10. Axl
Axl
B arreling through the door, the wood panel smashes against the wall, silencing the noise of the club and its members and guests. I don’t fucking care. “Where is she!” Multiple arms raise and point to the second floor.
Taking the stairs two at a time, I enter our apartment with more finesse, not wanting to startle Finleigh more than she’s already been.
“Princess.” She sleeps in the middle of the bed, her head poking out of the blankets. Brute sits in one of the armchairs by the window, eyes on Finleigh. “How’s she been?” I broke several speeding laws to get here as quickly as possible.
“She ate on the way back, drank a little, but she’s been out for hours. Hasn’t even moved.” There’s an unfamiliar note to his tone.
“You’re holding something back,” I say accusatorily as Brute shoots to his feet and storms over to me.
I hold my ground as he breathes as heavy as a raging bull, allowing him the time he needs to get his head on straight, because I wasn’t here for her today; he was.
He was the one who witnessed her trauma response and deserves a minute to express his fear about the whole situation.
“She shut down.” He finally backs down but doesn’t step back.
We’re toe-to-toe, chests brushing against each other as we breathe.
“On the way home, I couldn’t get her to say a fucking word.
Barely moved, and I had to check if she was breathing fucking twice.
” His eyes stray to her resting form when he quietly shares, “She was so terrified, man, she didn’t realize she’d vomited on herself or pissed her pants. ”
“Fucking hell.” The only thing I want to do is crawl into bed with her, but I need to wash the death off first. “She bathed since you got home?”
“No.” His eyes narrow on me.
“Give me five, then bring her in.” With a final glance at Fin, I begin stripping off my clothes on the way to the bathroom, tossing them into the hamper in the corner.
I step into the shower and get the water running, keeping it cool to wash my hair and body before upping the heat to room temperature so it’s not too shocking.
Brute walks in with Finleigh naked in his arms. He removed her sling, wrapped her cast, and put a shower cap on her head so her bandages won’t get soaked.
“Hey, princess.” Her eyes are half-mast, and she looks zoned out.
Brute gently helps her stand as I grip her waist to keep her upright before taking a second to remove his own clothes before joining us.
The water splashes down on them from over my shoulder as Fin leans back against Brute’s chest. He holds her in place while I wash her body, massaging tensed muscles and brushing my fingers across a few sensitive areas.
Remembering how her body felt when she would melt for us.
“Tell me about your appointment today.” My demand is temporarily ignored before she shutters when I kneel at her feet.
Her eyes remain closed, and her chest nearly heaves with the effort of fighting back what I assume are tears. She’s a jumble of emotions that likely feel like an attack on her system.
“I heard the heartbeat.” Her voice is barely louder than the sounds of the water running over our bodies. “It was beautiful.” Palming her legs above her knees, I rub soothing circles with my thumbs, hoping to relax her.
“I bet it was.” Hoping she tells us more, I don’t move.
“I’ve been so confused.” She whispers the agonizing confession.
“About what?” Brute’s voice matches hers.
Slowly, her lids open, and she gazes between us, trying to gauge our responses. “The baby.” Wasn’t expecting that. “How I should feel now; how I might have felt before,” she expounds.
“What did you discover?” Christ , never in a million years did I think we’d be sharing a moment like this with a woman—silence, softness, caring for her well-being. We’re typically hard and dirty with our women.
She swallows before answering. “I want to be a mom.” Suppressed tears now freely flow down her cheeks, and a renewed torture haunts her eyes.
“Why does that hurt?” I ask. No other words are needed to tell that she’s struggling.
“What if I’m too broken to be a good mom?” She stutters her words between sobs.
Skimming my hands up her thighs, I lean forward and brush my lips across her belly several times. The small bump is attractive in a way I never expected. My dick stirs, but I know she’s not ready for that yet.
Getting to my feet, I try to reassure her, “You know what makes you a good mom?” Her tear-filled eyes meet mine as she shakes her head.
“Worrying if you’ll be a good mom.” Tugging Brute’s hand to her front, we cup her belly together.
“We’re hard men. There are not many boundaries we won’t cross for the ones we care about, so who knows if we’ll be good dads or not, but I have no doubt about you. ”
“You don’t even know me,” she hiccups, but the tears stop.
I caress my knuckles along her jaw, tipping her face up. “We know the important parts,” I whisper against her lips, taking it slow, and licking across the seam until she opens for me.
She’s now sandwiched between us with just enough room that we don’t squash her ribs. Her pebbled nipples stab me in the chest, rubbing against the coarse hair there, and my dick swipes across her belly.
“Oh!” she gasps when Brute grips her jaw and positions her head for his own taste.
Turning around, I lift off the shower head, switch the massager functions to a more intense flow, and spread her feet apart with mine, then press the head against her pussy.
She whines but tilts her hips into the motion.
I reach behind her to grab a handful of her juicy ass, and my knuckles bump into Brute’s erection as he humps between her cheeks.
The man groans, and I watch as he opens her mouth wider, taking more of her as he remembers the way she felt between us the first time.
Moving the shower head around her pussy, her mewls are eaten up by Brute’s fiery kiss as he swallows each one.
Leaning forward, I flick my tongue along her pulse, bathing her throat before sucking on her.
At her ear, I whisper, “Come for us, princess,” and drop the shower head, massaging her clit with my finger and holding her close as she comes apart in our arms.
“Relax, relax,” Brute encourages so that she doesn’t hurt her ribs or pull stitches with her tensing and twitching.
She whimpers, coming down from her high, and I have a brief moment of concern that we took it too far and she’ll regress in her healing.
“Thank you,” Finleigh whispers, eyes shut, chest, neck, and face flushed from the pleasure.
“Not too soon?” My fingers rub along her belly as I wait for her answer.
Her chin wobbles and her face pales slightly, but when she opens her eyes to stare at us, the golden flecks around her irises are clear and present. “No, just right.”
“Thank fuck,” Brute grunts, earning a delicate smile from our girl.