Never Love An Outlaw (Deadly Pistols MC #1)(62)

When she recovered from the love slap, she began to buck me back. Hard.

The chick became a total demon beneath me. Her * met my thrusts with a passion I could feel all the way down to my bones. Her perfect ass bounced backward and snapped against me, calling me to f*ck her harder.

So I did.

I f*cked her like a whore, a lover, and the woman I was meant to be with 'til the end of my days all in one. I f*cked her that way because that was exactly what she'd become, and I aimed to keep her.

Mine, goddamn it, I thought with a snarl, feeling the fire building in my balls.

Mine when she's naked or dolled up for the town. Mine when she's young and vibrant, or old and wrinkled. Mine when she's looking at me with tears in her eyes, holding our first kid at her breast.

Too much. Imagining my baby in her shot me into outer-f*cking-space.

My hips went wild, smashing into her, pinning her to the bed as I f*cked her in long, manic, mattress pounding strokes.

“Fuck, Meg, you're so damned tight. Come the f*ck with me! Now!”

Her * clenched around my cock before I'd even finished saying it. My cock tingled, and I drove into her deep one more time, rooting myself against her womb, feeling the explosion come.

I came so hard I forgot to breathe.

Every muscle in my body tensed, primed for squeezing every drop I could into her, spilling it in her sweet * in hot, molten jets. My cock spat fire for what felt like an hour, and I still couldn't get enough, growling as I forced out a few more thrusts to grind it deeper.

I wanted to own her every way possible, dammit. And someday, when she went off those stupid pills, I'd be working on the son or daughter I'd take on fishing trips on the lake outside.

I'd loved my family a long time ago. Never dreamed of building a new one 'til now, when I pulled her face to the side by the hair, and put my lips on hers.

“You're driving me insane because I love you, babe. Don't give a shit if I wind up in a straitjacket, as long as it's with you.”

No bullshit. I wasn't letting this woman go for anything. And if any man ever caused her a single tear again, I'd die first, murdering the sonofabitch with my mad hands.





IX: Too Close to Paradise (Megan)


Everything here was beautiful.

I woke up blissfully sore the next day, and found the bed empty next to me. The last thing I remembered was drifting off to sleep with my face on Skin near dawn, breathing in his scent, loving the afterglow when we'd finished f*cking more times than I could count.

A breeze hissed through the open window. I gasped when I sat up and stretched.

The trees outside looked incredible. They wore their autumn hues all the way down to the lake, jack-o-lantern orange mixed with reds, yellows, and just a dash of lively green.

I smiled, searching for my clothes. It took my nose a little longer to wake up. Then I noticed the heavenly smell in the air as I slid on my panties.

Breakfast.

I fought not to tear up, wondering if I'd actually died before he saved me, and maybe this was heaven. I was about to head out to the kitchen to meet him when my phone pinged.

Daddy's text made me groan. I couldn't believe I'd forgotten to check in with my parents when I'd taken off last night.

I typed something quick back, told him I'd be home in another day or two, after spending time with Becky. I said a small prayer he wouldn't actually check in with her. I left it short and sweet, adding a brief note about how excited I was for therapy, and turned the phone off.

I hated lying to him, when he'd done so much for me. But Dad wouldn't understand this – not yet – just like he wouldn't understand that the only therapy retreat I needed was already right here in front of me.

“Shit, babe, you're awake.” Skin walked in, wearing nothing but his jeans low on his lips and a smile. “Just in time for eggs and pancakes. Get out here.”

I smiled as he took my hand and dragged me to the breakfast table. The first couple bites told me the boy knew how to cook, and that made me grin even more.

“What's up? Not enough salt?” He shot me a sharp look when he saw me staring out the window, chewing my food.

“Sometimes I can't believe I'm really here. With you. Doing this.”

Skin smiled, folding the long scar on his cheek. “Believe it, woman. If you want, we can spend every summer doing this. Can't imagine any other way worth spending the time when I'm not with my brothers. I'm gonna hit the town looking for places outside the woods next week, before winter creeps in.”

“Oh, we're moving in together already?” I couldn't hide the hope in my eyes.

“Damned straight. I'm not gonna let my old lady live with her folks forever. What kinda man would I be? Shit, come shopping for places with me. It'll give you something to think about.”

I reached across the table for his hand. “I'd like that. This is all happening so fast...”

“Yeah, it is. When I spot something I want, I move like lightning, babe. You'll figure that out fast, if you haven't by now.”

“No, I kinda had a clue.” I took another bite of my food, chewing slowly, enjoying the warmth and strength of my fingers in his. “What makes a man like you so decisive? There's got to be more to it than...well, that.”

I motioned at his beautiful chest with my fork, staring at the Deadly Pistols MC tattoo blended into his huge muscles. The smoking gun and skulls across his torso seemed more like a birthmark than something he'd gotten later in life, intricately and forever part of him.