Chapter 27
twenty-seven
DARCY
In the end, I text Dane
Darcy
Thank you for everything, baby. One question though…red satin, white silk, or black lace.
Dane
Definitely black
After LaShawna places the last item in the bag, a luxurious ebony teddy, they leave me with a “Have fun” and a reminder to exchange anything that doesn’t work.
I’m buzzing with happiness, feeling a little spoiled as I step onto the smooth sidewalk outside the store. Band-Aid’s already loading up half the bags before he walks around to the driver’s side to start the engine. Flinch follows behind, hands full as he looks side to side before letting me walk the meager yards toward the truck.
My toes are even with the curb when I pull out the phone to see if he texted again.
Dane
Do I get any further details to pick from, or are you going to let me imagine for the rest of the afternoon?
Darcy
Not a single one.
Dane
Are you going to be a good girl and wear it for me tonight?
Darcy
Maybe….
Dane
You’re going to make my ride back to Parran very uncomfortable, Sugar.
Feeling saucy, I leave him on read. I’ll let him sit and think about that for a bit. He left me needy, my mind on him. He can suffer a bit too.
As I put my phone back in my purse, I notice a familiar figure from the corner of my eye. He’s standing on the curb, hands in his pockets, wearing a welcoming grin. Isaiah Miller. One old acquaintance I don’t mind running into.
“Isaiah? What are you doing back here?”
“Its Mom’s birthday weekend. I could ask you the same thing, though. ”
I take two quick steps, hugging him tight.
As Flinch’s loud “shit” bellows down the street, I turn to see bags thrown next to the truck as he races toward me.
What, he can’t be two feet away?
Ignoring the biker's ridiculousness, I look back at Isaiah.
“I’m sure you’re having a blast,” I say, the sarcasm dripping from my tone. Like me, he wasn’t someone who attended church voluntarily. He was eventually allowed to move out on his own and stop attending church.
Isaiah gives me a conspiratorial look. “I reached my limit after two hours and told Mom I was going to the hotel to nap. So tell me, who are you texting with that goofy look on your face?”
“My…” I struggle to find the right word before settling on “boyfriend, Dane. He’s out of town for the day, and I missed him.”
Coming up from behind me, Flinch places a hand on my arm and tries to guide me in the opposite direction. “Pretty sure your old man wants you back at the office now, Darcy.”
I shrug off his hand. “I’ll be there in a second.” He’s just an old friend, and we’re in public, for crying out loud.
“Now,” he demands, moving his hand to usher me away by the elbow.
Isaiah’s voice comes out in a squeak, “Maybe you should go, Darcy. We’ll catch up some other time.”
When I turn my attention to him, I find Band-Aid standing between us in badass biker pose, jaw tight as he stares menacingly at poor Isaiah. “Are you for real right now?”
Without turning his attention away from Isaiah, Band-Aid insists, “Get in the car, Darcy.”
Flinch shoves me in the passenger seat and slams the door with a scowl that would make most people cower in their seats. Me? I’m mad, and shoot daggers right back at him.
Band-Aid and Flinch work quickly to load the last of my purchases before we pull out, Band-Aid following behind on his bike. I give Isaiah an awkward wave as we drive past before yelling, “What the hell, Flinch?”
“I’m not losing my patch so you can play with your old boyfriend in broad daylight.”
I prefer it when Flinch is the ice man, rarely a word coming from him all day. “Oh, you’ve got some nerve,” I screech.
“Tell it to Odin,” he dares say.
“Oh, believe me, I will. I’ll let him know all about this the minute he’s home. You’re here to keep me safe, not control what I do.”
With an incredulous chuckle, Flinch says, “Pulling you away from that guy was keeping him safe.”
The sudden insistent chimes of my phone demand my attention. It’s Dane already, I know it.
Dane
Get in the truck or I’m turning your ass red.
Would you like to tell me what the fuck just happened?
Darcy
Isaiah is the son of one of my mom’s friends. I said hi to him and your goons lost their shit.
Dane
And you jumped into his arms?
Darcy
It was only a hug.
Dane
I’ll be back in just over an hour. Be in the office waiting for me.
Is he for real? I know there are rules about interactions with other bikers and respect and all of that, but Isaiah is a civilian. It’s not the same at all. Plus, Isaiah is a very platonic friend. While everyone around me was knees deep in their faith, Isaiah had one foot out the door. When I met him, he was only coming back for college breaks and was guilted into attending church services since he was still under his parents’ roof.
My mood dark, I storm into the storefront as soon as we park, not bothering to look if the prospects are following. I shut the office door behind me, wanting peace from Biker Land. The way I see it, the issue is how Band-Aid and Flinch acted. I was no more than two steps or so away from them the entire time.
I spent too long with LaShawna and Brittany and I need to get on the ball to turn stuff in on time now. I turn up the music to drown out more of Keebler’s warehouse antics, hoping my temper cools before Dane comes back.
I’m restless for a good half hour, trying to concentrate on the parts order until the reminder to pump pops up on my phone.
No other messages from my Viking. Just that demanding Be in the office.
Believe me, I’ll be here waiting. Dane and I need to get a few things straight.
After shutting the door, I place my headphones over my ears and start one of my favorite podcasts, a “things your mother didn’t teach you” program that helps fill in the gaps left in my education by the private Christian school I attended.
Graduating from high school means nothing when the focus is on Theology and not basics like U.S. History and Biology. It’s a little hard to parent when you don’t understand certain basic things, like why you have to take all of your antibiotics.
After locking my office door, I slip the pump under my shirt and connect it to my bra.
A loud, demanding knock on the door breaks through my peace. It’s only been forty-five minutes since I’ve gotten back, so I know it’s not Dane. I have at least another fifteen minutes before I have to deal with him.
“I’m pumping,” I call out.
Another bang.
“I can’t open the door right now. I promise I haven’t been kidnapped.”
Crash.
Ripping off the headphones, I turn in horror to hear something hit the wall next to the door.
Crash.
As a fine mist of white powder fills the air, I remove the bottles of milk from my breasts and seal them as quickly as my unsteady hands allow.
“What the hell,” I screech, hurrying to cover myself.
Knowing these men, they’ve probably tried to drive one of the machines from the warehouse down the hall just for shits and giggles.
Another hit sends sheetrock crumbling. It falls into a heap on the ground below, leaving a good-sized hole near the doorframe. After another thump, metal strikes metal, and a sliver of Dane’s face appears in the opening. His eyes are wild, lips stretched into a maniacal grin, reminding me of a bearded Jack Nicholson in The Shining. In a honeyed voice, he croons, “You locked the door, Sugar. I thought we talked about that.”
“I needed to pump, you psycho.”
Wasn’t the changed code on the door clue enough? With a warehouse and storefront full of men, a lock is kind of important when you have your boobs out.
He sticks his big ole paws through the metal beams in the wall, unlocking the door from the inside with a pull. Carrying the fire axe from the warehouse, he saunters in like a man hell-bent on destruction. The door slams shut behind him feels like a punctuation on his fury.
Eyes blazing, fists tight at his side, his jaw jerks as he pulls in slow, controlled breaths. “I told you to be waiting for me.”
”...in an hour,” I point out.
He leans the axe against the wall by the door. “Got here in good time.”
“You put a hole in my office wall,” I mutter, the only words I can put together as I stare at Dane with wide eyes.
He folds his arms around his torso and shrugs dismissively. “A little lock isn’t going to keep me away from my old lady.”
Oh, the nerve of this man. “I think we should discuss this later when there are fewer people around.” And when I'm less homicidal. The crazy thoughts running through my head won’t get us anywhere.
He laughs, but it’s dark and free of humor. “I pick up an axe and everybody around me clears off. Now, would you like to start explaining yourself?”
“What do I have to explain? I happened to run into an old family friend on the street. I gave him a quick hug, got dragged away, and now you’re here like I’m the one who did something wrong.”
His voice is low and dangerous as he saunters toward me. He’s only inches away when he stops, my bottom hitting the edge of the desk. Eyes blazing, nostrils flaring he accuses, “You let another man touch what’s mine…and in the middle of Main Street in broad fucking daylight.”
I lift my chin in defiance. “Why wouldn’t I? I’ve done nothing you should have had a problem with.”
His tightened jaw ticks and he sneers. “Oh, I have a problem alright, a big one. Did you call me your boyfriend?”
Of course, Band-Aid and Flinch told Dane every tiny detail. Probably before I even got back to the office. I don’t care normally, simply because if I feel as if I’m doing something my partner shouldn’t know, then I shouldn’t be doing it. Right now though, their habit of reporting back to Dane is stirring the pot. “I didn’t know how to explain our situation to him.”
“Well, lemme tell you something. I’m not your boyfriend. I’m your man. I don’t pick you up for an evening out, then drop you off to sleep alone. I come home to you, stay with you all night, and fuck you like you’re mine. I’m the man who has the taste of your pussy on my lips, not some asshole who’s just hoping to know you better. It’s not the same thing. Do I need to drag you to City Hall for you to understand what all this means?”
“You know what it doesn’t mean, Dane Bordelon? You don’t get to yell at me when I innocently say hello to someone, and you don’t get to act like I did something wrong by changing the lock so I can have privacy.”
He lets out a low, feral growl, a heated possessive gaze washing over him. With a certain nod he says, “You need a reminder of whose property you are.” His lips crash into mine with uncontrolled hunger as he leans me back onto the desk, pinning my hands down with his. I open my mouth to gasp for air, and he takes the opportunity to push his tongue inside. It’s like large bolts of electricity are in my knees, making them weak, but stuck in place.
When he rips his lips away, the bastard goes for my neck, knowing it’s my weakness, and starts rubbing the steely hard erection across the thin fabric of my leggings. My body surrenders at the pleasurable friction and I groan, “Still mad.”
“You can be mad with my mark on you and my cum inside you,” the jerk says with a roll of his hips against my core. He holds both my wrists down with one hand, and starts yanking and tearing at my leggings with the other, taking my wet panties with them. Wanton hussy I am, I spread my legs for him, eager for relief from the pulsing ache in my center.
Releasing my hands, Dane leans down to spread my pussy lips, placing a kiss right on my clit. My legs tremble with anticipation, but he moves away, freeing his cock with a slide of his zipper. It’s standing tall and hard, precum already coating the tip.
I let out a gasp of surprise as he pulls me down, and turns me over so I’m bent over the desk, ass in the air before he claims me with a powerful thrust. He pauses for a minute, both of us drawing in deep puffs of air as I adjust to his girth. Leaning down, he runs a hand underneath my top. “This is how I fuck what’s mine.” His grip against my hips tightens as he tests my readiness, bottoming out with a stroke. And then he fucks me like he never has, powering into me with punishing lunges that hit perfectly against my G-spot. Stars dance around my eyes, and I whimper, my body feeling close to imploding as the friction works my body perfectly.
My orgasm erupts with a scream I can’t control as Dane knots his hands in my hair, roaring his peak. He slumps over me, supporting his weight with his arms, breathing rapidly. His pants still undone, he wraps his arm around my waist, anchoring our bodies together as he falls back onto the office chair. I’m slumped into the hard warmth of his body, hating that I find comfort in his arms when I’m furious with him.
Fighting to get control of his breath, Dane smooths down my hair with his hand, then runs the fingers across my cheek with the tenderest of caresses.
“This is what we’re going to do,” he informs me. “We’re going to go home and do whatever the hell we have to do to get us straight. I strongly recommend screwing until we’re both too exhausted to remember that we’re mad. At five o’clock, we’re going to pick up Owen and let things be, because we’re not going to be one of those couples who fight when their kids are around. Got it?”
“I have a parts order to put in…” I argue. While the brothers go in and out willy-nilly, I can’t. Someone has to keep deadlines, and God knows it’s not going to be a biker.
“It’s not officially due until noon tomorrow. We set those deadlines in advance in case something happens. You’re good.”
He sets me on my feet before zipping up his pants and untucking his tee to hide the wet spot from us. I try to clean myself up with tissues with shaky hands before Dane takes over the ministry with gentle touches. Endorphins from my orgasm trickles through my veins, replacing the rapid dip in adrenaline.
I pull up my underwear and leggings before bracing for an embarrassing trip through the storefront. Keep your eyes down and pretend they don’t exist. Dane lays his hands on the small of my back, “I told you everybody cleared out,” he says with a huff of a laugh.
“I’m still angry. You put a hole in my office wall. That’s pretty insane, even for you.”
“Don’t let other men touch my property, and I won’t go crazy.”
I don’t know why I bother trying to argue with the man. I always will, though. It took me this long to find my voice…even if I am quieted with a kiss that makes me feel faint, leaned over the desk, and fucked until I’m in too much of an orgasm stupor to care anymore. Not winning an argument goes over a lot better after you’ve been dick dazzled by six feet-four inches of muscled Viking that isn’t afraid to use his cock, and God yes, even his tongue, to end an argument.
We screw and argue and come to some sort of understanding before we go to scoop up Owen. The sex, though, is mind-blowing. Like cataclysmic. I should do this on purpose just so he goes this psycho amazing.
I’m woman enough to admit he’s right about arguing around Owen, so I put any lingering frustration aside. By the time Dane’s laying Owen into the crib and setting up the video monitor, I raise a white flag and slip into the black chantilly lace babydoll set and matching thong, and pose myself on the bed.
As the nursery door clicks closed, I call out for Dane. He leans in the doorway, his tattooed forearms crossed as he scans up and down my body, eyes wide.
“Are you coming or what?” I ask. I don’t want to argue anymore. I want to be happy in my new life.
He clears his throat, hangs his cut on the upholstered chair in the room, then pounces on top of me. His hands slide reverently across my belly, under the delicate lace, and pull down the scrap of fabric covering my pussy eagerly. “You really are my dream girl, Darcy, you know that?”
Funny enough, this man fills every fantasy I never knew I had.