Scotch: Unraveled (Brimstone Lords MC Book 4)

by Sarah Zolton Arthur

  “Yar home safe now. Let me call Duke. I hate saying goodnight—fuck!”

  “Then just tell me, ‘See you tomorrow,’” I say, not really wanting him to say goodnight, either.

  “See you tomorrow, mo leannan.”

  Sleep does not find me a happy participant. Sleep and I actually clash the whole night and as the girls’ cries come at me—the room still dark—I glance at my clock to see it’s too-freaking-early-o’clock and use the pillow to cover my head for a few minutes. Rory is going to owe me bigtime… Then I haul my dragging butt out of the warm, soft, comfy bed to the girls’ room.

  First thing first. Each girl gets a morning diaper change and then we head to the living room for a twinsie breakfast of yummy formula while my coffee brews in the pot. The glorious caffeinated smell is at least enough to get my eyes open a little wider.

  The girls and I watch Food Network together and veg in our jammies for half the morning. Isn’t it always when you’re at your most comfortable that crap happens? My phone rings and it’s my director, Ms. Lockhart. I listen intently as she tells me the center is flooded out, someone saw this morning as they drove by and called her, but she’s on the other side of the state.

  “Sonofabitch,” I mutter in a whisper so the girls don’t hear me cuss. Then I look to both Mollie and Macie. “When it rains, it pours… yes, it does.” The girls smile at me and it warms my heart. “I have to find you a sitter now because a flooded daycare is no place for sweet babies… no, it’s not.” I bend down to kiss the bottom of their toes as each girl plays kicky-legs.

  Then I call up Caitlin since she’s right next door. Twenty minutes after, the girls are at the Ellis abode and I’m driving down the mountain to get to the center. Fifteen minutes after that, I’m wading through ankle-deep water to find the main waterline. A freaking pipe burst. Normally a worker like myself wouldn’t know where to shut off a main waterline. But as I’m about to become director, Ms. Lockhart has been running me through the paces. Thus, even sleep deprived, I find the wherewithal to remember the day we went over how to turn off the main waterline. Where the breaker box is located and how to reset the furnace if necessary.

  It doesn’t want to budge when I attempt to turn the valve with this long pole I’m supposed to use for such occasions. Ten minutes after that, I get the valve to budge and then it turns for me.

  Now, soaking wet, I have to hunt up a plumber on a Saturday and contact a restoration company to “make it like it never even happened” or whatever their slogan is.

  Today is one of those days I wish I’d never gotten out of bed. I go all day long, so it’s a good thing my vacation starts Monday. It’s dark, I’m starving, my head hurts. I’m cold and still very wet by the time I’m able to call it a day and head back up the mountain. Ms. Lockhart took my calls for updates, but I found out she wasn’t on her way back, deciding I could handle it. Uh—I don’t get director pay yet.

  Just past the edge of town, with the soft hue of business lights behind me and darkness to the front of me, red and blue flashers come out of nowhere. My first reaction is to look down at my speed. Since all this stuff with the deputy started, I make sure to use my cruise control, but I look anyway and no—I’m not speeding.

  I don’t like it out here in the dark. It’s one of those ‘listen to your gut’ moments, but he’s a cop. I have to pull over. I click my blinker and pull off the road as much as I can on a mountain. He rolls up behind my car and steps out. I pull my license from my purse and registration and proof of insurance from my glovebox waiting for him to get to me.

  Deputy Rodrick knocks on my window and I roll it down. “What can I help you with?” I ask, too tired for pretend niceties.

  “Out of the car,” he orders me.

  What? I’m not— “Out of the car,” he barks this time, pulling on my handle. “Doyle ain’t around to help ya this time, bitch. Out of the fuckin’ car.”

  “W-Why are you doing this?”

  “Whores like you like it bad… puttin’ Lords in yer bed. Guess what? I can be bad, too… I can be real bad.” It’s a threat I take seriously.

  I try to keep the door closed, lock it, and start the engine at the same time. This is some beginning of a horror flick playing out and I’m making it to the end. Even if I get arrested, at least it’ll be with witnesses. I stomp on the gas pedal, spraying gravel and squealing my tires as I peel out, speeding up the mountain, taking those curves too fast considering they’re mountain curves and the time of night, but I’m too scared to slow.

  Rodrick doesn’t follow me, though. I make it back to the gate and Dutchy is back, waving me through. I’m shaking so badly that I don’t even bother to go grab the girls. They’ll have to stay next door until I calm down enough to take care of them.

  I unlock the house and walk in, and I don’t have one care about leaving the door open—stupid, I know. Way to let in bugs and cold, but I’m on a mission and not thinking properly and head to the kitchen to pour a glass of whiskey. I hate it, but it’s there and I need something. That’s when I see someone out of the corner of my eye and whip my head up.

  Rory. It’s Rory. He’s home. I stifle the sob and watch him. He walks cautiously toward me but pivots to move to the door. Still shaking, I pour another three fingers and shoot it back, listening for the raid that should happen any second now. I fled the scene of a traffic stop. Rodrick probably sped off to get reinforcements, hellbent on bringing me in. Ending my career here in Thornbriar. I’ll have to move. I’ll have to leave Rory and the girls… and Brighton. I promised her I wouldn’t move again.

  And what will happen to the girls if the compound gets raided? Did I screw Rory over by coming back here instead of going home?

  Sonofabitch.

  9.

  Rory

  I shut the door and when I turn back around, Frankie is standing next to the arm of my old, ratty sofa. She slams back another triple shot of whiskey and has tears spilling down over her cheeks. I take a step forward, but she shakes her no and with much calmer hands pulls her sweater up and over her head, tossing it to the floor. Jesus, she was shaking not two minutes ago and now she’s stripping for me. I need to find out what scared her, but the look on her face pleads for me to let it go, at least for right now. It takes me a moment to make a decision because I don’t want to make the wrong move here and risk somehow losing her again. But if what I hope is about to go down is what she needs, then that’s what she’ll get.

  Torn between hating myself for what I’m about to do, as there’s clearly something major going on, and the rush of lust and love causing my dick to stage a mutiny against my mind, I press my palms against my forehead and run them up through my hair to put a little time and perspective in the situation.

  Frankie has more of a woman’s body now than when we were together before. Almost a decade will do that. She has on this sweet pink, lacy bra, but it’s what’s underneath that so captivates me. Her curves are rounder than before. More pronounced hips. Fuller, heavier breasts, though she’s never had children. Christ, how big would they get if we had one together? Soft instead of firm. She even has the tiny hint of tummy. She’s a woman who works, not works out, except for the physical activity required to keep up with the wee ones.

  She’s fucking unbelievable. And when she moves her arms behind her back to unlatch her bra, letting the scrap of material fall away, I know waiting was the right choice, letting her come to me, to trust me to take care of her, made this night possible.

  There’s a vulnerability on her face probably because I haven’t spoken yet. The woman is just so beautiful standing there, baring more than her body for me, that words actually escape me.

  It’s not until she takes a breath in, heaving those glorious breasts up and down and says, “It’s yours if you want it,” that my mind clicks back on and I move in two steps across the floor to reach her, undecided if I want to crush our lips together or keep getting my fill of looking. In the end, I decide to rest my hands on her
shoulders and slowly glide them up to cup her neck. Her hands move to hold my waist as I pull her in for a kiss. Frankie’s kisses undo me, but it’s those little whimpers that break my control wide open.

  I’m already breathing heavily when she digs her fingers under the hem of my shirt, pulling it up and off. Her cheeks are still wet, but the crying has stopped. While she’s distracted throwing the damn shirt to the floor, I grasp her other hand to press against my straining erection. “This is what you do to me, Frankie,” I whisper. “It’s what you’ve always done to me, mo leannan.”

  Fuck if she doesn’t squeeze and begin to stroke me through my jeans. This is happening. She shows no signs of backing out. Her touch brings me to my knees, literally, because I haven’t tasted her in way too many years and my tongue craves her sweetness as much as it ever did. Whatever her troubles, it’s my job and she’s relying on me to help her forget them. No buttons to fumble with, I slide her yoga pants down her statuesque legs, snagging her pink, lacy panties as I go.

  Frankie never waxed down there. Thank Jesus, she remembered how I like it and even if it isn’t for me, I’m going to pretend that it is. What’s most important is that she remains unwaxed. Trimmed up nicely, but I enjoyed playing with those little curls while my face was buried between her thighs. I nuzzle her pussy, already wet for me, using the tip of my nose to push through, coating it in her musky, womanly honey. Her knees slightly buckle, but I catch her before she can fall and spin her to land on the sofa cushion, pushing her legs up to bend at the knees and out so she’s spread wide for me. Those curls glisten. My dick is so fucking hard.

  “You better get naked before you start,” she whispers on a laugh. No truer words. I can’t have anything in my way once I’m ready to slide inside her. Quickly, I unbutton and unzip my jeans and tug at my boxers, shedding those bastards in record time.

  The blasted woman reaches down to stroke me again as I drape her legs over my shoulders. The feeling of her hand has me going out of my mind. As she stares at me through hooded, wanton eyes she asks breathily, “Well, what are you waiting for?”

  I use both thumbs to pull her apart and using only the tip of my tongue, I lick from almost the bottom of her arse crack up the entire length of her soaking wet pussy.

  “Fuck,” she moans out at the same time I do because she’s just so fucking appetizing. Spread before me, she’s a ripe peach that I want to devour. I pull back to gauge her reaction and then I dive back in, circling her clit with my tongue to tease her. She whimpers, bucking her hips in tiny bursts and I go back in, this time no teasing. This time she’s going to know how eight years has given me skills that will blow her fucking mind.

  Her whimpers become stronger, turning to cries. The muscles in her thighs spasm. The lips of her pussy begin to quiver as her swollen little nub pulses. The whole time my dick twitches, anticipating finding home.

  As I continue my tongue assault, she tries to squeeze her thighs together to alleviate some of the pressure and stimuli building up inside her, but I lock my arms to keep her spread wide for me. Her hips buck harder now, coating half my face in her wetness, and I pursue her harder.

  “Come for me, mo leannan,” I order right as she cries out, her orgasm hitting so fiercely, if my dick had been inside her, I think she’d have snapped it clean off.

  “I have an IUD,” the fucking gorgeous woman murmurs. My fucking gorgeous woman. “If you’re clean…” She trails off as she tilts her hip upward silently begging me to give her my dick. Before the comedown, I stand and kneel on the edge of the sofa cushion, draping her legs over my thighs now and I run the tip of my shaft up and down through her wet, coating it, using it to tease her still pulsating clit to the point that she cries again. I push inside her tight heat and begin to move.

  “Oh, god!” she cries.

  “Rory, yes!” she cries harder, moving with me. Rolling her hips with every one of my thrusts.

  “Please, baby…” Frankie lifts her hips from the cushion, locking her legs tighter around my thighs to keep herself up “Please, dammit Rory… I need it harder… oh, fuck yes…” She ends on a moan.

  Oh, fuck yes is right. She’s perfect. I bend forward to brace my hands on the sofa beside either side of her head to change up the angle I use to fuck her… and I fuck her. I give it to her hard, exactly as she begged for it. The trill of excitement begins to build at the base of my spine and I’m so fucking close. I pull out and begin to jack off at the same time I move my thumb down to press and rub her swollen again clit.

  “Fuck!” I shout as I come all over those course, curly hairs and she drenches my hand and the cushion.

  She’s gasping for breath, but I’m not near done with her. I might be in my thirties, but after having been deprived of this woman for so many years, I have the recovery time of an eighteen-year-old.

  Even with this miraculous recovery time, that doesn’t mean I have the impatience of an eighteen-year-old, which means for our second go, I decide to take it slower and pick her up so I can lay flat across the sofa and set her down to straddle my hips.

  “Rory,” she whispers. “I… I can’t. It’s too much.”

  Reaching up, I switch between gliding and stippling my fingers up and down her thighs. Her whole body has pinked with that freshly fucked flushness, except her nipples, which darken from their normally rosy hue to almost brown. It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.

  “Put your hands on me, mo leannan.” I move them to press flat against my chest so she has to bend slightly forward to distribute some of her weight onto her arms to feel even a little in control, which she’s not and won’t ever be tonight. My dick is trapped between us. “Lift up, Frankie, and take me.”

  She bites her bottom lip, indecision on her face. If she’s too sore from me fucking her, dammit, the woman couldn’t have been laid in forever. A slow smile creeps over my face from that thought. Not that I’m happy about Frankie not getting any for however long she’s gone without, but that it’s me she uses to break her dry spell. But I know my woman, and as I thought she’d do, she lifts up her hips, situates herself over my erection and glides down. Her head falls back as she sighs. Shite, yeah.

  “Ride me, yeah?” I whisper, too caught up in all things Frankie to speak any louder. She begins to move in a rocking motion at first, my hard length hitting the front and back walls of her sex. As she rocks, she starts to lift herself and glide back down. That, along with the rocking, creates a sensation I can’t even describe.

  Tentative in the beginning, she finds her rhythm. I no longer have to do the work; she’s working herself around my dick. She brings up my hands to knead her breasts, grinding her hips slightly faster with each squeeze of my fingers.

  This is good, but I want more, so I pull her down in order to suck one of her nipples into my mouth. This change in position gives friction in different areas. She gasps, moving her mouth like she can’t catch her breath.

  “Breathe, baby.” Letting go of her nipple must have done the trick because she sucks in a lungful of air and rocks harder. Our pace meanders, but she knows how much pressure she needs at any given time to get her off.

  “I missed this, Rory… missed you…” She moans deep and throaty, throwing a changeup in her hip rotation. “Love you,” she says and as she keeps up her grinding. I don’t think she realizes what she’s said.

  “Ya still love me?” I practically growl those words, needing to hear her answer.

  “Yes,” she mumbles. “Never stopped…”

  Fuck me, I didn’t know how badly I needed to hear those words until I heard them. Frankie never stopped loving me. When I pull her toward me, it’s with far less finesse than I intended, but I need her lips. Moving my hands to hold her cheeks, I use my whole mouth—lips, tongue, teeth—to show her how I feel. She holds on to my wrists as she kisses back, rolling her hips over my length, and it feels so good I’m surprised my heart hasn’t stopped. She tries to pull away to release a moan, but I hold her mouth captive ag
ainst mine, owning it as my due spoil.

  A light sheen of sweat has broken out over both our bodies and as she continues to plunder my mouth with her own, Frankie moves one of my hands down to find her clit. Along with her continued glide, her hips begin to buck erratically and I know she’s close. “Come on, baby. Take it. It’s yars, mo leannan.”

  On the final downglide, she clamps around me and lets loose an orgasmic battle cry. And I get to watch her break apart above me. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

  “Your turn,” she mouths, too spent to utter an actual sound. I nod and flip us so I can take her at the angle I need. Only a handful more strokes and I press my forehead in the crook of her neck as I come inside her. My beautiful Frankie.

  I collapse, bringing more of my weight down on top of her and she circles her arms around me to hold me close. This is home. “I’m never letting ya go again, fair warning,” I tell her as I shift us so that she’s lying mostly on top of me now. “Rest now, Frankie. We’ll figure everything else out later.”

  Remarkably, she plants a kiss on the center of my chest, then drops her cheek to rest exactly where she’d placed that kiss. Her breaths even out and I know she’s fallen asleep. Whatever happened tonight, I smell the stink of Rodrick all over it. If that bastard thinks to keep harassing my woman, he’s got a shock coming.

  And that’s my promise. To him… and to her. On that thought, I kiss the top of her head and close my eyes.

  I let her doze on me for a while, but the pull of that giant bed in my room becomes too much to resist. Ever since we set it up, I’ve been picturing spooning next to this woman. She barely even stirs when I shift her off and then reach around her body to heft her up into my arms and carry her to bed.

  After laying her down and pulling the comforter up over her naked body, I begin to back away to round the bed when she surprises me by reaching her hand out to grasp mine, stopping my retreat. “You’re not leaving?” she asks.