Save Grace (Blood Legion MC Book 2)

by Rie Warren

  I fucking hated wearing button-ups. Always too tight around my shoulders and neck.

  “Probably because he doesn’t want to catch a bullet in the gut or a blade in his face?” Storm rocked from one foot to the other, and I found myself studying the motion, which must’ve been meant to soothe the baby in the sack.

  I chuckled, totally chill for once. “I can’t actually shoot a gun through the phone. I’m not really a superhero.”

  Grace appeared by my side. “But you are to me.”

  Damn.

  My heart tripped a double beat as soon as she laced her fingers through mine and leaned her breasts against my arm.

  Storm dipped his head to her, having met earlier.

  Then the baby bundle started mewling like a lost kitty.

  Fishing in his pocket, the second-time dad came up with a pacifier and nudged the sucky-part between two rosebud lips. He held the pacifier and shushed, all the while giving me the side-eye that meant: Gimme a sec, this convo ain’t done.

  I took mental notes of his actions and his murmurs, bringing Grace closer so her belly butted my hip.

  With the baby settled, Storm blew out a non-jarring breath, and his stormy gaze settled on me. “Whatever. I’m just the delivery boy relaying the message from Bo, cous. And Bo said to tell you Doc Veronica’s offering two-for-one therapy sessions for you and your woman.”

  At the mention of Veronica, Grace stiffened all over. She’d had the same reaction about the knife I’d retired.

  “I think I’ve got all the therapy I need right here.” To make the point clear to Grace—the woman who mattered most in my life—I dipped down to kiss her with all the need bursting from my body.

  Jesus, I couldn’t wait to get her naked. Get away from all these people. I didn’t need to talk to the doc.

  I’d given up the ghost of Helai.

  I’d found a permanent home.

  And the woman I thought I’d never find finally stood right beside me, and a hot awakening radiated from my heart.

  I didn’t even notice Storm moving away.

  I didn’t even notice the festivities fully kicking off.

  I brushed my palms against the sides of Grace’s face when we stopped kissing. “I want to take you home.”

  “But the money dance just started.”

  “Aren’t your feet tired?” I searched for any excuse.

  “Not yet.”

  She dipped into the throng before I could pull her back to me.

  I saw the flip of her sangria-colored dress from a distance while folks pinned money to Mercy’s gown—another Cajun custom having to do with helping the newlyweds set up house.

  I didn’t dance.

  Wondered if Grace wanted me to, though.

  The night progressed, all the Nawleans traditions observed raucously and the normal nuptial ones too.

  Mercy tossed her bouquet.

  Grace didn’t catch the flowery bundle, but I’d have been thrilled if she did.

  Chase winded up smacked in the face with the flowers that then dropped to his hands.

  Saint heckled, “I knew he had a vag!”

  Before Chase could shout back an insult, someone else called out, “Did someone say vag?”

  In full drag, Mistress Bunny—the man I’d come to know as Paul—entered the courtyard.

  In yards of gold sequins, mile-long glittery lashes, she snapped a feathered fan in front of her face then wagged the fan outward like a fluttery bird.

  She’d taken over The House of Midnight and turned the bordello into a concert hall for drag shows and burlesque performances.

  “Ah heard tell a pretty lady named Mercy tied the knot today.” Bunny perched on top of the bar and, from nowhere, spotlights shined on her so she dazzled in all her knowing display.

  Mercy—prodded by Grace—stepped forward in her wedding gown that only hit knee-high in the front to a full train at the back.

  Bunny leaned over, lips pursed. “Mercy and Angel.” She fluttered her eyelashes. “Oooh. Mistress Bunny bets y’all aren’t as divine as your names, but you sure are tasty.”

  Claps sounded.

  Cheers and applause followed when Mistress Bunny slid from her perch, torso thrust out and head dipped back.

  Grace joined me.

  “You arranged this?” I asked.

  She nodded, a dimple pressed into her cheek. “I missed her.”

  As Bunny waltzed through the crowd, sometimes drawing long nails across men’s chests, sometimes smacking women’s bottoms with her fan, she twirled in front of Mamere.

  “The matriarch, I presume?”

  Mamere nodded, dazzled like the rest of us.

  “Woman to woman, you are lookin’ fine, Miss Thing.”

  For the first time ever, Mamere was silenced.

  Not Revenge though. He just looked like he was about to say something off-color, and I cut in between him and Bunny.

  “Don’t even think about it,” I bit out.

  Bunny hipped me aside. “Oh, honey. Miss Bunny can take care of herself.” She spun toward Revenge, wielding the fan like a weapon. “I heard you like a little ass-play and threesomes. Maybe I can hook you up sometime?”

  Speechless, Revenge grinned.

  The rest of us joined him.

  Hell, this would be a wedding reception for the ages.

  As Bunny sashayed up to the makeshift stage, she waggled her fingers directly at me. “I’m still keeping my eyes on you, Killian Slade. Woof.”

  Her eyes and everyone else’s focused on me while I damn blushed.

  Grace hollered, “He’s mine!”

  And I held her proprietarily against me, whispering against her ear, “And you’re mine.”

  The music started, Mistress Bunny a shimmering light and a growly voice. “Is this a fais do do or don’t?”

  “Do!”

  “Where did you get the spotlights?” I asked Grace.

  “Bunny travels with them.”

  Gritty guitar riffs ripped through the speakers set all around the courtyard, and everyone fell silent.

  Over the mic attached to her head like the radios I’d used to keep in contact with my soldiers, Mistress Bunny belted out a rhythm and blues version of a song I remembered from Rod Stewart.

  The rowdy vibe of “Stay With Me” infected everyone in the courtyard.

  Bunny beguiled. She danced. She crooned. She kicked out her legs and shimmied her hips.

  And all of us cheered and clapped and watched . . . the whole MC.

  Our clan.

  Nomads and loners and Cajuns and folk like me.

  Bunny kept twirling around as her last notes faded.

  I hoped she didn’t fall off the stage what with those stilettos.

  Didn’t have to worry about that though because Mamere—of all the people—went right up to her and started asking what shade of lipstick she was wearing.

  “Oh, hunty.” Bunny jumped off the stage with athletic ease despite the yards of fabric on her gown and the high heels on her feet. “You keep that Mary Kay glow all over you. You don’t want to be an old queer like me when you’re already a queen.”

  Fawning toward me, Bunny did a hop-skip.

  Grace laughed, cheeks bright.

  “Do I get a kiss for my epic performance for the new bride?” Bunny puckered up in front of me then pouted when I thinned my lips. “Why you gotta be like this?”

  “I’m only kissing one woman.”

  She wrinkled her nose before dropping back in an arch and fanning her fan over her face. “Off to more fertile grounds for me then. But if’n I don’t get an invite to the baby shower, I’ll cry into my cups.” Bunny drew her hands to her bosom and shook everything around. “These cups.”

  She left amid more fanfare, and the partying continued. I settled Grace in a chair then brought her a cold drink and a plate of Sol’s barbeque. I was just tucking into a beer and sneaking food off Grace’s plate when Saint plunked down on the other side of me.

&n
bsp; He barely said a word of greeting before swiveling toward the woman who’d taken Bunny’s place on the little square stage. She perched on a stool, singing a soulful tune and playing an acoustic guitar.

  “Who the hell’s that?” Saint spared me a glance before returning his gaze to the woman with rapt attention.

  “Not the first fucking clue.”

  The woman had a throaty singing voice, and plucked at the guitar with hands covered in delicate lace-like tats. She had on a long flowy skirt and a silky tank top, and I’d never laid eyes on her before.

  Angel—the happily married groom all decked out in a gray tux although he’d dropped his jacket and tie too—stood nearby with an arm slung around Mercy’s waist.

  He whispered something in Mercy’s ear, tapping his foot to the rhythm of the tune.

  “Hey, Angel. Who’s the broad up there?” Saint shouted to him.

  “That’s Mercy’s favorite street artist. Hired her to play for an hour or two.”

  I highly doubted he and Mercy were gonna stick around long enough to hear the entire set. He looked as impatient to get gone with the new wife as I was to get Grace out of here and home so I could explore whatever she had on under the sexy sangria dress.

  Saint snorted. “Another one of Mercy’s buskers then.”

  Mercy peered around Angel. “Her name happens to be Honoré. She’s very talented, Saint.”

  He grumbled something under his breath, but he didn’t stop staring at Honoré. In fact, whenever he caught himself beginning to smile or tap his fingers on the table, he immediately stopped and scowled.

  Interesting.

  Even more interesting, later I happened to be standing nearby when Saint seemed to have come to some sort of decision—or maybe he just found his balls. Because he ambled up to the lady in question, wearing another deep frown. Not the most inviting look he could’ve mustered if he was aiming to make a play on the singer.

  He sort of tapped the blonde woman on the shoulder as she took a break to drain a bottle of water. Saint towered over her, a big scowling hulking shadow.

  “Um, care to dance before you have to get back on stage?” he asked, voice a low rumbling growl.

  Honoré slowly lowered her water, gave Saint a long and thorough perusal, then said point blank, “I don’t think so.”

  She left Saint standing there, glaring even more fiercely, and I chuckled at the cold burn he’d just been served.

  Grace sauntered over, one hand smoothing over the hill of her belly. “What are you smirking about?”

  “Saint just got his ass handed to him by that singer.” I brought Grace into my arms, kissing the top of her head.

  “So, do you want to stay here and watch him get humiliated some more or are you ready to take me home?”

  “Tired?” I dropped a hand to rub the small of her back.

  “No.” From beneath thick lashes, she cast me a definitely inviting glance.

  Ohhhh. She wanted to go to bed, and not to sleep.

  I couldn’t hustle her out of there fast enough, barely stopping to say a final congrats to the married couple. Then I squired Grace home, thankful we lived only a short walk away from the bar.

  In our bedroom a few minutes later, I threw my jacket and tie onto a chair and finished unbuttoning my shirt.

  Grace came to me, her hands running all over my chest as she spread the shirt wide.

  “Sorry I didn’t dance with you earlier.” I hummed beneath her touch, cock thickening into a rigid spike. “Wanna dance now?”

  “I’m not as nimble as I used to be.” Wide hazel eyes roamed to mine beneath feathered lashes. “I feel fat. I keep waddling.”

  “That’s not what I think.”

  “It’s not?”

  I shook my head slowly, stepped back, and looked at her all over. “Couldn’t take my eyes off you all day. Wanted my hands on you all night. You’re perfect. But your feet must be aching.”

  “If I take off the heels and we dance I’ll only go up to your chest.”

  I rumbled a laugh. “Even better.”

  “You like being so much bigger than me, huh?”

  “I like the way you fit against me.” Fire smoldering through my veins, I kneeled down to get her out of the strappy high heels.

  When I rose, I took her in my arms. We danced slowly, heat simmering, just shuffling in circles around the floor and caressing one another.

  My blood pulsed, and my stiffened cock rested against her tummy.

  “You want me,” she said, seeming in awe about the never-ending fact she turned me on so much I had trouble breathing.

  “Always do.” I lifted her chin and dipped my head down.

  The mesh of our lips mind-alteringly hot and wet and hungry, I slanted for a deeper thrust of my tongue into the succulent heat of her mouth.

  Lifting my head, I said in a deep baritone, “I love you, Grace.” Then I added, “How do I get this dress off you?”

  She giggled in a smoky tone and presented her back. “Hidden zipper.”

  “Mmm.” I twisted the sheaf of her hair over her shoulder and nuzzled my lips against the side of her neck.

  Her breath hitched as I kissed the long sweet column of flesh. I discovered the zipper and inched it along to the base of her spine and the flare of her hips.

  When the dress swooshed to the floor, I help Grace step out of the pooled fabric and spun her around to face me.

  And all the blood in my body made a straight shot to my straining cock.

  Her lingerie was red too. Excuse me, sangria. And strapless. And tongue-wagging hot.

  I gulped, hands rising to her bare shoulders. From there I stroked down to the ample mounds of her tits overflowing the red lace cups.

  “Fuck. That’s sexy.”

  With her black waves tumbling down her back, she laughed in that throaty timbre again. “Should I leave it on for you?”

  I shook my head. “I want your nipples in my mouth.”

  Her cheeks flushed, and she reached between her bounteous tits to unclasp the bra.

  Freed from the sexy imprisonment, her breasts bounced heavily, and I growled before taking one peak between my lips. She smelled of light perfume and feminine arousal.

  After I laved both nipples until they sprung up wetly, I pushed her panties over her ripe ass so they slid to the floor. Then I cupped that ripe ass and hauled her to me.

  My hand slipped over her tummy and across the tuft of hair above her cunt then curled straight into her slick wet pussy.

  Grace gasped, undulating.

  I slid my fingers in and out of her with long drilling thrusts, the heel of my palm pulsing against the engorged swell of her clit.

  “Oh. Oh, god!” Head thrown back, tummy cushioned against my groin, she moaned.

  So, so wet my palm was coated, she clamped down onto my thrusting fingers, coming in convulsing waves as I held her up.

  With her cunt still rippling, I licked her honey from my glistening fingers while she watched with fevered eyes.

  Sitting her on the bed, I finished undressing while her irises flared like hazel sparks of fire.

  She crooked her finger at me.

  I walked over with my dick leading the way.

  “Feed me your cock, Killian.”

  Harsh swallow.

  Her lips a plush red oval, she ran her tongue across the bottom pout.

  Angling my cock down, I did as she asked. Fed her my dick.

  Sensory overload hit me immediately as her hand replaced mine on my veiny shaft, and her tongue tripped over my wide cockhead.

  “Mmm,” she murmured, vibrations twisting my insides when she took me deeper, halfway.

  Languidly and lustily, Grace blew me.

  Fucking red lipstick smeared all over my aching tool, and her slippery saliva trailed down to my weighty balls.

  I rocked into her mouth and back, the heat of her lips and the tangle of her tongue smothering me in passionate wildness for minutes on end.

 
Until I couldn’t take it anymore.

  Groaning, I pulled my cock from her lips, lips I bent down to cover with mine.

  Mouths fused, I got us both completely on the bed. Then I had to break the kiss because I wanted to fuck her from behind.

  I wanted to nail her from behind.

  As I helped her into position with a pillow arranged for her to rest her belly on, she murmured, “You’re being naughty tonight.”

  My voice thickened into a gravelly tone. “Your fault for making me wait so long.”

  “I can’t wait any longer either.”

  I entered her with no condom—because we were done with those—and no warning. I rooted deep in her drenched velvet insides, blowing out a curse because the sensation was just too fucking good.

  I thrust into Grace with a jarring barrage of lunges. Hard. Deep. Grabbing her hips and pounding as she wailed at my power-strokes.

  I loved being in her bareback. The hot walls of her cunt sucked me in just like her mouth had.

  So fucking wet, she lathered all around my rod, and my precum jetted in hot spurts.

  “So goddamn good, Grace.”

  She bucked back onto me, her fleshy ass bouncing, her narrow waist giving way to the huge mound of her front. Her tits swung, and I reached below to pluck her nipples.

  She howled, and her hair lashed back and forth.

  Another froth of creamy wetness lathered my cock as I pulled from her stretched pussy to the bloated tip of my dick. Fingers in a V, I spread her labia so I could watch her opening swallow my cock back inside.

  Then I began ramming her again with no finesse whatsoever. The long deep-dicking had trickles of sweat running down my chest. I gnashed my teeth and barreled inside her delicate little cunt as pressure built in my balls.

  “Fucking gonna fill you with cum,” I muttered between clenched teeth.

  “Nnnngh. Yes. Fuck me, Killian. Fill me!”

  Her tunnel twisted around me as she shuddered and shook and came on my cock. I thrust into her with two . . . hard . . . driving motions and bellowed. Cum sprayed, my cock flexing, my ass tight, my balls unloading bolt after bolt of seed straight into her pussy.

  I planted my cum deep, chugging on breath and shooting until my balls stopped seizing and my cock stopped surging.

  “Oh, god. Ohhhh!” Grace mewled one last time before laughing throatily. “Oh, my god, Killian.”