Wild Wind: A Chaos Novella (Chaos #6.6)(42)

He understood her question immediately.

She wanted to know where she would be.

Their kids.

“Where do you go from there, Jagger?” she pushed.

Her voice was soft, sweet, reflective.

She got it.

OG.

Always there.

Right at the heart.

It would always be them.

His mom. Dutch. Hound. Wilder.

His dad.

OG.

He wanted to answer her question, because he had an answer, but all of a sudden, his throat had shut down.

His throat had shut down.

She took his hand, moved it to her inner right arm, and wrapped his fingers around the three symbols inked there.

Even with his hand covering them, he knew what they were. In the last few days, he’d spent some time taking in her tats.

Those were detailed, intricate, even if not a one of them was bigger than his thumbnail.

Two Hamsa hands protecting a Chakra Third Eye.

Yeah.

With that tat, with the easy way she talked about shit, shared it, Jag knew she was there.

She knew herself or was capable of digging deep if something reared that needed contemplation.

He was not.

“Where do you go from there, Jagger?” she whispered.

He wanted to give it to her but he couldn’t.

Instead, he closed his eyes, dropped his head, and felt the tight muscles pull hard in his neck.

She left his hand where it was on her arm and swept hers over his hair.

She caught it at the back in a gentle fist.

“This is mine, okay?” she stated, tugging lightly. “From now on, you don’t cut it unless I say it’s cool. Yeah?”

At her words, that tug, his dick started to get hard and his hand moved in a way it didn’t feel like he was moving it. With a mind of its own, it went to hers and took control.

He positioned it, wrapping it around his throat.

Then he lifted his head and locked eyes with her.

“Here,” he forced out.

That syllable was guttural.

“You’ll be here,” he said.

She held his gaze and hers was penetrating.

Deep.

“I’m gonna fuck you now,” he told her.

“Yes,” she agreed instantly.

“Come in you, no glove.”

“Yes,” she repeated.

“You clean?”

She nodded.

“Yeah,” he answered a question she didn’t ask that he was too. “Protected?” he went on.

Another nod.

With that, he moved.

Fast.

He jerked her legs out, yanked her panties down.

She gasped.

He felt that in his dick too.

He dragged her ass to the edge of the pool table, and when he got her there, she lay back, lifted her arms over her head and watched as he unbuttoned his jeans and pulled his cock out.

On sight of his dick, her eyes grew dark and she licked her lips.

Oh yeah.

That went right through his cock too.

He spread her legs, moved in, dick in his hand, positioning.

He dropped to a hand on the table at her side, slid the head of his cock through her slick, and finally pressed in half an inch, all while watching her face.

“Baby,” she whimpered.

He pulled away, then pressed in a little further, slid back out, in, not far, and out.

“Ready?” he asked between his teeth, because he was ready.

He was ready at the Taste of Colorado years ago.

He sure as fuck was ready right now.

Ready to take her.

Ready to make her his.

“God yes,” she answered.

No hesitation, smooth and quick, he stroked in to his balls.

She closed around him, fitted and silky.

Oh yeah.

Fuck yes.

She was everything.

Perfect.

Her back left the table, her knees slid up his sides, and she clamped on.

“Calves around the back, Archie, you’re gonna be rode rough,” he warned, voice thick, balls heavy and aching.

She moved instantly to comply.

And Jagger started fucking her.

Hard.

So hard, with each stroke, he grunted with the effort.

Archie tensed her legs and cocked her elbows. She planted her hands in the felt above her head and pushed down as he thrust in, holding himself above her, watching her take his fucking. Her tits bouncing. Her body swaying. He slid his free hand up her belly, over the tank between her tits, and wrapped it around her throat.

She righted her head and they locked eyes.

He fucked her harder.

Immediately, her pussy rippled around his dick and she gasped, “Jagger, baby, I’m gonna—”

She didn’t finish.

Because she was finishing.

Lips parted, head falling to the side, she soared for him, her cunt clutching and seizing, milking his dick as she came.

He pulled out, tugged her legs from around him, yanking one up. He stepped away, pulled her legs back down, then whipped her to her belly. Her feet fell to the floor, and he went back in, bending over her, pressing her to the table, his chest to her back, her soft ass in his groin, his face in her neck.

He wrapped an arm around her hip, part to protect her pelvis from thumping into the table, part to go after her clit.

“Oh my God, fuck, Jag. Yes,” she panted, bouncing back into him as he drove his cock into her.