Chapter 25
TWENTY-FIVE
WESTON
No article has been published in the week following the confrontation after the soft opening. Rory and I check every single morning, preparing for the worst.
I love my sister-in-law for doing what she could to try to get them to back off, but unfortunately their protection as a media organization gives them the right to publish just about anything, including something that doxxes a normal person and runs the risk of ruining her entire life.
Public records are public records apparently.
From what Rory has said, it seems like this particular publication is all about sensationalizing aspects of pop culture to get clicks, and they’re not too worried about sticking to the truth. Fortunately, or unfortunately, true crime is having quite the moment in pop culture right now, which is, I guess, what they’re after.
Seems kind of ironic that the one place Amelia found comfort and healing from her trauma, true crime, has these bottom feeders living off of the hype generated by those who are giving the industry a good name, like Jynx. That some of these assholes are going to make a mockery of her life rather than bother creating something that takes skill, like a documentary with willing participants, or an exposé on people who actually committed the crimes—not stirring up scandal about those whose lives were ruined because of the evil of others and have been trying to rebuild.
Amelia calls it cosmic karma. I think the only ones who have bad karma in this scenario are the assholes at Snoop Scoop . If an asteroid crashes into Earth, it’s definitely going to flatten them first. And, you know, killers and other creepy fucks.
Amelia’s doing better than I expected, all things considered. She hasn’t been up for going out anywhere, hasn’t wanted to see anyone, aside from one or two clandestine meetings with Rory. She’s sure there’s talk in the town after that showdown the night of the soft opening, and she’s probably not wrong. So she’s mostly been staying holed up, more in her van than my house, but she doesn’t object to me spending the nights with her in Van Gogh. I think it’s where she feels safest.
My girl’s still got her dark, twisted, morbid sense of humor that I love so much about her, and if this hasn’t taken that from her yet, I’m considering her a fucking rock star.
There’s been nothing to do but wait, help her accept that this is probably coming, and distract her as often as I can, trying to keep her spirits up.
Today is supposed to be one of those distractions, and damn if I’m not gonna do my part.
Last night I finished restoring another motorbike, a Kawasaki Ninja 650 that a guy we grew up with, Diego, wants to sell. Today I wanna take it for a test drive and make sure it’s working great once it’s on the open road.
Some folks are biased against certain brands or models of motorcycles, but I think they’re just like people. Sure, we all have our favorites, but there’s something to like about all of ’em. And this bike has a lot to like about it.
This mild June weather makes for the perfect riding climate. Surprisingly warm out, but the breeze will keep us comfortable on our adventure.
Knocking on the door of Van Gogh, I hear the manual hook unlatch and then she opens the door. Sadly, this time she isn’t topless, but she still looks close to perfect. A little more light behind those teal eyes would make me happy, and I’m here to do just that for her.
“Hey, darlin’. You ready for me?”
Her smile is out of practice, but she gives me what she can anyway. I grab her hips with both hands and pull myself close to her until our bodies are flush, my jeans to hers. White tee to her dark crop top, and the tempting skin peeking out beneath it.
Amelia doesn’t say anything, so I run my fingers along her cheek, moving her hair out of the way so I can lean down to give her a kiss. That, she responds to.
When we pull apart her cheeks have more color, her eyes are brighter, and I slide my hands down her back to nestle themselves in the pockets on her ass.
“You wanna stay here today?” I ask her. “’Cause I’ll stay in bed with you forever, Miss Marsh. Say the word and that motorcycle can go fuck itself, and I’ll wrap you up like a burrito and cuddle you until I give you a cavity from how sickeningly sweet I’m being.”
Head buried in my chest, she laughs, shaking it side to side.
“Please no cavities. It would probably be good for me to get out. Can you treat me like normal for today?”
“I can do that.” The words rumble against the top of her head, where my lips are pressed.
“Just promise me we aren’t going downtown, where I’ll run into a bunch of people that saw the whole thing with that… woman the other night.”
“Never, angel.” I kiss the top of her head, and breathe in her spicy, coconut scent.
“You know,” she says, looking up at me. “I think it’s crazy how you started calling me that so early on. It’s like you knew.”
“I just thought you had the tits of an angel,” I tease her, squeezing her ass with both hands through the denim.
That earns me a small laugh. “I better, after what I paid for ’em.”
Her stark humor gets a chuckle out of me in return, and she pulls back, ready to face the world. Or at least part of it.
“Let’s do this, Boy Scout.”
She holds her hand out for me and I take it, crouching down so I don’t hit my head in here with these boots on, and we walk out the door together. The ride to the garage is mostly quiet, her watching the passing landscape out the window, my hand on her thigh as we drive in a peaceful quiet, some indie music playing on the car stereo.
When we pull up to the garage, I notice the sign has come down. That must’ve just happened this morning. Maybe the sale went through by now and this place isn’t Gonzo’s anymore. Or—my morbid little angel must be rubbing off on me—maybe the sign just got struck by lightning?
By the time I get around to her side, Amelia has noticed my brother moving around inside the shop, head under a hood as usual, and she lets out a nervous hum.
“He won’t bother you, he’s on your side now.” He always should’ve been, but the man’s got a hard head and it took a while for some things to get through to him is all. Thankfully Rory can get through to him when common sense can’t.
Taking her hand, I help her out of the passenger side. She hops down, gray gravel crunching under her combat boots.
It doesn’t take long to get the bike rolled out to where she’s waiting, key in the ignition and ready to go. Climbing on, I pat the pillion seat behind me, inviting her up.
Amelia swings a leg over, holding me for balance, and settles herself in behind me. As soon as I feel her small arms wrapped around my middle, we take off. Roaring down the dirt tracks and side streets until we hit the open, deserted mountain roads, I take us deep into the Smoky Mountains. Somewhere she can forget about what’s waiting for her back in the Heights and focus on the rise and fall of the peaks, the horizon framing them, and the endless buds and blooms we see along the way. Wind in her hair, man by her side. The important shit in life.
Occasionally, she’ll tap my leg, trying to get my attention, pointing at something off to in the distance that I try to take in without making us crash. More often than not, the feel of her hand so close to my dick just makes me want to pull over and bend her over this bike.
Eventually, I even feel her relax a bit, loosening her grip and letting her head fall back, soaking in the thrill of the ride. When I hear her truly laugh for the first time in nearly a week, my chest overflows with strong emotion.
After a while, my hands are going numb from the vibration of the handlebars (it’s been too long since I’ve gone riding), and I take the excuse to turn off on a side road, finding somewhere we can pull over that’s secluded and hidden. Bonus points, it’s even overlooking the mountains. Not that I need that view when I’ve got the girl beside me to look at, but still.
She gets off the bike first, stretching her legs, and I follow her lead, birdsong the only sound welcoming us to this pitstop.
“What’s out here?” she asks, breathless with exhilaration from the adrenaline.
“Nothing,” I tell her. “And no one.”
Her face lights up, and I grin.
“Just you, me, and a few much-needed orgasms.”
“Just a few?” she asks, pouting.
“As many as you want, angel.”
Sex with her is so different than it’s ever been for me before. Yeah, there was instant attraction, but the deeper bond we have was built on weeks of friendship, getting to know one another in ways I haven’t with other women, one that’s only strengthened as things got physical. It laid a foundation strong enough to withstand the firestorm she’s about to go through.
The physical connection? That’s just the cherry on top to everything else that runs between us. But damn if it isn’t everything I wished it would be, having my curse broken. She was worth the wait and more.
I pick her up and she wraps her legs around my waist, letting her arms fall over my shoulders, and brings her face close to mine. “You know, I like it when you call me that. I never thought I’d want to hear that name again. But you gave it new meaning for me.”
Spinning her around, I drop my ass back onto the seat of the bike and get one leg over it. She drops her upper body back, splaying over the handlebars, and I groan at the sight of her, so perfect for me.
“You’re my dark little angel who fucks like a goddess. It’s the perfect nickname for you,” I tell her, running my hands up her bare stomach and beneath her cropped shirt.
Finding her bare there, I growl. “No bra?” I ask, surprised I didn’t notice when I picked her up, or when she was pressed against me this whole ride. She must’ve had me distracted by the rest of her for me to miss that detail.
“Didn’t want anything in your way,” she says, still leaning over the handlebars, back arched and tits pointed straight to the heavens, the lucky bastards.
Leaning forward, I bring my mouth to her exposed skin and trail kisses upward, my nose dragging the fabric up with me as I go. When my mouth hits her full breast, I suck on the skin, playing with the soft underside. She moans, grinding her hips on me as I take my time, enjoying having her all to myself out here, some of the weight of the last week easing in all this open space.
Her hips move slowly, teasing me, rubbing herself in circles over my cock, then switching directions. It drives me mad, but I must be nuts because I love her form of torture.
I could happily drag this out all damn day. Tasting her one square inch at a time, building up the anticipation until both of our blood is boiling, the need enough to make us both snap.
Being patient and understanding is part of this boyfriend thing, and I can do that. But fuck have I missed her like this.
By the time I get her nipple in my mouth, I’m hard enough, needy for her in a way that I might actually blow in my pants if this keeps up.
“Weston,” she calls my name, bucking her hips, as my teeth strum her nipple, then the other. Gotta be fair to both here.
“Yeah, darlin’,” I whisper around her sensitive flesh.
“I need you,” she says, breathy and as desperate as I feel.
“Need you too, angel.”
“What are you waiting for?” she asks.
“For you to straddle me and take what you want.”
She hops down, shucking her shoes, jeans, underwear and shirt in record time, while I hustle to unbuckle myself, unbuttoning, unzipping, un-everything, so I’m ready for her.
I’ve got the condom out and open by the time she’s climbing back up, and she stops my hand from sheathing myself.
“Can I have you bare?” she asks, bluish-green eyes molten in a way I want to remember forever.
“You can have me any way you want me, darlin’.”
I toss the open condom to the side, pretty sure it lands with a soft thunk on the pile of her clothes, but I can’t be fucked to watch. Because the girl I love is climbing me, straddling me backward, ass in my face, hands on the handlebars of this gorgeous bike I just fixed up as she seats herself over my cock, legs on either side of mine, making me her custom seat on this bike. I’m about to give her the ride of her damn life.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck .” I curse on a sharp inhale as the feel of her wet pussy slides over the head of my cock, nothing between us, nothing keeping me from feeling her soaking warmth as she notches me at her entrance and lowers herself.
We’re both cursing, panting as she stretches, molding to my girth as she slides down, bit by bit. It’s gotten a little easier with time—and a lot of practice—but it still feels like I break her in all over again every time we fuck.
Her head falls back on my shoulder as she gets closer and closer to taking all of me, and I urge her on, lips against her ear, kissing every part of her I can reach as I whisper to her between nips and licks.
“Fuck, look at you, taking me raw.” Her moan, loud and completely uninhibited, says more than words would. The way I slip in further does too.
My lips slide down her neck to where it meets her shoulder. “Keep going, angel, you can do it. All of me.”
Her pussy clamps down on me, and I fight to keep my hips from bucking up into her, to let her stay in control for now. “More. Take the rest, darlin’,” I urge her on.
She moans again and I take her hands in mine, sliding them up her body and placing them on her tits, using two of her fingers to pinch each nipple as I press her against me, her back to my front.
Mouth back on her ear, I grit out, “You’re so fucking wet, angel. This for taking me bare? Or is this for how hot you look touching yourself out here in the open?”
I use my fingers to make hers pinch herself, tugging on her nipples and playing with her piercing, listening to her cries of pleasure as she bottoms out.
“Both,” she cries, rocking her hips back to take everything from me.
“Fuck,” I groan.
Leaving her to play with herself, I slide one hand down her flat stomach and find her clit, above where she’s stuffed full of me, and start rubbing.
She muffles a scream, head tilted so she’s biting my shoulder, and I jerk my hips up, making sure she’s completely fucking full of my cock before the ride begins. The motion makes her mewl, head rolling on my shoulder, as her fingers work her nipples, and mine work her clit. My other hand is circled around her waist, holding her to me, as I start to bounce her on my lap.
“Whatever you need, angel. Don’t be shy with me.”
She moans, writhing, lost in the pleasure, living in the moment, letting her body do what it wants. Grinding, bouncing, rocking however she sees fit.
I’ve never seen something so beautiful. All those years of waiting for her and my imagination never did this justice.
And for what it’s worth, the suspension on this bike holds up, and I’m feeling like this thorough of a test should be done on every vehicle I work on from here on out.
Her pussy squeezes me tighter than before, I know she’s getting close, but fuck, I don’t want this to be over yet. The second she comes, I know I will too. I’m too worked up, too far gone for this girl. I’ve held out so many times before, but when I feel her shake, knowing my cock is what’s pushing her bare pussy over the edge, I’m gonna fill her up with the biggest load she’s ever seen.
“So good,” she pants, bringing herself so close to the edge, using me just like I told her to.
“Too good,” I growl in her ear, and I pick her up, yanking her off of me. She squeals in response, half protest, half shock, I think.
In a blink, I stand and flip us around, splaying her over the seat, positioning her legs wide open on either side of my body, and I hold her up at the right angle so I can get back inside of her with my feet on the ground, get some traction going and show her what it’s like to get fucked by the man who loves all of you, even the darkest parts you keep hidden from everyone else.
Bringing my thick head back to her core, I shove myself in with one swift thrust of my hips, and she bows her back, a throaty moan leaving her that’s going to get me hard any time I think about it from here on out.
She feels so good I can’t take it. In and out, I pound into her, those knees spread around my sides as I support the parts of her that spill over the cushioned seat on the bike, watching her body rock and shake with every thrust. The way her tits bounce always mesmerizes me, but it’s her face I can’t stop watching right now. That look in her eyes, like she loves me too.
It’s more than lust.
It’s not just what I’m doing to her body that’s making her look at me like that.
Her eyes mirror every single thing I feel about her, and it’s entirely new for me.
Something I’ve only ever had with her.
“Come with me, Amelia,” I tell her, pleading. “I want to see the girl I love coming on my dick, no wrapper.”
“Fuck!” She slams her eyes shut, face screwed up like her orgasm is within reach, and it pushes me to throw her over the edge.
“I’m gonna fill you,” I promise her. “You’re gonna feel it all day with how much you’re about to get out of me.”
She moans louder, nodding her head frantically.
“That what you want? To feel my cum between your legs?” I ask her.
“God, yes.” She nods faster, O face on, and it’s so fucking hot, the thought that she wants to be glazed by me, my pace turns feral. Hips slamming into hers, my balls slap against her back hole, jeans low on my hips, as I do my best to fuck her into next week. A better time and place, when we’re together and the past is in the rearview mirror.
“I love this,” I confess, breathless, as I pound into her faster and faster. “It’s only like this with you. Only you.”
Her eyes open again, watching my face. “I fucking love you,” she says, then she’s gasping, and I feel it hit her.
Back arching in my hands, I watch as her mouth pops open, blood rushes to her cheeks, her chest, and her body convulses, impaled on my cock as she breaks for me. Clit puffy and swollen, pussy soaked and nearly red in color as she takes my cock, over and over again.
It feels just as good as it looks, pussy throbbing around my dick, squeezing me, and sucking the cum right out of me with that insane pressure.
My balls tighten, spine tingling, every nerve alight, and I blow. We come together, bodies peaking, just like our souls do when it’s her and me.
When I pull back, I watch the mess drip out of her, right onto the motorcycle seat. Her release and mine, mixed together.
She lifts her head, watching, as mesmerized as I am.
Scooping and swiping the sticky liquid up with two fingers and a thumb, I shove the cum back inside of her, making her cry out, hips jerking from the sudden contact when she’s still so sensitive. I watch as her abs tighten, trying to hold herself up and take what I’m giving her at once.
Her whimpers urge me on, my thumb against her clit, and I massage her, slower and less rough than I was when I fucked her but bringing her to the edge all over again as I watch from above her.
Two fingers inside that perfect pussy, a thumb on her clit, and one hand behind her back, I watch as her legs and upper body shake, breaking for me once more, her eyes on mine in a way that screams this is deeper than sex.
Damn right it is.
I’ve never cared for anyone the way I do for her. There’s nothing that compares to seeing her happy and fulfilled. Getting to see to her needs, emotional, physical, and beyond? It’s better than I ever dreamed getting to this place with someone else would be.
Richer, like a sixth layer of perceptions got added to the world, one I never even knew existed, and wouldn’t know how to describe to someone who hasn’t experienced it. Life before her was bland, no taste, no color, no fragrance. With her, it’s complete.
I spent the last fifteen years longing for a connection like this. Now that I have it, I’m not letting anything jeopardize it.