Wild Like the Wind (Chaos #5)(78)

“Fuckin’ you?” he asked.

“Laughing,” I answered.

He blew out a breath.

I almost giggled.

Instead, I shared, “They’re mad at me because they thought I broke up with you right when you lost Jean.”

That sent his brows up. “No shit?”

“I’d appreciate you disabusing them of the notion that their mother is the cold-hearted bitch who dumped ‘their’ Hound, and that’s what Dutch called you, ‘ours,’ right when a woman he cared about died.”

“I’ll get on that later,” he replied.

“They like us together. They, well … want us together.”

Hound said nothing to that.

But the hope came back.

He was hot. I loved looking at him. I’d always loved looking at him. Even when I had Black.

But he’d never been more beautiful to me.

“So, it’s kinda just the brothers we have to win around,” I kept babbling.

“Babe?” he asked.

“What?” I asked back.

“How can you make just a robe look so fucking gorgeous?”

And man, he thought I was hot too because this robe was nothing.

I shrugged. “Maybe because I have nothing on but panties underneath.”

Again the hope fled but this time something that made my nipples tingle took its place.

“Am I fucking you on the kitchen table?” he asked.

My pussy saturated with wet and my legs turned to jelly.

By a miracle, I remained standing.

“Yes, please,” I whispered.

And suddenly there I was, back to the kitchen table, panties down my legs, feeling Hound’s hand work between them, then feeling his cock drive into me.

Okay, maybe I let him get off easy.

But I suspected I was now going to get off a whole lot easier, so it was worth it.

We could hammer out the details later.

Now, I was all in for my man to hammer me.

My back arched into him and I lifted both my hands to fist them in the back of his hair.

He thrust into me, bent over me, eyes locked to mine.

“Do you know how many times I thought about fuckin’ you on this table?” he asked on a grunt.

“How many?” I asked (or kinda panted) back.

“I lost count,” he answered.

“Hmm,” I mumbled, wrapping my legs around his hips.

He started going harder, his face growing darker, his arm curling around the top of my head to drive me down into his thrusts.

Nice.

“Kiss me, Shep,” I begged.

“No,” he declined.

“No?” I asked.

“Gonna watch you get fucked on your kitchen table and gonna watch you come for me right here. I’ll kiss you after.”

My whole body shuddered.

I was in for that plan.

His lips twitched.

“That’s my Keekee,” he muttered. “She likes it like that.”

“Just ride it, cowboy,” I breathed, and God, a week without him, it just took his cock and him pounding into my clit to tumble right over. I got there like a shot, dug my heels into his ass and whispered, “Shep.”

“Go,” he grunted.

I went. I did it loud. I did it hard. I did it long. It was fabulous. And in the middle of it, I felt Hound topple over with me.

Lord, I loved listening to him come. The rolling, snarling, low groan he always gave me made my pussy ripple automatically in response.

When I was done and started to resurface, I realized he wasn’t gliding.

He was in, all the way, buried deep and still watching me.

Yeah.

Hound was in.

All the way.

Buried deep.

“Baby,” I said softly.

That was when he kissed me.

I let go of his hair with my fists but held the back of his head in both my hands and kissed him back.

I thought he’d make it last a long time. I mean, it was a makeup kiss after all.

He didn’t.

And when he spoke again, I was glad he didn’t.

“I’m so fuckin’ sorry I laid that shit on you, baby. You said we land the heavy on people we care about the most because we think they’ll forgive us but it isn’t cool. And that wasn’t cool. But fuck, I was feelin’ so much I could not see past it, and then you opened that door and it boiled over and I came at you like I did and—”

“Hound, Shep, baby,” I cooed, running my hands over his hair, letting them come to rest at the sides of his head. “I get it.”

“I loved him.”

I went still.

Hound was inside me on the kitchen table in the house Black had bought me where I raised his boys … with Hound.

“I would not forgive him for this,” he whispered.

“Are you going to make me happy?” I asked.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ try,” he answered.

“Then yes you would.”

He stared in my eyes before he shoved his face in my neck.

Okay, suffice it to say, I’d underestimated the battle Hound would wage within himself taking what belonged to a brother, even one that was no longer breathing to claim it, we both knew in a way I was still his and a part of me always would be even as I was free to be another’s.