12. Jameson
TWELVE
JAMESON
I finally managed to pull my wife away from the main room and get her alone.
My hands were in her hair, my lips at her neck as I pulled her into my chest, and just breathed. We hadn’t had any time to really process what had happened yesterday; even after arriving, we had focused on the kids and catching up with the threat. Even as we laid in bed last night, our kids were in the same room, so it wasn’t like I could really process with her. Not in the way I needed to.
“Jamie, what’s going on?” Pen whispered in my ear while my mouth was still marking her throat.
My eyes nearly watered as I recalled the way that moment felt, when I saw that rider in the middle of the road with his gun aimed at our truck. How in that brief moment I imagined her being taken from me. How I had to swallow the fear that she might be hurt and just act. All night, I had that moment frozen in my mind, and the terror that lingered of what would have happened to me, or the kids, if she wasn’t here anymore.
Even now, it made me physically shake at how helpless it made me feel.
“I just needed a second to hold you…”
Pen leaned away from me while gripping my wrists. “You’re shaking, Jameson. You never shake. ”
I tried to give her a smile, but instead I just pulled her face up and pressed my lips to hers.
We were in the basement, where our little family had been placed, but there was a laundry room with a door that locked. I started walking us backward and toward it when Penelope stopped me, searching my face.
“Talk to me.”
Our foreheads pressed together as I let out a shudder. “I can’t get it out of my head. The image of him aiming that gun at us. At you. I need to touch you, feel you. Know you’re with me.”
Her hand came up to stroke my back in a soothing fashion. “I’m always with you.”
“Don’t say that, baby…please, because all it does is remind me of those funerals we attended where we tried to encourage people grieving that their loved ones are always with them.”
She must have understood what I was trying to say, or at least get at because after a few silent seconds, she gripped my hand and walked with me back to the laundry room.
I shut the door and flipped the lock.
She glanced at the washer. “Take what you need, Jamie. Honestly, I need it too. I’m good at shoving it down for the kids, but I’m still seeing it too. Still flashes in my mind when I close my eyes.”
Nodding, I started unbuttoning my jeans, and my wife let out a small sigh.
“I don’t know how long we’ll have.”
“It’ll be enough,” I whispered, moving closer to her. Our lips met, and within seconds, our tongues moved against each other in a caress that silently spoke of our fear. Our trauma. The sliver of safety we lived within, the shadow that seemed to be cast over our lives with every waking breath. And yet, this was the life we wanted to live, our family. Our choice, and we’d never walk away from it.
My wife was in a simple pair of black leggings, with a long-sleeved shirt that gaped at her collarbone, but was long enough to cover her ass. Under it, she wore her favorite bra. I’d never told her it was my favorite of hers too. Not because it was sexy, or anything else but because it was something she loved, and I loved anything that made my wife feel at home in her own body .
I tugged at her leggings, pushing them down, until they were a pool of fabric at her feet. She stepped out of them then looped her arms around my neck.
My hands went to her ass, as I lifted her to the washer.
“Cold.” She hissed against my lips.
Shit, I should have thought of bringing in a blanket or something for her. I slid my shirt off and then lifted her, so she was sitting on it. Her hands came up to cradle my jaw as she pressed a gentle kiss to my lips.
“I love you, Jameson King.”
Emotion clogged my throat as the events from yesterday flashed through my mind once more. I pushed them away and kissed her back, then replied, “I love you, Penelope King.”
Our kisses transitioned from sweet to desperate quickly. She buried her fingers in my hair while mine traced her thighs. Her skin was silky under my touch, and I was completely obsessed with how she tasted. Even ten years later, I was fucked when it came to her. She undid me in every way.
With my hand at her back, I helped her recline, while angling her so that her hips were lifted, and within reach of my mouth. I locked eyes with her as I lowered my face between her legs and began pressing gentle kisses into the sides of her thighs.
“How wet are you for me, Mrs. King?”
She spread her legs for me and brought her hand down to rub circles over her clit. “Taste.”
She put her fingers to my mouth, and I cradled her wrist in my hand, then began licking her fingers. My wife watched me with her mouth parted, like she was desperate for whatever I’d do next. After I finished with her fingers, I smiled at her then sank my own digits into her pussy.
“My turn.”
My voice was a rasp as I added another finger and began fucking her with them. Her head fell back as I pulled them out, then slowly slid them back in. Once they were glistening with her arousal, I pulled them free and raised my hand to her mouth. She mimicked my move by cradling my wrist and sucking my fingers. She was a sight to behold with her legs spread wide, her shirt lifted, showing her tits being held up by her navy bra. It showed the swells of her breasts in a way that had me staring with hooded eyes .
“I taste like I’m desperate for you to fuck me,” she whispered, once my fingers were sucked clean. I pulled my hand back and pulled her ass closer to the edge of the washer before lowering my face to her spread thighs.
Tracing her bare slit with my nose, I inhaled the scent of that desperation. My erection pressed against my jeans, the tip leaking with precum against my boxer briefs, but I didn’t care. I just needed to taste my wife and then I’d sink into her.
With my eyes on hers, I gently pried her pussy lips apart and began licking the seam. Slow, measured and with intent to taste every fucking drop of her creamy arousal.
“Jameson.” She panted loudly.
The last thing I wanted was for our kids to come down here and hear us fucking. So, I reached my hand forward and turned the dial on the older washer machine then pulled it, so the water would start filling the basin. She did the same with the dryer next to her, moving the dial and pushing in, so it started. The noise filled the room, and now her ass was moving because the dryer was old and shook when it was started.
“That’s my girl, now you can moan my name and tell me how much you love me licking this fucking pussy. You can tell me how badly you want me to fuck you. Why don’t you show me how badly you need my cock.”
She moaned, lifting her hips, while reaching for my hair.
I let her dig her nails into my scalp while she let out her little cries of pleasure and I continued lapping at her cunt. She was spread so wide; I had the perfect angle to press my tongue into the tight hole of her ass. She loved when I added pressure there while fucking her, but she was equally as excited if I added pressure while eating her out.
I added more lubrication to her, then ever so gently added my finger to the tight bundle of nerves. We had anal fairly regularly, but without lube, I had to be cautious of how she felt as I stretched her.
“Let me know if you’re good, baby,” I muttered before pressing a kiss to her clit, then circling it with my tongue.
She pulled my hair but lifted her hips, which had my finger going deeper.
“You like me licking your pussy while I slowly fuck your ass? ”
She made an unintelligible sound, but it was pleasure. Pure fucking pleasure.
I spit again on her hole, ensuring it was lubricated enough while I slowly and gently added a second finger to her ass, stretching her. Then with my tongue, I went back and swiped at her clit, lapping at it in a way that had her moaning.
“Come for me, Pen.”
My mouth returned to her pussy, which had her crying out and trying to close her legs around my head.
I lifted my face and stared down at her sex. I used my fingers to swipe the lubrication from her cunt and spread it around her tight hole that was now stretched enough for us to play.
Her chest was still heaving when I pulled up on her long-sleeved shirt to fully remove it. Once it was on the floor with her leggings and thong, I pulled on her hips and brought her to my chest in a hug.
Her breasts pressed against my chest, the soft fabric from her bra sliding against my skin.
She was still trying to catch her breath when I pressed a kiss to her mouth, light and soft, then gave her a feral smile.
“This part might be a little rough, but I promise you’ll like it.”
Her mouth parted for only a second before I had her slide down my front, and then once her feet were on the floor, I turned her so that she was facing the washer.
“Wha—”
“Place your hands here and hang on,” I rasped close to her ear, while placing my hands over hers and guiding them to the edge of the washer, in two places where I wanted her to hold on. Her chest was flat against the closed lid of the machine, and her ass was right where I wanted it. I lightly skimmed the expanse of her cheeks with my hands, then lightly slapped.
Her right leg came up as I gently pulled on it, then I angled it, and had her knee rest on the surface, which exposed her pussy to the air…and to me.
“Keep holding on.”
Pen looked over her shoulder, right as I unzipped my jeans and let them slip down past my ass. The band of my boxer briefs was next as I held her leg in place with one hand and gripped my cock in the other .
I lined myself up with Pen’s slit, and then holding onto her hips, I thrust. My wife gave a gasp, and I was only half way inside her. Pulling out, I lined up once more, and then gave another hard push, burying myself inside her completely. I froze while Pen adjusted to me. She took me nearly every night, and yet each time, it was like our first, where she had to slowly acclimate to having me inside her.
Within seconds, Pen was looking over her shoulder at me and releasing her hold on the edge to grip her ass cheek, so I had better access to her. I used the freedom to press my thumb into her asshole while I continued to rock into her.
Pen bit her lip while she watched, and she looked so fucking sexy with her dark hair spilling over her back, her pink lip caught in her teeth, and those dark lashes resting against her cheek as her eyes closed.
“Jameson,” she whispered in desperation.
My hips canted as I fucked her. The washer and dryer moved, and their sounds filled the room, but my wife’s were starting to rival them with her cries of pleasure.
I was practically in a trance as I moved my cock rapidly in and out of her cunt, so tight and wet. My thumb pressed into her hole, adding the pressure I knew she needed. It made her insatiable, rocking her ass into me with such fervor that the washer began to rock more than it was supposed to.
“Fuck,” I yelled, grabbing hold of her wrist and keeping it in place as I finished.
Pen cried out, right as I froze with my cock buried so deep in her pussy that I was panting, and my knees nearly gave out.
After I stood there, catching my breath, I pulled out and lowered her leg.
Pen let out a sigh while slowly pushing off from the washer. “Not the most comfortable position we’ve ever done, but it was hot.”
I smirked, and then pressed a kiss to her head while she started pulling her clothes into her arms.
“I’m going to run over to the bathroom real quick and clean up.”
I popped my head out to make sure no one was in the room before giving her the green light to go. It would have been nice to use the shower to fuck, but the basement bathroom was small and old. It had a narrow stall, barely tall enough for anyone six foot to stand under.
While Pen cleaned up, I pulled my clothes on and stopped the washer and dryer, feeling slightly guilty that there wasn’t anything in either, and we’d just used up all that electricity to silence the sounds of our fucking.
“Jamie?” Pen called for me from the opposite end of the room.
In the middle was the couch and all our bedding, seeing as we’d be staying another night.
“You had to process, and now I need to by asking questions. I have a lot of them.”
Penelope was never excluded from club politics, or drama, but I didn’t freely offer information either. Sometimes things were just better left unsaid, and not dug into. Some things were better if she didn’t know, so in this situation, I could understand it digging under her skin.
“Of course.”
She moved to the bedding and started folding blankets while glancing up at me from time to time.
"Is it the Destroyers?”
“As far as we know, yes.”
Her chest heaved, and her blue eyes were suddenly sharp as she glared at the clothes Nova had left behind on the floor. The pile Pen had specifically told her to pick up before she got dressed earlier.
“How is that possible?”
I ran a hand through my hair, blowing out a breath. “We haven’t figured that part out yet.”
“Is it someone who just picked up the reins from Fable?”
She aggressively shook out a pair of jeans from Connor, then tossed them into his duffel bag.
I watched her while I wished for better news to give her.
“We think there might be a familial connection to him…we aren’t sure, but we think he may have had another son.”
Pen’s gaze was locked on mine now. Frozen, as if I’d just grown two heads.
“That’s what Laura alluded to as well. But wouldn’t it make more sense that one of Fable’s brothers took up the vendetta? We always assumed it was possible since the final blame for his death was placed on the Stone Riders.”
I was already shaking my head. “They knew it was Silas. Remember four years ago when Silas, Natty and the boys had to leave the country for a while?”
Her shoulders dropped. “Oh yeah.”
“So why is everyone assuming it’s another son then?”
I still wasn’t entirely sure myself, but I’d been listening to what Killian had said.
“Rachel, Killian’s mom, talked to him after he called her. She’s living in Boston right now, but he called her after Giles talked to him about the threat. Rachel mentioned another son.”
Pen’s nose flared, and I knew she was pissed. “Why the actual fuck wouldn’t she have said something by now about him? Especially after what Silas and Natty went through four years ago with Fable’s brothers?”
“Who’s to say she didn’t talk to them?”
My wife let out a sigh, while angrily making the rest of our bed, fluffing pillows before she calmed down enough to speak again.
“So you think Rachel bypassed Laura and Killian and talked to Silas and Natty herself?”
I gave a slight shrug. “Rachel and Natty have a relationship…so yeah, it’s possible they talked and know things that haven’t been shared with everyone.”
“Well, that’s bullshit. I want a little confession time with everyone.” Pen tossed the last pillow before pushing her hair back. “Let’s go.”
I walked forward and lightly grabbed her elbow. “We need Silas here to do that, and it might be better that he isn’t here.”
“Why is that?”
I searched Pen’s eyes, trying to infuse her with some kind of hope. Anything to help push her through this stupid bump in the road. Another fucking bump. Another obstacle in between us being safe and happy. Another problem that needed solving.
“Because Killian is pissed and has a mind to shoot Silas on the spot. Regardless that his wife and kids are here. Frankly, they’re the only reason he hasn’t made the order yet. But when Silas gets here, there’s going to be blood that’s shed. Make no doubt about it. ”
Just then there was a commotion from upstairs, with the sound of feet running, and then we heard the door open above the stairs and someone run down. Connor poked his head down, looking at us both with a concerned expression.
“Silas is here; he’s hurt and he’s not alone.”