Chapter 37 #2
Our oldest brother laughed heartily now. “Easy killers. I’m just fucking with you.”
He wasn’t entirely off base, though. After Dad died, Owen left college a year early, forgoing his senior season to declare for the NFL draft.
A sizable portion of his signing bonus went toward keeping us fed, clothed, and the ranch running smoothly.
The cash infusions continued until West and I returned from the service and ultimately took over operations.
But we hadn’t needed money from Owen in a long ass time.
“The point is,” Delia said. “We all know how Birdie gets when she’s disappointed.”
I’d been on the receiving end of it myself more than once and knew Delia spoke the truth.
“Like when we told her we were enlisting?” West said to me with a grimace, plucking the thought right from my head.
“She didn’t speak to us for a week.”
“I remember that!” Aria said. “She made me be the go-between when Crew refused.”
We all burst into laughter, reminded of our eight-year-old sister acting as liaison between her mother and eighteen-year-old brothers.
“See!” Aspen exclaimed. “I do not need that kind of karma.”
Loud, obnoxious feedback from the nearby speaker cut off further conversation, and Aria grinned.
“That’s my cue.”
We all turned so we faced the stage, and pride surged in my chest as I watched Aria confidently stride to the mic.
“Good evening, Dusk Valley!”
A cheer rose from the crowd, and I grinned. Reagan tucked herself closer into my side, tilting her head to speak directly into my ear.
“I’ve never seen her play or heard her sing! Is she good?”
I smirked, knowing my girl was in for a treat. “Just watch.”
“How we doing tonight?” Aria asked the crowd, eliciting another happy yell.
“Good, good,” she continued when they quieted.
“Well, as I’m sure most of you know, my brother, Crew, is marrying the love of his life this weekend.
” Another cheer. “And my whole family is in town!” Chants of LAW-LESS rang out, and I dropped my head with a shake.
We were fucking notorious in this place, and I wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing.
“I’m going to kick us off with a fast one,” Aria said, then turned to nod at the drummer, who launched into a steady beat.
When the guitars joined in, I recognized the song as “Selfish” by Jordan Davis. Aria had changed the arrangement, raising the key to better suit her range, but no one seemed to mind. The dance floor filled with people immediately.
I turned to Reagan, who stared at the stage in awe.
At last, she looked at me. “She’s incredible.”
“I know,” I said, grinning proudly.
Each time I watched my baby sister perform, I was reminded that her talent was too fucking big for this tiny town. If she wanted to leave to pursue her dreams like she’d been talking about for years, I’d be the man behind the wheel of the getaway car.
Aria plied the masses with several pop and country songs, including a high-energy rendition of “Shivers” by Ed Sheeran that had the residents of Dusk Valley easily dropping into formation for an impressive display of line dancing.
While baby sis was doing her thing, the rest of us Lawlesses stayed gathered around the table, shooting the shit and cheering her on.
I knew being surrounded by my family had to be difficult for Reagan, who was entirely without what remained of her own, but she was either truly enjoying herself or putting on an impressively brave face.
I didn’t try to figure out which, merely kept her close and let being in the company of my favorite people in the world soften the sharp edges of my worry and fear and anger from the last few months.
“For this next one, we’re going to slow it down,” Aria said into the mic.
Within a few notes, I recognized the next song.
“The Bones” by Maren Morris.
Getting to my feet, I extended my hand to my girl.
“May I have this dance?”
Reagan slid her palm against mine and let me lead her to the center of the floor.
Once again, déjà vu washed over me.
As if reading my mind, Reagan tilted her head to look up at me and said, “This feels so much like that night, doesn’t it?”
“Exactly like it,” I agreed, then shifted my mouth to her ear. “But so much different too. I know you now, and I love you so much. That only makes me want you more, which I didn’t think was possible.”
I felt more than heard her breath hitch.
“Fuck, I wish we could get out of here,” she murmured.
An idea took shape in my mind, and I pulled back a bit to grin down at her.
“We don’t necessarily have to leave to…come.” I wiggled my eyebrows suggestively, and she burst out laughing. “Do you trust me?”
“With my life.”
In the middle of the song, I pulled her from the dance floor, through the crowd, and down the hallway that led to the restrooms. Beelining for the back door, I led us outside into the night, the cool, fresh air a welcome change from the heat and stale beer scent of inside.
“Finn, what are we doing?”
I didn’t speak until I’d pulled us deep enough into the shadows that the dim glow cast by the lone exterior light couldn’t reach us.
“I need you.”
Any reply she would’ve made was cut off when my mouth crashed to hers. Thankfully, she met me fervently, our tongues gliding messily together, teeth clacking as we nipped at each other’s lips.
“Hard and fast,” she begged when I pulled away for a moment, knowing where we were headed.
My hand slid down her side until it connected with bare thigh, then slipped under the hem of her dress, higher until I collided with her pussy—her bare pussy.
“No panties? I thought you were supposed to be a southern belle?”
“For everyone else maybe,” she said, the last word rising in pitch as my fingers parted her slit. “But not for you.”
“That’s right, baby,” I murmured. “You’re my little slut, right?”
“Yes,” she gasped. “Now fuck me.”
She was already wet, her desire slicking the insides of her thighs and coating my hand.
“Fucking soaked,” I mused, then licked my fingers clean. Reagan reached for me, yanking down my zipper and unbuttoning my jeans, shoving them and my boxer briefs down enough to free my cock.
Gripping my length, I speared the tip through her cunt then spread her arousal down the shaft. I notched my head at her entrance. Before I could even ask the question, Reagan was nodding vehemently, hands finding my hips and urging me forward.
I surged into her, a strangled moaning leaving me as I buried myself in her wet heat.
Reagan’s head fell back against the brick exterior of the building, sighing.
Her casted arm hung awkwardly between us, so I lifted it to my shoulder, and despite their limited movement, her fingers found their way into my hair—anchoring herself.
Grateful she was as tall as she was, I hooked her leg higher on my hip, providing the perfect angle to drive even deeper.
My strokes were slow, savoring. I’d never tired of being connected to her like this.
“You’re fucking perfect, belle,” I muttered, tipping my forehead against hers. “Like your pussy was molded specifically to fit my cock. Fuck, I love you.”
“I love you,” she gasped. “But Finn…hard and fast.”
Remembering her earlier request, when I pulled out next, I shot my hips forward, slamming back into her.
“Yes,” she hissed. “Just like that, baby. Please.”
“Goddamn, I love it when you beg.”
I set a relentless pace. Where Reagan was concerned, it took little more than a single look to get me going, and this was no different. After a few minutes, that telltale pressure coiled at the base of my spine. Reagan’s inner walls squeezed around me tightly, telling me she was close too.
Though we were pressed tightly enough together that not even a millimeter of space could be found, I wedged my hand between us and found her clit.
That little bit of pressure was all it took.
Right as the floodgates on our respective orgasms opened, so did the sky, the storm that had been darkening the clouds all day finally breaking free.
We were doused in seconds, but we barely noticed.
Reagan came with a cry, drowned by the boom of thunder, pulsing around me, triggering my own release.
“That’s it, baby,” I gasped as I unloaded into her. “Milk my cock.”
When we stilled and came down from the high, I pulled myself free, tucked my dick back into my pants, and stepped away to readjust my clothes, difficult given the wet denim of my jeans had no give.
Reagan’s hair hung in heavy, damp strands across her shoulders and down her back.
The pale blue and white of her dress was now damn near transparent and clinging to every dip and hollow of her body.
In this state, her curves were positively sinful, and her nipples, tightened to peaks and pressing distractingly against the fabric, begged for my mouth.
If I didn’t know my family would likely be wondering what happened to us, I’d take her again.
Reagan merely smoothed her palms down the skirt of her dress and watched me with a smirk.
“You look like you’ve got a secret.”
“I do,” she agreed, stepping forward to press a single hard kiss to my mouth. Then she whispered against my lips, “I’ve got your cum dripping down my thighs.”