Monster, page 23
Her head shook as her hand reached down for mine and, holy fuckin' shit, she slowly opened her mouth as an invitation.
I shifted upward, slipping her hand under mine and stroking my cock with her, hovering over her open mouth. Her eyes were on me watching and I felt the climax break through my body, making my legs weak enough for me to need to slam a hand against the headboard as I watched my come empty into her welcoming mouth, seeing her swallow greedily like she couldn't get enough of it.
I dropped our hands, sitting back at my heels, looking down at her.
My hand moved upward, wiping some of my come off her lip and her face lifted quickly, her lips closing around my finger and sucking it deep, getting every last drop.
Jesus fuck.
“When we get where we're going...” I started, my hand moving out to tuck her hair behind her ear, “the pill. I want to fill you with my come every chance I can get.”
Her eyes lit and a slow smile spread across her lips. “I guess I can manage that,” she shrugged, but reached to pull my body down on hers.
Twenty-three
Alex
Shooter didn't come back until it was almost light out. After that first sex session, starting slow and sweet and ending hard and rough, watching Breaker's eyes become so intense it was painful as he watched me swallow his orgasm. And then after the second sex session about an hour later, Breaker flipping me onto my stomach and pushing inside me, no pretense at foreplay because we had both practically been ready for another round two minutes after the first one ended.
It was his token hard and fast and bossy, his hand fisting in my hair, using it to arch me almost painfully backward so he could growl hot, filthy, nasty things into my ear until I came around him twice and he lifted up and came on the cheeks of my ass.
He was right.
Wherever we ended up, top priority was getting some birth control. We were beyond condoms. Once I felt him inside me raw, I never wanted to go back. I never wanted there to be anything in between us again. And I wanted to know what it felt like to have him come inside me. I never experienced that before. But as he was growling into my ear about wanting to watch his come drip out of me down my leg... well... yeah... I wanted that too.
Breaker moved off the bed to the bathroom, soaping up a washcloth and coming back to clean me off before he tugged on a pair of sweatpants and handed me one of his tees and a pair of pants.
“Pants?” I asked, brows drawing together.
“Doll, as much as I want to stare at those long legs all the time, no fuckin' way is Shoot gonna get that same privilege.”
I laughed, shaking my head as I slipped into my pants. “You know... if we end up somewhere warm and sunny... I'll be in a bathing suit all the time... everyone would be looking at my legs.”
Breaker got into bed beside me, hauling me to his side so my face was on his chest. “We're going somewhere cold and snowy,” he decided, but I could hear the humor in his voice. “With you in lots of layers. Long johns, jeans, snow pants...”
I laughed, shaking my head, as he pulled the blankets up over us.
There was a knock at the door before Shooter's voice called through it. “Everyone decent? Not that I would mind seeing all your flawless curves, Alex honey, but Break yeah... don't want to know you that well.”
“Come in,” I called, lifting my head off of Breaker's chest to see Shoot walk in, a coffee tray in one hand and a brown bag in the other.
“Coffee and bagels,” he offered, putting the items down on the nightstand between our beds as he kicked off his shoes, removed his belt, and walked over to the bags to rummage for some clothes.
He lifted his shirt and I got a full view of his body. And it wasn't like Breaker's endless ridges of chiseled muscle. But it was long and lean with a altogether way sexy strength evident underneath all of his colorful tattoos. And I mean... all. He was covered- waistband of his jeans to the eagle on his neck.
“Any word?” Breaker asked, snapping me out of my little inspection with a guilty jerk.
Shooter moved to the bathroom as he unbuttoned his pants, closing the door briefly, and coming out in a pair of black basketball shorts slung low on his hips. “All over the news. Seems they're focusing on some new player in town idea seeing as so many 'criminal operations' were hit. Lex's place that survived that last blast was taken out by a fire. No word on him. Hailstorm has minimal damage,” he said, reaching for a coffee as he sat at the side of his bed facing us, his eyes sliding over our intimate position with some curiosity, but mostly a strange sort of satisfaction. Like he was glad for it. “But that place is practically fireproof with all the shipping containers and shit.”
“The Henchmen?” Breaker asked.
Shoot shrugged. “That place was locked down tight too. No one was around. Reign, Cash, and Wolf were all off at some kind of dinner party Summer got a bug up her ass about.”
“Reign, Cash, Wolf, and Summer?” I asked, my brows raising. I knew of them from my research. Reign was the MC president. Cash was his brother and vice. Wolf was the road captain. And Summer was Reign's 'old lady' or whatever bikers called their women. It wasn't the names that I was questioning, it was the intimacy with which Shooter said them.
“Done some jobs with them in the past, darlin',” he said, shrugging. “Something like friends to me. Did some checking around to make sure they got out alright. They're good.”
“Any theories?”
Shooter shook his head. “I didn't talk to any of them direct. Just overheard one of their probates talking.”
“What about the Mallicks?” I found myself asking, thinking of Shane and his girlfriend Lea. I didn't know them know them, but I still hoped they were all alive and well.
“Bar was closed,” Shoot said, a strange edge to his voice.
“Chaz's is never closed,” Breaker said, sitting up slightly, me going with him.
Shooter nodded like he agreed. “I know. But it was.”
“You guys don't think the Mallicks did this, do you?” I asked, looking between them.
“Not their style,” Breaker answered.
“Then what's with the weird non-verbal conversation you two are having right now?” I asked, raising my brows at him.
“It just seems like,” Shooter started, grabbing my attention, “maybe they were tipped off about the explosions.”
“What? Why?”
“Because Janie is smart,” Breaker said, grabbing my attention. I sat up fully, moving off his chest so I could look at him.
“Explain,” I demanded.
“She had some kind of plan. Fuck if I know what it is because this shit she pulled? Not good. You don't fuck with four of the biggest players in town. That shit is suicidal. Especially fucking with the people who took you in and trained you,” he said, meaning the people at Hailstorm, the survivalist camp she lived at and worked in. “She's stupid as fuck for doing any of this. But she's smart for making sure there were no casualties anywhere but at Lex's.”
“But why blow up the other places at all?”
“To create chaos. Maybe give herself a chance to get away,” Shooter said, drawing my attention. “Like Break said, Janie is smart. She has some sort of plan. I'm guessing the extra explosions were to throw everyone off. No one knows where to point the blame. Which gives her the chance to get away or clear her name. Who knows. We'll have to keep an eye from a distance.”
I nodded. “Breaker says we're going somewhere cold and snowy where I have to wear lots of layers,” I informed him.
“Like fuck we are,” Shooter said, giving me a dazzling smile. “I have a week worth of skirt chasin' to catch up on. I ain't chasing around some fucking Eskimos. I want easy access. So we're doing warm and sunny and Breaker is just going to have to fucking live with it. Right, darlin'?”
I smiled at him, then turned to Breaker who gave me a look that very much implied he wasn't too happy with the idea of the two of us teaming up on him. And also, knowing it was likely to happen a lot in the future.
“Right,” I agreed, squealing when Breaker reached for me, but he was smiling.
Epilogue
Breaker
We didn't end up in a ski resort in Canada.
No.
We ended up on a beach in Mexico.
And Alex bought the fuckin' skimpiest bikini she could find.
To prove a point.
Which we fought about.
And I, apparently, lost.
Because there she was, sitting her pretty little ass on a huge red and white striped beach blanket, in the red bikini that showed off almost half her ass and barely covered her tits.
It wasn't that she didn't look good.
She looked good.
Way too fuckin' good.
And other men noticed.
And those other men noticing made me want to gouge their fuckin' eyes out for looking at what was mine.
It was stupid that I still felt angry at seeing it. We had been south of the border for nearly six months. And she had worn the god damn thing every single day for six months. Beneath the red barely-there swatches of fabric, I knew her skin was the pale, flawless white it had been before. Outside of the material though, she had surprised me by tanning to a shade of flawless copper that gave her, with her dark hair and dark eyes, an almost exotic look.
I couldn't decide which look I liked more.
But I was pretty fuckin' happy with either.
“Six months, man,” Shoot said, coming up to my side, holding out a bottle of cold beer to me.
“What?” I asked, taking a swig.
“Been with her six months. Day and night. Fightin' like an old fuckin' married couple about everything then fuckin' like newlyweds. Every day for six months,” he went on.
“The fuck you trying to say here?” I asked, looking away from Alex and at Shooter.
“I'm saying you love her. She loves you. Can't fucking imagine why you haven't told her that yet.”
My eyes slanted back to Alex. Her hair whipped to the side in a breeze, her profile in full view, smiling off at something further down the beach.
He wasn't wrong.
I did love her.
It took me longer than it would take a normal person to figure that out. Maybe because I didn't know much about the emotion. Because the only person who had showed me what it was died when I was barely old enough to remember.
There was the love I felt for Shoot and him for me. But it wasn't the same.
But he was right.
I loved her.
And I was pretty sure I had since the moment she asked me what kind of twisted porn I was into. And every single moment after that.
Sometimes love didn't spring up on you in a moment of blinding clarity. Sometimes it crept up on you on a Tuesday night while you were standing at the sink doing dishes, the feeling settling into your soul in a way that made it too heavy to ignore anymore.
That was how it was.
I had been fuckin' washing dishes on a Tuesday night. And Alex was in the other room singing her smiling song. But she wasn't doing it in the soft, sweet, melodic way she usually did. She was doing it loud, out of key, and obnoxious. Because she was pissed at me and she thought it would be ironic to sing a song about smiling when what she really wanted to do was charge back into the kitchen and hit me over the head with a frying pan because I told her that she was not, under any circumstances, making contact with Janie/Jstorm again. I didn't give a fuck how much she kept trying to reach out.
What can I say?
Alex was still stubborn.
I was still bossy.
And we weren't ever gonna' fuckin' change.
And I didn't want either of us to.
Because the only thing better than Alex being soft and sweet was Alex being loud and angry, spitting fire at me, then letting me fuck her hard and fast until we burned through the urge to fight.
We weren't traditional.
We weren't the couple next door with two-point-five kids, a dog, and a meet-cute story they liked to drag out at dinner parties.
We were dark and rough around the edges.
We fucked as hard as we fought.
We challenged and supported one another.
We loved with a love that was half-possession and half never wanting to tame the wildness in the other.
Shoot was right.
I couldn't imagine why I hadn't told her yet either.
–
Alex
I was getting really freaking sick of the beach.
Sure, it was nice for a while. Getting a tan. Sipping margaritas. Catching up on some books I had been meaning to read.
But it was getting boring.
And on top of that, I fucking hated the red bikini I had bought to spite Breaker.
Six months of slipping into it every day when I knew all it was going to do was ride up my ass and chafe my tits all damn day. But, well, it was the principle of the thing. He didn't like it. He told me not to wear it. I didn't like it either. But he sure as hell wasn't going to tell me what to wear. So I wore it. Despite the angry red burns it gave me under my boobs at night. Despite having to keep discreetly moving the waistband every few minutes so it would stop giving me a wedgie.
Such was life with Breaker.
Both of us standing our ground, too stubborn to give in. And both of us really, really liking that quality in the other one.
Okay. Well.
I actually loved that quality in Breaker.
In fact, I loved pretty much everything about Breaker. Even the things (maybe even especially the things) that pissed me off. Like his possessiveness. His borderline psychotic jealousy. His bossiness.
I loved the things, too, that made me go all melty inside.
Like how he said my name when he was holding me at night. Deep and soft. And how he taught me how to shoot a gun. And grapple. Never once so much as hinting that I was somehow less than a worthy opponent because I was female. Like how he took me to concerts and movies. How he taught me to snorkel and ride a surf board. How he attempted to show me how to cook. How he always remembered to buy me the puffed cheese curls and not the crunchy ones. How he gave me soft and sweet when I needed it and hard and rough when I wanted it.
How he brought me out of my shell and showed me a hundred thousand things worth living for.
The first night we made it to Mexico, I snuck out while Breaker was sleeping, grabbing the little baggie of heroin out of my boot and walking out onto the moonlit beach.
I walked up to the water, the wind tossing my hair around, realizing that for the very first time in my entire life, I wasn't thinking about Lex. Or my mom. I wasn't obsessively focusing on all the things that had gone wrong, that had been taken for me.
I was, in a way that was soul-deep in its intensity, happy.
And it was new and wonderful and terrifying.
But I knew that there was no going back. Not ever.
So I opened that baggie Breaker had bought me back when I thought death meant nothing. Because my life meant nothing. And then I watched the contents fall into the water and drift away into the infinite beauty of the sea.
I stood there for a long time, lost in my own little revelation until I felt Breaker walk up behind me, slipping his arms around my waist, resting his chin on my shoulder.
“Fuck you doin' out here?” he asked and I rested the side of my face on the side of his.
I closed my eyes tight against the discomfort I still felt at sharing my feelings, then opened them, looking out at the water.
“Realizing for the first time that I'm really happy to be alive,” I said honestly.
His arms squeezed me tight. “Oh, doll...” he said.
Then he gave me soft and sweet. Right there on the moonlit beach.
“Why don't you just admit you hate the fuckin' bathing suit as much as I do?” Breaker said, sitting on the edge of our (yes... our!) bed, watching me as I slathered aloe onto the painful chafe burns under my boobs.
“Because you don't get to win that easily,” I shrugged.
“Easily? Doll, you've had burns on your tits for months. What the fuck is easy about that?”
“They're my tits,” I reminded him.
“Yeah and I'd like to get my hands on them without you wincing for a change. Buy a new suit.”
“Maybe I'll give the nude beach a try,” I said instead, giving him a wicked smile.
“You do that, you better prepare to be dragged into police custody.”
“Why?” I asked, brows drawing together.
“'Cause you do that, Al, I'm gonna be forced to fuck you silly right on that beach so everyone knows who you belong to. Which would probably get us both locked up for public ludeness.”
“Do they arrest you for public ludeness in Mexico?” I asked, still not knowing nearly enough about the place that had been our home for half a year.
“Fuck if I know. Just sayin'. You on a nude beach means you suddenly find yourself very into exhibitionism.”
I laughed, slipping a soft white sundress over my head, still smiling at him as I walked over to the bed, putting my knees on either side of his hips until I moved to straddle him, his hands going around my back.
“You know what, Bryan Breaker...” I started in a serious tone that he must have picked up on because he started shaking his head.
“Nuh-uh, doll. I got something to say first.”
“What? Um. No. I started first. I get to finish first. Not my fault you were pussy footing around.”
“Shut up and let me speak, woman,” he said, shaking his head.
“No. You're not going to pull the bossy card. I started speaking first. I finish first. Case closed.”
