Marked

by Drew Elyse

“Do you?”

  She was flailing around, trying to fight me off even as her laughter rung through the air like a fucking song.

  “Yes!”

  “Why?”

  “Your voice…” she panted. “It gets all high and excited… Like a little kid.”

  I flattened my hand across her hip, gripping her and pulling her back against my dick that was straining to get out of my pants.

  “You still want to say that?” I ran my nose up her neck, nipping at her ear to punctuate the question.

  “Mhm,” she tried to sass me, but her ass grinding back against me told a different story.

  It’d been three days since we’d woken up in my bed the morning after she came to me—and for me. I’d seen her once before now but hadn’t had her again. I’d thought my dick was insistent before, but now that I’d experienced having Kate, he was fucking insatiable.

  It wasn’t that easy for a mom to get away where we could have the privacy we needed, and there wasn’t even a question that Owen would always come first. It was even more difficult when Kate hadn’t gotten a chance to talk to Daz yet, so being at the farmhouse and waiting for Owen to conk out at night wasn’t much of an option.

  I didn’t need easy, though. I needed Kate, and she’d made it clear in her own way that she at least wanted to get that time even when we couldn’t—like she was right then—and that counted for a fuck of a lot.

  “Tonight, gypsy,” I promised low.

  “But...” she started to protest, and I bit down on the lobe of her ear again, silencing her.

  “You said they were all out,” I reminded her.

  Most of the brothers and their women had ridden out that morning to a rally out near Baker City. Stone, Evie, Doc, Daz, and Avery had all gone, so the only ones up at the farmhouse would be Kate and Owen.

  “Someone could ride up to check on us.”

  “Then we leave my car at my place and I’ll ride back up here with you. If they swing by, it’s just your car outside.”

  Just saying it felt wrong. I didn’t want to be sneaking around. Fuck, I wanted to announce it to the whole world. But Daz deserved to hear it first.

  Kate didn’t argue, still leaning against me, neck bared under my mouth. “I want you, gypsy. And you want me, too. We’ll be careful.”

  “Okay.” It was practically a moan, and I was worried my dick wouldn’t go down until I got to fulfill the need in it.

  The water shut off and I let Kate step away, but not before I snuck one kiss from her. Call it a toll for getting loose.

  “Lee,” Kate moaned low.

  Let me just say, thank god for sound machines. And for the fact that Owen needed one to sleep. We might still have had to keep it down, but the fact that I got to hear my gypsy moan for me was fucking spectacular.

  At that moment, I had my woman on her knees on the bed, straddling my face. Her lush ass was in my hands, her hips rolling against my mouth as I ate her for all I had.

  I’d taken her and Owen out for ice cream and hot dogs at Happy Jack’s. Kate had been more than a little confused when we’d pulled up to the shack of a restaurant, not getting why we’d go so far. Owen was sold entirely on the prospect of hot dogs and ice cream.

  “Why this place?”

  I looked at her, sitting in the passenger seat, then to Owen strapped in the back. I remembered being back there myself pulling into this same lot, feeling the excitement that always came with it.

  “My dad used to bring us here. I don’t even know why, or how he knew about it, but if Dad said we were going for ice cream, this is where we went.”

  Her wistful smile told me she understood what it meant for me to share that with them.

  The dinner and ice cream had been great, but that had nothing on the taste of Kate on my tongue. I wasn’t sure anything did.

  I looked up the length of her body, loving the view from this angle as much as anything, and couldn’t hold back anymore. Releasing my hold on her with one hand, I wrapped it around my cock. I needed some relief from the need I’d let grow for days. My hand matched the rhythm to which she ground her pussy against my tongue, and even at the slow pace, I knew I’d be tumbling over the edge in no time.

  “Oh, God,” she cried out, and the sound of it drew my eyes up to find her looking over her shoulder at my hand on my cock. There was no missing the way her sweet cunt tightened when it was right around my tongue. She liked seeing me at the edge.

  When she started shifting away a second later, I abandoned my cock, using both hands to hold her down on my face.

  “Lee, babe, let me turn around.”

  I didn’t let up, keeping her anchored down as I leaned up to lash her clit. Her hands went into my hair, yanking it just a bit. My dick pulsed at the feeling.

  “Please,” she begged.

  Fuck, I couldn’t deny her a thing. I bit down on her thigh as I released her, a warning that she better be swift.

  She was.

  She didn’t waste a second turning herself, then getting back on my face. Even fucking better, she leaned down and wrapped her sweet, hot mouth around my cock. I devoured her and she sucked me deep, running her tongue along my length until I was going to burst. Then, she lowered down until her lips were practically circling the base of me.

  “Fuck. Come for me, gypsy,” I pleaded, needing to let go, but not about to do it until she was there. “Take yourself there for me.”

  Her hips rocked on my face, and I just hung on for the ride, giving her what she needed while she moaned around my cock. When she broke, I followed her down in an instant. The feeling of her soaking my face while she swallowed everything I gave her only prolonged it until I thought I’d black out.

  In the aftermath, she rolled to her side and collapsed, using my thigh as a pillow.

  “Wow.”

  Fuck, she could say that again.

  “Yeah, babe.”

  She curled up, snuggling into my side, even if she was laying the opposite way down the bed. If she hadn’t just rung me dry, the proximity of that mouth of hers to my dick would be giving me ideas.

  “I’m going to sleep here.”

  I cocked my arm, laying my hand down right across one ass cheek. “I’m not gonna argue.”

  She laughed, the sound husky—probably from taking my cock to the back of her throat—and what I’d thought was about impossible a minute ago happened. My dick stirred.

  She noticed. “Already?”

  “I’m thinking your laugh could revive him from just about anything.”

  She did it again and proved me right.

  Then, she wasn’t laughing, because I put that revival to good use.

  I learned something new about Kate the next morning: she wasn’t a morning person.

  That was evident when I’d woken up ready to start the new day the way we’d finished the night before. I’d tried to wake her by kissing down her neck, and she’d promptly snapped the covers up over her head.

  “That wasn’t very nice, gypsy,” I chastised.

  Her voice was groggy and muffled by the blanket, but I made it out all the same. “My son is six. He doesn’t sleep in much. Until he’s dragging me out of bed, I am sleeping.”

  I lowered my voice, trying to sound enticing. “What if I—”

  Apparently, the voice didn’t do shit for her because she cut me off with a snapped, “Nope.”

  Taking the hint, I let her sleep. If I didn’t, I was slightly worried it was going to be threats of violence next. Having her turn on me first thing might put a damper on the day as a whole.

  Instead, I got up, grabbed a quick shower, and dressed in the change of clothes I’d grabbed before we’d hit Happy Jack’s. When I left the bathroom, I found Owen stepping from his room, rubbing his eyes, and headed toward Kate’s door.

  “Hey, little man.”

  He blinked sleepily at me, then said in a sleepy voice that reminded me of his mother, “Hi, Liam.”

  “You want some breakfast?”
>
  “Yeah. I was gonna get Mommy.”

  “How about we let her sleep? I’ll get you breakfast.”

  He shrugged. It didn’t seem to matter one way or another as long as he got fed. Smart kid.

  “What do you want to eat?”

  He scratched his head, his dark hair was sticking up all over the place. “I think there are muffins, but Mommy likes me to eat stuff like oatmeal or eggs. She says it’s important to have a good breakfast.”

  “She’s right.” Not that I’d say different even if I didn’t agree. I didn’t have kids, but I wasn’t an idiot.

  “I like Mommy’s breakfast, but Aunt Avery’s muffins are the best.”

  “You’re right about that.” I’d been on the muffin train since he said they were in the kitchen. “How about we do both? I’ll make you some eggs and you can have a muffin.”

  He looked up at me with wide eyes. “That’s a lot of food.”

  “I’ll eat whatever you don’t finish.”

  I was starved, not that it was anything new.

  So Owen and I had breakfast, then went into the living room to watch cartoons. I even had him dressed by the time Kate woke up and shuffled out to find us. When she did, and Owen explained all we’d already done that morning, her grateful smile was the highlight of my day, and it wasn’t even ten o’clock yet.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Kate

  “Avery suspects something.”

  I was at Sailor’s Grave.

  I’d finished a shift at the bakery about an hour before, and Liam had dinner break built into his schedule. He’d asked me to come by and spend some time with him before I picked up Owen from daycare.

  “That sounds a little dire. Are we overthrowing a government?”

  I rolled my eyes. “I’m just saying.”

  The fact was, I was worried she had more than just slight suspicion. When I’d loaded up a box of sweets to go, she’d made that more than clear.

  “Hot date?”

  I swung around. I hadn’t heard Avery come out of the back. At last, her morning sickness was easing, and she was almost back to normal. Though the less sick she was, the more obvious it was that her increased attitude was definitely hormones.

  She’d been able to put Daz in his place as long as I’d known her, but now the temper flares were almost scary. Well, to anyone except Daz himself, who seemed to think they were cute. The other night, she’d threatened to change the locks so he couldn’t get in, and he’d said she was adorable. He’d actually had to chase her down outside the farmhouse before she got in the car to the hardware store.

  “What?”

  She pointed at the box in my hand. “You stopped taking anything home with you a long time ago.”

  I had. Right around the time all my fat pants stopped fitting. I’d only been working with her a few months. That’d been eye-opening. So I stuck with the goods she stocked up the farmhouse with and left the bakery alone.

  “I was going to swing by Sailor’s Grave,” I told her. “Drop off a couple things while I was there.”

  That sounded innocuous enough. Since even after being open for about two years, Avery still had a hard and fast policy that Disciples didn’t pay. It wasn’t uncommon. Disciples—including me—didn’t pay to get cars serviced at Savage Restorations, tattoos at Sailor’s Grave except for tips for the artists, or anything at the strip club, Candy Shop—which also extended to all the ladies on their male revue nights.

  “Hanging out with Liam?” she pushed.

  “Just stopping in before I go get Owen,” I evaded.

  “You know, it’s okay if you’re getting close with him. It’s a good thing. Daz would think so, too.”

  So, yeah. Suspicious. And that suspicion might not stay to just her for long.

  I remembered what it was like when you had someone to come home to. For Joel and I, there hadn’t been secrets—except for gifts. We’d share everything, even about people the other one hardly knew. It was just about being a part of the other person’s life.

  If Avery thought—correctly or not—that I was starting something with Liam, I’d have a hard time thinking she would keep that from Daz.

  Hence my anxiety spiking since I left to head over here.

  “Maybe it’s time to tell him,” Liam said, more than a hint of impatience there.

  I wish I could say he was being unfair with that. As it was, it’d been three and a half weeks since I’d gone to his apartment that night. Three and a half weeks of us being together when we could actually find the time. When asking for a babysitter for date night or just having Liam over a lot wasn’t an option without giving things away, a lot of our time together was moments like this. Stolen bits of time where we were able to talk for a bit, texts, and sometimes a call after Owen was in bed.

  It wasn’t enough—for either of us. Liam was letting onto his frustration more and more, and I couldn’t say I didn’t feel the same. It just didn’t outweigh my nerves about going to Daz and telling him what was happening.

  “Lee,” I started, but he shook his head.

  “No, I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m not trying to rush you. I just hate not being able to see you. Makes me cranky.” He smiled a little as he said the last. “Besides.” He changed gears before I could say anything. “I have something I want to show you now anyway.”

  He hopped to his feet, offering a hand to help me to mine. He gave it a firm squeeze before he released it. Sketch was at his station, working on a piece on a burly looking guy that could fit in with the Disciples. Walking around with my hand in Liam’s wasn’t a good call. Me coming by for his dinner—even if I was waiting to eat with Owen—was already pushing things.

  I followed him through the shop, into the back hallway. When he led me to the studio, I was intrigued, if a little confused. I was lucky I could manage to color in the lines when Owen and I broke out the coloring books. I had no business being anywhere near a bunch of professional art supplies—I should barely be around the kiddie corner Sketch had put in there.

  “Owen’s paintings from the afternoon I watched him are still here,” Liam said as he held the door for me.

  I’d forgotten about those. In fact, I’d dismissed them when he first mentioned it that afternoon. When he’d said they needed to dry, I assumed that meant Owen had gone for his usual painting style of loading more paint on than the paper could hold. I thought Liam saying they needed time to dry was just a clever distraction.

  “You kept them this whole time?”

  He shrugged. “My mom never threw out our projects. No joke, she’s got fucking boxes of stuff in the garage. I wouldn’t want to throw out something he made for you. Though I did have to reinforce them with cardboard, or they’d have just dissolved in a pile of mess.”

  He pointed to one end of the kid’s area, where a handful of big pieces of paper covered in smeared messes of color stood. The paint actually stood out off the flat surface from how heavy-handed Owen had been with it.

  “How did you get them to dry?”

  “We have an oven for setting dyes and stuff. I might have experimented with that until I got them to harden.”

  All that so I could keep something Owen had made for fun. “I usually don’t get to keep them,” I admitted. “I can only keep ones that he does in crayon that don’t need to dry out.”

  I moved in close, glad we were alone in here if only for a few minutes. Going up on my toes, I kissed him. “Thank you.”

  He looked a little smug as I pulled away. “If that’s what I get just for drying out some wet paper, I’m interested to see what this will get me.”

  “What what will get you?”

  “The real reason I took so long to give you Owen’s paintings back,” he not-really-at-all explained, turning his back to me and walking over to a corner of the room. Shifting a couple canvases around, he pulled out one and walked it back to me. It was square, each side measuring around two feet if I had to guess. He carried it so the back
was facing me, and I was more than curious at that point.

  “What is it?”

  In answer, he turned the painting around. On the canvas was an image very similar to my tattoo. A gypsy, but her features were different than the one he’d drawn for me before. They were different because they were mine. My likeness was in profile, and in front of gypsy-me was Owen, looking up to my eyes, our faces close enough that our noses almost touched.

  I thought the tattoo he’d drawn for me was the most perfect thing anyone could design for me. I was wrong. This painting took that title by a mile.

  “Lee,” I whispered, lost for words.

  “You like it?”

  I shook my head. I didn’t like it. “Like” was a pathetic word for what looking at that made me feel.

  “It’s incredible.”

  “Perfect?” he tried to tease, but I was too awed for it to hit the mark.

  I moved toward him, taking the painting in a delicate hold, and setting it with care onto the counter. Then, I was on him.

  I kissed him with everything I had, hoping it made him feel even a little of what that image did to me. I wanted him to feel as cherished as I did, knowing that he’d put that work into making something so beautiful for me.

  In the back of my mind, I remembered that doing this here was risky, but I couldn’t care.

  My voice was breathy when I pulled back to say, “It’s the most perfect thing I’ve ever seen, except Owen himself.”

  He cupped my cheek, and the humbled expression he gave me told me I’d managed to succeed at least somehow with the kiss and those words. “Gypsy.”

  “Thank you.”

  “It wasn’t a hardship to paint that. You and Owen, the love you have for him, it’s beautiful. Even that day, when I didn’t think there was a prayer of it happening, I couldn’t help but want a piece of that. Now, I’ve got a chance. I want you to understand what that means to me.”

  Looking at what he’d created, the care and passion that went into it, I couldn’t question that, even if the breadth of what he was implying scared me.