"If you keep doing that," she admitted, arching her back. I squeezed her heavy tits, pinching her hard nipples until she was squirming and breathing hard.
Her wetness coated my dick. I hissed when she clenched her plump thighs. The scent of sex formed an invisible cloud around us that fueled the lust that was surging through our bodies. Jesus, I wanted to sink my dick inside her and fuck her bare, but I knew that I would regret crossing that line. I thrust faster, harder, until my balls were slapping loudly against the backs of her thighs.
"Oh, God…" Bailey moaned. "I'm coming!" she cried.
So was I. She began to twitch and quiver, releasing little sounds of pleasure when her body began convulsing through her orgasm. I kept pumping between her legs, and bit down on her shoulder with a groan as I ejaculated all over her thighs, pussy, and the cabinet that we were standing against. My hands were still on her tits. As my control gradually returned, I let my hands slide down her body, outlining the curve of her hips.
A bell dinged on the stove.
Bailey laughed softly. "I better get those out."
I stepped away from her, taking my dick by my hand so that it wouldn't drip all over the fucking floor. I reached for a paper towel and wiped the end while Bailey opened the oven door and removed the tray of cookies. When she placed them on the counter, I handed her a paper towel, glancing down at the mess between her legs.
She blushed a deep shade of red, but kept eye contact. "Thank you."
She didn't move, and I knew it was because I was there. "Need help?"
"I should make you, since you made the mess," she said with spirit.
I raised a brow. "It didn't feel good?"
There was a slight hesitation before she replied, "You know it did." She still didn't move to clean up the cum that was running down her thigh. My cum. "I need some clothes, Moody."
I nodded. "Yeah, you do." I wouldn't mind if she walked around naked. I liked her naked, but I knew that would be a big mistake, considering that I seemed to stay hard around her. "I'll see what I can find." I left the kitchen and went to Maggie's old room, pausing in the doorway after I’d opened the door.
I hated coming into this room.
I closed my eyes and inhaled. I could still smell her favorite perfume. She'd worn it all the time, and exclusively, to the point that it had permeated her belongings. I used to miss that scent, right after she'd died, but now it just brought back a bitter memory and gave me a fucking headache. I ignored the crib, which was still set up the way it had been when Jacob had last been taken out of it. His little blue blanket was bunched up where he'd kicked it off, a stuffed dinosaur pushed into a corner. There was even a bottle laying there, the contents dried out over time. I knew that I needed to gut the room out and get rid of all their things, but for now I just kept the door shut and pretended that it didn't exist.
My fucking heart clenched as I walked to the closet. I pulled a couple of blouses off the hangers, and then some jeans. I skipped the underwear and nightgowns because, fuck, the devil in me wanted to see Bailey wearing my t-shirt again. She was sexy as hell in them, and I didn't want to see her in anything intimate that Maggie had worn. It had been bad enough seeing her in that fucking dress. Maggie had never got the chance to wear it. It still had the fucking tags on it. She'd planned to wear it for our sixth wedding anniversary.
I gave my head a shake to rid it of the memories, and then turned to leave the room. I ran into Bailey outside the door. "Here."
She took the clothes from me. "Where are you getting these?" Her eyes were lowered as she looked through the garments.
"They belonged to my wife."
Her gaze lifted to me with mild surprise. "Wife? You had a wife?" Her tone revealed that she found that hard to believe. "And she just left these behind?" Her curious gaze shifted to the door behind me.
I released a resigned breath. "Something like that." I held up my hand, because I sure as shit didn't intend to answer her questions. I didn't talk about Maggie and Jacob. My past remained where it was; it was the only way that I could get through the fucking day. "Don't forget your fucking cookies," I said, hoping to divert her attention.
She didn't look concerned—not about the cookies anyway--but she was concerned about something. "You said ’belonged’, so you're divorced, right? Please tell me that I didn't have sex with a married man." She looked as if that would be the worst thing she could ever do.
"No," I responded in a sharp tone. Her pretty green eyes rounded with worry. "Let it rest, Bailey. You got your clothes."
"But—" I could see that she was trying to work it out in her head. "Where is she, Moody?"
Oh, Jesus, I had to get this woman out of my house, because if I didn’t fuck her to death I was going to kill her. Her insistent questions were stirring up shit that I couldn't handle, shit that I hadn't had to deal with in a fucking long time. I'd walked by that door every damned day for ten years without a problem. Time had given me that. Time had allowed the memory of Maggie’s taking of her own life to fade into an occasional nightmare.
Whiskey took care of that.
A lot of it.
But nothing took away the pain of her taking our son with her.
I felt a chill run over me. I was staring down at Bailey, and something must have crossed my face, because her eyes turned soft with compassion.
"Moody?" she asked in a tone that revealed that she was afraid of what the answer to her question would be, but could not stop herself from asking anyway.
"She's dead," I grated, and then I walked away.
Chapter 13
Bailey
I'd known as soon as Moody had said the words, "she's dead," that the subject of his wife would be off limits, but I couldn't help but wonder what had happened to her. Anyone would have. It was natural to be curious and to have questions when you were told that someone had died. Knowing Moody and his moods, though, I'd decided not to poke the bear. I'd taken the clothes that he'd gathered for me--hers--and disappeared into the bathroom to dress. Then I'd finished baking the cookies and cleaned up the kitchen. Moody had disappeared somewhere on his property to do some work, he'd said, and I'd spent the afternoon watching TV.
He wouldn't return my phone, and I had a feeling that it would have been dead by now, anyway. He'd hidden my car keys, but I wasn't so sure that I would have gone anywhere anyway as long as Martin was out there. All I knew was that I couldn't stay there with Moody indefinitely. Once Holly was home safe, we would report Martin to the police. Moody wouldn't go into any details about what he and his biker friends had planned, only that he'd let me know when she was safe and away from Martin.
I'd gone to bed exhausted and with Holly on my mind. She'd been the first thing on my mind when I’d awoken a few minutes ago. I could tell that it was still early. It was just starting to turn light outside. The bedroom was gloomy but for the dim light coming in through the open windows. Instead of curtains there were wooden shutters that could be closed and locked against the elements.
I rolled to my side and came face to face with Moody. My eyes widened with surprise. I hadn't even realized that he was in bed with me. When had he come to bed? A better question was why was he in bed with me? I'd have to ask him once he woke; because his eyes were closed and the way that he was breathing revealed that he was still asleep. I took the opportunity to look at him, really look at him.
In sleep he had a nice, friendly face, with none of the usual hardness that was there when he was awake which revealed his ever-present angst. His expression appeared peaceful. There were no worry lines between his eyes, just at the corners. What would have been laugh lines for most people I guessed had been carved out from frowning. His usually tight mouth was relaxed, his lips smooth and sensual. I licked mine, recalling his steamy kisses. He had a strong face, nothing delicate about any of it, especially his square jaw. His nose looked as if it had been broken once and was slightly crooked, and he had a scar above his left eyebrow and another, longer one
against his cheek. His complexion was deeply tanned, which added to his dark, stormy appearance.
I resisted the urge to smooth my hand over his brow. What demons chased this man?
My gaze moved down his thickly corded neck, over his broad shoulders and down his defined pecs. He was resting his head on one bent arm; the other was over his massive chest. Even relaxed, his biceps were solid and significant, the strength in his arms obvious. I continued my exploration down the ripple of his--damn!--eight pack, past his belly button before taking in the thick rope of muscle that zeroed down to his cock from both sides of his hips.
The tattoos gave Moody an edge, as if he needed one. Most of them were tribal, intricate lines and designs, all black but for one small red heart with the name Jacob located on his chest over his own heart. Beneath the name was written 10-2-17. A birth date maybe? I raised my hand to touch it, but found my wrist being grabbed in a vise-like grip that could easily have snapped my bones.
I gasped at his rapid-fire movement, raising my eyes to the dark brown pools narrowing down at me. The beast has woken, I thought.
"What are you doing?" He had that sexy, early morning voice that sharpened my awareness of our proximity and where we were.
"Good morning," I smiled. "I was just checking out your heart tattoo, it's beautiful. Who's Jacob?" I should have asked Moody why he was in bed with me and naked. He closed his eyes to me but not before I saw the flash of pain reflected in them.
Just when I thought he wasn't going to answer me, he said, "My son." He rolled onto his back.
Unlike when he'd mentioned that he’d had a wife, this time I kept my surprise to myself. The pain that was etched on his profile revealed something that I didn't want to even contemplate, but my mind still went there. His wife had died. Had his son died, too? Was the date beneath Jacob's name his date of death and not his birth? A deep emotion swelled up inside me, of heartbreak for Moody. If my instincts were correct, Moody had gone through hell before he’d even started living. It explained a lot about why he was the way that he was.
I watched the slow rise and fall of his chest as he stared up at the ceiling, apparently lost in thought. I swallowed, searching for the words that would break his concentration and bring him back to the here and now, even if it meant that I would be at the receiving end of his moody self. I took a breath for courage.
"I'm sorry. It seems I'm good at dredging up memories that you'd rather not think about."
"Not your fault," he said without feeling, and then, "You had a restless night."
"Yeah," I acknowledged with a grin. "Sorry if I moved around too much. Do you mind telling me why you're in bed with me?"
"It's my bed."
"Oh." That made sense, I guessed. For some reason I'd assumed that he would put me in the guest room, unless he didn't have one. I hadn't really explored the house. "And you always sleep, um, naked?"
This time Moody glanced at me. A tiny twitch on his lips revealed that he was possibly holding back a grin. "Yup. That bother you, waking up next to a naked man?"
I felt heat rise to my cheeks. "Well, you are my first," I admitted. "I've had boyfriends, but they were all too casual to ask them to sleep over."
He snorted. "What about the one who took your virginity?"
I couldn't help but laugh. "That was the result of two clumsy teenagers trying out sex for the first time. I don't even know how we managed to, ah, go all the way, we were so nervous and inexperienced."
"You've had a lot of experience since then."
I frowned. "What does that mean? I've only been with three men." God, I couldn't believe that I'd just admitted that. I felt as if Moody had trapped me. "Did you just trick me into telling you how many men I've screwed?"
This time there was no denying the ghost of a smile that moved across his face. "Does that number include me?"
"Yes, but it doesn't include my first time." I couldn't believe that we were actually having a somewhat normal conversation. This was the most Moody had spoken to me since I'd met him. "I've got a feeling that you've had a ton more experience than me."
"Too many women to count."
"And I'll bet that most of them were one night stands." He didn't say anything. "That's just sad, Moody." The raising of his brow was the equivalent of asking a question. "Don't you find that kind of unsatisfying after a while?"
"Why? I get off."
I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, I saw that the other day in your office. You like marking your women."
He caught me unaware by rolling toward me, which forced me deeper into the bed. "I wasn't marking her, Bailey; I don't do that fucking shit. I came all over her ass because you were watching. You-—" He leaned in until I couldn't sink any further into the mattress, "I was marking."
I opened my mouth in surprise, but he swooped down and covered it with his own.
I didn't have a chance to ask him why he'd marked me, what had made me different. I was lost the instant his hard mouth claimed mine. Moaning, I accepted his deep kiss, returning it with eager enthusiasm. I liked this Moody. This Moody was normal. Well, what I perceived as normal. A good night's sleep had done wonders for his usual gruff exterior. I reached up to wrap my arm around his neck, letting my fingers massage his scalp. His groan of pleasure caused flutters to erupt in my belly.
I was disappointed when he pulled away, but not by the feel of his cock throbbing against my leg. Arousal was stamped strongly on Moody's rugged face. I was wearing one of his t-shirts, but no underwear. His hand fell upon my knee and glided lazily up the inside of my leg until he reached my sex. I whimpered with anticipation, not realizing how badly I'd wanted it until then. Our eyes remained locked as he lightly flicked his finger over my trimmed bush.
"Have you heard from your friends about Holly?" I asked a little breathlessly. I didn't know how long he'd stayed up after I'd gone to bed the night before.
His finger traced the seam of my folds. "Yes. They have her."
I shivered at the delicious feel of him parting my folds. "They have her? Where? Is she okay?"
He ran his finger leisurely up and down my labia. "Demon took her to his clubhouse for safe keeping."
I noticed that he hadn’t answered my question about her condition. It was hard to think with his finger exploring my pussy. I was still sensitive down there, and my body was already in tune with Moody's experienced touches. Wetness gushed from my core. I trembled while trying to remain in control.
"Moody…I need to know--is she alright?" My voice came out a little breathy.
His lips twitched. "You really want to talk about this now?"
My hips left the bed when he sank a finger inside me. He further excited me by tugging on my ear, and then sucking on it.
"Yes!" I gasped before laughing a little. "I'm multitasking." I was trying to have a conversation the same time that my body was on fire from his touch and in need of climax. "Holly is like a sister to me, I love her." He started to pull out but I grabbed his wrist. "Don't stop what you're doing, it feels too damned good."
A low rumble vibrated through his chest. Once again, I marveled at this change in him. "You're a greedy little witch," he commented, adding another finger. I moaned deeply, and when he curled those fingers and hit the sweet spot of nerves, I couldn't think anymore. A few well-aimed flicks and I was rocketing to an orgasm that shocked me in its intense and wet delivery.
I’d squirted, and I'd never done that before. I heard Moody's low laugh of surprise, mortified that I'd just peed all over him. As I struggled to catch my breath and calm my racing heart, I became aware that his hand was still there, palming my sex.
"Oh, God, I'm so sorry, Moody! I've never lost control like that. I'm so embarrassed!"
"Your first G-spot orgasm?” he asked, causing me to open my eyes and face him.
What was he talking about? I'd never heard of such a thing. "What? I--I thought I'd, um, peed on you."
A full smile spread across his face, and for a minute I was held mesm
erized by how it transformed his face. I'd never heard of a G-spot orgasm before. Had he made it up to lesson my embarrassment?
"You didn't pee on me, baby. You had a G-spot orgasm. You squirted. It happens sometimes. Although you're the first woman I've ever been with that had one."
Well, it had never happened to me. For a moment I digested what he’d said, making a mental note to look it up the next time I had the opportunity. I'd heard of women squirting before, but I didn’t know what caused it.
"Your friend is okay physically, but Martin, or whoever was working with him, kept her drugged up."
"Drugged up?" Oh, my God!
"We don't know what he used. She was lifeless and dazed when Demon got to her. All we can do is let whatever's in her system run its course."
"I need to see her, Moody."
He nodded. "Planned on taking you today. The Desert Rebels' compound is about ten miles in the desert."
It was hard to concentrate with his massive hard-on poking me in the side of my leg. He didn't even act as if it were a big deal, much less bothering him. Maybe it was morning wood. I cast a sneaky glance down. The sheet was covering him from the hips down, but movement beneath it revealed that his hand was on his cock, and he was rubbing it absentmindedly. When my gaze drifted back up to his eyes, I recognized the arousal in them.
I leaned forward and kissed the heart over his chest, surprised that he'd let me, and then continued kissing my way down his torso. A hand in my hair pulled my head back, stopping me. Our eyes met and held.
"You don't have to."
Tough. Hard. Cold. His expression said all that and more. Nothing about it was soft or pleading. He was stating a fact, that was all, and letting me know that whatever happened next was totally up to me. His tone said that it didn't matter one way or another, which was a hit to my confidence and whether or not I believed that Moody found me appealing. I had the feeling that if I moved away he really wouldn't have cared. He'd conditioned himself not to care about anything.
Furious (Nomad Outlaws Trilogy Book 3) Page 10
