CHAPTER 11
LAIKEN
I’m fucking seething. How dare that woman suggest I trade Tripp for her services. I don’t care what she does or how badly I need it, I’m never giving up my man.
I love him. I’m never letting him go.
Going down to the French Quarter in search of someone to break the curse, some Voodoo Priestess my great aunt wasn’t sure even really existed, was a stupid idea. I can admit that now. At the time it seemed like the right thing to do.
I want my house to be free of the history associated with it.
If that means breaking a curse, then so be it.
If it’s just the circumstances of time which ruined the lives of people, then it’s just that simple as well.
I don’t really care about the means behind it.
I just want to be able to live my life without the specter of the past looming over me.
That’s no way to live.
The moment we pull up in front of the house, which is more a construction zone than domicile right now, I practically jump off Tripp’s bike and start to pace.
My hands wave around me as I bite out the words, “Can you believe that fucking woman? She wanted me to trade her knowledge and services. For you. She wanted me to trade you.” I glance in Tripp’s direction to find amusement dancing in his eyes as he sits astride his bike.
“Like I would ever do that. Who would do that? It’s fucking insane,” I shout the words, my hands jutting upward toward the stars.
“I know you weren’t going to trade me, my little Mischief-maker,” he assures me.
It does nothing to temper the anger flooding my veins. Not a damn thing. I whirl in his direction, my eyes blazing with indignation.
“You better not have believed for even a moment that I would trade you,” I grit out at him, my finger jabbing in his direction as I step closer.
When I’m close enough to touch, his arm shoots out and snags me around the waist. He hauls me to his side from where he still sits on his bike.
The moonlight is coming from behind him making the angles of his face appear even more severe than they normally are.
I can’t see his dark eyes, but I know they are boring into me. I can feel them and their intensity.
“I know, Laiken,” he soothes me.
With a deep breath of his clean woodsy scent, my body melts against him, and I bury my face in his chest. My heart, which has been pounding from the moment the guy appeared to form from the darkest parts of the shadows on that street, starts to slow down.
“I love you, Tripp,” the words slip from my lips without me meaning to say them.
But then they’re out there and I’m not surprised and I don’t regret them.
I’m not even afraid. It was time. “I love you so fucking much. You looked up at me from my busted front porch with knowing in your eyes and have been waiting for me to catch up this whole time. The truth is I fell for you in that moment too, I was just scared.”
His large, calloused hands come up and cup the soft cheeks of my face, engulfing me in his warmth and grounding me in this moment. It means something. It means everything.
When his lips take mine, there’s an urgency there, but we both ignore it. We explore softly. We move gently. Every swipe of our tongues is intentional and filled with meaning.
His hands tug and pull at my clothing until I’m standing in front of him naked. I still can’t see his dark eyes, but I know they’re filled with hunger. Because it’s the feeling coiling in my gut and begging to be set free.
When his fingers dig into my hips, he lifts me and positions me in front of him on his bike, my back draped over the fuel tank and my hair tangling with the handlebars. As he scoots back on his seat, keeping his steed of metal and power steady under us, he looks me over and takes me in.
I’m angled just enough to where I can see half of his face now, the other still draped in shadows and secrets. But that’s not entirely true, is it? This man has shown me who he is. He has shared his secrets without question, without worry. I know him.
I love him.
His hands start at my waist, wrapping around my ribs and moving up toward my tits. With every breath he takes, the sound becomes more ragged and filled with need.
“You’re so fucking gorgeous, Laiken. I don’t think I could ever tell you what it means to me that you’ve given yourself to me. Your beauty. Your trust. Your heart. I’ll protect you. Always,” he breathes out.
Tears prick the backs of my eyes. Not from sadness, but from the intensity of the moment. It’s overwhelming and, yet, perfect.
Just like everything is with this man.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I don’t believe everything will always be perfect with him. He’s going to fuck up. And so, will I. We’re both human.
But if we can find this again, if we can come back together and remember what it means to love, what it means to connect, we’ll be just fine.
“Say it,” I demand, not even a little bit ashamed of how much I need the words in the same way I need his hands on me and his cock filling me up.
One side of his mouth tips up as he leans over my prone body. His mouth hovers over my skin, barely touching while letting me feel his warm breath which competes with the cooler air of the night.
“You’re mine,” he breathes against my skin.
I shake my head rapidly and groan, “No, that’s not it. Say it.”
The sound of his chuckle wraps around me in such a way that I almost don’t hear him undoing his zipper. As the head of his cock kisses my entrance, my eyes snap up and find his.
“I love you, Laiken. I have since the moment I fell through your porch, and I’ll never stop. You’re mine. My little Mischief-maker. My Old Lady.”
And then he forces his length inside of me in one powerful thrust which has a moan coming from me and echoing around us. He plants his feet on either side of his bike as he fucks me, each stroke long and powerful.
His movements are slow enough that I swear I can feel every ridge of his cock as he fills me. My eyes roll back in my head when his lips wrap around one of my nipples and he bites down on the painfully hard tip only for him to lave it with his tongue.
“I’ve imagined you here so many times,” he growls after popping off one of my tits before diving toward the other one like a starving man.
I tilt my hips and try to meet his movements because I need more, so much fucking more. I want him to take me hard and fast. I need him to erase the memory of that woman trying to take him from me.
“You’re mine,” the snarled words come from deep in my throat and feel downright fucking feral.
“Yes,” he coos, his hips moving a little bit faster but still not fast enough, “I’m yours Laiken.”
The reassurance unlocks something in me and my body relaxes back against his bike. As much as I want him to fuck me hard and fast, I won’t rush him. It’s not like I’d be able to anyway.
The only thing I can do is surrender. Which is exactly what I do.
I surrender to him. To this feeling. To the connection between us. To the love we share.
I’m his. He is mine.
And that is all that matters right now. Everything else will come and it’ll be glorious when it does.
“That’s it,” he growls, his mouth traveling up my chest where he plants open mouth kisses. He bites along my collarbone, up my neck, and along my jawline. Then his mouth is hovering right above mine.
Our eyes lock and hold. Half of his face is still in shadow, but I don’t need to see him fully. I know what he looks like the same way I know the beat of my heart.
His hips keep the same maddening pace and now it’s almost too much. It feels like my skin is too tight, the need to come riding me hard.
“Need to feel you splash my walls with your cum,” I gasp out the words as my clit throbs in time with our combined heartbeat.
He growls, the sound feral as it bounces against the house and the trees. For a moment it sounds like a pack of wolves are coming, but I know differently. It’s just him. Just my man. Just his claim on me.
“I’ll be filling you with my cum soon enough, Laiken.”
There’s a warning in his voice; one I don’t want to heed. I squeeze my pussy around his length again, loving the way he shudders above me even though he keeps the same infuriating pace with his movements.
“Please,” my voice is a plea, one I know he is powerless against.
“Fuck,” he holds the word out, groaning it over me like the cleansing smoke of sage and intention.
And then he really starts to move. He pulls almost all the way out of me and slams forward again, hard and fast. He does it again and again, pushing me up and up until I’m floating in the clouds and waiting for the crash and begging to come back down to earth.
The thrusting of his hips becomes fluid grace as he takes me harder and faster with every movement.
All while the stars dance above us.
All while we are held on a knife’s edge.
All while our hearts pound in synch.
All while our breathing becomes a ragged prayer to be answered in the quiet only darkness knows.
We teeter together with my hair splayed out across chrome and my arms wrapped around the solid muscle of my man.
“Tripp,” I gasp, a few tears running over my temples and tangling in my hair.
“I know, my Mischief-maker,” he breathes, “I know.”
He covers me with his body, the brush of his cotton shirt and the leather of his cut abrading my skin in the best of ways. And still, he moves faster and harder.
And then everything stops.
It only lasts a moment, just one perfect moment captured and untouched by time and space. The breath before everything shatters.
My body locks up, and my pussy squeezes his length as he pumps his cum as deep inside of me as he can reach with his cock buried to the hilt. His arms shake where he’s holding the handlebars of his bike causing the bike to shake with him. But I’m not worried.
We won’t fall.
He would never allow it.
I trust him. Completely.
I love him. Forever.
Our breathing mixes, panting breaths where our lips almost touch. We don’t look away and I’m not sure we could even if we wanted to.
I want to see. I need to. All of him. All of me.
“I love you, Laiken,” he rasps.
“I love you, Tripp.”
My tears fall, but they don’t contain sadness, only relief. This is my life. This is the place I was always meant to find. And I did because the hand of fate played its part, and I walked the path that was meant for me.
Now I have so much more than I could have ever imagined. I have Tripp, but I also have the club which is just a huge family. I have a home. I have roots, something I never really considered setting down.
I have a place to belong.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
Tripp kisses my tears away, collecting them like they are precious. Maybe they are, but he’s the only one who would ever think so.
“Wrap your limbs around me and hold on, Mischief-maker,” he demands.
I don’t question him, I simply listen.
He dismounts his bike, keeping it steady while still being buried inside of me. It’s quite a feat really and I’m fucking impressed. Then he’s stalking up the stairs and into the house. He doesn’t stop until he’s laid us out on our combined air mattress pallet.
The feeling of his cock hardening fully while still buried inside of me and stretching me is strange but not unwelcome. Hell no, I welcome everything this man can make me feel. Always
He strips his clothes and then proceeds to fuck me hard and fast, sealing our words with vows unspoken.
Perhaps the house will always be haunted. I’m okay with it. I know I’ve broken the curse by falling for this man. He’s not a Landry and I am not my great aunt. We will find happiness here amongst the spirits and, hopefully, there is enough peace in that to find a future.