Abel, p.3
Abel, page 3
“Motherfucker, you KNEW?” Satan is up and walking to us.
My brother throws up his palms in defense.
“What was I supposed to say, Satan? He loves her.” That stops him short.
He looks from his daughter to me and sighs.
“He always has. Guess I should be lucky he waited till she was legal.”
“Not for lack of trying on my part.” My wife says as she walks up and hugs my brother.
“Too soon, Dylan,” Satan says.
His face was a mix of pride and resentment for the situation.
I laugh cause this is not how the first twenty-four hours of my marriage should be going. I should be balls deep in my wife until I know my seed has been planted, and we continue on with the Deacon family curse.
You see, all the women on her mom’s side, going back five generations, have had twin girls in their first pregnancies. All the twins were given names starting with a D. It’s a tradition we will be keeping alive. I can’t fucking wait.
My brother must know what I’m thinking cause he says, “You already have your D names picked out for those girls, don’t you?”
“Since she was seventeen...” I start to say the names, but Satan is on me. Hand around my throat.
“The fuck you say? You’ve been fucking around since then?!”
Dylan steps in and takes his hand off my neck. I’m coughing while she tells him, “You gotta stop letting him rile you up, old man.”
To me, she says, “If you give my daddy a heart attack, I’ll kill you.”
Satan smirks, and I say to her, “What about our vows?”
She nods. “Yes, till death do us part.”
She points to the body on the ground, “Remember, I’m a really good shot.” I blow her a kiss while my brother laughs it up.
Cane walks over to the corpse and shakes his head at me.
“Who is this fuck?”
He nudges the body like he’s making sure it’s dead. Honestly, with everything that went on last night, none of us had bothered to look. Well, that’s a stupid rookie mistake. We all needed to get it together.
The sound of multiple Harley’s came at us fast. I glanced up, counting three bikes and the black van we use for body disposal. I move my gaze back to Dylan and Satan. They are both staring at the body, slack-jawed.
“You two recognize him?” I ask.
Satan nods. Dylan gulps, watching her sister slowly dismount her bike and start towards us.
Pinky walks over to me, followed by Doc, who gets to work on the body with Karma, one of our enforcers. A prospect waits behind the wheel of the van, slowly trying to shrink from view.
“PROSPECT!” Satan yells, “Get your useless ass outta that van and bring over a body bag.”
“Actually, his ass is pretty fucking useful,” Pinky smirks as she joins her sister and father, but then she stops.
All the color drains from her face, and she drops to her knees.
“No.” Her whisper is barely heard.
“How?” She questions, looking up at her father.
“You said he was already dead!” She yells.
She pulls her gun and empties the clip while Doc scrambles to get away.
“What the fuck is wrong with the women in this club?!” Doc yells, and Satan and I both say, “Watch it!” at the same time.
Dylan has Dorian in a bear hug. I walk over and look at the body. He looks familiar, like a younger version of…..”Oh shit, it can’t be.”
Satan is staring at his daughters.
“It’s not, but it could be his son.” His voice is stern from the emotions of the last hour.
I’m still confused.
“Why after five years?” I ask, shaking my head.
Pinky looks like she’s got it together and answers for her father.
“Revenge. Because I killed his rapist ass father, so he wanted to kill mine.” She turns, walks to her bike, and leaves.
I turn to Dylan. She looks at me and says, “Take me home.” I nod and glance at Satan, who waves us off.
“We got this,” Satan says.
“Ok, I’m taking my wife home. Guess the honeymoon has to wait.”
4
DYLAN
Five years ago
Mom, Dorian, and I were out shopping for our sweet fifteen dresses. Coming from Mexican descent, it should be a classic Quinceanera, but we compromised since we both want to be modern.
Our party is three weeks away, and Dorian hasn’t found the right color, pink, yet. Mom drove us to LA from Vegas so we could hit all the fancy stores, and we’re in shopping nirvana.
“Maybe I’ll just dye my hair pink and wear black,” Dorian says to us as we walk by dozen of shops.
“Not sure how your Dad will feel about that, but it’s an option,” Mom says.
She’s kinda awesome like that.
“Our theme is black and white.” I shrug my opinion at her.
I just want her to be happy. As far as twins go, we are polar opposites. Although, technically, we are identical, as in we shared the same egg that split to make us, but the identical part ended there. We are a million to one abnormality in twins. We have the same facial features, body type, and smile, but I have dark brown curly hair and blue eyes, and she has straight blonde hair and green eyes.
She's the dark twin with the sunshine hair, while I’m the light twin with the midnight hair and our attitudes match. Dorian is the rebel, and I’m the book snob. I’m the pleaser, and she’s hard to please... clearly, ‘cause seven shops later, still no dress.
“Mom, can we take a break, and get some lunch?” I ask ‘cause I need some fuel to keep going.
We aren’t going to be able to please Dorian no matter how much Mom tries.
“I can hear your thoughts, brat. I’ll find it. Don’t give up on me,” Dorian says softly to me.
She’s mean to everyone but me.
I sigh, “Okay, but time is running out, Dor.” I state while we walk up to a cafe and get seated.
“Mom, can you get me a Cobb salad? I’m gonna run to the bathroom.” I say.
Since I go nowhere alone, For gets up to follow me.
“Me too, Mom.” Dor copies.
“Okay, hurry back!” Mom yells as we walk away.
“EXTRA DRESSING!” We both yell at her and hurry off to the bathroom.
As we are rounding the corner to the public restrooms, I trip on a broken piece of sidewalk. I catch myself on the wall and look up to Dor and say, “That was close…Dorian?” I’m spinning just in time to see her struggling against two huge guys trying to get her in a van.
“HEY!” I scream, rushing to help her, but I never make it.
I feel a hard thump on my head and start to fall again. I’m grabbed from behind. I can barely focus when a hand comes around my face, a funny smell invades my nose, and then everything fades to black.
When I come to, my head is killing me. This must be one of those migraines that Mom is always complaining about. I try to open my eyes, but the light hurts.
“Dylan?” I hear Dor call me.
“Please wake up, don’t leave me here alone. I’m so scared they hit you on the head so hard.” Her words make no sense.
Hit my head? She sounds like she’s crying. Dorian never cries.
Then it all comes back to me. I open my mouth to scream, but she stops me, her hand going over my mouth.
“Shh, we gotta stay calm. Remember what dad has always taught us.”
I take a deep breath, nod, and reach for my necklace. I panic when it’s gone. I look up at her, and she shakes her head.
“They took it, but don’t worry; I set mine off before they took it away.”
Dad gave us tracking jewelry for Christmas two years ago. When we wanted our independence, it was his way of keeping us safe. A necklace for me, a bracelet for Dor.
“Where are we?” I ask, looking around.
“Some type of warehouse, I think. Reminds me of Doc’s place.”
Doc is the MC’s, well…doctor. A marine field medic who just didn’t want to finish up becoming a civilian doctor, as he puts it. The MC set him up in a state-of-the-art medical facility that looks like an old run-down warehouse on the outside. Never judge the book by its cover.
“Okay, do we know them? What do they want, and how long have we been here?” I ask her.
Survival mode has been activated for us. Dad drilled it into us since we could talk. Us being abducted has always been his worst nightmare. It almost broke him and mom up before we were even born. His fear of not being able to keep his children safe, knowing how much mom wanted kids, but mom was determined and said she would walk away from their fifteen-year marriage if he didn’t change his mind. He finally gave in.
“No clue who or why, but about four hours, I think. The sun is going down.” Dor says, bringing me back to the present.
I glance up to see two tiny windows about ten feet up. I’m the problem solver in this duo. No furniture, no hand grips, nothing but four walls and a door. I stumble to my feet and try the knob. Locked.
“Really, like I didn’t try that first?” She huffs.
I shrug. I look at the windows again. We’re both five-three in height, we should be able to reach them if we stand on one another's shoulders. I look at Dor.
“You're the cheerleader.” She answers my silent question and bends down to boost me up.
Left foot in her hands, right foot on her shoulder, and I grip the ledge of the window. I pull myself up and look outside. It’s a fifteen to twenty-foot drop, easy. If I can get the window open.
“Has anyone checked on the brats?” We heard from outside the door. Then footsteps.
“Shit, hurry up!” Dorian whisper shouts at me. I work the window, pushing it open and pulling my knee up to the ledge. I reach down to grab her hand, when the door bursts open.
“WHAT THE FUCK? GET DOWN NOW!” A man yells at me while he grabs Dorian around the middle and drags her away.
“GO!” She yells at me, fear for my well-being more than for herself, clear in her eyes.
A second later, another man comes in and points a gun at me. I jump out the window.
5
ABEL
“Earth to Dylan, where are you in that head of yours, love?”
I can see the darkness slowly recede from her eyes. The grim look suddenly disappearing from sight, and in its place was the young, vibrant woman I married a few hours ago. Keeping her in the present is a constant struggle with her TBI. Traumatic brain injuries affect everyone differently.
“Sorry, flashback,” She admits.
We’ve been home, as in the clubhouse, for about fifteen minutes. She hasn’t moved off the back of my bike. She doesn't have many triggers from the abduction, but seeing any member of the Cardona family would set any of them off.
“Do I need to take you to Doc's?” He has been the twin’s anchor since the horrible ordeal.
She shakes her head, dismounts, and holds her hand out to me. Doc was a godsend in both the twins' recovery. He not only handled all the physical needs they had but also the emotional ones. They needed someone they already trusted to help heal them. Not sure I’ll ever be able to pay that man back for all he’s done for my wife.
“No, I’m ok. I really just want to shower with my husband.” She grins at me.
Now, THAT, I can get on board with. We are on our makeshift honeymoon, after all. I take her hand, bring it to my lips and kiss her wedding ring.
“It would be my husbandly honor.” I chuckle at myself.
Shower sex sounds like the best thing in the world. I’ll gladly spend hours washing the dirt, sand, and grime off her body just so I can lick it dry after.
“Sap!” she says and shakes her head while we walk inside hand in hand.
She doesn’t understand the sexual monster I’ve tried to keep contained for years around her no longer has a cage. She’s gonna learn real quick that I crave her more than air.
“Well, look what the pussy dragged in!” Yells Chaos from behind the bar.
Snickers fill the room. Of course, the fucking common room is full of club members at the ass crack of dawn.
“How many times I gotta tell your dumb ass it’s CAT, call my wife pussy again, and I’ll have your fucking cut.” Taking a member’s cut away is a punishment worse than death.
Why the fuck are they all here so early? It’s barely six in the morning.
That did it. My unplanned announcement of our recent nuptials gets the reaction the moron craves. That idiot always has a way to cause his namesake CHAOS. He always brings the petty out of me. Here come all the questions as the room suddenly goes quiet at my words.
“Your what?” From Chaos.
“Beg your pardon?” asked Karma.
“Does Prez know?” Bear asked with curiosity.
“Was it legal?” My head swivels to Judge for that last comment. Fucking lawyers.
“Yes, it’s fucking legal!” I’m done with this shit.
I grab my wife and throw her over my shoulder.
“Stand down, counselor.”
I’m a man on a mission to get fully naked with his wife for the first time ever, and I let these idiots get me off course. Nope, I won’t have it. I’m walking away when the slapping at my back gets my attention.
“Abel!” she yelps.
I forgot she ain’t wearing panties. I cover her as best I can. I’ll kill them all.
“No one saw SHIT!” I yell.
Jesus, I’m losing my mind.
“Yes, VP!” I get yelled back at me, but I’m too busy taking the stairs two at a time.
Jogging down the hall, I reach our room, and I kick the door open and then closed. FINALLY, I have my wife alone with a bed less than ten feet away, but she wants a shower, and she gets what she wants, always.
So I head left to the ensuite. Turning on the water and then sitting her on the sink. I look into her eyes and see love, humor, and need. I untie the halter and get my first glimpse of the world's most perfect tits. How did I skip this before? My mouth has her right nipple in it before I can answer my own question.
I feel her hand disappear into my hair. I reach around and undo the second tie and unbutton the skirt. Then I’m left with a dilemma. Do I stand her up to take it off or rip the fucker off?
“Abel!” She smacks my shoulder as I rip it right down the middle of her back, and I bite her nipple in response.
She lets out a moan that makes my balls throb.
I kiss my way to her lips, dip my finger into her pussy and ask, “How sore are you? Popping this cherry and then riding bareback must not have been very comfortable.”
I’m looking into her eyes, waiting to see what she needs. I’ll back off if I have to, but I’m praying for a green light.
“Wash me, kiss it better, then give me my cock. We have twins to make.” She whispers on my lips.
I hit my knees, lifting both her legs over my shoulder. Like she’ll ever have to ask me that twice.
“Yes, ma’am.” Fuck, she’s perfect and all mine.
If I can manage to end all the rest of my days just like this, I’ll die a very happy man.
“God, Abel, shower first,” she says with a gasp. She sounds appalled that I would ever put my lips on her dirty little pussy. Oh, my love, I’ll be doing way worse very soon.
“I’m cleaning you.” I must look like the villain stealing the maiden's virtue saying that.
I chuckle when she slaps my head, but all it does is push my nose to her clit, which makes her grab my hair and pull me closer to her.
“Do that again.” Her astonishment at the sensation was still so new.
Ah, the joy of having eight thousand pleasure nerves in one little area. I plan on staying on every single one of hers forever.
“I’ll do something better.” I suck her clit into my mouth hungrily.
My fingers slip into her, and less than thirty seconds later, she's squirting all over my face and speaking in tongues. Pretty sure she’s trying to ask me why her body keeps doing that. I’m more worried about preserving this shirt for the rest of my life. It’ll always smell like her first time. I’ll answer all her questions after I’m done being a total caveman.
I release her tender flesh and stand back up. Now that she’s nice and ready, it’s my turn. I strip once I know she can hold herself up without falling. Once I’m naked, I lift her up and wrap her legs around me to step into the shower. I angle the showerhead to hit us on the shower seat I had built in here.
She’s back with me, grinding and kissing my neck, so I lean her back to get her hair wet and grab a hold of her left nipple since it’s been neglected.
I’m not sure she meant to or if we really are just perfect puzzle pieces, but she shifts, and my cock slides right on in. She looks down at us and pushes until I’m nine inches deep. She grumbles something like “not deep enough” and widens her legs to try again.
She lifts herself up then, whispering, “Help me.”
It’s as if what we are doing is still forbidden, and the law will be here to take me away from her if she’s overheard. That just ain’t gonna work for me. I need her to be vocal, screaming my name for all the fuckers in this clubhouse to hear, and I’m going to show her how, right now.
“Always.” I grab her ass and start moving her on me.
I kiss her, and once she has her rhythm, I grab a bottle of shampoo. Since she was so nimble earlier, I decided to test her limits.
“Grab me around the neck, lean back but do not stop. If you do, I will smack this ass pink.” She gasps and, after another two thrusts, does what I say.
Being able to multitask is a gift I never waste. I can have her clean and cumming at the same time.
I apply the shampoo to her head and start to massage her scalp. She doesn’t stop, but she sure does change tactics. Instead of stroking me in an up and down motion, now she’s circling her hips. Grinding while I’m so deep, my Prince Albert is rubbing her cervix. I pull on her hair to get her attention.
