Abel, p.4
Abel, page 4
“You disobeyed,” I growl, but she’s shaking her head.
She’s my perfect match. The brat is going to challenge me at every turn. I’m looking forward to all the hard, angry makeup sex ‘cause I’m barely ever wrong.
“Still moving and cumming.” I feel a splash hit my abs.
Touché, almost never wrong. If anyone can outsmart me, it’s my wife.
“Don’t let go!” I scream as her hands start to slip from my neck.
I hurriedly rinse my hand of shampoo, slip my arm around her right side to support the angle, and I pinch her clit HARD with my left hand. Now, she’s exploding even harder. Her body is trying to force my cock out with its violent convulsions.
“Me and this pussy are going to have words.” I’m thrusting so hard as I punctuate each word.
“YOU-TAKE-THIS-COCK.” I need to feel every pulse and squeeze.
“ABEL.” She moans, making it sound like the longest word in the English language.
It started off softly, ending in near ear-splitting volume. That’s right, my love, you say my name. She’s still spraying me, and I’m fighting not to as well. I’m not ready for this to end, so I decide it’s time to get outta this shower.
I lift her up in my arms, standing while still inside her, and then check that the shampoo rinsed out from the way she was leaning back. Thank god it did cause I want her in my bed NOW. We’ll have to try this again later, with soap next time.
I turn off the water, walk out into the bedroom, and drop us on the bed. We bounce on each other. The action making me bite my lip since she’s still on my cock. It feels incredible. She grabs my head and kisses me so softly that the dirty things I’m doing to her are the best contrast.
I pull out, flip her, and slam back in. She screams my name over and over. I am so lost to this woman.
“Gonna give you those twins,” I say to the air, because I think she may have passed out from pleasure. “Loving you forever is going to be the best honor of my life.” I keep slamming into her. I feel her fingers at her clit, and then she's spraying the bed.
“FUCK YES!” I erupted, so deep in my wife, there’s no way in hell she ain’t pregnant now.
6
DYLAN
Something warm is lying next to me, and I feel overheated. I try to kick off the covers and can’t. What the fucking hell? I open my eyes and realize I’m in a strange bed. Suddenly I’m really cold. In a moment of panic, I realize there is a hand on my hip that moves. I’m naked, shit.
“Shh, give it a minute to sync.” Comes in a soft whisper.
I know that voice.
My brain turns on, and I sigh. I’m in bed, at the clubhouse with my husband. Panic forgotten, I roll into the warmth I tried to escape a few moments ago. Much better. From fear of the unknown to free and content in ninety seconds. That’s got to be a record for me.
“What time is it?” I am too lazy to look.
Besides, when he reaches over me, I can grab his mighty fine ass.
I softly giggle at my thoughts. I’m coveting my own husband. Who knew?
Abel reaches for his phone, lights it up, and groans. Okay, maybe I’ll grab his ass later.
“It’s just after one,” he says.
Ah, that groan makes sense now. It’s late either way, but is it am or pm?
“In the morning or afternoon? I hate that you have no windows in here.” I go to get outta bed, and I’m hauled right back in.
Maybe I can grab his ass after all. It seemed like we needed to be somewhere by his reaction.
“Safety.” He states simply.
Of course, his excuse for everything. The man does nothing halfway.
“Where are you going without kissing me good afternoon?” He teases as he kisses my stomach, which picks that time to growl.
Damn, when was the last time we ate? It was before the run to the Chapel. No wonder I’m starving!
He chuckles, “A husband's job is never done. What would you guys like to eat?” He says all that to my stomach.
Because, of course, conception is one hundred percent guaranteed in the first twenty-four hours for Abel Brooks.
“You guys?” I fake confusion to throw the fool off.
He sees right through my ruse.
“Mmhmm, you and my baby girls.” He states like it's a done deal.
Fine, I'll play along.
“We would like chicken wings and fries,” I say, rolling my eyes at his antics.
A second later, he’s out of bed, dick swinging in the breeze, phone at his ear.
“Yes, hello, I’d like an order of buffalo wings, french fries, and root beers for two sent to the VP suite,” he says into his phone while he puts it on speaker to get dressed.
His father’s disgruntled voice starts yelling at his wayward son instantly.
“The fuck you think this is, a hotel. We ain’t got room services, you asshole. Come get your own shit, dick.” Abe hangs up.
But we both know the food will be done when we get down to the MorningStar Grill.
He’s whistling while putting his shoes on. I glance at his mirror and shriek. Dear lord above. My hair is like a rat's nest. He’s at my side in a second.
“What? You ok?” His eyes are so worried.
Shit, I would apologize for scaring him, but this is his fault!
“My hair!” He looks at my head and covers his laugh with his hand. I was so blissed out that I didn’t even comb it.
I jump outta bed and yell over my shoulder, “Handle lunch while I fix this mess. First and last shower sex if this is what I have to deal with.” I grumble.
But of course, he hears me. Before I can close the door, he’s there and naked again. What the fuck? How did he strip so fast? He’s palming his phone, and it’s ringing on speaker again.
“Yes, VP?” Some prospect answers.
I watch as he talks and strokes his dick. I cross my arms. What is he up to now?
“Head over to the bar and grab the order I gave Abe a few minutes ago. Leave it outside my door. Don’t knock or come in no matter what you hear, understand?” he says while looking at me like I’m his lunch.
Uh oh. Understanding is dawning alright. I gulp. Clearly, my bratty ways are going to keep my husband very busy. I take a step back.
“Yes, VP.” He hangs up and advances on me like I’m his prey.
Abel throws his phone over his shoulder, not giving a single fuck where it lands. His head tilted to the side as if he’s trying to figure out if I’m scared of him. Never gonna happen. I straighten my shoulders and bring it on, mister. He notices the change very quickly.
“Did I hear you say no shower sex?” My husband questions my previous decision.
As if checking it’s my final answer before my punishment. With a tilt of his head in the opposite direction, as if he’s limbering up for a fighting match at HAVOC, the MC’s gym my cousin Chaos owns. I glance at his abs and make a note to thank him for all the MMA lessons Abel has taken.
When I meet his eyes again, I realize my mistake. Oh shit. The word no is not in my husband's vocabulary.
“Dylan, love. We’ve discussed this before. You know I love a challenge.” He grins and rubs his hands together.
Fuck, I just wanted to fix my damn hair.
“It wasn’t a challenge, you ass! I have to detangle this rat's nest you created.” I point at my hair.
He has the good grace to bite his lip to try and stop laughing. It’s sexy as hell. Now I have to be the ultimate brat about it. Maybe this was what dad meant when he said we were perfect for each other.
He takes advantage of my distraction and has me up against the wall, leg over his hip, hand holding me by my right tit, and three fingers in my pussy in a blink of an eye.
“You, my dear wife, are a danger to my health. At this rate, we will have ten kids before I’m forty.” My eyes bug out at him playfully, but his skilled fingers transform the playfulness into outright sin.
I’m grinding down on his fingers, wishing for that family with all my soul.
“Yes, please,” is all I manage before he makes me cum.
Will I ever get enough of that? Probably not. Thank the heavens I don’t have to.
What seems like hours later, we are out of the shower, dressed, and my hair is back to normal. We’re sitting on the couch eating, when a loud shout is heard from the hall.
“CHURCH, NOW!” The roughest angriest voice on the planet can be heard behind our door.
I love it’s sound.
“Your father beckons.” Abel leans in to kiss me.
The knock on the door surprises both of us. Abel opens to my Dad, who just looks past him and says, “You too.”
Wait, me? I point at myself, and he nods.
Why on earth would I need to be at Church? It must be worse than we thought. Who the fuck did I kill last night?
“Oh shit,” I say.
Abel grabs my hand and replies, “Yup,” as we walk down to have church.
This is like the worst walk of shame ever. Everyone in the common room watches us pass them. They don’t say much, but the questions in their eyes are easy enough to decipher.
Abel and I running off to get married without them is not even in the top ten, but I’m sure it’s coming. Not that any of them are mad…Well, with the exception of Dad and Dorian. It’s the opposite, really. They feel excluded. I sigh while walking into my father’s library, feeling guilty. We need to make it up to them somehow.
My Dad is a romantic at heart and a big-ass bookworm like me, so Church is something out of the King Arthur’s era: a huge round table with twenty seats, suits of armor stand by the doors, and the big ass throne-like chair where Dad always sits. It’s never in the same place. It goes around the table to symbolize that the King is always moving amongst his people.
The room is half full when we get in. I look around for my sister. Typical, she’s missing. I’ll go find her after. I sit next to Abel. He looks mighty disappointed.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
His mood has completely changed.
This handsome Greek god-like creature before me, with his tousled, without a care light brown hair, eyes to match, POUTS like he’s three and not thirty-three, then looks at his lap as if I KNEW he wanted me to sit there.
“You are trouble with a capital T, mister,” I say as I move to his lap.
He snatches me up like I’ll try to escape, or, God forbid, someone is going to take his new toy away. If I roll my eyes any harder, they’ll cross.
“Inks’ not dry on those papers. Gotta make sure you don’t come to your senses and run.” Abel chuckles while the others around us offer me the help I will need to get away.
The laughter dies down when my Father enters the room. He’s President or Father at this table and nothing else. He’s earned that respect from everyone in attendance.
He notices me sitting on Abel’s lap and says nothing. Guess my status as an Old Lady was just confirmed to all attending this meeting. I smile down at Abel. He winks at me, acknowledging my thoughts.
“So, as you’ve heard or seen,” all eyes swivel to us.
My husband waves at them all like he just won Miss America, and someone throws a pen at him. My Father continues.
“Cannibal went and made my little girl his Old Lady earlier today.” A round of applause goes around, and a fist pounding on the table brings it to an end.
“That’s the bad news. The worst news is the Cartel is back in town.”Poor joke on his part, but I’ll let it slide since the stress is coming from him in waves.
I frown, looking at him closer. This is about mom, I realize. He’s remembering losing the love of his life. My Father does not show vulnerability easily. My worry skyrockets.
Satan, who’s been standing this whole time, just falls into his chair, completely drained. My reaction is instant. I go to stand, but Abel holds me down and shakes his head. With just a single look, he tells me not to show weakness for my Father. I nod to convey I get it, although I’ll never truly understand. Everyone’s heads are bowed as if, in silent prayer, they respect Satan that much. Why can’t we comfort him? Fucking men. Now I’m mad more than sad.
“Excuse me, Prez. What do you mean by back?” Dragon, our newest member of two years, asks.
Dammit, I guess it’s story time. Satan is in no shape to rehash the past, so it’s up to me. I look at my husband.
“Shit,” Abel says quietly behind me. I clear my throat. Father glances up and waves his hand at me to continue.
I close my eyes. Time has made it easier to talk about this, but looking at people while telling our story is still really hard. I can’t stand the pity looking back at me, so I avert my eyes or close them.
“Five years ago, three weeks before our sweet fifteen party, my mom Dahlia,” I am interrupted like we always are.
My father has raised mom to the level of sainthood in this club, and they respond accordingly.
“May she rest in paradise,” echoes around the table. I nod and keep going.
The quicker I spit it out, the better.
“So, mom takes Pinky and me to LA to go shopping. We stop for lunch and run to the restroom before our food arrives. We didn’t make it. Three thugs nab us by the restrooms. It was ten minutes before mom realized we weren’t coming back. She panicked, called home, then collapsed in the cafe. She never woke up. We didn’t know she had a bad heart. Anyway, Satan gets a call from his hysterical wife that his girls are gone. He hops on his bike with Abel, Chaos, and Doc. When they get to the cafe where they were, he’s told Mom has been taken to the local ER. When they arrived, she was already gone, and the police had no leads.”
I look at my Father to make sure I’m telling his side correctly and just to check on him. His head is resting on his hands, elbows on the table, checking if I’m okay too. The look on his face says I’ll always be his little girl.
He nods, so I continue. I hear a door open and shut, but I’m back to looking at my hands to finish.
“Abel called Cane, and they were able to hack into the cameras around the cafe. They tracked the van back to LAX and got the info to the plane we got shoved into. It took them four days to track us to Cuba. We were in a shipping container on our way to Colombia.”
I’m starting to breathe heavily. This is the hardest part, no matter how long it’s been. Sensing my mood shift, Abel takes over for me.
“We found them in a warehouse full of cocaine and teens meant for a Columbian sex trafficking ring. Dylan was knocked out with a head wound when they first took her and, while trying to escape, fell twenty-five feet re-injuring it again. That’s why she has memory issues. Traumatic brain injuries are nothing to kid around about. She was unconscious in their infirmary. Pinky, on the other hand,” he’s cut off by my sister's voice. I look up at her.
“Pinky was found beaten and raped but still fighting like hell to get to her sister,” Dorian speaks from the door.
She sits next to me, grabs my hand, and picks up where she cut Abel off.
“Aurelio Cardona, his son Wilfredo and brother Matteo all took turns. When the guys finally arrived to rescue us, they found Aurelio with his pants down literally, knife to my neck. In the confusion, he dropped the knife. I grabbed it and split him from navel to Adam’s apple. I cut his pinky finger off and kept it. Thus my road name. It ain’t just for my love of pink.” She finishes her story by relaxing back in the chair.
I’m staring at her. She hasn’t loved pink since that day. She wears it as her armor, her personal cross to bear because she couldn’t get to me and feels like we killed mom for being in LA in the first place shopping for her. She notices that I’m watching her and squeezes my hand.
“Fuck woman,” Dragon says.
“Mad respect, but why the pinky?” He asks.
I cringe when she stands, lifts her shirt, and shows him the brand from his pinky ring, his initials. On her left hip, are his initials, surrounded by black dahlia's Karma tattooed on our 18th birthday. They are the beauty surrounding the hurt and keeping it at bay. That’s what she told Satan and me after she got the piece done.
Abel wipes my cheeks. Fuck, when did I start crying? He just kisses my cheek. It's a silent reminder that it’s going to be okay. All will be well soon gesture.
“No one else will be branded like cattle by that fucking Cartel.” Dorian nails the point home, and then she sits back down.
I grab her hand this time. We will always be a united front.
It’s silent for a beat, then Satan stands, and all eyes return to our Father at the head of the table.
“This is a personal vendetta. Aurelio was my best friend all through school & the army. He was in the special forces with me. I found him raping a private in our bunks on a weekend leave when I came back earlier than normal. I couldn’t let that stand. I turned him in, backing up the woman's claim that would have probably been buried, then testified at his court-martial hearing. While in prison, he got involved with the Colombians. He started running drugs from behind bars using his connections. When he found out I started an MC, he assumed I went to the dark side. He approached me about running his products, but I declined. Besides the odd jobs, we are one hundred percent legit. I want to keep it that way. He wasn’t happy with a no. He said I owed him and that I would pay with everything I held dear. He took my wife from me. He will not get my girls too.” Satan pauses, then lays down the heavy news we were all summoned to hear.
“Doc checked, and the man Dylan killed earlier was not Wilfredo Cardona. It was Matteo. Aurelio’s younger brother turned out to be a dead ringer for his brother. Their genes are strong in that forsaken family.” He growls, taking a moment.
“That leaves one fucker left. I plan to get him before he goes after mine again. So let's vote. We take the fight to them.”
“All in favor say I, against say Nay,” Abel says.
“I,” from all around the table. Unanimous decision.
“The I’s have it.” I watch a silent conversation cross between my Father and husband, and then they are both looking at Dorian.
