Wolf e a dark mc romance, p.22
Wolf.e: A Dark MC Romance, page 22
“Look at you. I knew this dripping cunt would be ready and begging for me…” I let my head fall back against the glass as he roughly slides two fingers into me. “So you don’t want my protection, but you want my cock?” he muses.
“I don’t know what I want,” I gasp as his thumb presses into my clit with perfect pressure. “I—”
“You want the illusion of choice so badly… give it to me, Brinley. How should I make you come first? How should I prove this perfect pussy is mine whenever and however I want it?”
My moans fill the air as he brings me to the brink of orgasm and then stops.
A desperate little whimper escapes my lips when Gabriel pulls his fingers from me and it makes him laugh, a deep dark delicious sound I would get down on my knees and pray for.
“You don’t have a choice, little hummingbird. Just like I don’t.”
His inked skin is a stark contrast to mine unmarked. His arms are flexed with the weight of me in his hands, and my nails dig deep into his shoulders. But his eyes throw me off the ledge when they meet mine. He looks at me like he is the one begging.
“I don’t care how you take me; I just want you. I want it all,” I beg, lost because I finally let myself believe what I’ve been fighting.
Gabriel is right, my body does beg for his. I want every single part of him. The thing is, now I know his secret.
His body also begs for mine.
Nothing has changed in the five days since I was last buried in her, but everything feels heavier, more ominous. Brinley’s safety rests in my hands. Five days ago, the only person I was trying to save her from was me, from my world. Her black hair is wild and everywhere, her cheeks are flushed, nipples pebbled, that perfect fucking cunt glistening. Mine for the taking.
The fire she doesn’t know how to use yet creeps into her blue eyes, the embers burning. I want to stoke those embers within her, bring out her fire. Something about her being such a good girl makes me want to dig deep inside her soul and pull out every dark and depraved desire I can find.
“I don’t care… how you take me. I just want you… I want it all,” she says in the most honest little whimper, and her submission affects me in the most visceral way without even trying.
Brinley yelps as I lift her supple body up and toss her easily over my shoulder. She’s about to learn what it means to have that little smirk fucked right off her face.
I hit the switch to turn on my bedroom lamp as I make my way through the door. My boots are heavy on the wood floor. I flip Brinley back over and set her down on my bed. Her full tits bounce as she lands back against my duvet and her raven hair fans out behind her, framing her like some dark goddess. I watch her hungrily as her chest heaves. I lose the rest of my clothes in record time and stalk toward her, stroking my cock in slow purposeful drags as I move towards the bed. Little trickles of blood slide down my arms and she licks her lips as she watches. I’m beyond fucking hard. I swipe the pre-cum that leaks from the tip for her and she looks up at me, desperate, still always a little afraid.
I climb on top of her, sweeping her hair from her face before my arms cage her in and I hover over her for a beat, blood drips from one of my shoulders onto her and I use a finger to swipe it across her neck. Another drop, another swipe.
Fuck. This small amount of my blood on her skin makes me want to slice myself open so I can bathe her in it. Claim her in it.
The look in her eyes is pure terror now as she realizes I like the look of my blood on her.
“Scared?” I ask her
“Always.”
I grin as I notch my cock against her slick center.
“Good, your sweet pussy is a desperate little slut for the fear I offer.” The words are barely out of my mouth before I’m digging my hands into the curvy sides of her outer thighs. I drag her down below me further, lift her leg up and thrust inside her.
Her body spasms as I pull out and fuck back into her deeper.
“Fuck,” we both groan, almost in unison. It's only been a week, but she feels brand new.
There’s no stopping the rhythm I need to satiate myself with her now.
It’s brutal. It triggers the primal part of me, and I fuck Brinley like she’s the air I need to breathe, like I worship the very ground she walks on.
I fuck her like I won’t survive if I stop.
“You’ve fucking ruined me, Brinley,” I growl as she clings to me, her breaths come in short pants.
I’m filling her completely.
“So full,” she moans as I bite her neck, her breasts, her earlobe, anywhere my teeth can find. The more I bite, the more she moans, and the more her pussy tightens.
I lay my claim to her. My statement that she’s mine, and she’ll have the marks on her skin to prove it.
“Deeper,” she moans. “More.”
I lose myself with every thrust. The droplets of blood have grown as she digs into me deeper and the way she looks right now is too much.
“Beg me, Brinley,” I tell her. “Beg me to feed this pussy.”
“Please,” she whines without hesitation.
“Attagirl,” I growl. “You take my cock so fucking well,” I tell her, so pleased.
“Say more,” she whispers shyly.
My beast thrives.
I grip her hair and angle her chin up so I can take her earlobe into my mouth. My cock throbs with her black tresses pressing against my arms.
The fire in her eyes burns hotter and shows me that she’s not only up to the task of offering me what I need. She thrives on it just as much as I do.
“Use me, Gabriel. Fill me up,” she breathes out in a moan.
“You want me to fuck you hard. You need me the way I need you; and you don’t know why any more than I do,” I tell her.
I feel her hesitation to use words she isn’t used to, but I want it and I’m not stopping until she gives it to me.
“Ask me, wicked girl, ask me to fuck you the way you need.”
Brinley moans and squeezes her legs around me. “Please,” she whimpers. “Fuck me,” she adds so quietly and so politely, I can’t take it.
I’m hers.
I groan, chasing my own high as I pulse inside her.
I move down to lick my own fresh droplets of blood from her chest, then move back up to her lips kissing her deeply, mixing the taste of us and my blood together.
It's a kind of high no drug could offer.
I’m fucking flying.
My hand slides to her throat as I kiss her, using it as leverage to fuck her harder. My balls tighten and churn as my release licks up my spine, my hips, centering so slowly I can hardly bear it.
“It’s too much… I’m going to…” she cries.
“I know,” I tell her. “I can feel your pussy begging me to paint your insides white, take me with you. Take all of me.”
“Force me to… God, please force me to… I like it.” She ends her words in a whisper as she lifts her lips up to mine.
“That’s right, I am your god,” I tell her.
“You are,” she whispers.
Brinley’s taunting words, the way she looks with my blood on her skin pushes me over the edge and fucking Christ, I’m coming, and I don’t stop, gripping her throat and holding her tight, spilling into her just as she comes all over my cock. She squeezes me so tightly; I feel every single drop leave my body and enter hers. Right where it belongs.
Every single fucking day… I will live inside this pussy.
“I can’t always be with you. I have to work. I have club business,” Gabriel says as he sits down beside me on the balcony that extends off his bedroom. He’s entering Kai, Mason, and a few of his men’s phone numbers into my phone. He wears only black sweatpants and I wear his t-shirt.
The muscles in his arm flex as he passes me a glass with a tawny liquor. I take a sip and it burns down my throat but I need it to withstand the chaos that is Gabriel Wolfe.
“I have to work too,” I say as I stare out at the shimmering lake beyond.
“No. You’ll stay here until we figure out what DOS’s plan of attack really is.”
“I most certainly will not stay hidden in this house while you come and go as you please.”
Gabriel takes a sip of his whiskey and swallows. I watch his throat work as he focuses on the lake.
“Fine. You can go to work. I’ll have a prospect sit outside.”
I start to laugh. “You’re going to make a poor guy sit there all day long?”
“Yes,” he says instantly.
“You’re crazy.”
“Also yes,” he says, no hint of a smirk.
Watching the bloodlust build in his eyes as it dripped onto my skin tells me he absolutely is, and yet here I sit, already wishing he was inside me again.
I take another sip.
“Aside from work, you’re here. I’m going to train you. You need to learn some self-defense. More importantly, you need to learn to shoot a gun.” He stands. “Walk with me… I’ll show you around.”
I swallow my bourbon and stand, curious to see the rest of the house.
We move through the bedroom. It’s stark and modern like the rest of what I’ve seen so far. His bed is iron and is even bigger than the bed at the clubhouse. I take in my surroundings as I move down the hall, finding what looks like one other bedroom on the second floor and a bathroom. I know there’s also one that connects to Gabriel’s room.
He leads me to the main floor I’ve already seen and keeps moving toward the stairs that lead below.
The basement isn’t really a basement. The same wrought iron railings lead down to a huge space. It’s wide open and French doors lead out to a covered patio overlooking the lake.
The entire floor is rubber matted. Mirrors line all of the back wall. It’s not so much the space as what’s in it. A large sparring area surrounded by workout equipment, weights, kettlebells, racks holding even more weights, a state of the art treadmill, a variety of punching bags in different sizes.
“Wow,” I breathe out. “This is… something. No wonder you look like… that,” I blurt out, and I don’t miss the side eyed smirk he gives me.
“You saw the shooting range outside?”
I nod. “Yes.”
“You’re going to learn to use that too.”
“I’ve never shot a gun. I have no intention of—”
“Of course you haven’t shot a gun, but this is the place you’re going to learn how to fight, little hummingbird. I meant what I said. I never want you to be afraid again, if you can fight me, you can fight anyone.”
I gulp and look around, feeling the daunting weight of what I know he’s going to put me through.
“Every minute you aren’t at work and I’m free, we’re here. You’re mine to mold. Get ready.”
“Awesome,” I bite out.
Gabriel walks by and smacks my panty clad ass and I try not to think about the way him molding me excites me.
“Let’s sleep. Training starts tomorrow.”
I look up from dropping my bag on the concrete floor. Last one. My ride report for service comes in eight hours. Another tour. The last one was eighteen months. They told me to prepare, to get myself ready.
I told them all to go fuck themselves. Heading to Kuwait doesn’t scare me. If I die, I die. There's only one person I care about. Only one woman whose feelings and worry matter to me. The only reason I don’t want to go is because I won’t be here to protect her.
I look across the room at my father, sitting under the window smoking his breakfast weed. I’m surprised he’s even alive after last night’s fuck up. My uncle Ray had to go pick him up at the Cardinal Motel on 17. Fucking coked out rage caused him to nearly beat some twenty-year-old girl to death after he fucked her stupid.
My uncle has dealt with this shit before. This is the norm with him, and I’m surprised he hasn’t taken care of my father himself yet. The only reason I can guess that he doesn’t is because my uncle has his own shit to deal with. He hasn’t been well and right now it takes most of his strength just to get out of bed in the morning. But it would be doing the club a favor, because at this point, Dad causes more shit than he’s worth and we all fucking know it.
Especially when we found out the woman he hurt last night is the daughter of a rival club vice president. The Huesos Rosas MC, a major player in Atlanta and Columbus. We’ll be trying to make that right for a long fucking time.
“Better go find your mother. She’s been crying all fucking morning,” he says in between puffs.
I flex my fists. The only reason I don’t hit him is because my uncle told me I couldn’t. It takes everything in me most days.
“We can ride together?” Jake says, patting me on the back, saving me from answering my piece of shit sperm donor.
“Yeah,” I answer.
“She’s at the garden center,” my father adds before standing and stumbling out of the room.
I shake my head. At least I won’t have to see him for the next year. Maybe when I come back, he’ll be dead.
The drive to the garden center my mother volunteers at on Main takes Jake and I less than ten minutes. She sees me and starts waving before I even stop the bike. She’s happier these days. My father doesn’t pay her much attention now that he knows he’s risking death at my hand by going near her. He knows she’s under my protection and my uncle has made sure he won’t touch her physically, at least while I’m gone. The promise of losing his hands seemed to do the trick.
She smiles at me but I see the sadness in her eyes as I approach.
“Gabe. My warrior,” she greets me with a hug when I come to her. Her long dark hair is pinned back for work and the lines around her eyes remind me she’s getting older. I hope to find her this at peace and healthy when I come home.
Jake heads off to talk to the blonde my mother works with, and she and I decide to go for lunch.
“A lot of these guys you’re going with, this is their first tour?” my mother asks as we eat.
I nod and take a bite of my steak. “12th Expeditionary Unit, a lot of them are first tour.”
“You watch out for them,” she tells me.
I smirk, as if I wouldn’t. My job is to work the fear out of them. Take that last final bit of hesitancy from them and stomp it out. They’re there as a machine, not to feel. Then and only then are they ready to front line it.
“Don’t worry about me. Shell and I have each other. As long as we know you and Sean are together, we’ll feel better.” Her voice breaks. I know this is hard for her.
“I’m not even going to be put in harm’s way, Mom, and if I am… that’s my fate.”
“I just hate to see you leave. When you get back, you need to shed some of this anger you have for him and focus on your future. I know I’m not a good example. I’ve stayed with your father through everything.” She reaches over and pats my hand, I know the speech that’s coming. Theresa Wolfe doesn’t let things go, not until she gets her own way. Even now, with no prospects for me, her brown eyes are full of hope. It makes the guilt surface tenfold because I know there’ll never be a woman I settle down with or tie myself to, and that’s what she wants.
“You aren’t him. You need to let that go. Find a woman to be your queen. You’ll be taking over this club one day. A life alone is a hollow one.” She grins “Finding a woman to love is the beginning and end of everything.”
I take a sip of my drink. “Thanks for the Ted Talk and The Great Gatsby quotes.” I smirk, reaching over to put my hand over hers. “I have a woman to love—you. And Jakey will be taking over, not me.”
She smiles and shakes her head. “Darlin’, he barely makes it through the day without making a piss poor decision. He’s more your father than you are. Ray won’t have it. He’s looking at you.”
She smiles wide. “Once you’re president, you find yourself an angel to be your queen. One who will be a safe haven for you in this bullshit way of life. One who will give you sons you can raise to be your legacy. Not his.”
I’m not in the mood to talk with her about things that will never happen. Instead, I’ll leave Mom with hope that it might.
“None of that matters now. If I make it back, I’ll deal with that. Ray will be riding for another couple years at least, and I just don’t see him passing up his own son. Jakey will straighten out.”
“When you make it back,” she says as I pull my hand away to go back to my food, savoring my last lunch with her before I leave.
I take another bite as four things happen simultaneously. Someone screams as a red El Camino screeches to a halt beside us. I feel a sharp pain in my shoulder before I see the gun and hear the invasive, unmistakable sound of gunfire fill the air.
I look at my shirt quickly soaking with blood, and I ready myself to dive on top of my mother who’s sitting across from me, but I’m too late. The car tires squeal, spinning and smoking as it takes off, and my mother—the only woman I’ll ever love—is already slumping out of her chair. What’s left of her short life is seeping out of the bullet wound in her temple.
I didn’t even have time to draw my weapon. I failed her.
I sit up in bed clutching my shoulder. The scar from the bullet I took when she died aches on nights like this. I’m drenched in a cold sweat. The shuffling of feet makes me act before my mind tells me not to. I grab my .45 from under my pillow and aim, watching as the flash of onyx hair darts behind the door with a scream.
Brinley. Not an intruder.
“Fuck.” I lower my gun. She fell asleep on the couch in my living room and I just covered her and let her stay there.
“You cannot sneak up on me,” I tell her, my tone angrier than I am.
She doesn’t answer.
“You’re safe,” I say, forcing myself to sound less aggravated.
“Flashback?” she asks without coming back into my doorway, obviously terrified. I blow out a breath and run my hand through my hair.
