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His hands slid up my front, going under my tee to find my breasts, cupping them hard before grabbing my nipples, tweaking them until the pain/pleasure mix was enough to let out a whimpering sound.
Hearing it, his hands went back down to my hips, using them to slam me back down onto his cock as he thrust forward, making me take him so deep that there was a foreign, but delicious little pinch each time.
It was everything we hadn't shared yet.
Hard. Fast. Almost violent.
"Fuck," he growled when my walls started tightening around him. "Squeeze my cock, Rey," he demanded, one hand sliding down my belly to tease over my clit, giving me what I needed to send the orgasm ricocheting through my system, taking whatever strength was left in my legs.
His arm went around my lower stomach, holding me to him as he kept thrusting through it, dragging it out, then slamming deep to find his own orgasm, my name like a curse - and a vow - on his lips.
"Fucking perfect," he said into my ear as he tried to find his breath.
Fucking perfect.
And so it was.Rey - 3 monthsIt was spring at The Henchmen compound.
And me, well, I was having a really awful case of spring fever.
I was antsy and anxious and not able to sleep knowing the ground was thawing and I hadn't planted anything in it.
It was a hard habit to break after almost a lifetime of spending March through September in my gardens, bringing fruits, vegetables, berries, herbs, and flowers to life.
There was a sense of accomplishment that came with it that I didn't find elsewhere, except maybe saving an animal in a really bad place, getting it healthy, watching it thrive.
"Alright, what's up?" Reeve asked after three days of me insisting nothing was wrong though something clearly was. "Nope," he said when I started shaking my head, reaching to grab me, and pull me down on his lap. "You're not getting away with saying nothing. I know it's something. Getting cabin fever again?" he asked.
Again because three weeks back, I had actually had a mini panic attack about being cooped up all the time, and Reeve had arranged for a bunch of us to head off to Famiglia again, where he knew we would be safest, not just because he dragged a bunch of fellow bikers with us, but because the Grassis had top-notch security at their establishment.
"Sort of, but not really," I admitted, resting my head against his shoulder.
"Can't fix it if you don't tell me," Reeve said, running his fingers up and down my arm.
That was Reeve for you.
He always wanted to fix it.
Whatever it was from a bad set of wires to one of the girls club having a headache, he was always the first to jump into action, fixing the wires, fetching Advil and cold compresses. He liked being useful, in finding solutions.
"I miss getting my hands dirty," I admitted. "Having stuff under my nails. Watching little sprouts come out of the dirt and grow."
"You miss gardening," he concluded.
"Yeah."
"Well, we'll just have to see what we can do about that," he said, pressing a sweet kiss to my forehead.
I had maybe sort of kinda thought he completely forgot about the whole incident when four days passed and nothing happened.
I guess I should have known better.
This was Reeve after all.
He had a long memory and a huge heart.
But I had been completely in the dark when he came to get me to bring me up to the glass room. It wasn't an odd thing. He let me come with him if he pulled guard duty during the day, so I could get some much-needed sunlight with him. I usually brought one - or all three - of the birds along with me, knowing they needed sunlight to keep being able to see colors clearly, and to allow new feather growth to come in.
"Okay," I said, brows furrowed when he told me he wanted to go up first. He always let me go up first.
"Surprise," he said as soon as my head poked into the room, making my eyes scan to try to find the source of said surprise.
And then there it was.
A long, low flower bed that hugged two of the walls in the very sun-filled room.
"Don't feel comfortable letting you go out in the yard just yet, but I did some research about growing plants in your sunroom, got Reign's and, let's face it, Roan's, permission, and got to work. You want to garden, babe, you should garden. Though Roan told me to tell you that if you plant tomatoes, you should never expect to see them. Apparently, the fucking weirdo eats those things like apples. Come on, come up," he demanded, eyes shining.
Shining.
I had seen bursts of humor and happiness in his face before, always fleeting, never fully warming him up.
