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I move closer and wrap my arms around her. “I’m not happy you kept this from me, Mom, but think I understand why. I forgive you.”
Mom buries her head in her hands and sobs for a long time.
“We should go,” I tell her after a while. “Your rich gossipy friends are probably wondering what happened.”
This is unreal.
When I get back to my car, I take a chance and phone Cindy. She answers on the first ring.
“Hello?” she answers.
“It’s Molly. I spoke to my mother. She told me everything.”
“Good.”
“I just have one question.”
“Go ahead.”
“How did you recognize my scar?”
“It’s not what you think.”
“After the story my mother just told me, trust me, you wouldn’t have the least idea what I’m thinking.”
“It was a different time back then. The MCs had more solid alliances. I remember because I saw the pictures of that scar on your wrist. Someone in the Mongols gave it to Silas’s father because they felt the MC had gone too far by allowing one of their head guys to torture a child. What you should know is the man who did that to you…let’s just say he eventually got a dose of his own medicine, times a thousand.”
“My mother says that our debt was paid, if you still think the Mongols have some claim on me.”
“That’s good. I’m sorry,” she adds in a heavy voice.
“No. Don’t apologize. I wouldn’t know a thing if you didn’t tell me. Thank you.”
We end the call.
I’m not the person I was when I work up this morning.
My past is filled with secrets.
It’s no wonder I’m secretive myself. I cringe about the cigar burn, that it’s another key to the person I am today. I want to push down the idea that maybe it’s why I have this weird fixation with my tolerance for pain, and that I probably got into boxing because somewhere deep down, I still have unresolved emotions that cause my desire to fight.
I don’t know where this information will take me next. Maybe to a couch of a psychiatrist. Or back into the ring after this baby is born.
I wrap my arms around myself, wishing Tate was with me now.
Chapter 24
Tate
“Fuck,” I groan in my sleep, shifting slightly on the sweaty sheets. “That feels amazing.”
Whatever I’m dreaming about has just kicked it up a fucking notch…or eight. My blue balls are being alleviated in a big way as a slick, tight mouth works my dick. I grip the sheets in my fists. Jesus, the girl has a mouth on her. I don’t need to see her to enjoy it.
Wait.
Don’t need to see her?
Aren’t I dreaming?
I should be able to see. I force myself to open my eyes.
“Fuck! Molly, what the fuck are you doing here?”
I spring up from the sheets, and the movement sends my hard cock further down the back of Molly’s throat. I blink hard, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. She’s still here, between my legs, going to town. Every part of me wants to tell her to keep going, to lean back and close my eyes and let her continue. She looks up at me seductively and mumbles something.
“Molly. Get my dick outta your mouth and talk to me.”
Slowly, she pulls back. “I’ve missed this,” she whines, sitting back on her knees right there between my legs on the bed.
“What?”
“This.”
“What exactly, Moll?”
She starts in on me with her tight little fist gliding up and down my shaft, and I buck my hips whether I want to or not. “This.”
“Fuck.” I don’t know what to do or say. She’s fisting my shaft and driving me closer. I can cum any second now. She probably won’t believe me if I admit I haven’t slept with a soul since she packed up her bags and left the clubhouse over two weeks ago.
“Shut up and let me touch you,” she rasps out, switching up her technique.
My head falls back onto the bed. There’s something so right and so fucking wrong with this picture. My scrambled half-asleep brain tries to shove the pieces of the puzzle together. It sure would help me out if the mother of my child would stop purring like a kitten. I can feel the vibrations all the way up in my balls. I can’t think past the orgasm about to twist through my man parts.
