3. Laura
THREE
LAURA
There were many things that made me afraid, especially after becoming a mother. I would lie awake sometimes and ensure I didn’t hear anyone trying to break into our home. I would even walk the halls at night like a wraith, and I’d check on my daughters. Once, I even fell asleep between their bedrooms, just drawing circles into the floor until my eyes closed.
Killian found me and carried me back to bed, and then he found me a therapist to help me process the fear.
But that didn’t really help anything because it wasn’t like I could talk about the things that plagued the Stone Riders. I was the president’s wife, and while most clubs didn’t include their women in their fights, or the nasty details of what the club had to do to maintain its allies, its runs, and to defend themselves, I knew all of it.
Every sordid detail curled into my head like a shadow monster, reminding of old grudges that might one day come back. Demons that Simon Stone had summoned, that were now ours to defeat. Things we’d walked away from, only to have them return to our front steps.
“I see you’re starting to spiral,” Killian whispered into my neck, pressing a kiss there .
I’d had the tattoo of a small wolf bite inked into the space where my neck and shoulder met, and my husband never tired of kissing the spot.
My hand came up and ran through his short hair, tugging lightly on the ends to keep him exactly where he was, pressed against my back.
“Why would he come for us now?” I asked, watching as my breath fogged the window. Snow swirled like tiny tornados outside. We lived in the old house that sat on the far part of the property. After renovating the house, our backyard had become one of my favorite places. From our bedroom window, we could see the stone patio, the pergola, the fire pit, and pool. There was a swing set, trampoline and playhouse that our daughters practically lived in.
“There’s no guarantee it’s him,” Killian rasped, pulling me closer to his chest.
I ran my hands over his wrist, and the tattoos he’d gotten since I married him, the little daisies he’d gotten inked there to represent the women in his life.
“It’s him, Killian. The least we can do is not pretend.”
My husband let out a heavy sigh while running his hand up my torso until he was cupping my breast.
“All I want to do is go back to bed.” His lips landed on my skin again, and I closed my eyes. After all this time, his kisses never stopped making me flush, nor did they ever prevent us from making out or taking things too far. Kissing for us was foreplay, no matter where we were or what we were doing.
“Our friends are on their way.”
Killian exhaled heavily. “But you’re still spiraling.”
I was. Our daughters were currently packing little backpacks so we could go stay in the clubhouse until the threat was over. My heart thrashed in my chest at the reminder that this Christmas was going to be ruined if we didn’t wear masks for our kids that everything was okay. I had to pull it together for the sake of my daughters. For the sake of everyone.
“I need you to help me relax,” I whispered while pushing my husband’s wrist. He needed to be lower.
Killian let out a low groan of appreciation before he pulled me away from the window and walked me back toward our bedroom door where he locked it, then lowered to his knees in front of me .
“Whatever you need, Daisy.”
His eyes were up on mine as I stroked the silky strands of his hair. He flicked open the copper button of my jeans, then pulled the material down until they were in a small pile on the floor.
“Snowflakes?” Killian looked up and gave me a smile that felt primal.
I let out a small laugh as he stroked up over the material of my thong, and then down my pubic bone, until his large finger was dipping in-between my legs.
On a gasp, I parted my legs and answered him. “It’s for Christmas.”
“And what else are you going to give me for Christmas?” He gripped behind my thighs and lifted until my legs were over his shoulders, and my back was against the door. His mouth hovered over the apex of my thighs, while his teeth grazed the edges of my thong.
“Do not rip this one, Killian. I bought a whole Christmas set.”
His tongue swept up, gliding over the fabric covering my pussy. “A set, huh?”
My fingers pushed through his hair as his tongue continued to trace over the fabric, and then ever so gently, with his eyes on me, he moved my thong to the side, revealing my wet center.
“Looks like you may have ruined these all on your own, Mrs. Quinn. You are soaked, and all from a few swipes over your little Christmas underwear.”
“Killian.” My moan was more of a breathy plea. Because the way the air was hitting my exposed skin, my soaked slit was aching for him to use that mouth of his and put it to better use.
“I’m worried about ruining your cute little Christmas set. Perhaps I should turn you around and just feast on my other favorite hole. The one that remains so fucking tight because of how infrequent you allow me?—”
“Fucking hell, Killian. If you don’t fuck me in some way right now.”
I felt his laugh everywhere as he leaned in gently and slid his tongue over my clit. He acted as though it was the most tender thing in the world, as if he applied any amount of pressure I’d break. I loved that there were so many sides to him. There were the times he was ravenous, and we fucked hard and fast, and other times when he’d play with me. Those were always my favorite because he’d take his time, and this was one of those times that he seemed to want to play .
“So perfect,” he whispered, while fixing his hungry gaze on the space he’d just licked and sucked. He examined it as if he needed to make a plan for where to taste next.
“Killian, we don’t have that much time, just fuck me with your tongue so I can come and then if we have enough time, I’ll be a good girl and let you finish down my throat.”
That must have encouraged him because, suddenly, his hands were on my hips, guiding me closer to him, and then he truly feasted.
I tried to rock my hips, but with my back against the door, I had no leverage, so all I could do was grab his hair and hold tight while he fucked me with his entire mouth.
“Oh my god.” I moaned quietly as the curve of his tongue slid up through my slit and circled my clit. He repeated the movement while using his hands to squeeze my ass and pull me closer. He directed the movement, which had me breathing heavily and twisting my body to get more friction. The sound of my wetness filled the room, along with my tiny whines and moans.
My hands went up to my breasts, kneading and cupping them through my thin t-shirt, which I knew would drive Killian crazy. Sure enough, he let out a groan before reaching behind me and pressing his thumb into the bundle of nerves in my ass. It had my breath hitching because while he sucked and licked my pussy, he was pressing hard against the neglected hole, the one he always wanted to access, but I rarely said yes to.
I blamed him, and his freakishly large cock.
The tip of the head was massive, and the few times I did let him access that hole, even lubed up and prepped properly, it burned like a son of a bitch. But the thumb, pressing lightly against it, while he circled my clit, was the perfect combination of pressure and pleasure.
So much so that I tossed my head back, riding his face as much as the door would allow, and then I fell apart. My thighs clenched his face as my orgasm ripped through me, and my husband continued to gently lick up my release, until I was a panting mess, and my legs were completely useless to hold me up.
He gently lowered me to the floor, then reached for his jeans, undoing them. The band of his boxer briefs peeked at me, and while I was still catching my breath, I shifted on my knees and leaned over to pull the elastic down.
The tip of his engorged head was purple and smooth, weeping clear liquid. My mouth parted as my gaze flew up to his. As usual, his hand went to my hair, wrapping it around his fist, and then my mouth was over his length, and I was hollowing my cheeks to try and make more room.
“Fuck,” he rasped, gently pushing his hips forward.
I’d sucked his dick thousands of times, probably more over the course of ten years, but each time seemed to feel different. Like there was a new level of hunger that my husband developed for me.
I pulled back and lowered my head to take him again, but he grunted something feral and primal while guiding me by the hair back against the door.
I sat on my heels with my back firmly pressed against the door. My hair was pulled up above my head, so he had a firm hold on me. Then, while he was standing, he stroked his length three times before shifting forward and pressing the head of his dick to my lips.
Keeping my eyes on him, I opened for him and allowed him to fill my mouth, and I knew what he was about to take from me. He wanted to fuck my throat, not my mouth, which was why I was against the door. With one hand gripping my hair, the other was placed against the frame, and then his hips began to move.
His cock pressed deeper into my mouth, hitting the back of my throat until I gagged.
“Yeah, that sound right there. So fucking beautiful, Daisy. My own personal version of ‘Jingle Bells.’ Do it again.”
He pushed back, and I gagged again, my eyes watering while he rocked into me.
My core tightened as my pussy began to grow wet once more, aching with need. I loved this, the intensity, the way he wanted me.
I lifted my hands and gripped the base of him, while allowing him to fuck my mouth the way he wanted. He pushed in hard, then pulled back, and he’d go again. Saliva coated my chin as he pulled out and then forced his way back in, hitting the back of my throat. I sucked his length, hard, and there was an explosion of warmth in my mouth, coating my throat and filling me in ways I couldn’t make room for because of his length .
“Look at the mess you’re making, Daisy. Still have me hard as fuck with that look in your eyes when I come in that smart mouth of yours.”
He pulled out, taking a string of cum with him. The rest dripped down my chin and indeed made a mess. Our eyes connected as he rubbed in the mess, even pushing it back into my mouth. And the tenderness nearly made me cry.
I knew why he’d done this, and that he would continue to do whatever I needed him to so that I felt in control and safe.
We were at war, but my husband was going to make sure all I felt was peace, just like he always did. It made something wake up deep in my bones, this need to protect him too. This need to fight, to stand shoulder to shoulder with him, and make sure our enemies paid.
I smiled up at my husband, stuck my tongue out and relished the smile he returned.
“You ready to go fight, baby?”
I nodded while he pulled me up, and then he kissed me, pinning me to the door and wrapping me in his arms.
When we pulled apart, he whispered, the only words I’d ever need to hear to feel whole.
“I love you, Daisy.”