Neither This Nor That Box Set 1

by MariaLisa deMora

  He couldn’t go with her, with the sling and stitches, and the physical therapy. He couldn’t be climbing in and out of the cab without damaging himself, undoing all the work the surgeon had done to make sure he had a 100-percent working shoulder. Which he needed. So when he couldn’t go, he had an idea. Given an option between Po’Boy and Wrench, Penny’d laughed at him. Laughed so hard she had to bend over, arms crossed over her belly, trying to keep from busting a gut.

  It was no surprise she took Wrench. Twisted and the man had words before he set foot inside her truck, those words being all from Twisted in the form of a reminder who she was to him, what she was to him, and what she would never be to the man who’d given up his chance with her well before Twisted came on the scene. Penny didn’t know about that chat, had no reason to know, but Twisted had faith that Wrench had honored every request he’d made. Kept her safe, kept her sane, called Twisted when she had dreams, handed her the phone and let her ole man talk her down from the terror.

  “Bell?” Soft now, but controlled, she’d pulled herself together.

  In my arms, he thought, tightening his hold. “Yeah?”

  Silence for a long minute, then, “Nothing. Sorry I woke you.” Not the first time she’d started to ask something, then pulled back, and this shit was beginning to worry him. “Go back to sleep.”

  “Tell me.” He pushed hard, making it a demand and knew she understood he would accept no less than the truth when she tensed in his arms. “Tell me.” In his words, he heard echoes of his past, images flashing past in a gruesome slideshow. He tried to deflect those and hold onto what was here, now. She might have nightmares, but he had his own demons. Something he’d bury fresh every day if it meant she breathed easy sleeping next to him, easier to do every time they reared up to try and catch him off guard. Still caught up in the illusion he spun for her in the cab of her truck that first night. Giving her sweet until it was no longer a façade, but how he just was with her.

  She changed me, Twisted thought with surprise, not something she’d have wanted to do, but he treasured the differences she brought out in him. The wanting to care for her, wanting to give her the world, wanting to hold onto that love she gave him with both hands. He rolled them in the bed, tucking her slightly under him, pinning her in place, dragging his knee up her thighs. Won’t let her get away. Not ever. “Penny, tell me what woke you.” He fed the illusion.

  “I had a bad dream.” She pushed at his chest, not gaining an inch of room because he tightened his hold on her. Doc had given him a full release months ago, and Twisted had jumped back into working out in the backyard of the clubhouse with Po’Boy and the boys. It had taken weeks, but he’d pushed himself, regaining all the ground the wreck stole from him. No way would she be getting away.

  “Got that, yeah.” He gave her a warning squeeze when she persisted in trying to wriggle some room between them. “What about?”

  “Stuff.” He saw the wince that wrinkled her brow. He watched her lips twitch to one side and frowned.

  “Penny, I can’t help you if you won’t give it to me.” She swallowed, that movement giving everything away. She didn’t want him to know, but it wasn’t because she was afraid he’d think less, but because whatever it was hurt her deep. She cut her eyes away from him. Something to do with him, but just him. So not the wreck, not what happened with Leswayne, or after, but something else. “What are you afraid of, darlin’?”

  He began a calculated assault on her senses, dropping his head to her shoulder, trailing tongue and lips across her skin. Slid a hand across her belly, and then back again, curling his fingers around her hip. Tugging at her torso, pressing into her from the other side and with lips to her ear, he murmured, “Tell me, baby. Lemme in.” A nip and a lick to her lobe, then he mouthed the sensitive skin behind her ear. “Whacha ‘fraid of?”

  “Bell.” His name a whisper, breathed on an exhale, there was no muscle behind the sound. It was just Penny needing him to know he mattered, that she knew who she was in bed with. She gave that to him every time, and he loved it. Loved so much about this woman. Everything she gave to him, he took with greedy hands, dragging her in deep, deep, deeper with him each breath she took.

  “Penny.” He gave it back to her, infusing her name with every ounce of love he had inside him. Goose bumps crawled up her skin, and she took her reaction away from him, turning her head to the side. Afraid of him or of something else? “Penny.” He tried again, mapping her responses as she shifted in bed, pressing into the mattress to escape a bit of his weight. He leaned in further, keeping her where he wanted her. “My shiny Penny.”

  That earned him a reaction he didn’t expect; a sob hitched its way up her throat. “Mine. My Penny. Shiny.” He gave her words, following each with a caress of his mouth and hands, massaging them into her skin so she’d hold them forever. “My shiny Penny. Love you, darlin’.”

  That melted her, and he knew her fears by the way she slumped into him, even lying underneath him letting him support her. Why’s she afraid of losin’ that? “Love you, Penny.” Face pushed into his neck, he felt the edge of her teeth, felt her hand stroke along his bicep. “You know how much I love you?” A headshake and he puzzled over that. He told her all the time, told her way more than was macho, but never wanted her to doubt. Showed her, too, every day they were together, which was every day she wasn’t in the truck. “You payin’ attention, darlin’?” A nod indicated she was, tension singing through her muscles again, melt done with. “Never get to the end of that love. I feed it out like a line, but there ain’t no end to the feed. It’s done gone past anything I expected, and I expected a helluva lot. Never gonna get to the end of this love, Penny.”

  Head turning, face lifting, lips seeking, he gave her what she wanted, slanting his head across hers and taking what he needed, fitting his mouth to hers in a hard, wet kiss. Velvety soft, her tongue stroked and tangled with his. Throaty gasps released into his mouth as he worked her hot and fast. Sliding a hand up her side, thumb caressing the curve of her breast, Twisted's nail dragged across her scarcely-covered nipple. She’d worn one of his thin tees to bed, rolling in about three in the morning, tossing her clothes to the floor as she pulled on his shirt before climbing in beside him. That single act showing a possessiveness he liked to see. He’d known she was tired, known she’d pushed herself hard to get back to him, so he’d held her while holding back, listening to her few words before sleep claimed her.

  Now he roused her, ruthlessly playing on every hot spot he’d noted, quickly bringing her to wordless peaks where her only responses were sweet moans painting her pleasure on the air. With tongue and fingers, he plumped and pinched, licked and lapped at her, feeding from every offering she gave. When his name slipped past her lips again, it was on a rising note, sustained as the wave carried her forwards and upwards, “Bell!” As he always did, he recited what he knew to be true, Yeah, I gave you that. Now you’re going to give me more.

  Moving over her, he pushed a forearm into the mattress on either side of her head, holding himself suspended, not crushing her, just covering her, gifting himself with the touch of her skin all along his body. Eyes to her face, he watched as her orgasm restarted like an engine when he thrust his cock up and over her clit, heard her shuddering response to that feeling swelling inside her. “God, Bell.”

  Still he waited, and when her eyes finally opened, she gasped at what he knew was a hungry look on his face. “Want you, Penny.” Her tongue darted out, slipping side to side across her bottom lip. “Wanna fuck you.” A jerk of her hips told him she wanted that too, pressing against him then away, already fucking in her mind. “Want you to give that to me.” A deep breath had her titties rubbing against his chest, which in turn earned him a gasp. He waited a beat and then told her the truth. Something that ran so deep in him, like he’d told her, there was no way he’d ever find the end of it. “Wanna love on you.”

  Hands to his shoulders, her palms stroked down, down, down, then up his si
des, across his back as he gave her some of his weight. Fingers cupping his ass, she’d learned how to ask for what she wanted without words, initiated into sensual pleasure by him. Always be her best, he thought, rocking his hips into hers, feeling the glide of his cock up and through her lips. The liquid aftermath of her orgasm granted slick passage. Messy, but she’d never complain about it, she liked it as much as he did.

  “Wanna love on you, darlin’.” Arching his back, he felt her quiver. “You ready for me?” Leaning in, he grazed her lips with his, giving her a taste of herself, knowing she liked that, too. Knew so much about her, but every time he loved on her. “So much more of you to figure out.” He needed to learn everything about her. “Love you, baby.” Mouth pressed to hers, Twisted kissed her deeply, then released her lips, nuzzling into her neck.

  “I love you, Bell.” Those words did it for him, every single time, making him need to be connected to her in a profound way; him inside her physically, knowing she was inside his heart. So he adjusted, probed gently, lining things up, and then he stroked slowly. A gentle glide, he didn’t stop until he was rooted, deep in there where he always found what he needed. “Love you so much.” Her words gave him that other thing he needed, verbal affirmation that he wasn’t alone in this. Riches untold, he thought, never get enough of what she gives me.

  Her dream was nearly forgotten until she said, “It’s you. I’m afraid of losing you.”

  “Oh, baby, you couldn’t get away from me if you tried.” He arched, finding and drawing a nipple into his mouth, sucking hard and growling as she moaned sweetly in his ear. “Give it a try. I’ll show you how futile an exercise it’d be. Don’t try, and let yourself be content here with me. I’ll show you how deep we go. Solid as a rock, baby. What we have is writ in stone, ain’t gonna wash away with the first waves of trouble.” Holding still inside her, he felt the ripples beginning deep, her pussy contracting around him with his words. “Gave me this, can’t have it back. Mine.” Another ripple and he pressed his face to the crook of her neck, mouth to her skin, loving that involuntary reaction she was giving him because it told him she believed. “Mine. Always.”

  He moved then, slowly at first, rolling his back, working every angle, finding, as he always did, that every inch of her was beautiful. Tight, hot, and sweeter than he had a right to want, she let him ride her as he needed, knowing he’d get her there again, and again if she just gave in to him. Pulling out to the tip, he played there, thrusting by fractions of an inch at a time, working the head of his cock in and out. Her wordless cry when he again took her deep was worth every torturous second. Unbelievable how good it felt to sink himself into the fiery heat of her, letting all of that wrap around the length of his cock, knowing she gave him that willingly. Every time.

  Shifting his weight, he moved one hand between them, sliding a finger to either side of her clit, finding the resulting jerk and clench worth exploring, so he did it a second time, then a third before pulling out, wrapping his fist around his cock and squeezing hard. “Touch me,” he demanded, and before he could repeat himself, she had threaded her fingers between his. “Feel how hard you make me?”

  “Yes, baby,” she whispered, and he shivered at the way her voice reverberated through him. She squeezed, and then her hand moved up, palm cupping the head of his cock. “I feel you.”

  “That’s all you. Best I ever had.” He thrust into her hand. “Everything you do makes me love you more. Want you more. Always you for me, darlin’. Never losing me.” Her chin jerked to the side, and he leaned down, nuzzling until she looked at him again. “Never. Losin’. Me. Nothing could tear me away from you, baby. My shiny Penny.” Crystal blue eyes looked up at him, and he willed her to hear what he was saying. “My everything. Wanna plant my seed in you, watch our love grow, hold the embodiment of that love. Do it again. Love incarnate, right here in my bed. Never losin’ me, and I sure as fuck ain’t willin’ to lose you.” He moved, forcing her hand away, grabbing her wrist as he pushed back inside her. The heat of her sheath scorched around the head of his cock. With his fingers twined with hers, Twisted pressed her hand into the pillow at the side of her head. “Ain’t losin’ you. Keep you, my shiny Penny.”

  “Love you, Bell.” She pressed her lips to the side of his head, hips arching up to meet his downward thrusts. “Love you.”

  ***

  Po’Boy

  Po’Boy grinned, staring down at his beer sitting on the bar in front of him.

  He was naked, in a hole down in the 9th, waiting on a courier to bring him an envelope from Retro. With his cut packed away in the trunk under his saddle, uncomfortable but necessary in this locale, the only one where the messenger was willing to meet. He hoped that envelope would be filled with information about a still-breathing Nico, intel they could move on, fucking finally. But he wasn’t grinning about that. No. That was business and would be treated as such; the only enjoyment would come at the end of the day when he might have the chance to convince some poor bastard he needed to roll on Nico, tell secrets with the false assurances of immunity.

  His grin had nothing to do with business, and everything to do with the woman he’d come to love. Different from how his brother loved her, but still, a bone-deep love for Penny Dane. The grin was due to the conversation just across the corner of the bar from him, where two patched members of an out-of-town MC sat. Good old boys, drinkin’ beer and shootin’ the shit, telling tales to pass the time until the oblivion of sleep crept up on them. It was just the tale they were telling was one he’d gotten to see up-close and personal like, having the smallest part in the run that’d become known as the route of twisted pain.

  “That Penny, heard Bagger had her on a bike before she could walk. Little dirt bike, turning her loose back in the bayous.” One man’s contribution to the conversation wasn’t far off the mark, not from the stories Penny’d told on herself.

  His companion, an older man, one probably of an age with Bagger, shook his head. “Heard she faced down the biggest badass in town for the right to ride point on that run. Head high, she took him down without lifting a hand.” Well, that’s just insulting. Nothing like that happened. He wanted to say this, but held his tongue, wondering how far they’d spin it, the run already seeping into legend in the MC world, a place where women had no place, but Penny’d somehow found a way to make one.

  The first guy picked up the story. “Troops on either side of the road, she punched through, made it to the yard. Stood toe-to-toe with that bastard, Leswayne, while her man looked on, lettin’ her, knowing she had it.”

  “Foot soldiers of a shit club are bullshit. I heard it was gators and pitbulls.” Older guy shook his head. “Bagger took her gator hunting about the same time he put her on a bike. She’d handled bigger. Leswayne, what a pussy. You hear what she called him? Bunny FooFoo. Shit cracks me up every time.”

  The other guy laughed, slapping the top of the bar. “And the shit about him being a little dicked daddy? That’s priceless.” He reached down, gripping the knee of his jeans, voice rising to a falsetto lilt as he said, “Got way ahead of it.” Po’Boy could vouch for that part. He’d been nearby; not close enough to stop the blow that took her to her knees, but close enough to hear her repartee, which was as sharp as her blade had proven to be.

  “Gutted him like a fish. Laid him open, reached up inside, pulled out his balls, showed ‘em to him.” Not quite, but close. “Got done, strolled to her man, him standing there waiting. God, I’d give a fuck of a lot to have someone like that at my back.”

  Smile dying on his face, Po’Boy thought to himself, Wouldn’t we all.

  Fini

  THANK YOU FOR READING THIS IS THE ROUTE OF TWISTED PAIN!

  I had a great time writing this story, and hope you’ve enjoyed delving deep into the world of George Bell, aka Twisted, and the beautiful, resilient redhead, Penny Dane. Not a typical love story, but the setting deep in the canals and bayous of southern Louisiana lent itself to provide a rich background th
at I hope helped set their stage in a memorable way.

  In the story, Penny has occasion to make oyster po boy sandwiches for Twisted and a couple of men (thanks for the idea, Kelsi). Here’s her recipe, which happens to be one I’ve used many times:

  Oyster Po Boys

  What you need to buy

  Fresh shucked oysters, half a bushel or so depending on what you need to yield in terms of sandwiches. Figure 10-20 oysters per sandwich, do the math yourownself. Can substitute mussels or shrimp, if you can fry it, it all works.

  Po boy or sub sandwich buns, sliced longways

  Creole spices like Tony Chachere’s, Zatarian’s, or King Creole

  Tartar sauce

  Green onions

  Sweet onions

  Tomatoes

  Red chilies

  Lettuce

  Oil or grease

  Want to make your own creole spices? Easy ’nuff:

  Combine a quarter teaspoon each of onion powder and garlic powder. Add a dash or more of oregano, basil, thyme, black pepper, white pepper, cayenne pepper, and paprika. Salt to taste.

  Make your own tartar sauce

  Mix two tablespoons of mayo, two of spicy mustard, one of a sweet relish or chow chow. Dress that with some cracked black pepper and a dash of creole spices.

  Breading for oysters

  One cup white or yellow cornmeal.

  Dust that with onion powder (not salt), garlic powder (not salt), and you can crack a little black pepper on that, too.

  Find a good creole seasoning you like, dash in to taste.