Page 71 of Diesel
“Perfect.” She smiles and I want to keep that look on her face forever.
I stay inside her, feeling my cock softening. I don’t want to leave the warmth of her body. “You look beautiful like this.”
“Sweaty and thoroughly fucked?” Her grin is lazy and sated.
“Full of me.”
She swats my chest, hiding her face against me. “That’s disgusting.”
“I like you filled with me, Makenna.”
She pulls back and looks at me. “I like it too.”
The kiss she presses over my heart is devastating, like she’s pouring everything she feels into me.
For a while, we lay wrapped in each other, unmoving. I don’t want to get up, but the wolves are knocking outside the door.
There’s still a war to fight, blood to spill. Until we take out Crank there will be no rest, no peace. Nothing but these small moments of joy among the horror.
We shower together, like we’re unwilling to leave each other for even a moment, and afterwards I dress on autopilot. As I do, my mind makes that mental shift from Zane to Diesel and by the time I shrug into my kutte, I’m in character.
I readjust the leather, trying to get it to sit right. It feels heavier every time I wear it lately, like I’m carrying the weight of the club on my shoulders. The weight of mine and Kenna’s future, too.
I shove that aside, and instead watch Makenna as she drags one of my hoodies over her head. It’s too big and hangs off her much smaller frame, but it awakens something in me, seeing her in my clothes.
I would wrap her in everything I own if I could.
I would wrap her in me.
“What’s the plan for today?” she asks, grabbing her trainers.
“I don’t know yet.” I sink next to her to put my boots on.
As always, I start on the left. Through one hook, then the next. Cross. Tighten. Loop. Repeat. Then I do the same with the other one.
Structure. Routine. Comfort.
It eases the anxiety inside me for a second, at least.
“Will you be okay if I have to go out today?” I stomp my feet, settling my boots into place.
I ask it like I don’t already know we’re heading out in an hour. There was a message waiting on my phone from Nic when I got out of the shower.
“I’ll be fine. I like the girls. Chloe too.” She says her name tentatively. I lift my head and try to read what she’s thinking, but she’s blank.
“They’re good women,” I agree.
“The girl with the battered face…”
Chloe. Right. Of course she’d latch onto the bruised girl. We both saw so much violence in foster care. There were always girls like Chloe who got pulled into situations before they understood them and then got hurt.
I know my firefly. She’s trying to fix this, but Chloe’s situation isn’t exactly straightforward. Everyone tried to get her away from Crank, but she wouldn’t listen.
“Why did they hurt her?”
“Because they’re cowards.”
“Obviously,” she mutters. “But they battered her, Zane.”
