But looking at her now, all of that tension and rage leaves. Evaporating like wisps of mist, crushed like my cigarette beneath my boots.Now it’s just relief. Relief that she's here. Safe. I stare at her still form resting on her side. I lean against the wall and take a deep breath. Her legs, but the upper part of her body, are visible, free for me to survey. Most of the bed is covered in shadows, except for a thin slice of light coming from the floodlights in the back of the building. Her hair is loose, and it does something to me when I see she’s still wearing my shirt.
Leaving her earlier was more complicated than I thought, but Onyx’s message couldn’t be ignored. Onyx saw me tonguing down Jace’s sister and no doubt knows what happened between us the weekend I was gone. He had been trying to contact me for days, but I was so busy slaking my lust between Cam’s lips and legs that I ignored all his calls. It’s obvious I fucked her. Bruises riddled her legs, and she was wearing my shirt. He said nothing when I walked into the shop behind him. He said nothing when I asked him if a bed had been delivered to her apartment the night before we returned from my cabin. Onyx said nothing when we returned an hour ago. I told him goodnight. He observed me thoughtfully, carefully. We both knew where I was going, and I didn’t pretend. I couldn’t lie to him even if I tried. Because what could he say? How would I answer?
The moment she stepped into the forest, she became mine, and no bonds of brotherhood or friendship are severing that tie. I can’t define what her being mine means, beyond fucking her 24/7. The future that she hinted at is too murky right now, but there has never been a woman like her in my life before. I headed upstairs to her with that knowledge; my body was tight with suppressed arousal.
The soft exhales coming from the bed make me remember what the fuck I’m doing here. I walk around the bed, bending totouch her cheek. So soft. Her lips are pursed, and she’s deeply asleep. That same feeling in my chest when I woke up with her.
I missed her, and whatever the fuck that was at my cabin.
Try as I might, I can’t get the sight of her stubborn, mutinous face daring me to admit the truth in the parking lot. The truth that those hours I was inside her warm body, was more peace than I’d felt in years, maybe ever. The soft then greedy moans in my ears while I fucked her, holding her face, tasting her tears. It’s been three days since I fucked her, and then drove behind the dark jeep wishing she was on the back of my bike, her arms around my waist. Seventy-two hours since her lips were on mine, and I want them there again.
With that thought, I take off my boots and strip out of my Legion vest. I’ve worn it for the last three days in support of Riggs, making sure we quashed rumors that the Legion was weakening, dismantling because of Hadrian’s choices. I set down my gun and knife on her bedside table and freeze when I see my second gift standing like little soldiers on her bedside. Their metal gleams, despite the low light. I pick the biggest one and hold it in my hand. It’s the biggest one out of the set, and I plan on helping her take its girth soon. An insidious voice in my mind mocks that I may not have a chance to do it. There’s a malignant feeling in my gut that I’m running out of time. Refusing to think about it, I pick up the second plug and turn it in my hand, rolling it between my fingers to test the weight. I reach the last one, the smallest, and discover that the surface is sticky.
My cock hardens immediately.
She used this one.
I turn my head and look at her, wondering if she used it before she fell asleep. I lift it to my nose and groan when I smell the faint traces of something. Her pussy? Her ass? I don’t know, and it’s killing me that I wasn’t here to see her test it outin person. Once again, my loyalty and commitment to the club intercepted my time with her, and anger coils in my belly that no matter how many of those bastards I eradicate, there will be more, always more pulling me away.
Setting it back down, I crawl on the bed, needing to catch up on some of the time I’ve lost. I lift the sheet and expose Cam’s body. She’s lying on her stomach, one leg is straight out, the other bent at the knee. Her smooth, pale skin is clear of my bruises, and I hate it. They’ve healed and want them decorating the back of her knees and her inner thighs again. I want my mark. My eyes shift, and I tilt my head. Her pussy is bare, those plump lips exposed.
She’s going to look so pretty when tied to those rings. I want her in the same position, legs splayed, arms attached to the rings with my chains.
She doesn’t do more than shift slightly and pull her body into mine; she fits perfectly, and that’s the problem. I want to come to find her right here, waiting for me, ready.
I saw the work she’s done in her gallery. The floors are gleaming. New lights are installed in the ceiling. It’s beautiful, and once again, pride fills me. It looks amazing. My mural is center stage, behind her desk, my tribute to her, my artistic declaration of my feelings. Feelings that I haven’t admitted are there. The need to open her legs wider and test her readiness for my cock barrels through me like a tornado.
I press my face into her fragrant hair, the silky strands getting caught in my stubble. Removing them, I notice her neck, and a jolt goes through me when I see that her bandaid is gone. Her stitches are still in, but the border around the black thread is less pink. It matches the rate of healing of the cut on my palm.
I slide my hand under the hem of my shirt, wishing she were naked so I could wrap my arms around her and feel her smooth skin. I cup the soft globe gently, right before sliding my middlefinger between her warm, humid crease. Images of her pushing the smallest plug in her ass, forcing it past her tight tissue, are unbearable. I press inward, grazing where I’m going to put the butt plug. I could wake her up and fuck her, assessing how much she practiced. Fuck her with my fingers and cock while the narrow toy is lodged deep inside her, and watch her eyes dilate with pleasure.
She makes a slight whimper and mumbles my name. I lean over her shoulder, wondering if she’s awake, but she still slumbers. I unbuckle my pants, needing to feel her heat along my shaft, against the tip of my dick. The moment I lodge my cock between her legs, resting the hard ridge in the warm, wet seam of her pussy, my mind implodes.
A soft sigh escapes her lips, and she snuggles back into my arms, her legs restlessly move against mine. I hold my breath at the thought that even asleep, she’ll inadvertently open her cunt enough that the crown will slide right in. Her movements make me pause and hold the beast inside. I could take the choice from her, but the pain of my unfulfilled arousal makes the anticipation stronger. I decide against waking her up, ignoring the vehement need in my body to slam inside her. I kiss her neck again, and she mumbles my name again. Leaning over her shoulder, I watch her eye flick rapidly under the eyelids.
She’s dreaming about me. It makes me smile. “That’s right. Dream about me.”
I kiss her softly behind her ear one more time before I wrap my arms tighter. She calms, settling back down. I realize I like this too, this quiet. Just us in bed, her in a deep, relaxed sleep, wearing my shirt. I snuggle closer, finding her ear. I whisper, “Sleep, Countess. Rest, cause I’m not going to give you much rest tomorrow. Tomorrow, I’ll show you, for real, what I want from you. You’re going to show me where you put that plug. Then I’m going to fill every part of your body with my cum.”
She doesn’t respond, and I smile again, wishing she were awake so I could see her sexy blush. My eyes droop, and despite the desire, I’m exhausted, and I have to get up early and see my mother. Curling tighter around her body, I drift off to sleep.
* "The child who ran away. The boy's family owed us money."
Chapter 61
Climbing the steps with my bouquet of honeysuckle flowers, no less, doesn’t help eradicate thoughts of Camryn. Her sweetness. Her kindness to my dead family.
I left her bed long before she woke up, the faint milky morning light shining through the window. As I dressed, collecting my gun and clothing, I watched her, palming my dick anticipating the moment I returned to this bed and could keep her up all night .and head to my apartment to shower, I promised myself that once I finished visiting with my mother, I was going to take her upstairs and tie her sexy ass to that bed and fuck her using those butt plugs until she too hoarse to speak and too sore to walk.
The nurses wave at me and I wave back, eager to get to my mother’s room. I want to get lost in the ritual of reading to her. See her face. Hopefully, she’s having a good day. “How is she doing?”
“Oh wonderful. No issues. She’s painting.”
“Painting?” I frown. My mother has never painted a day in her life.
“Yes. A local painter volunteered her services every Thursday. She donates her paintings once she’s done. Seems she’s taken a shine to your mother.”
Something feels off about it, and my mind calibrates the possibilities that this could be Los Mestizos, like the donuts.
