Wild Like the Wind (Chaos #5)(93)

One of his hands slid from my breast down my ribs, my belly, he bent into me so he could trace the outside of the teddy between my legs, and then he pushed it aside and glided one finger inside me.

Well, there you go.

Hound found a successful way to end a conversation he was done having.

I arched into his chest, breathing out, “Baby.”

“Fuck, I don’t know how to fuck you in this, don’t wanna take my eyes off all a’ you,” he growled, sliding his finger out and then going back in with two.

I wrapped both of my hands around his neck and held on.

“Use my neck to lean back, baby, I wanna watch you in that thing takin’ my fingers.”

I did as told.

His eyes roamed down me and locked between my legs.

I slid my thighs out wider.

“Jesus, so fuckin’ slick. I’m coated thick and you’re still runnin’ down my wrist.”

I whimpered.

He looked at me face. “You gonna give me a day after the day after you said you love me present?”

I fucking was.

“Absolutely.”

He grinned.

It was predatory, feral.

My hips jerked against his fingers.

“Ride that, Keekee,” he growled.

I rode his fingers in my teddy, my breasts exposed, pushed up by the tight lace and mesh, and Hound watched me and kept watching me until I exploded for him, crying out, bucking on his fingers at the same time grinding into the thumb he was using to rub my clit.

I barely got over it when he yanked up the material tight between my legs. I moaned as it dragged hard against my clit. And then I was turned, pushed down with cheek to my comforter, my thighs pressed farther apart, my knees still at the edge of the bed, and Hound was inside me.

“Love you, baby,” I breathed.

He pulled the material again, this time at the back, making it drive up my crease.

Yes.

“Yeah,” he grunted.

“Fuck me, honey,” I begged, slamming back into his thrusts.

Hound’s fingers seized the material at the front between my legs and yanked the teddy taut against my clit and kept doing it as he took me from behind.

“Yeah,” he grunted.

I came up to my hands and he mounted me, chest to my back, one hand rhythmically tugging hard at the material, one hand covering my tit and pulling at my nipple, his cock pounding.

He took me there again and straightened away only to drive two wetted fingers up my ass, and then he took me there again.

Only then did he go there with me, the muted thunder of his roar as he shot deep making me quiver all over on my hands and knees in front of him.

He couldn’t have been over it when he pulled out, flipped me to my back and leaned into a hand beside me in the bed, arm straight, other hand covering me between my legs.

“You still drunk?” he asked.

“Mildly,” I answered.

“I want my cum in every part of you that can take it tonight, Keely.”

I didn’t have to be drunk to be down with that.

I reached out an arm to curl my fingers around the back of his neck and used his solid strength to pull me off the bed so I could put my face in his.

“Then give it to me, Hound.”

His snarling growl sounded and kept doing it even as he kissed me.

It was then he followed through with his plan.

I went to work the next day with a slight hangover, still feeling my man’s cock up my ass and in my pussy.

And I learned, happily, I could still tear life up, move on to the next day and get the job done.





Ghosts Are Rising Keely

It was Friday morning.

I was at the kitchen table and Hound was on the phone with what sounded like Tack.

He was still making breakfast for me every morning, and this was evidenced by the fact that he’d just slid my plate in front of me.

He was branching out.

Cheesy scrambled eggs, toast and sausage patties.

I grabbed my fork and knife and dug in, but did it feeling funny.

Hound had woken up beside me every day since Monday.

And every day, he got up with me when he could easily stay asleep in bed and he didn’t do it just to fuck me.

He made me breakfast.

We were good. The boys knew and were happy for us. Bev knew and was happy for us. We had an understanding of the worst that might come when we told the brothers and we also had an understanding of how we’d deal with that.

But I’d come home from work the day before to Hound’s truck in my drive, his bike behind it and a massive duffle filled with Hound’s clothes in my bedroom.

I had not asked him to kinda, sorta move in.

I did not mind he’d kinda, sorta moved in without my invitation.

What concerned me was, as far as I knew, until both his modes of transport hit my driveway and that bag hit my bedroom, he only went back to his place to change clothes.

Before the night was done, he moved his bike and truck through the gate at my back fence into the enclosed area, which Black had built for our park model camper he’d bought for when we hit rallies. I’d sold it a few years after his death to Arlo, and that space had gone empty since.

Until now, it became where Hound could park his rides so they wouldn’t be seen sitting overnight at my house by anyone who we might not want to see them who also might pass or stop by.