piece of crap. I never asked anyone for anything in my life. I always figured it out myself. I don’t know what’s harder, the physical pain or the mental torment. At least I can go to the bathroom by myself now,” she says with a laugh. We walk a few more steps and she stops in her tracks, squeezing my arm, struggling to catch her breath. “You’re not gonna throw me away when I’m better are you? This isn’t like your fetish?”
“Everything about you is my fetish, Jewel. In sickness and health. Trust me, you just wait til you’re all healed up and I’ll show you exactly what I’m all about,” I say, raising my eyebrows.
She licks her lips and raises her eyebrows and visions of her tied up to my bedposts while I make her cum until she begs me to stop flash through my mind. So many things I want to do to her. I’m a patient man, though.
“Let’s try and make it to that tree and we’ll take a break,” I suggest. She lets go of my arm and starts power walking down the trail, barely limping at all.
“See! I’m getting better!” she shouts over her shoulder. “Maybe you could give me a preview of what you have in mind.”
God, she makes me hard.
She puts her back against the tree and pouts her lips and bats her eyelashes. I lean into her, my face just inches from hers, smelling the sweetness of her shampoo mixed with the delicious sweat dripping down from her neck.
“What about you? Are you just using me for my dick? Is that your fetish? Preying
on unsuspecting guys like me?”
“Oh yeah, Brass,” she coos dramatically. “You’re so innocent and unsuspecting.”
I kiss into the air and she kicks me in the knee.
“Looks like your legs are working just fine now, huh?”
“To be honest, that kind of sucked it all out of me,” she says, hanging her head.
“Well maybe you should get comfy and suck something all out of me.” I raise my eyebrows and she throws her head back and laughs.
She slides her way down the tree and starts to unzip my jeans.
“I really didn’t think that was going to work,” I say. She looks up at me with those devious eyes, her smile innocent, but her lips begging for sin. She frees my hard cock from my boxer briefs and pumps it in her hand staring at me the whole time.
“Normally it wouldn’t, but you’ve been so good today, I think you deserve a reward.” She parts her lips and swirls her tongue over the tip of my cock. I’ve imagined this moment a million times in my head, but feeling her mouth on me in real life is more than I can handle. I brace my arm against the tree as she takes me deeper and deeper. The sound of her gagging drives me wild and I gently twist her hair up in my palm so I can see her beautiful face taking me all in.
“You keep doing that, babe, and I’ll tell you whatever you want,” I groan. She has the power, and I want her to know it. The power to make me weak. The power to make me lose control.
She works my dick like an expert, and when I look down, she’s rubbing her nipples through her shirt and I can’t hold it in any longer. I love knowing how much it turns her on to please me.
“Where do you want me to cum?” I ask.
She grabs the back of my thighs and squeezes, holding me in her mouth until I explode. She licks her lips and smiles at me, and I don’t know whether I want to kiss her and hold her or bend her over and plow her into next week. She’s my slutty little angel.
