Page 76 of Deserter

“Babe.”

She frowned at the foreign term of endearment and reluctantly brought her eyes up to meet mine.

I held out my hand. “Panties.”

She used my arm to steady herself as she stepped out of them and I guided her back onto the bed before looking around in confusion. “Am I still fucked up? This place was a shit-hole not two hours ago.”

“I cleaned it for you. I thought if you were going to be staying here—”

“Won’t be staying anywhere but the house. I know I fucked up, Celia. I don’t deserve you—”

She propped herself up onto her elbows, looking like a fucking goddess from one of her books. “Make love to me, Jamie.”

I knelt and gripped her thighs, pulling her right to the edge of the bed until her pussy was near my mouth. A tear slipped free from the corner of her eye when I pressed my lips to her belly, and I realized just what a fucking prick I’d been.

She drove out here in the middle of the night, putting herself and our baby at risk, because I hadn’t had the balls to take care of her. I hoped she was comfortable because I was going to be making up for lost time and she wouldn’t be leaving this bed until she knew how much she meant to me.

I might not have been able to put it into words, but I could damn well show her.

I licked around her clit and she bucked up against my face with a moan. I’d never gone down on a woman, but I’d witnessed enough of the bikers earning their colored wings that I thought I had the gist of it. I slowly fucked her cunt with my tongue until her hands tangled in my hair and her claws raked along my scalp, soaking my beard in her juices.

Up until now, I’d worried that she’d lost her spark. She’d started acting like the other Ol’ Ladies and I fucking hated it. She wasn’t like them; she wasn’t meant to be submissive. The only time I wanted her on her knees was in the bedroom.

I needed her to stand up to me, to call me on my bullshit. The revelation had shocked the hell out of me. I’d been so worried about hurting her or how I looked to my men that I forgot how fucking good it felt to fight her for control. I’d gotten hung up on thoughts of taming her spirit, only to succeed and realize it was a victory I never wanted.

Celia Cross wasn’t a victim.

She was a goddamn queen.

And she was mine.

“More,” she panted, still gripping my hair in her fists and I let out a low chuckle before thrusting a finger inside of her and bringing my mouth back down to her stomach. She let out a low moan, her body shuddering and clenching around me.

As soon as she relaxed enough for me to retrieve my finger, I stood and lined the head of my cock up against her pussy. Her hair had begun to dry into a mess of curls and as she looked up at me from under her dark lashes, I swore to myself that when it was my time to meet the Reaper, this would be the last image in my mind.

I wanted to remember her just like this; spread out before me, body round with our child and a look of absolute fucking pleasure on her face.

Unlike our previous times together, I sank into Celia slowly and with more care than I’d ever used in my entire life. Her body clamped down around mine, pulling me in and silencing the demons from my past.

I wasn’t my old man.

I wasn’t going to hurt her or the baby growing inside of her.

Her fingers stretched to cup the backs of my thighs as she struggled to pull me closer. “I need—I need you deeper.”

I pulled my cock free with a grin and helped her up before taking her place on the bed. “Ride me.”

She nodded and crawled back up, sinking down onto me with a contented sigh. The position put her in control, and she began rocking against me with abandon.

I used to think Slim was full of shit when he’d brag about how crazy for sex Lou was when she was knocked up. Now, I was inclined to agree.

I gripped her belly as she came with a cry, but she kept going, rolling her hips forward, faster and faster, until I became convinced that she was a figment of my imagination.

Any second now I was going to come to and find myself alone in bed because fucking had never felt like this. My hands dropped to her hips, squeezing her flesh as she came again with a moan, taking me down with her.

I continued thrusting up into her with a growl and she arched her back with a strangled cry. I dropped my hands immediately, horrified at the red indentions left by my fingers.

“Celia,” I forced out. I said I wasn’t my father; swore I wouldn’t hurt her and yet, I’d left marks on her body and forced her to cry out in pain.

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