“You better know what you’re doin’,” he rasps. “I don’t play, Lah.”
I squeeze him, and he hisses. “I know exactly what I’m doing, Miakoda.”
He flinches, and his eyes burn right into mine. “Careful.”
“Or what?” I whisper, stroking his thick length from root to tip.
His jaw clenches, but he doesn’t moan. I suspected Mack wouldn’t be a moaner, and it only makes this more challenging.
“Maybe I should make you beg,” I murmur, squeezing and stroking, harder and faster.
“Won’t,” he grinds out, “fuckin’ happen.”
“Won’t it?” I grin.
I reach my hand up, licking my fingertip and swirling it around his throbbing head. His jaw goes rock hard, and his body flinches. He likes it; I know he likes it.
“You’re not into giving control, are you?”
His eyes flash and he bares his teeth at me.
I squeeze his cock again.
“I bet you’d love me to put my mouth on you.”
“Stop fuckin’ talkin’,” he grinds out.
I stroke him harder and faster.
“Are you going to moan when you come, Mack?” I taunt.
“Shut the fuck up,” he growls.
I stroke harder.
“Even you can’t have that much control,” I push.
I’m taunting him, I know I am, but fuck, it feels good to watch him fighting so hard for his control. It turns me on to the point of no return. My pussy is wet and I’d do anything to have him deep inside me right now, but I need this moment, and even if he doesn’t believe it, so does he.
“Shut. Up.”
“Will you say my name when your cock explodes on me?”
He makes a hissing sound, but no moan. His entire body is rock solid, as solid as his cock. I know he’s close; I can see it in his eyes, in the set of his jaw and the way he’s holding his body. I rub my thumb over the underside of his head, putting pressure there as I move my hand.
“Come on, honey,” I breathe, using his words. “Come for me.”
“Fuck,” he grinds out, and then he explodes.
His entire body shakes as his cock lets go, and when I say it lets go, I mean it lets go. He explodes, spurting cum into my hand and onto my body. I shudder, loving it. There’s nothing more erotic than watching a man explode in your hands, seeing him coming undone. It’s amazing, it’s sexual, and it’s fucking nice.
“Jesus,” I whisper.
He stands there for a moment, his eyes closed, his body still wound up tight. Then he pushes up, taking his jeans and jerking them up. His eyes fall to me, and something flashes in them, but before I see what, he turns and mutters, “Night.”
Well then, pretty sure that didn’t go how I wanted it to.
Oh, and he didn’t moan.
The fucker.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
MACK
“I love you, Koda.” Ingrid smiles.
I stroke my fingers through her dark brown locks. She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. She’s sunshine and fuckin’ rainbows. She made a hard past beautiful.
“And I love you, Ingi,” I murmur, running my fingers down her soft skin.
“One day, Koda, we’re going to be together, and none of it will hurt.”
I hope she’s right, because life without her would be no life at all.
“One day, honey.”
“Tell me I’m the only one for you. Tell me you’ll never love anyone the way you love me?”
She asks me this all the time, and I answer her the best I can. I can’t give her much, because she will never know or understand just how much she’s changed my life. There’s no way she could ever understand how beautiful she is to me. No one, not a single soul on this earth, could ever compare.
I nuzzle into her hair and my fingers slide down her firm belly, reaching her panties. “So fuckin’ beautiful.”
I close my eyes, breathing her in, feeling every inch of her.
“Come on, honey,” she says. “Come for me.”
I wake up in a cold sweat, my heart pounding, my head fuckin’ racing. Holy fuck. I was dreaming about Ingrid, and somehow she turned into Jaylah and those words she said earlier were in my fuckin’ dream. I throw the covers back, standing. Fuck, fuck this. Jaylah is an annoying pain in the ass. Why the hell am I dreamin’ about her?
I’m dreamin’ about her because she ripped into my heart earlier and tugged at it.
Fuck.
I shove the door open and walk down the hall, angry with myself, and her. Especially her. If she would just do her job as a nanny, and stay out of my shit, we wouldn’t continue to have these problems. I pass Diesel’s room and like always, I stop. Fuck, that’s another thing I can’t deal with. He smiled at me the other day, just looked at me and smiled. Like he knew. It fuckin’ burned somewhere deep down in my soul.
Now, looking at him, my fingers ache to touch the skin I know is smooth. But I can’t. I’m no good for him. He doesn’t need me in his life; he needs Santana and Jaylah and Ash, who love him. I can’t love him, because I can never ever be what he needs.
I’m just like my father.
~*~*~*~
JAYLAH
I stumble out of my room, busting to pee. It’s dark, I’m half-asleep, and not paying attention. That’s why I crash into the hard, partially-naked wall of muscle in the hall. I make a loud oofing sound and step back, confused. I realize after a few moments it’s Mack. He’s standing in the hall, not far from Diesel’s room. He’s still, barely making a sound, and even when I run into him, he doesn’t speak or move.
Something is wrong.
I feel it the moment I realize my hands are on his chest and he’s solid as a rock. He’s hurting, it’s radiating off him, and I don’t think it’s a coincidence he’s standing outside of Diesel’s room while he’s doing it. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know if I should just walk away, or if I should help him. My heart wins the battle, and I run my hands down his chest. There’s nothing I can say to him right now to make him feel better, but I can let him know I’m here, even if he doesn’t want it.
I slide my fingers over his bare chest and when I reach his arm, I slide them down further until I find his hand. My fingers curl in his, and surprisingly, he lets me do this without pulling away. I twist my body so I’m standing in front of him, and I take a step closer. He’s breathing quite heavily. Whatever is going down in his head is eating at him, and I hate that he’s feeling like that.
We stand like that for a solid five or more minutes. I decide he probably wants his own space now, and go to step back. He stops me by curling his fingers around mine. I’m confused. In the dead of the night, it almost feels as if we’re . . . connecting. I don’t want to pull away, but I don’t want to push, either. If he wants me here, I’ll stay. If he wants more, I’ll give it.
But he has to make the first move.
“Don’t,” he says, his voice utterly broken, “go.”
Oh God, I’m going to cry. The pain in his voice splits me in two. I squeeze his fingers, letting him know I’m here. His face comes down, and I can feel his breath against my cheek. My body is still, stiff, and a little scared. I don’t know what he wants, but whatever it is, I’m going to give it all. His lips graze my jaw and I shiver. My body eases and I step a little closer to him.
He’s still got my hand locked tightly in his, like it’s his lifeline.
His mouth moves slowly over my skin, scattering soft kisses up my jaw, over my cheeks, and then finally, he finds my mouth.
The kiss he gives me is so very different to the one I experienced from him the other night. This one is pure, raw emotion. It’s soft, it’s deep and it’s fucking beautiful. My knees wobble, and his hand finally leaves mine and goes around my hip, pulling me close so our bodies are molded together.
Wordlessly, his fingers explode my body at the same time as his mouth devours mine. My lips burn by the time we part, swol
len and full. His fingers are on my hips, and slowly he takes the hem of my silky nightie and he lifts it up. I let him. It slips over my head and drops to the floor in a pile beside us. His fingers continue with their torture, running up my skin with silky softness. When he reaches my bare breasts, he draws in a gasp of air and cups them.
I moan. The first sound for long, long minutes.
He rolls my nipples in his fingers so skillfully, sending burning lust through my limbs. I whimper, pressing myself to him, no longer caring about how that might look. I clench my thighs together when he dips his head and captures my nipple between his teeth. I arch into him, crying out. God, that feels so good, so fucking good.
He snakes a hand around to my hip and pulls me into him, pressing my pussy against his boxers, and there I can feel how hard he is. Oh, man. Oh, yes. Using his fingers, he rotates my hips against his while he sucks my nipples. I cry out, sure I could orgasm just like this. My fingers go up, finding his hair. I run my fingers through the silky strands. He’s got it down, and it’s so fucking amazing.
He lets my hips go, moving around to my panties. He slides them down and I kick them off. Then his fingers are there, stroking me, making my body come alive with want. Then, before I know what’s happening, he lifts me and my legs go around his hips. He presses me to the wall, one hand on my ass, one hand still stroking my clit.
“Mack,” I breathe.
His fingers slowly stop their torture and he puts both hands on my ass, rubbing my pussy up and down his firm, muscled belly. Shit, that’s hot. I can feel how wet I am, and when he makes a growling sound, I know he can feel it too. He rubs me against him until I’m close to the edge, ready for him, ready for everything he wants to give me. His hand goes down between us and he shoves his boxers down.
Then, he’s inside me.
No warning, no hesitation. He just drives upwards, filling me with his cock. My body burns and stretches around him in the most exquisite way, and a strangled gasp is ripped from my throat. He’s big, he’s long, and it feels fucking sweet. I jerk when he slides out, and slams back in. Oh, God. Oh, yes. He does this again and again.
Then my back is against the wall, one of his hands is gripping my thigh, the other is in my hair, and he’s fucking me slow. Real slow. Deliciously slow. His body rocks in and out of mine, his cock sliding into my waiting, warm depths. I cry his name, my face drops into his shoulder and I press my lips to the skin there.
His body is tight and wound up, but he doesn’t stop the wickedly slow, deep pace. He just fucks me, right there against the wall, throwing everything away and giving in to what we both have wanted for weeks now.
I know when my time is near. My back arches, his mouth finds my nipple, and I come. I come so hard my head slams into the wall behind me and I yell his name.
He makes a low, throaty hiss before his body starts working faster, harder. We’re in the moment, my mind is spinning, my body is alive with him and I can’t gather one solid thought in my mind. That is, at least, until he says one word that rips my world to shreds and shatters me in mere seconds.
“Ingi,” he rasps, so low I nearly don’t hear it.
I go so tense; so fucking tense. My throat burns as realization hits me. He was thinking of . . . her. The one. The woman who stole his heart. He was thinking of her while he was fucking me. My chest burns, and my eyes well with tears. I’ve heard women talking about their men saying another woman’s name, but never, never did I think it would wound me so deeply.
Nothing in the world could compare me to the pain inside my chest.
His body has stilled, and I know, I know he knows, but it’s too late. It’s too fucking late.
“Jaylah,” he murmurs.
“Mack, put me down,” I croak, broken.
“Honey.”
“Now.”
He lets me go and the moment my feet hit the floor, I pull away from him. I don’t lift my nightie, or my panties, I just run to my room and shut the door.
Then I fall to the ground and let my heart tear itself to pieces.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Crying sucks.
It hurts, it makes me look terrible, and I hate it.
Yet I spent my night doing it. I tried not to, and for a while I succeeded. Then I heard Mack playing his guitar, singing softly. The song ripped me to pieces. It was a song from Lady Antebellum, and I knew it was him trying to tell me what he clearly couldn’t say. It didn’t matter. The damage was done. He said another girl’s name while he was inside me. He was thinking about her. He broke my heart.
I might not love Mack, but I care about him. Enough for it to rip through my soul. Enough for me to feel so damned pathetic it burns. Whatever has happened, I let him get to me, and that moment . . . I thought it was the first of many. I thought he’d finally let me in. I thought maybe I would be able to help him grow, help him to love his son, to help him be a happy man.
But I wasn’t even on his mind.
Not even close.
Thinking about that was what got the tears started, and then every time I relived that moment they just got worse. I spent the night in my own agony, my own heartache and my own shame. How I was going to face him in the morning, I didn’t know. It would happen, though, because I couldn’t leave.
That just made it so much worse.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
I stare at the club.
I wouldn’t be here, but I need to talk to Santana, Ash and Pippa. Maybe even the other girl I met two days ago, Indi. I could have called them over, but I needed to get out. This made sense.
I know Mack is here, or at least, I think he is. He was gone when I woke this morning and I haven’t seen or heard from him since, so I can only assume he’s here.
Tucking Diesel into my arms, I enter. Tyke is at the gate with Austin and another guy called Grimm. They’re smoking and when they notice me, all of them give me a smile. I smile back, giving a lame little wave. “Morning, guys.”
“Mornin’ Jay,” Tyke says, nodding. “How’s things?”
Shit. Terrible. Awful.
“Fine, how are you?”
He shrugs. “Livin’.”
I grin at him, and then wave again before passing them and heading into the club. Diesel is strapped to me in one of those baby carrier things, and he’s dead to the world. Sleeping seems to be his favorite thing to do. I thought babies were meant to cry a whole lot, but not Diesel. No, he’s mellow and laid-back.
When I step through the front doors, bikers are strewn about, as always. They all greet me, some with nods, others with hellos, and I wave to them before heading to the area where the girls usually hang out. It’s a space Maddox set up for Santana, so she could come and be with him, but have her own space. It’s somewhat like a living room, only it’s smaller.
When I walk in, the girls are in there, drinking coffee around a small table. They notice me, and their eyes widen. “Jaylah,” Santana says. “We were coming to yours this morning?”
“I wanted to get out,” I say, my voice soft.
“Uh-oh,” Ash says, standing. “What happened?”
“Nothing, I just . . .”
“Don’t lie, honey,” Santana says softly.
I close my eyes and turn to Ash, “Can you take Diesel?”
“Sure, honey.”
I unstrap him and she takes him in her arms. “Hi baby,” she coos. “I missed you.”
I sit down at the table and Santana slides me a coffee. “So?” she asks. “What happened?”
I didn’t plan it, but I can’t control it. I burst into tears, and all the girls quickly surround me.
“Aw, honey,” Ash says, her hand on my shoulder. “What happened?”
“Mack and I . . . we . . .”
Santana gasps. “You two slept together?”
I nod, sobbing.
“Honey, why are you crying?” Ash soothes, still patting my shoulder.
“He said another woman’s name! He called me...Ingrid...” I cr
y, dropping my head into my hands.
The girls go quiet.
“What?” Santana breathes.
“I thought it was amazing. I ran into him in the hall, and he seemed upset. He asked me not to go and before I knew it, we were kissing and touching, and it was beautiful. So sweet, and soft. He was gentle with me, like nothing I’ve ever seen from him. Then we were . . . having sex, and he said her name.”
“Who?” Pippa squeaks, speaking for the first time.
“Ingrid.”
“Oh, no,” Santana says, her voice pained for me. “Honey.”
“He said another woman’s name,” I cry, a little hysterically. “I’ve never been so hurt in my life. I thought all that passion was for me, but it wasn’t. It was for her . . .”
“Shit,” Ash says. “I’m so sorry.”
“I don’t even know why I care.” I laugh hysterically now. “He’s made it clear he’s not interested. What made me think that would change? Honestly? I’ve got no brain in my head, and—”
“Hey!” Santana says, her voice firm. “Don’t you dare do that. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“He was thinking of another woman,” I whisper, my voice broken.
“Shit, sweetie,” Ash says, wrapping an arm around me.
“What does that make me?”
“Jaylah,” Santana soothes. “Don’t.”
I leave my head down, pulling myself together. The door opens behind me, but I don’t move, I just stare at the table.
“Jaylah, honey,” Maddox says, and I flinch. “Everythin’ okay?”
Damn him for using that soft voice.
“She’s fine,” Santana says, and I know she’s giving Maddox a look.
“All right.”
I turn, figuring he’s alone, and my eyes meet Mack’s. He’s standing next to Maddox and the moment we connect gazes, I flinch. I turn quickly, horrified, embarrassed and ashamed.
“Jaylah,” he says, his voice low. “We talk?”
“No,” I say, surprised at how firm my voice is.
“Jaylah,” he goes on.