Epilogue 2
1.5 years later
My palms are clammy as I grip the handlebars of my bike. My second love. She’s a fucking beauty. Tough as all hell, and fuck, I think the thing I like about her the most is how Cara looks at me when I pull up on it. I hope that look never dies from her eyes.
As me and the guys ride, my heart thrashes in my chest for what I’m about to do.
I glance to my left to see Gray on his bike, and a little behind him is Gunner. The first thing those two did when they had the money was buy a bike, and for now, it works as a chick magnet, but they know that once the club is officially formed, that shit needs to end. In fact, they have both shown great dedication in helping me, and I know having them in the club will be a huge benefit.
Aside from their mad killing skills, which Cain and Dante have allowed since Gray and Gunner turned eighteen, they are like family to me. And to Cara.
Behind them, is Tex, with an excited Cain snuggled up behind him, singing in his ear something about motorbikes and dicks getting the chicks.
Yet another Cain special, conjured up by his unique brain.
Behind Tex are the Long twins. They are our newest additions, joining our fold about six months ago. Nearly identical in looks, the only thing that isn’t is the eye patch Slayer wears, like a scary fucking pirate. They both resemble angels of death if you ask me, with their longish black hair, black beards and well, you guessed it, fucking black clothes as well.
Just like you should never judge a book by its cover, their hard exterior, and first impression is a contradiction to their teddy bear demeanor once they are comfortable around you. Of course, they are lethal fucking killers, so approaching with caution is always advised.
Lastly, following in a van, are Stretch and Munroe. I can always rely on them, and they too have shown great dedication in creating a new MC for the Santa Cruz area.
And where are the Reapers? The ones that got away?
Well, they are still around, making themselves known in a tornado of chaos whenever they pass through as they slowly rebuild their club.
They haven’t come at us in retaliation yet, but they will. It’s only a matter of time.
“Are you ready for this?” Gray yells over the roar of our bikes as we approach the Santa Cruz Wharf, and I fucking grin, mostly reading his lips than hearing his words.
“Am I ever.”
Grayson’s chuckle fades into the rumbles of our bikes as we slow and make our way up the wharf, the setting sun starting to cast an orange glow across the sky. Any peace and serenity locals just had has vanished as our bikes idle up the strip, and they turn their sights on us to see what we are doing.
We go for daily rides, weaning the community onto our presence. We may not wear a patch or colors yet, but they know who we are.
The wharf is long, but I can see the bend in it up ahead, and I know what lies beyond it, waiting for me.
Cara.
Some local kids run alongside us in front of the shops and restaurants, waving, while a bunch of barely eighteen-year-old girls huddle together, pointing and giggling at Gray and Gunner as we pass.
Rounding the bend, I hear music startup behind us, and I grin, knowing Munroe is holding a speaker out the window of the van. All of Me by John Legend fills the air, and my eyes land on a confused Cara as she stares at us in the middle of the roundabout section up ahead.
Next to her, knowing and giddy, are Sasha, Alana and Rose as they take out zip-loc bags of flower petals and start sprinkling the asphalt around Cara’s feet.
“That was my idea.” Gray chuckles, and I throw my head back, laughing.
“Why doesn’t that surprise me.”
Reaching our destination, Stretch pulls the van over while Munroe keeps the music playing, and me and the others ride in circles around Cara.
“What is going on?!” she calls over the noise, but no one answers her.
After a few laps around her, I point sternly. “Stay right there.”
Her brows shoot up, but she stays put as we park our bikes off to the side, cutting our engines.
“Would someone tell me what’s going on?” Cara giggles in wonder as Alana and Rose dance around her, while Sasha takes photos on her phone.
“Thy highness is getting antsy,” Cain sing-songs as we dismount our bikes, before we reach into our saddlebags and pull out a single red Victor Hugo rose each.
“You ready, big guy?” Munroe asks as he and Stretch join us.
“Who the fuck are you calling big guy?” I smirk, looking up at his towering height and he smirks back.
“I guess I am bigger than everyone… in every department.”
Gray scoffs as he bumps past him. “Your cock is not bigger than mine.”
“Neither’s his fucking ego.” Stretch laughs and we all join in. Even Gray.
“Okay, guys. You know what to do,” I tell them, facing my wife who looks like she’s getting impatient.
They all nod and clap me on the shoulder, except for Cain, he slaps a kiss on my cheek, which I’m still wiping off as they fall into a single line in front of me. Gray first, then Gunner, Cain, Tex, Slasher, Slayer, Stretch and finally Munroe. And then there’s me.
“What?” Cara giggles, and I peek around Munroe’s hulking frame to see Gray bowing to her before he hands her his rose. “What is the rose for?”
“Just go with it.” Gray suggests before Gunner does an awkward bow and wave, offering her his rose, before dashing to the side like Cara might attack at any moment.
I mean. She might, since no one is telling her anything.
One by one, each man gives Cara a rose, and it doesn’t surprise me when Cain holds his junk and does a spin on the spot worthy of Michael Jackson before thrusting his hips at my fucking wife.
Give me fucking strength.
The closer I step toward my wife, the more nervous I get.
What if she thinks this is dumb?
Without another second to prepare myself, Munroe steps to the side and I find myself a couple of steps away from the reason we are here.
“Oh my god, Rochus King, if you don’t tell me what’s going on right now, I will… will—”
“Will what?” I grin, and she shakes her head, her smile the biggest I’ve ever seen it.
“I don’t know. I hadn’t thought that far, but I’m pretty sure it will involve a whip.”
“I’ll hold you to that, Killer.” I promise, taking the last step to close the distance.
Around us, a crowd has gathered, but I ignore them, ignore our friends, our family, and focus entirely on the woman I love.
Reaching out, I hand her the red rose, and she takes it, smiling as she places it in the cradle of her arms on top of the other ones.
Then I drop to one knee.
Her brows knit together, and she looks up briefly, her gaze darting to her friends before coming back to me.
That’s when I hold up the small box, crack the lid and reveal the ring. The new ring.
“Rocco,” she gasps, her eyes turning glassy as her gaze darts from mine to the ring, and back.
“I know we are technically already married, but I never got to do it the right way. The way you deserve.” I swallow the thick lump forming in my throat as Alana steps in and silently takes the bunch of roses from Cara’s hold. “Cara. Mi reina. Mi castigadora. Will you do me the honor of re-marrying me?”
A tear spills from Cara’s eye, the same one that is marked with the teardrop tattoo, before she nods quickly and lunges for me.
“Yes!”
As I catch her, rising to my feet to claim her lips in a searing kiss, our friends cheer around us, as well as some of the gathered crowd.
Somehow, Cara ends up in my arms, her legs wound around my waist, while she shows me with her lips and tongue how she feels in this moment we share.
When we finally come up for air, we pull apart to see the orange glow of the sunset painting our surroundings, and Gray and Gunner dancing around with Rose and Alana, while Sasha keeps taking photos.
“Did you have any idea?” I ask Cara, and I refocus on her, and she beams, shaking her head.
“None whatsoever. How did the girls keep it a secret?”
I chuckle. “I actually don’t know, because it’s something we all worked on for a couple of weeks, to pay the right people to keep most of the cars off the wharf.”
“Really?” she asks, her dark brows shooting up. “And no one complained about that?”
I shrug. “No one that wasn’t easily persuaded.”
She giggles and I take the ring out of the box, tugging the old one off her finger, and slipping the new one on.
“So, are we really going to get re-married? Like a wedding ceremony and everything?”
I nod. “Fuck yes. I won’t have the day your dad sold you to me as your memory of our wedding. I want you to know I’m marrying you because I love you, and no other woman on this earth will ever walk beside me, than you.”
“Well, shit,” Cara whispers, emotions getting the better of her. “I really want that too.”
“Then let’s do it, Killer. Let’s get married the way you deserve.”
Her smile holds more beauty than a million sunsets in that moment, and as we kiss each other some more, I feel truly excited for our future.
We return to Dirty Diamonds by the time it’s completely dark, where everyone celebrates our engagement. Our real engagement despite being married for over six years. And sometime after midnight, Cara and I sneak away to our little house on the water, to get lost in each other.
I know the moment we walk through the door that tonight is my night to submit, something I haven’t done since last month when I got a vasectomy. I did that for us since we both agreed we never wanted to be parents. Then again, according to my killer, we’ll have our hands full with training and wrangling bikers and girls, so maybe we are parents in a different way.
I will admit, my dominance since then has been about proving my manhood, something she’s teased me about, but she isn’t holding back anymore.
“Everything off and bend over the bed.”
Fuck. I’m instantly hard from her husky demanding tone, and the anticipation of what she has in store for me.
I don’t fucking mess around, stripping my clothes as she does the same.
“I thought of a name for the club,” I tell her, and our eyes meet across the room as we watch each other for a moment before she nods and points to the bed.
“I said bend over.”
I smirk.
Fuck, I love it when she bosses me around like this. I never thought I’d get so comfortable with it. Giving my control over, especially after what happened to me as a kid. But I trust Cara. She makes me feel safe, and while we are in this role, her the dominant and me the submissive, I don’t really have to think or worry about anything. She carries that weight for me, makes all the decisions, and I just need to let myself feel.
Moving to the end of the bed, I bend over, parting my legs wide as I press my cheek to the sheets and look at her from the side.
“Tell me the name.” She demands, moving to the drawer and rummaging through it.
“The Cruz Kings MC.” I tell her, watching for her reaction.
She stops rummaging, glancing up in thought, and then nods. “I like that.”
“You do?”
“Hell, yes.” She spins around holding a rather large dildo. “It’s better than the Santa Cruz Serpents, or the Santa Cruz Devils. They sound more like a basketball team.”
I chuckle, already knowing she didn’t like those two ideas I came up with a while ago.
“I think we have a winner then.” I beam, and she nods, slapping the tip of the dildo into the palm of her hand.
“I think you’re right. Have you put any more thought into my proposal?”
I gulp as she holds up the girthy object and squeezes a generous amount of lube on it, before sitting it on top of the drawers.
“I have, but I just need to clarify that your punishments won’t be sexual.”
She rolls her eyes at me. It’s a topic we have discussed on numerous occasions over the last eighteen months since the vote for the club happened. I knew when she came to me with the idea, wanting to play the role as club punisher, that it would be nothing sexual. She has grown into a brutal killer after all. But still, I like to torment her a little. It makes her a little crazy and in turn, she fucks me harder.
“I know what you’re doing, and it’s totally working. But are you sure you can handle this tonight?” She points to the large dildo glistening with lube as she puts on the strap-on harness.
“Fuck yes.” I pant, my ass winking and my dick jerking at the thought of being punished by that thing. “No foreplay, please.”
Her brows shoot up. “But foreplay will make it hurt less.”
“Maybe it’s the pain I’m seeking tonight.” I growl and her brows lower again.
“Fine, but don’t push yourself too far. Say the damn safe word if you need it.”
Nodding, I give my ass a wiggle as I recite the safe word in my head. Bubblegum.
I haven’t needed to use it yet.
“So, do we have a deal then about me being the club punisher?” Cara asks.
“Yes.” I rasp. “As well as the Mama thing we spoke about.”
Moving up behind me, Cara slaps my ass hard, and I hiss in a breath even as my body ignites with arousal.
“I will be the best Mama those women ever had.” She declares as a stream of lube is squeezed over my ass, running down the crack, and coating my balls.
My eyes fall to the drawers to notice the dildo no longer there, and I know she’s doing the final steps to get that beast of a thing into place, ready to fuck me with it.
Over the past few years, we have researched the dynamics of an MC, plus what and how we want ours to be. There are no steadfast rules that it has to all be the same, but as we researched, we have started a bible of rules, which we add to on occasion.
Cara is very adamant that if we have women in the club, for the men’s enjoyment, that we take in women who truly need a family, and that they will be cared for. Not abused.
I couldn’t agree more.
“Are you ready?” Cara asks as she runs the tip of the dildo between my cheeks. I can’t fucking help it, I push back, fucking hungry to feel her dominate me. To stretch me and fill me in such a way I can’t fucking think straight.
“Yes, mi castigadora.”
“Open wide.”
Her husky tone makes it easy for me to obey, and I relax my ass as she pushes the dildo inside me.
“Fuck.” I hiss, loving the pain of it, and the way pleasure follows.
“That’s it.” Her claw-like nails dig into my hips as she pushes forward. “Take it all.”
I moan, letting my lids fall shut as she claims me, her hand sliding around the front to wrap around my dick.
“Oh, mi rey, you’re so hard for me.”
She squeezes her fist around me, tighter and tighter until it starts to hurt, “now let’s see how long you can keep your seed in.”
She starts thrusting then, her grip tight on my cock as she uses her free hand to jiggle my balls.
Fuck. I’m not going to last.
She knows my body too fucking well.
Knows exactly how to make me bend to her will.
But fuck, I love that. I love how she claims me, and I feel no embarrassment. No guilt. Just unbridled ecstasy.
Thrust after thrust my wife pounds into my ass, and just when I think I’m going to lose my load, she releases my dick, slaps my ass, and demands, “Roll over!”
I move quickly, nervous about this part, but willing to do it because it’s something we’ve been working on. Me watching her as she fucks me.
“Legs up. Hold behind your knees, nice and wide.”
As much as I feel a little nervous about her watching my face when she takes me like this, I soon forget because I also get to watch her face, and fuck, her cheeks are rosy, her pupils blown, and her dark hair pulled into a high pony.
“I want you to come while I watch you,” she rasps and I nod, watching as she lines up the big cock, and sinks inside me again.
This position hits differently, and I know it won’t be long until I blow.
With her hand tight around my cock again, Cara fucks my ass, her eyes trained on mine, her demeanour radiating dominance.
“You’re close, aren’t you?” she asks, her nostrils flaring, a telltale sign that she is extremely aroused too and is holding herself back.
“Yes. I’m ready when you let me.”
She smiles wickedly. “I should punish you for keeping the proposal a secret.”
“Fine. Punish me. But I’m not sorry. It was fucking perfect.”
She growls like a tigress and slaps the side of my ass as she pounds faster, her hold on my dick loosening, and she starts to jerk it.
“Fine. I’m only letting you get away with it because it really was perfect.” She agrees, moving faster, harder, with both her thrusts and her hand.
“I’m gonna—”
My words lock up as my body does before it detonates in an explosion, cum shooting from my dick as I shatter around the dildo and in her hand.
“That was also perfect.” Cara beams, slowly kneading my dick, milking every last drop of cum from it, creating a puddle on my stomach.
“Fuck, Cara. I’ll never get enough of you.” I admit, and she nods, like she already fucking knows that.
Slowly, she slips the beastly silicone thing from my ass, before climbing up on the bed and standing over me.
“I fucking like this view,” I tell her and she waggles her brows as she unfastens the strap-on harness before letting it fall to the bed next to me.
“You mean, this view?” she asks, parting her legs wider and spreading her folds with her fingers.
I growl.
My hands grip the backs of her calves, and she raises a brow.
“Don’t forget who’s in charge here.”
I chuckle. “Then make me suffer.”
With a sinister look, she releases her folds and cups her breasts, flicking her thumbs over her nipples. “Oh, I will.”
I already know what’s coming, and I’m fucking pumped for it. I love it when Cara unleashes herself on me. Gets herself off in a way that has little control.
She moves up the bed, lowering to her knees over my head, and sits on my face.
“Tongue out, and you breathe when I say you can breathe.”
I give her a thumbs up, because I can’t fucking talk, or breathe, but I’ve become a master at holding my breath while she fucks my face over the last few years.
I watch her over me, the way her abs coil as she grinds herself on my face. The way she pinches her nipples, and pulls her own hair, using me to get off.
Occasionally, she lets me breathe, and I know from experience it will only be a short breath, so I take in as much air as I can before she’s smothering me again, to the point I nearly pass out.
It’s when she braces her hands on the headboard and starts mashing her cunt over my lips, tongue and nose that I know she’s close, and moments later she cries out as her juices flow.
I lap at her, desperate to lick up every drop of her slickness until her clit is too sensitive to touch anymore, and she leaps off me, shooting me a grin.
“I should punish you for that.”
“Go for it.” I urge, but she smiles wide and shakes her head.
“I’m ready to give you aftercare now.”
Smiling, I nod, and she walks into the bathroom while I lay on the bed with a puddle of cooling cum on my stomach.
The thing about Cara and aftercare, is I think she loves this part more than the actual fucking. As tough as she is, she can be very nurturing, and I think it makes her feel good that she has that in her, despite her upbringing.
“I’ve had an idea about what we can call the girls in the MC.” She tells me, moving onto the bed next to me and pressing a warm washcloth to my skin, wiping up my puddle of cum.
“The girls under your care?” I ask, and she nods.
“The Cruz Cunts.”
“You want to call them cunts?” I ask, a little fucking confused.
“Yes. Cruz Cunts. I want to take power over that word since it was used against me, and probably millions of women across the world, too. I’m taking the power back on the word.”
I chuckle. I get where she’s coming from, and to be honest, it’s a pretty catchy name.
“Okay, Killer. I’ll make sure that’s included in the final vote when we establish the club.”
Grinning, she nods before dragging me up off the bed and into the shower where I get to sink my dick for the first time into my fiancé-wife’s heat.