Chapter Twenty-Seven
Don’t Close Your Eyes
Royal
We spent the next several hours talking about everything, and nothing. We shared a lot of opinions, even if we came by them for different reasons.
“Preach isn’t in on this. He’s too old school, Roy. He wouldn’t move against the club. A move against the head of the pack, without just cause… Surely, that is like the greatest sin next to snitching.”
I huffed, a dry-humored sound, “I think you’re right, but I don’t think it would play out that simply.
He is all of what you said, but he is also my mother’s brother.
If they convince him that I am in on their bullshit, he may feel some sense of loyalty to me because of our shared blood.
It would be a conflict of interest and loyalties that would probably be enough to see him walk away from the club and everyone in it.
Me included. He’d be good enough to tell me to fuck off, but he wouldn’t help me if I was involved.
I’m sure of that. He’s as straightforward as they come.
He doesn’t spare feelings or mince words.
I learned to appreciate that at a young age.
I knew who pretended and who was real. Preach is a real one.
He’s a good uncle, I’m glad I got to ride with him. ”
“You say that like he’s already left or something.” She plucked a piece of grass off, halfway from its root and twirled it between her fingers while quizzically staring at me.
I couldn’t keep my patch. I couldn’t stomach the sight of it at this point, not when I knew Paxton was being embalmed and prepared for presentation in his. Either they’d kick me out, or I’d walk.
Neither option was safe, but I didn’t have it in me anymore.
The level of betrayal, and depths of their scheming was unparalleled. It was inexcusable, even by my own standards; and I’d forgiven a lot in my life.
I realized my thoughts were drifting, as they often did just before I surrendered to sleep.
“Do you ever wish you’d gone? Instead of denying your scholarships, I mean?”
Kennedy leaned back on her elbows, returning her attention to the stars. The moonlight danced off her gorgeous, green eyes, and the truth was; I’d have begged her to explain the art of canning and sewing, if it kept her engaged.
She seemed to honestly consider the question, her head tilting this way and that before she reluctantly answered, “I don’t really think about it. My life is my life. I don’t lay in bed at night contemplating what could have been if I’d taken another approach or made a different decision.”
“Not even when you’re mopping the men’s room at the tavern?” I teased.
She snorted, her eyes lighting up with amusement, “Well…”
She stressed the word as if she were reconsidering her answer.
“Right, see. So, suppose you weren’t regretting. Let’s say you were dreaming. What did you dream of doing besides what you were doing? Everyone has thoughts of the future to some degree. It may only be the coming weekend, or where they’ll lay their head tonight… but…”
She side-eyed me like I’d tricked her and concurred with a stiff nod.
“Maybe. I don’t know. Once my mother died, routine became a comfort.
Predictability meant I could mindlessly move through my day without grieving or stressing.
So, not thinking beyond deciding if I was opening or closing each day was kind of…
nice.” She shrugged, and her brows tensed.
I could feel her awkwardness, and didn’t want to leave her floundering, or worse, retreating.
“Makes sense. Busy the mind to keep from focusing on the wounds of the heart.”
She exhaled, like I’d said it all.
“It’s true,” she agreed, after a thoughtful moment of listening to the song of nature around us.
“I remember when I was little, my mom took us camping at this spot called Starved Rock. It had the most scenic rock walls, falls, and that type of thing. I always thought it would be nice to live there. Especially in the fall. I bet it would be pretty.”
“Yeah? What kind of work would you do? How would you spend your Saturday mornings?”
Her head slowly swiveled toward me, and I thought maybe she’d realized I was just keeping her talking.
“Don’t hold your breath thinking I’m going to say some lame-ass shit, like cuddled up in front of the woodstove with you.”
Laughter trickled from me, and I smiled at the picture she’d painted.
“That’s pretty specific,” I pointed out, “Which means you’ve probably thought about it a time or two.”
“Of course, I’ve thought about it. The woodstove, and the Great Pyrenees that’ll keep my feet warm.”
I flubbed my lips, and squinted at her, silently calling her bluff.
She laughed, elongating her neck as she leaned back. The position left all her long, strawberry-blonde hair to dangle and sprawl around her.
I shifted, twisting half onto my stomach to close the distance between us. I didn’t give her time to react, I kissed her neck. When she didn’t immediately freak out, I started to nibble my way toward her ear.
A murmur caught in her throat and her smile widened, “What are you doing, Royal Crowe?”
I tipped her face toward me, and answered with the obvious, “What the Pyrenees and the woodstove can’t. I’m convincing you not to close your eyes.”
It was probably the worst line in history, but I was half delirious from sleep deprivation, and unable to let things go.
It was my only wish for the night, that she not close her eyes. So, I slid my leg between hers and nudged until it rested snuggly against the warmth of her pussy.
Her heavy-lidded gaze looked as intoxicated as I felt, when I came up for air.
“Tell me to stop,” I whispered against her lips.
She blinked like the implication of my words was too much to grasp. Her fingers teased along my jaw, the touch solidifying until I felt the light graze of her nails when she locked them behind my neck and greedily brought me back for more.
I nearly choked on my own breath for gasping, when she did it. I guess I expected we’d play some game of hints, but there was none of that. My subtle shock seemed to fuel something in her, while I snared her skirt and tried to pull it off of her, she rushed out of her top.
I never expected a timid mouse, but her sense of urgency ignited my own. She shucked my shirt over my head and helped me unbutton my pants. While I slid them down my legs, she latched back onto my neck and kissed me like we might never come up for air.
There was nothing left to remove. She’d taken every stitch from my body, and yet her hands swam and gripped in exploration.
Her hot breath teased along my flesh, and her lips found mine again.
Our mouths warred in the most beautiful and savage ways, until she wrapped those long fingers around my dick, making me trip over another breath and completely lose my focus.
I cautiously exhaled with a restrained laugh.
If that was what defeat felt like, I’d bow every time.
“On your back,” she demanded, her voice taking a bossy edge all of a sudden.
I was captivated, and more than willing.
Her knee nudged my thigh, and she shakily saddled me.
I was in awe. Forty could have killed me then, and my dreams in life would have been sufficiently filled. Well, the kind that made my mouth water and derailed my every waking thought.
She dragged herself over my length, and though her intent was clear, I still instinctively began to ask, “What are you–?”
My eyes nearly came out of my head, and I gripped her hips so fiercely I probably left bruises when she sank down. She sent me reeling. I didn’t have a conscious thought in my mind, everything except her hot, slick grip melted away.
She began to move and my world spun again, only settling when her hand came to rest like a necklace around me. The whipping and snapping of her hips dictated my every breath.
“That’s it. Just lay there like a good, little pillow princess and hush, while I use your body.” Her outrageous words carried no belittling tone, and yet something about them lit a little fuse inside me.
“Mhm. Just. Like. That.” She grunted each word and selfishly found her pleasure, her voice still carrying an edge of whininess to it when she huffed, “Good boy.”
My jaw dropped, my cock bricked without warning as the fuse finally ran out and I exploded in her with a deep, upward thrust.
Her nails bit into the edge of my jaw as she cupped my face from the underside and steered it left to right, while gloating, “I knew it.”
I was glowing outwardly and burning inwardly at the effect her words had on me.