Wild Like the Wind (Chaos #5)(58)

“We’ll talk later,” he repeated.

“I lashed out because I’m mad about Bev, and this shit fucked with the glow of a great weekend. We lash out the worst at the people we care about because we think they’ll forgive us. But it isn’t cool.”

He said nothing.

But she was right.

She could cut him to shreds and he’d stay standing as long as he could and then accept her apology even while he continued to bleed.

“Saying that,” she continued, “we disagree about how that should be handled with Boz. I get that he’s your brother. But what you aren’t getting is that she’s my sister. You’d bleed for them. Do you think I wouldn’t do the same for Bev? She’s the best friend I’ve got. She’s the only aunt my sons have who’s worth dick. She’s like blood. Proved better than blood. She’s always been there for me. I’ve always been there for her. That’s the way it is, Hound. You’d not think twice about wading in for one of your brothers. Turn the tables, honey. I’m sitting on the other side.”

It fucked him that she had a point.

He didn’t tell her that.

He again didn’t speak.

“Hound?”

“You pour that woman in bed, you come over and text before you come up, Keely,” he growled.

“Okay, baby,” she whispered, sounding pleased with herself.

She won again but she was smart enough not to crow.

“And I told Boz to get his head out of his ass about Bev,” he told her.

She was still whispering when she replied, “You what?”

“We were having a heavy conversation before you showed. You couldn’t have worse timing than if you’d waltzed in five minutes before the sun exploded. So I’m not sure either of us got in there. You give me a heads up next time, I might be able to tell you that shit.”

“Right,” she murmured, and how he knew she was crowing now, he had no clue.

He just did.

So he said, “You’re sleepin’ with a red ass, baby. Serious as shit. I’m resetting the alarm to five. So pour Bev into bed soon. You’re gettin’ a workout before you pass out, Keekee. So you best get over here so I can dole out that shit and we can both get some sleep.”

“I’ll be there soon’s I can, cowboy.”

Now the woman was purring.

“Go take care of Beverly,” he ordered.

“On it. See you later, baby.”

“Later, babe.”

He hung up.

Then he opened his fridge.

He made his decision and nuked some of Keely’s leftovers for dinner.



The beginning of the end started that night.

He’d spanked her, fuck yeah, he had. Like the naughty brat she’d been, her jeans pulled down her ass, he’d given it to her.

Then he’d shoved his hand between her thighs held tight together with her jeans, found her sopping wet and made her come on his lap.

After that, he’d given her a workout, giving himself the same while he did.

Her ass was pink but her mood was still victorious, and after he pounded her fourth orgasm out of her (his second), he’d rolled to his back with her on top and let her give him all of her weight.

It took her a while to recover, but she did and she did it doing her pagan priestess act, lavishing every line and curve of his tats with the tip of her tongue, like it was her that put them there, her they belonged to and she was worshipping at the altar of her own creation.

Her hands were on him too.

But Hound just lay there, one arm thrown to his side, the fingers of his other hand wound in her hair, cupping the back of her head, and he felt what she was doing to him. What she was giving to him. Taking it, memorizing it, hoping like fuck it filled him up for the time when he’d have nothing like this and no hope to find it.

And then her tongue slipped over the reaper.

After it did, it traced the word “Black.”

His eyes opened and he stared at the ceiling, feeling her touch on him now burn like acid.

She could worship him, fuck yeah, he’d let her do it for hours.

But she sure as fuck couldn’t worship her old man using him.

Except for the fact that she did, she was doing it right then, and she had been for months.

That was what this was.

He let her move to the “Red” and trace that and the scale before he took his fingers out of her hair and put both of his hands under her arms.

He hauled her up his body then slid her off to his side, turning her so her back was to his chest.

“Shep—”

He wasn’t Shep.

He hadn’t been Shep since his girl called him that in high school.

He was Hound.

Chaos’s dog on a leash.

And he was fucking proud of it.

“Quiet,” he ordered.

He reached behind him to switch off the light. Then he pressed into her to reach to the light on her side and he switched that off.

Finally, he yanked the covers over them and tucked her in the curve of his body.

“Are we done?” she asked quietly.

They were done before they started.

How she could not know they were totally done now, he couldn’t fucking guess.

What he did know was that this was about Black. This was about using Hound to get her wild on. This was about going back to the glory days and getting fucked so hard she was breathless, made to come so hard she thought the world was ending.