Chapter 35
CHAPTER
THIRTY-FIVE
KING
Doc gives me a disapproving look. He’s pissed at me in general. I don’t blame him. I would probably be, too. I fucked up big time and almost died. Literally. His eyes search mine before he flicks his gaze back to his computer.
“If I let you go, what are your plans?”
Typically, I would tell him to shut the fuck up. That my plans are my own fucking business. I don’t. Instead, I nod my head once, find his eyes, and hold them before I speak. When I do, I tell him a half-truth, which I’m sure he realizes that’s what it is.
“Rest.”
He arches a brow as if he doesn’t believe me. I wouldn’t believe me either, but I’ve been in this place for forty-eight hours, and I’m ready to get the fuck out of here. He nods his head once, then writes something down.
“I’ll be at the clubhouse tomorrow night because I won’t be on shift. So I’ll check your wound there. But as long as you keep it clean and don’t bust it wide open again and bleed out, you can head home.”
There is a moment of silence in which we watch one another, and then the door to the room opens and Doc’s lips curve into a grin as he turns to look at the woman who walks through said door.
I know it’s Shawn because I can sense her no matter where she is.
At this point, there’s a connection there that is unbreakable.
“Shawn, if I give you instructions on how to care for him, will you make sure he follows them?” Doc asks.
Shifting my attention from him, I turn my head and look at Shawn. She’s standing with a couple of milkshakes in her hand and her eyes wide as she watches us. I roll my own to the ceiling, then back to meet hers, and she smiles.
“Yeah, I can do whatever you need me to,” she replies.
He grunts, again likely not believing either of us, then he walks over to a computer and starts banging away on the keyboard as Shawn sinks down on the bed next to me and pushes the milkshake toward me.
“Chocolate?” I ask.
“Yeah,” she answers with a smile.
Lifting it to my mouth, I wrap my lips around the straw and suck down the perfect fucking frozen treat, wishing it were her cunt I was drinking down instead of a shake. The chocolate will do for now, but as soon as we get back to the clubhouse, I’m going to rest with her sitting on my face.
“Okay, these are the care instructions,” Doc announces, walking over with a stack of papers and handing them to Shawn. She dips her chin and scans the documents, then she turns to the doc with a smile.
“I think I can handle this.”
He reminds her that he’ll be at the clubhouse tomorrow night to check the wound and dress it. Before he leaves us alone, he tells us that a nurse will be in to officially discharge me but that Shawn can drive me home.
Without waiting for a response, he walks out of the hospital room. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll call my dad.”
“But not Atomic?” Shawn asks.
“I’m pissed at him still,” I grunt.
“Seems like you could talk to him.”
She’s right. I could. And I will. Right now, I don’t want to see him, though. My dad came through for me when I needed him. Maybe he didn’t raise me, maybe he made some big fucking mistakes in his life, but he came through when I needed him. He always has. Always.
“You want me to?” I ask.
Her lips curve up into a grin. “I think since he’s your best friend, you should make sure you’re both good.”
I hum, sucking on the straw, still wishing it were her taste instead of the chocolate on my tongue, but she’s right. “He’s more than my best friend. He’s my brother, and I will talk to him. Just not on the way home from the hospital, yeah?”
She dips her chin in a nod, then clears her throat. She lifts her own straw to her lips and takes a drink of her shake before she speaks.
“I just…” she whispers.
“What?”
Her gaze shifts to mine, and she gives me a smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. I can tell she’s worried about something, but she shakes it off and leans forward, touching her lips to the corner of mine.
“Nothing. I’m ready to go back to your room.”
I wrap my fingers in the back of her hair and tighten them, gripping the strands between them as I look into her eyes. She’s hiding something from me, but I’ll let her have her secrets.
Maybe she’s just working through shit. She went through some really bad fucking shit, and I’m sure she’s got some stuff to work through. I’m going to give her time, but I don’t know how much time I can give her because as patient as I want to be with her, I don’t think I could be for long.
“Let’s go home, sweetness,” I murmur, gently tugging her hair before I release her.
A few moments later, my father is here, and then I’m released. I’m loaded into his pickup truck, and he drives us back to the clubhouse. Each mile closer, my mind wanders to Atomic and what the fuck was going through his head during those days when the Nomads had Shawn and he did nothing.
He said his hands were tied. I get it, but at the same time, I don’t think they were as tied as he says they were. It pisses me off. I would never do this shit to Ryan. I would have gone to the ends of hell for her if for no other reason than because she was his.
Fuck.
SHAWN
It’s bothering him that things are the way they are. That I was kept for so many days. That I was taken, and his people didn’t storm into the Nomads’ place and rescue me immediately. But when Atomic tells me that he has a reason, I have to believe him. Even if I don’t understand it.
The clubhouse is still subdued when we walk in with Elvis. He shuffles, unable to take the long strides that are typical of him. I feel every person’s eyes on us, and Elvis stops in the middle of the bar and looks around, his lips curving up into a wicked grin.
“I may not be able to party quite yet, but I ain’t dead. Where’s the fuckin’ music?” he barks.
Someone makes a hooting noise, and then the music is slowly turned up and I feel the bass enter my soul through the speakers. Nash chuckles on Elvis’s other side, and we continue moving until we reach his bedroom.
I’ve cleaned it again. Washed all the bedding and made sure everything was perfect for his arrival. When he stands at the side of the bed, Nash leaves us alone, closing the door behind him, and I strip Elvis out of his clothes and get him in bed.
“Are you hungry?”
He grins, and I know I must look at him with confusion because he lets out a laugh before he speaks. “Yeah, sweetness. But not for food.”
“What?”
He reaches out, his index finger hooking mine before he tugs me closer to the side of the bed. My chin dips, and my eyes connect to his.
“Take off your clothes and climb on my face. I want to eat your pussy. I missed the taste of you.”
“Elvis,” I hiss.
He arches a brow, watching me for a long moment in complete silence. When he releases my hand from his, I decide to do what he wants. I clench my thighs together, my center begging to get exactly what he’s promised.
I need him somewhere, anywhere on my body. I’ve missed him, and it feels like a necessity to know that everything is okay, that we’re okay. I don’t know why sex would make me feel as if it is, but that’s beside the point.
Slowly, I take off my clothes. I’m not trying to be sexy and give him a striptease or anything, but this doesn’t seem like a moment to rush. When I’m completely naked, I move closer to him, bending slightly to touch my mouth to his.
Elvis reaches out, cupping my breast as my lips brush against his own. He slides his thumb across my nipple, and a moan escapes my lips as the bud hardens from the touch. I whisper his name, and he squeezes my flesh, then releases me.
“Climb up, Shawn.”
A shiver slides down my spine at his three-word demand. I do exactly what he wants and straddle his hips, then slowly climb up his body and stop at his face. I’ve never done anything like this before, and I’m afraid to lower myself, afraid I’m going to do something wrong. What if I hurt him more?
Before a second thought or question enters my mind, I feel Elvis’s fingers grip my waist, and he pulls me down against his mouth. I feel his tongue. It’s warm, wet, and perfect. My hips roll. They move with the rhythm his tongue is offering.
Closing my eyes, I allow myself to just feel. It’s the best way to do anything where Elvis is involved. Moving with the sensations of whatever feels good. That is Elvis, in general. Everything with him is what feels good.
Being with him, by his side, allowing him to help me, it all feels good.
The orgasms he gives me are the icing on all the cupcakes.
I didn’t think that life could be this way, that it could be so good, but it truly is.
This is something I couldn’t have ever even dreamed for myself because it wasn’t in my realm of reality.
But it is now.
Reaching for the headboard with one hand and placing my other behind me on his chest, I buck my hips above him as I lean back and ride his face. I didn’t think this simple act could feel this amazing.
The music from the clubhouse thumps through the walls, and my hips match that rhythm. When I feel his thumb against my clit, I let out a whimper. My thighs begin to tremble as my orgasm washes over me. Then, it’s as if I lose complete control of my body.
I come.
It’s so hard that I begin to almost convulse.
It’s amazing and beautiful, earth shattering, and the world around me goes completely dark. Elvis lifts my hips off him slightly and shifts me down to his chest. I’m still holding on to the headboard with one hand and his pec with my other.
I can’t move. I can barely breathe.
Opening my eyes, I look down and into his blue ones that are staring up at me. My lips are smiling a smile I can’t wipe off my face even if I wanted to, but I don’t. His hands shift from my hips to my breasts, and he begins to gently glide his fingertips over my skin there.
“I love you, Shawn. Now climb on my dick and ride me real slow. I can’t get wild, or I’ll fuck up my sutures again.”
“I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to do anything like that,” I whisper.
“Probably not,” he chuckles. “But I’ve missed you. Make me come like only you can.”
Sinking my teeth into my bottom lip, I look behind me over my shoulder at his hard length, then shift my gaze back to meet his. “You’ll tell me if it hurts?” I ask.
“Of course.”
“You lie,” I exhale.
“Yeah, sweetness, but only about this.”
My decision is made well before he even asks me.
I turn around and move down his body. Once I’m at his hips, I shift myself around to face him again.
He grabs hold of the base of his length, holding it still for me, and I slowly sink down, taking him inside of me.
He moves his hand away, and that’s when I feel his fingertips sink into my hip.
Closing my eyes, I begin to move again. And for the second time tonight, I feel. As I rock my hips, I’m careful not to hurt him. I want to buck and jerk, but I know I can’t. There’s something sensual and sexy about being forced to move slowly, being forced to feel every inch of his length.
Then it happens. It rolls through me when I least expect it, and he lifts his hips once, twice, three times until he comes as well, almost simultaneously, and I swear I see starts burst in my vision.
Cupping his cheeks, I can’t tear my gaze away from his, so I don’t try.
“I love you, too, Elvis.”