Craving Resurrection

  Yes.

  Fuck.

  Yes.

  I was starving.

  I let her juices cover my face, knowing that no matter how much I washed up in the morning, I’d be smelling her for days. Lovely.

  “Your beard,” she gasped, pulling one leg from her underwear so she could spread her legs farther. “Holy hell.”

  I tilted my head a little and let the hair below my lip scratch gently along her clit. That was all it took to push her over the edge, silent and shuddering helplessly against the bed.

  I stood as soon as her body relaxed into the comforter and pushed my boxers down my legs as I stared at her pink, swollen pussy lips peeking out at me between her thighs. I needed in there.

  I stepped up and gripped her hips, my fingers digging into the sharp bones as I pulled her body high enough to meet mine.

  “Patrick, no!” she said urgently, and my stomach rolled as I immediately let go of her and took a step back.

  She was going to push me away. She was going to turn and tell me to get lost while I stood there with my cock in my hands. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out as I felt my chest flush and the red begin creeping up my neck.

  It wasn’t an ego thing. She could turn me down a hundred times and I’d not be angry. That was her right, and it was one that I respected. It also wasn’t about the fact that my cock was so hard it was beginning to hurt. I could take care of it in the shower—it wasn’t my first choice, but it would at least provide relief.

  No, it was the idea that she was so very close to me and I couldn’t make love to her that had my stomach churning and my face flushing. I wanted to be as close to her as I could. I wanted to wrap myself around her, and breathe her in and come inside her.

  I was ashamed and completely devastated that she’d stopped me.

  “Patrick!” she called, jolting me out of my head. “Are you going to just stand there?”

  “What?” I shook my head, my heart racing.

  “Condom?”

  “Ye want me to wear a condom?”

  “I can still get pregnant, but I’m too old for more kids, and you’ve had your dick in too many places to name,” she said reasonably, and I broke out in a cold sweat of relief making me shudder.

  “In me wallet,” I told her dumbly, the fear of being pushed away making me a bit shaky.

  “It’s not doing any good in there,” she teased as she rolled completely to her back. “Are you okay?”

  “Aye,” I mumbled, grabbing my wallet off the nightstand and pulling a row of three condoms out.

  “You’re sure of yourself,” she said in amusement as I dropped them on the bed.

  “Dere’s a good chance I’ll rip de first one in me haste wit’ de way me hands are shakin’,” I replied honestly, my voice quiet. “De second one we’ll use.”

  “You’re shaking?” she asked, her face growing soft as she grabbed one of my hands to study it.

  “I have never been more afraid or excited in me life.”

  “Afraid?”

  “Dat ye’ll realize I’m not what ye want.”

  “Excited?”

  “Like a thousand Christmases rolled into one moment.”

  “Do you want me to take care of the condom?”

  “Dat would probably be best.”

  “Lay down,” she ordered, letting go of my hand to pick up the condoms.

  I lay down on the bed next to her, my feet still planted on the floor, and watched her rip the condom open carefully. The second she touched me, my body jolted.

  The sensitivity was almost painful as she wrapped her hand around the shaft and pulled up slowly, making my hips rise off the bed. Then she leaned down and took me in her mouth while I watched in awe.

  “I’ll not last long, ye do dat,” I said ruefully, gripping her jaw gently to pull her away. I both hated and loved how close to the edge I was, wishing I could watch her lips around me, but knowing that if she didn’t stop, we’d be finished.

  She rolled the condom down my length in one smooth move, and I helped her seat it at the base, making sure that it was situated where it needed to be.

  It was the first time we’d ever used one, and I wondered briefly if it would make everything different.

  Then she was there, kneeling above me while those long ropes of hair brushed the tips of her breasts and she pressed my cock inside her.

  I yelled out as she dropped down, and used my legs to press into her deeper. I’d been insane to think that anything would change the way it felt to be inside her. I still felt the same rush of emotion, the same overwhelming urge to get as far inside her as I possibly could.

  Nothing compared to the way I felt when I was inside her. Nothing.

  I held on to her hips as she rolled them above me, but soon I was pulling my hands away so I could lean up and brace myself on my elbows. Her breasts were swaying with each movement and my mouth watered at the sight.

  “Lean forward,” I ordered, glancing up into her heavy lidded eyes. “I want yer nipples.”

  She shuddered, then rested her hands on my shoulders, bringing her breasts to my face.

  Her cunt clenched as I pulled first one and then the other nipple between my lips, biting them gently and sucking them up against the roof of my mouth. She didn’t wear perfume or scented lotion, and the only thing I could taste was her. The salt of her skin and the sweet of her skin were the most potent aphrodisiacs I’d ever encountered. I wanted to inhale her.

  She finally leaned back and I watched one of her hands reach down to where our bodies connected, rubbing at the bundle of nerves there. Her lips were stretched around me, glistening with moisture, and I had a hard time moving my eyes away from the sight.

  When her movements began to grow jerky, I glanced up at her face, and what I saw there made my entire body grow cold.

  She’d hit her release and she was pulsing around me, but her head was lifted toward the ceiling and tears were running silently down her cheeks.

  I was frozen for a moment, not sure what was happening, but as she shuddered one last time, one of my hands thrust out and grabbed her hip, stopping her movements.

  Her head jerked down in surprise.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, moving against my grip.

  “Yer cryin’.”

  “It’s okay.” She rolled her hips against me, and my stomach knotted.

  “Why?”

  “It was a really good orgasm,” she said, trying to play it off.

  I met her eyes silently as she tried to move, but with every thrust and roll, I grew softer, until I lifted her off me before the condom could come off.

  “What the fuck?” she asked in confusion, looking down between us.

  I shook my head as I ripped the condom off, not sure what to say. I couldn’t…

  I just couldn’t. I knew by the expression on her face that she was hurt, but I didn’t know what to say to make it better.

  I would not fuck her while she cried. Ever. I didn’t care what type of tears they were, the sight of them erased all arousal from my body.

  “Patrick?”

  I walked away, tossing the condom in the bin and wetting a towel from the bathroom before going back to where she sat silently on the bed. She shuddered as I ran the wet towel over her body, starting with her neck and ending between her thighs.

  “What just happened?” she asked quietly, wrapping her arms around her chest.

  “I love ye—”

  “Patrick, don’t,” she warned.

  I ignored her. “I love ye. More den meself. More den anyt’in’.” I closed my mouth and tried to get my accent under control. I’d spent almost thirty years in the US, but I still found myself reverting back to the old pronunciations when I was fighting my emotions. “I’ve always loved ye.” I continued, “I’m not sure what happened dere or why ye were cryin’. But I will not ever touch ye when ye don’t want to be touched.”

  “I told you—”

  “Ye lied.”
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  She lifted her chin, but didn’t say another word as I pulled the bedding down for her to climb in. I laid down beside her on my back and breathed a small sigh of relief when her body gravitated toward mine.

  I didn’t know what else to say. Every sentence that came out of my mouth seemed inadequate, and I didn’t want to make the situation worse while I tried to process it.

  Had I missed something—some small movement or facial expression that would have told me that she wasn’t enjoying herself? As always, I had no idea whether I was coming or going, her complexities leaving me completely baffled.

  When she’d arrived at the hotel earlier, I’d been surprised, but really fucking glad she was there. After the night I’d had searching the pub where Nix was attacked, we’d finally found the boys who’d done it.

  They hadn’t even been trying to hide, but it hadn’t taken long for them to realize their mistake.

  By the time we’d handled that situation I was exhausted, but the adrenaline coursing through my veins hadn’t allowed me to relax.

  I felt her breathing deepen and I pulled her a little closer to me before turning to my side and wrapping her arm around my waist. I needed to try and sleep so I could stop by to see Nix early the next morning. He deserved to know what had happened.

  I thought about every single movement and sound that had come from Amy while I was inside her her, and by the time I fell asleep, I still couldn’t pinpoint the moment that I should have known she no longer wanted me to touch her.

  ***

  When I woke the next morning, I knew instinctually that she’d gone before I’d even opened my eyes.

  My back was cool where she’d slept, and as I looked toward the dresser, I noticed that her bag wasn’t resting where she’d dropped it.

  Her room key was on the bedside table.

  Son of a bitch.

  I was up and out of bed in seconds, and it only took minutes before I was leaving the hotel for the hospital. If I knew Amy, she was already visiting Nix, and I was hoping I could pin her down there. I needed to talk to both of them, and neither discussion could wait.

  “Hey, Trick,” Nix said as I walked into the room. He was alone for the first time in three days, and my stomach dropped in foreboding.

  “Nix, how ye feelin’?”

  “A little better today. Face still hurts, stomach still hurts.”

  “Take a while for that shite to fade, I’m sure.” My eyes darted around the room.

  “She’s not here,” he said flatly.

  “What?”

  “Mum’s not here. She said she had some things to do this morning,” he said skeptically.

  “You think that’s not the case?”

  “Considering she showed up here at six-thirty in the morning and left by seven, I’m going to take a shot in the dark here and assume you and her had a falling out…again?”

  “I don’t know why—”

  “Don’t bullshit me, man,” he said with a small shake of his head. “I know the signs and so do you. Why do you keep doing this?”

  I sat down heavily in the chair next to his bad and glanced down at my hands. I’d had my anchor touched up a few times over the years to keep it vivid, and I’d noticed the night before how faded Amy’s had become.

  It was a good representation of our relationship. I was holding fast, and she was fading away.

  “I love her,” I told him simply.

  “You may love her.” He moved his mouth around a bit as if he was looking for the right words to say. “I get it, man. I do. But every time you play your hand, she’s a mess afterwards. For months. It never works the way you want it to, and it never gets any easier—for you or for her. So why can’t you just let it go?”

  I ran my hand down my beard, scratching my jaw as I tried to explain to Nix something he would never understand until he’d met the love of his life.

  “I’m incomplete wit’out her—” I stopped, shaking my head. “As long as I live, I’ll never give up. I can’t.”

  “I think you have to,” Nix said softly.

  “It will never happen.”

  We passed a little time quiet with our own thoughts before I remembered why I’d wanted to see him in the first place. When I showed him the photos on my phone before deleting them, he’d grew silent, but it only took a minute before he spoke.

  “You didn’t kill them, did you?” he asked, handing my phone back.

  “Ye asked me not to, so I didn’t.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Not sure it’s something ye should be thankful for.”

  “No—thank you for taking care of it. Thank you for having my back.”

  “As long as I breathe, I’ll stand behind ye,” I answered with a nod. “Except of course, right now, as I’ve got a long ride back to Eugene today. Boys said as soon as yer healed up, ye should come down and meet the kids.”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” he said with a smile.

  “Ye do that.” I leaned forward and kissed his forehead. “Love ye, boyo. Keep me updated on things around here.”

  “I will.”

  When I walked away from him, my gut clenched in anxiety. I hated leaving when he was still so injured, but I knew with absolute certainty that as soon as I was gone, Amy would feel comfortable at his side again. She was avoiding me, clearly, and she needed to be there more than I did.

  So once again, I was pushed away.

  And I left like a dog with its tail between its legs, because I’d never force her to do something she didn’t want—even if that meant I had to stay away.

  I called and texted her even as I braced myself for another long separation, but to my surprise, it was only a couple months before I saw her again.

  It was the night that changed everything for us…the night she answered questions I hadn’t known to ask, and ruined me completely.

  Chapter 53

  Brenna

  Dragon’s hand engulfed mine as he pulled me inside the clubhouse. We finally had another night without the kids, and after dinner and a movie we’d decided to stop by for a couple of drinks. Drinking at home wasn’t nearly as much fun as drinking at the club, and I knew he was planning on getting me hammered by the look in his eye.

  Drunk sex with my man. I couldn’t wait.

  “Hey darlin’,” Vera said stiltedly as I leaned in to give her a kiss. “What are you two doin’ here?”

  “Rose and Cam offered to take the kids for the night, and you know I couldn’t pass that up,” I replied jokingly, leaning over to hug Slider as Dragon headed toward the bar. “Whose Prius is that outside?”

  I couldn’t imagine any of the members allowing their old lady to get a freaking hybrid. It stuck out like a sore, white thumb in a sea of black and chrome bikes.

  She began to reply when her eyes suddenly looked over my shoulder and widened and her mouth snapped shut.

  I turned my head to see what she was looking at, and caught sight of a woman with long, grey dreadlocks practically running through the doorway from the back hallway.

  “I know her,” I said slowly, trying to remember where I’d seen the woman before. As soon as the words left my mouth, my pop came out behind her, catching her by the arm. “What the hell?”

  I began to move forward when a strong hand clamped down on my arm and I turned to see Slider holding me in place.

  “Wha—“

  “It’s not your business. You want to stay, you’ll be silent,” he said emphatically, never looking away from the scene Pop was making.

  “What’s going on?” I asked in confusion.

  “Something that shoulda happened thirty years ago.”

  “She’s going to break him,” Vera whispered, raising her hand to her mouth.

  “He broke her years ago, guess it’s about time for her to return the favor,” Slider murmured back ominously.

  Their words were beginning to scare me, and the expression on Dragon’s face as he made his way back to my side multiplied my
fear.

  “I need to go over—”

  “You’ll stay right where ya are,” Slider interrupted. “Or I’ll have your man drag ya outta here.”

  “He wouldn’t—”

  “He doesn’t, I will,” Slider promised, meeting my eyes for only a moment before looking back toward Pop.

  “You probably shouldn’t be here for this,” Dragon murmured into my ear, making me glance at him in surprise. He knew what was going on?

  How the hell would he know when I didn’t? And why the fuck was the woman who sold me my old Corolla standing in the club yelling at my pop?

  Amy

  “How could ye do such a t’ing?” Patrick yelled at me, lifting my hand up so I had no choice other than to look at it and drawing every eye in the room.

  “It was time. Now let go of my arm.” I tried to keep my voice level, but I was fighting a losing battle with my temper.

  I’d gone to the club for two reasons, to thank him for what he’d done for my son and hand him the divorce papers I’d had sitting in my purse for a week. I knew the two reasons seemed odd, like I was thanking him by trying to divorce him—but in my head, it had made perfect sense.

  I was making a clean break. Finally.

  I’d covered my anchor two days before, crying the entire time, and the moment I’d eventually crawled out of my bed, I’d known it was time to finish it all.

  I couldn’t do it anymore, not to either of us. Staying married and wearing his mark had given him hope for too long, and it was selfish of me to let that continue. My inability to let go was dragging us both under, it had only taken me thirty years to realize it.

  “I love ye!” he hissed. “I’ll not divorce ye.”

  “I don’t need your agreement.”

  “De fuck ye don’t!”

  “I’m leaving, Patrick. Let go of my arm.”

  His hold didn’t hurt, not in any way, but I couldn’t make myself pull out of his grip. If I did it—if I made that physical break—I knew it would seem as if I was running away again. He had to let me go on his own, or he’d eventually follow.