Thirty-Two
I took the shortest shower possible, just ridding myself of any visible blood, and dressed fast. I needed to be with Camille. I felt like I was dying faster every second we were apart.
“Jesus, man, you wanna take a breath?” Ryder caught my shoulders as I lunged for the door.
“I need to be with her, Ryder. Jesus, don’t stop me.”
He nodded, not letting go of me.
“I get it, man, trust me. Being away from Tori is fucking agony, but you’re not in your right mind, and she needs you back, not whoever the fuck this is.” He shoved me back, and followed me as I dropped down onto the bed behind me. My hands were shaking. Adrenaline had been fuelling me, and now it was dissipating and leaving me a trembling mess.
“Exactly,” Ryder said, as if I’d spoken out loud, as he sat beside me. “Just give yourself a few minutes, and go out there strong, yeah? That was intense, that stuff we just did, and you don’t want that tainting your reunion with your girl, do you?”
“Asshole. Could you be a little less sanctimonious right now?”
He smirked, shoving his dark hair back.
“You did the right thing, man, well… I mean, quicker would have been better, but I get why you took your time. He deserved every second of that. Even though…”
I lifted my head, raising my eyebrows.
“Even though what? You having regrets or some shit?”
He shook his head. “Not my point. Tossing him in the sea is a great way to degrade evidence and shit, but his fucking mouth is sewn shut. There’s no way they’ll rule it as accidental, even if his other injuries don’t give us away.”
I snorted. “They’ll just write it off as a mob hit. I’m not worried about that, although actually, maybe Ice could make it look like he has those kinds of connections, and it’s all explained. And the stitching, man? It takes skill to do that, trust me, I wasn’t about to undo my hard work the instant he was dead.”
Ryder got up and went to the window.
“They’ll be back soon from dumping the body, and they’re gonna need the bathroom. We done here?”
I stood up and straightened my t-shirt.
“Well, I thought I was, but then some dickhead had to sit and talk at me.” I reached for the door handle, and tilted my head at him. “Thanks, man. Even though I don’t know how you managed to avoid even a single speck of blood, I appreciate what you did. You guys always come through for me. I’m gonna miss that.”
I pulled the door open, and strode across the car park, heading straight for that huge beige monstrosity that held my woman. As I stepped into the camper, I cast my eyes about, looking for Camille, seeing only Lissa and Reacher.
“Where is she?” They both pointed at the door of the bathroom just as it clicked open, and she ran into my arms. There’s my girl.
Reacher gripped my shoulder on the way past, and I nodded at him, saying everything in that one gesture, because he knew it all anyway. He led Lissa outside, and the door closed, leaving us alone at last.
I stroked my fingers through Camille’s long dark hair, and kissed the top of her head.
“You okay, babe?”
When she lifted her head, her eyes were dark and angry, and that was unexpected. I expected… hell, I don’t know, maybe anger is exactly what I should have foreseen.
“Babe?”
“Don’t you ever fucking do that again!” She slapped at my chest, knocking me back a step before I caught my balance. I caught her wrists instead, as she came at me again.
“Hey! What is this? Calm down, babe.”
“I won’t fucking ‘calm down’! You could have been killed, you idiot!”
I couldn’t help it. I started laughing, and that just pissed her off even more. I released her wrists and let her pound away at my chest with her fists, absorbing her anger until it fizzled out, and her fists stayed in place. I covered them with my hands, encouraging her to unclench them, and rest them flat against my chest.
“I was never in any danger, babe. Do you get that? I had my brothers with me. We have each other’s backs. That’s how we roll, and it was clean. It’s done and nobody will ever link it to us.”
She choked back a sob. “Is… is he dead?”
I felt my lips turn up slightly, even as I fought the smile. Was it pride? Fucking right it was.
“So very fucking dead. Deader than dead. What’s deader than dead? Uh… he’s really dead, babe. Gone forever.”
Her eyes were wide, and full of tears.
“Really? He’s gone?”
I nodded, brushing my thumbs under her eyes, as the tears spilled out.
“Gone. For. Ever.”
She let out a shudder, and a soft groan all at once, and then the sobbing started, with her burying her damn face in my chest as she let it out. I led her to the bed, dragging her with me, so she was in my lap, and in my arms, where she fucking belonged.
This was what he’d done to her. This was the result of that bastard being in her life. Him being gone wasn’t all of it, because she needed help, and the fact that she worked for someone who could help her, and yet hid her pain, was inexplicable to me. I also knew she wouldn’t get away with it any longer though. She didn’t even know all of it, did she?
I’d sworn Torch to secrecy, not that I’d had to say it at all, because he knew the harm it’d do, if she knew. If she realised that bastard had raped her after he beat her unconscious. She’d never find out for as long as I could prevent it. Her healing started now, and that was never going to happen if she found out. Could I lie to her for the rest of my life? Fucking right, I could.
“Stitch?” Her voice was tiny, and I almost missed it .
“Yeah, babe?”
“Did you do it? Did you stitch his mouth shut?”
Cammy
H e’d gone rigid, like he was made of stone, so I lifted my head and tried to catch his gaze with mine. He was looking straight ahead, and his jaw was clenched tight, and there was a hint of that darkness back in him, in his eyes, in the tenseness of his posture.
“Stitch?”
He swallowed, still not looking at me.
“Who told you?”
He wasn’t denying it, but I wasn’t as freaked out as I thought I was when I first heard it. Ross deserved pain, and terror, and humiliation, and suffering. Thanks to my husband, he’d received all of that and more. He was gone now, gone forever, and could never hurt me again. Thanks to my amazing husband.
“Camille, who fucking told you?”
I sighed, cupping his face with my hands, and forcing him to look at me.
“Does it matter? I just wanted to know. I guess I want to know that he suffered, and that makes me a monster, but I can’t help it.”
Stitch pushed his blonde hair back, and took one of my hands from his cheek, rubbing it with his thumb.
“Yeah, babe, I did. Was it Reacher?”
I shook my head, rolling my eyes because he was like a dog with a bone, but the least I could do was make sure he didn’t think it was his best friend, his business partner, who’d spoken about it.
“Tori, but don’t blame her. She didn’t want to tell me.”
“Fucking Ryder. I swear that guy is a worse gossip than anyone I’ve ever met.”
I ran my thumb over his bottom lip, the stubble from his short beard tickling my skin .
“Stitch?”
He sighed, expecting another question about what he’d done, but that was already far from my mind, and something else was taking up all my brainspace.
“Yeah?”
“I think it’s time for married fuck number five.”
He blinked for a moment, then he laughed.
“I thought you’d never fucking ask, babe. How do you want it? Rough? I bet you want it rough, right?”
He didn’t wait for an answer, standing up, still holding me, before he turned and lowered me down onto the bed.
“Really feeling the need to tongue-fuck you until you scream, you know, if that’s quite alright with my demanding little wifey?”
I was nodding vigorously, already pulling at the button on my shorts. Stitch took over, playfully batting my hands away, so he could remove them far more quickly than I could.
My underwear, because of course I wore underwear out in public, yeah, he removed that with his teeth, painfully slowly, and then he was back where I wanted him. His beard tickled my skin as he buried his face between my legs, making me yelp with surprise. He rubbed his face between my legs, letting his beard tickle me some more, and then he pressed me open, and his tongue delved inside me, lapping at the wetness that always appeared when he was anywhere near me.
“Fucking hell… why aren’t we just always doing this? I feel like it’s a life well spent, with my mouth on your pussy. I could fucking live right here.”
I slid my fingers through his long hair.
“Too much talking, and not enough tongue-fucking, Stitch.”
He was laughing as he buried his tongue deep inside me again, licking and sucking at me, then teasing my clit with the very tip of his tongue. Every time I felt my orgasm building, and my body starting its delicious journey to heaven, he eased off and went back to feasting on me, letting it ebb away. My grip on his hair was getting more and more vicious, as I tried to stop him moving away each time, and he never stopped me, never complained, just kept doing it. Driving me close, and backing off just as I thought I was there.
“Dammit, Stitch! Stop doing that.”
He lifted his head as much as he could with my fingers tangled in his hair .
“You want me to stop, babe?”
“Don’t be a prick. I mean, stop edging me. You think I don’t know what you’re doing? It’s killing me!”
“Don’t be a prick, she says, as I’m building her up to a life-changing orgasm. Charming.” His mouth descended once more, and he licked away at me until I was writhing beneath him, riding his face, and this time when he felt me starting to peak, he kept going, kept pushing me, and suddenly I was letting out a strange keening wail as I finally, finally experienced the orgasm he kept stealing from me.
Pleasure rippled through my body, and I arched up, practically suffocating him with my pussy, as I held on tight to his hair. I couldn’t let go… I was trapped in pleasure, trapped in the throes of ecstasy, and it was only when I felt Stitch trying to untangle my fingers from his hair, that I started to function mentally again.
“Ouch. You know, I kinda like my hair still in my scalp, babe.”
I started giggling, but the giggles disappeared the moment he started shedding his clothes.
Stitch
T he fact that she didn’t freak out about my penchant for stitching mouths closed, on motherfuckers who should be permanently silenced, told me that she was fucking made for me. Yet again, I was struck by how incredibly cruel it was, to have found her when it was already too late for us.
For right now though, she was here with me and I was able, and so she was getting fucked, good and hard. Just the way she fucking liked it.
I grabbed Camille’s legs, and manhandled her about on the bed, until I had her just where I wanted her. She always seemed to get a thrill from that, like knowing I was strong enough to move her around so easily was exciting for her. My stomach suddenly roiled, as I realised that my strength was something I should make the most of too. One day soon, I’d barely be strong enough to lift a hand at all.
“Stitch, stop that. Whatever’s playing on you, push it aside, unless you want me to do this without you.”
I focused on Camille again, on that wicked grin on her face, the way it always reached her eyes, like there was no way in the world her whole face wouldn’t smile in sync, because she lit up like the sun when she did.
“You can’t do this without me.” On the word ‘this’, I rammed inside her right to the hilt, grinning at the way she practically undulated her entire body, starting at her hips and working its way to her neck, as her head pressed back into the bed.
“Jesus, Stitch!”
I grinned down at her, teasing her lips with mine.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you. I’m just going by ‘Stitch’ now… you can drop that other part.”
She blinked dumbly at me for a moment, then started giggling. Yeah, it was a pretty lame joke, but that’s the reality of people, or real life. We don’t always say the right thing, or the smart thing, or the logically funny thing. Sometimes we just sound like complete asshats, and that’s okay. It’s all part of who we are.
“In that case, Stitch, you wanna get on with it? I told the others we’d eat with them. We booked a table, and I’d hate to be-” Her words dissolved into a sharp gasp of pleasure, as I rammed home once more, grinding my hips against hers, crushing her clit against me.
I watched her for a moment, taking in every detail of her gorgeous face, of those soft lips, one crushed between her teeth at the moment, of her wide, beautiful eyes. That hair, that luscious, glossy fucking hair, long enough that I could wind it around my fists while I was fucking her. Everything. Everything about her was perfect.
Maybe it was time to stop rueing the fact that I’d met her too late, and just be fucking thankful for getting the chance to be with her before I was gone. Why look at it any other way? She was a blessing, and hell, I would make the most of every fucking second with her.
Every moan, every sigh, every clench of her pussy around my cock, it was all pure bliss. The way her nails were clawing the hell out of my back as I pounded into her. The way her body moved against mine, meeting each sharp thrust, crashing our hips together. All of it was fucking perfection, and feeling her trying to choke my dick as she came so hard? Yeah, that sent me over the edge into my own fucking release, and it was exactly the right way for us to consummate the start of Camille’s future. Safe from fear and danger forever.
Cammy
D inner with the others was an eye opener for sure. The men all wore their cuts, which made a few people in the hotel restaurant look uneasy, but we paid them no mind, because it didn’t matter. We knew we weren’t the bad guys, and that was all that mattered.
It was Stitch and me, with Reacher and Alicia, Ryder and Tori, and Ice and Lissa. The others had apparently headed back to the clubhouse, and honestly, I was glad, because it would have made this crew even rowdier if there were more men among us. Bikers could really put away alcohol, and they were drinking it like it was going out of fashion.
Well, everyone except Ice. Ice was on water. A biker who didn’t drink, and it seemed so unusual, but then I knew he was a former addict, or I guess forever an addict, so maybe alcohol was just too risky for him. He insisted on Lissa drinking with us girls, and by the time we’d eaten, most of us were way past the point of tipsy, and well on the way to staggering drunk.
We headed back to one of the rooms with more alcohol, and settled in for the night. It was strange because I barely knew most of them, but I felt so at home. So much a part of them, that I was completely comfortable just relaxing with them. Stitch was feeling very hands-on, keeping me close at all times, or preferably sitting on him, and I was more than happy to be as close to him as possible.
They were all talking about past bikers and stuff, and I was content just to sit back, feeling Stitch’s voice and laughter rumbling through him, as he relaxed and enjoyed himself. I didn’t want it to ever end. Not the night, but him feeling this way. I wanted him to have peace and comfort, and I wanted him to live without fear hovering over him.
He’d been convinced since before I met him that he was dying, that it was a done deal, but I wasn’t so sure. Having a lump doesn’t mean the end, and he’d had the thing removed, in a rather extreme way, so maybe that was the end of the threat.
I wanted him to get his test results so he could move on with his life, no matter what they said. I wanted to have more nights like this with him, with his club, his family. Maybe it was time to push things and make him chase for the results, rather than waiting indefinitely for a letter that should have come by now, because surely it should have.
Surely if it were urgent, and he needed treatment, surely to god it would have been faster than this. Was the lack of results a good thing or bad? Was there no urgency, because he was healthy, or was it more that there was no urgency because there was nothing they could do to save him?
“Hey?” I felt Stitch stroking my cheek, and I realised he was brushing tears away. When did I even start to cry? Everyone looked worried, as I cast my eyes around, and I felt myself flushing with embarrassment, as I ruined the night for everyone.
“Sorry… guess I’m a weepy drunk.”
Lissa was shaking her head. “She isn’t. I know she isn’t, but it’s been one hell of a day, right?” She tried to get up from her seat beside Ice, and nearly faceplanted the instant she moved, breaking into giggles as Ice caught her and dragged her into his arms.
“It’s probably time I get this one tucked in, right? Before she takes us all out.”
Stitch laughed, and dragged me up too.
“We’ll go back to the camper, and let you guys get some rest. Thanks again though, all of you. I know it was a bitch to have to all trek out here to help me.”
“Brother, it’s what we do.” Reacher got up and did one of those bro-hugs men do, before he backed up and joined Alicia again on the sofa. Apparently this room was theirs, so we all moved on, saying goodnight to everyone as we walked. Once we were inside the mobile home, Stitch turned me to face him, his fingers sweeping across my cheeks, to dry any last tears.
“Babe, talk to me.”
I swallowed hard, shaking my head.
“I’m just being silly. I swear, you shouldn’t let me drink so much, Stitch.”
He checked the door was locked, and led me to the bed, nudging me down onto it, making me groan as the sudden shift in balance made the world lurch awkwardly to one side in my drunken head.
Stitch climbed up on the bed with me, and spooned me against him.
“Rest up, wifey. Might wake you up with my dick in your ass if you’re really lucky.” Oh god. I tried shaking my head again, but it just made the world spin even more.
His quiet chuckle trailed off, and I think we both fell asleep pretty much instantly.