Page 36 of Beautifully Shattered
She looks so fucking different wearing the gear Jols gave her. Leather pants. A black tee stretching a little too tight over those huge tits, engorged with milk—still can’t wrap my head around that fact. And a black leather jacket that seals the whole fucking look.
Not to mention the boots. A pair of Jols’ riding boots. Black. Stopping halfway up her calves, thick sole, chunky as hell, and fuck… has there been anything sexier?
Sure, stilettos and leather scream, fuck me, but a woman dressed to ride? That’s fucking tough. And right now, my Angel looks like the sweetest sin there ever was with her blonde hair straight, but not too slick.
It kinda has that‘I didn’t really try look’, or‘I’ve just been fucked and didn’t put much effort into fixing it’look.
Fucking sexy as fuck.
“That’s right, Angel. I’ll yell at any fucker who drools over what’s mine.”
Her brows shoot up, like she’s fucking surprised anyone would, but before I can say more to reassure her, JD clears his throat, butting in.
“Gotta hit the road, man.”
I nod, clenching my jaw as Griffin lifts his hand, signalling his crew, and one by one, they pile into the SUVs.
“Do me the honour?” JD asks Jols, nodding to his hog.
She has her own ride, but club rules are club rules. Only brothers and prospects ride today, so she nods, and the two of them head over to his Harley.
“Saddle up, Angel,” I rasp, needing to clear my throat, because fuck, I can’t stop staring.
The way she looks dressed like this is fucking hot. Dangerous.
Nodding, Abbey grabs the helmet waiting on the back of my bike, slipping it on.
But fuck, I can’t move… because my eyes drop to her arse in those leather pants, tight enough to have me about fucking ready to drop to my knees and worship her. My cock jolts awake for the first time since she was taken. Nearly two fucking weeks ago.
She spins, catching me staring as she fastens the helmet.
“What?” she snaps, still in the same mood she was when I woke this morning.
I’m not sure she even slept.
“Oh, nothing… just admiring how fucking edible your arse looks in those pants.” I smirk, stepping over to my hog and grabbing my own helmet.
She rolls her eyes. “You wouldn’t think that if you saw the nappy-sized pad I’m wearing to soak up all the blood I’m still bleeding.”
I flinch.
Shit.
I hadn’t thought about that at all. Very fucking far from it.
That alone would put anyone in a shit mood, let alone after everything she’s been through.
“I’m sorry.” I step up to her, fisting the front of her helmet near the mouth vent and tugging her closer, loving the little squeak of surprise that slips past her lips. “You’re still fucking delicious, Angel. Now, be my good girl and get on my hog. I wanna feel you snuggled up behind me, pressing those tits against my back.”
Her cheeks flare to life, and for a second, I catch a glimpse of my old Angel. The one from before. The one I used to talk dirty to without guilt clawing at my chest.
“What if the nipple pads Andrea dropped off this morning don’t hold up? What if I start leaking milk?” she whispers, eyes darting around us like someone might hear, and I fucking grin.
“I’ll lick you clean, Angel.”
Her mouth forms an O as she stares, wide eyed at me, and I hope like hell Andrea was right when I spoke to her on the phone this morning.
She told me the best thing I can do is treat Abbey how I normally would. Don’t treat her like she might break. Save that for the moments she does. She needs to feel some sort of normalcy to be able to get through each day, even if nothing is normal for her anymore.
