Needing Carrie: A Savage Brothers MC Novella(2)

“Jacob, sweetheart,” I whisper, my fingers tangling in his hair. He keeps it cut short, and I love the way it feels soft against my fingers.

“God, Care Bear, you always taste so good,” he groans, and I swear his words vibrate through my body.

“We’re going to be late,” I whisper, trying to hold onto my sanity.

“Ask me if I give a f*ck. I need inside of you. Where’s Jazz?”

“She’s still down for her nap. I didn’t want to wake her until we were ready to leave.”

His eyes are bright with desire. “This mean I have time to f*ck you like I want?” His voice is thick and husky.

If you could have an instant orgasm, his voice would have sent me over. It’s a near thing. When Jacob gets this needy, I can rarely hold myself back.

“We’ll be even later,” I warn him, knowing his mom will worry, but not caring.

In answer, he picks me up in his arms, one hand on my back and one under my legs. I push his t-shirt up, pressing my lips against his warm body. I use my tongue to taste his salty skin. I barely get time to play, before he’s kicking the door closed to our room and putting me down by our bed.

“Clothes off now,” he orders, while already taking off his own. I pull my sweater over my head and unlatch my bra. My eyes are frozen on the way his zipper slowly moves and his pants fall to the ground.

“Carrie,” he growls, reminding me of a sound a bear makes when it’s hungry. I jerk my eyes up to his, and he’s looking straight at me. “Lose the pants. Now.”





2





Dancer





I’m an *. I should at least shower and wash the dirt and filth away before I touch her. It wouldn’t matter. I always feel like I’m covered in filth; no amount of soap brings that off. It’s just one of the many reasons I never feel good enough to breathe the same air as Carrie.

When she submits to me, when she gives herself to me, that’s the only time I feel human. She takes away the shadows. She always has. Once she takes her clothes off and she’s standing in front of me naked, it’s not about that. It’s not about anything other than loving this woman with everything I am. She’s still as beautiful today as she was the first time we made love. She’s changed very little. There are a few stretch marks on her stomach and breasts that she’s self-conscious about. I don’t understand why. They’re from our child. That alone makes them beautiful. Carrie laughs when I tell her that I love the marks on her body. Those marks are proof of my ownership, as sure as the tattoo she wears of my name on her hip.

I hold her neck, so her eyes are on me and me alone. “You’re so beautiful Carrie,” I tell her, the words sounding hollow and in no way summing up what I’m feeling—what she means to me.

“Jacob…” she whispers, breaking off when I press a small kiss to her lips, making a path down her neck. I place gentle kisses along each one of the stretch marks on her breasts, the skin paler here than everywhere else, seeming more delicate. There are freckles dusted over her like glitter. I love her freckles. I’ve spent night after night tracing and connecting them all over her body. It’s my favorite pastime.

Sucking her nipple into my mouth, I wrap my tongue around it, while teasing her sensitive peak in a way I know she loves. I pinch the other one, pulling on it, and then rolling it between my fingers. I’m rewarded by her whimper, which is filled with hunger.

“You like that, baby?” I ask her, enjoying the way her body is trembling beneath my hands.

“Always with you Jacob,” she whispers, and I feel her hands tangle in my hair. Carrie makes me feel like the damn king of the world. I doubt she realizes she gives that to me, but she does. Kissing down her stomach, I let my hands glide along her body. I’m always surprised by how soft she feels—how delicate she is in my arms.

I lock my arm strong against her back, pulling her into me, and give her a quick squeeze. When she looks into my eyes, I step away.

“Lose your pants,” I order her again, my voice hoarse with desire.

Carrie smiles. If anything, that’s what has changed. Sex between us has always been phenomenal, better than anything I’ve ever had before and something I know I will never have with another woman. Fuck, I don’t want another woman. She’s ruined me for anyone else. But, in the beginning, Carrie was unsure—almost afraid of the passion and the desire we share. Now? She’s embraced it. That smile on her beautiful lips is just another sign of that. My woman knows that she brings me to my knees. I don’t even mind it. Carrie is my safe place. I know that down in my bones.

She undoes her pants, looking me straight in the eye. I’m torn on whether to look at her eyes or those creamy thighs she’s exposing. Both have the power to hold me prisoner. As she steps out of her pants, kicking them out of the way, I’m struck again by what a f*cking lucky man I am. There was a time in my life I almost lost this—almost pushed it away. Thank God she gave me another chance.

Capturing some of that auburn hair in my hand, my fingers sift through the waves. Gently, I hold the side of her neck. The heat of her skin, the softness of it, all swamp me at once. I lose myself every single time I touch Carrie. I can feel her pulse jump against the inside of my palm. Her beautiful green eyes sparkle up at me, holding secrets to the oldest mysteries in the world, and making me their willing prisoner.