Chapter 6 #3
The shame of being Peter’s illegitimate child in the clubhouse had followed me everywhere.
My mother had always assumed when I was born that he would leave his wife, but he had other kids with his wife, there was no way he would.
She’d been a marked woman ever since, never quite fitting in, always a club bunny, even though she never touched another man.
“I told Orla to tell him,” Sheridan added. “I told her that he would take care of her, because that was his grandbaby, but she never did. The next thing I knew, she was in hospital because she’d gone to some hack to get rid of it.”
“Why?”
“She couldn’t afford a medical abortion, and she needed consent from her parents since she was only seventeen,” Sheridan told me.
“They wouldn’t help?” I asked, incredulous. “They didn’t want her to have it in the first place!”
“The shame of it would have ended her father, I assume,” Sheridan shrugged. “That day she stopped speaking to them. She didn’t want to upset Maree, because she knew they’d tried to have kids and couldn’t, so she heard about someone who would do it for $100.”
I rubbed my hand down my face, realising now how bad that sounded. For a seventeen year old girl with no options, that probably sounded like a dream. “Who told her about it?”
Sheridan paused, and I could see on her face that she didn’t want to tell me.
“Who?” I pressed.
“Brad.”
A new wave of anger rose in my chest. “You’re kidding.”
Sheridan shook her head. “When she woke up in hospital, she’d lost the baby but also needed to have a medical procedure to save her life. Whatever the guy used had damaged her womb irreparably. She can’t have kids.”
I got off the stool and paced the clubhouse, anger and betrayal all rolled up in one.
“When did she send me the note?” I asked her.
“Note?”
Grabbing my wallet out of my back pants, I pulled out the old piece of school paper with her fine handwriting on it.
FUCK YOU.
Sheridan held her hand over her mouth, recognising the handwriting and the age of the paper. “She sent that to you?”
I nodded.
“When?”
“Two months after we left.”
“Oh,” Sheridan said. “That was…right around the time we heard Louise boasting that her son was rising in the ranks. She told us that you had met someone and you were going to get married. She knew Orla was here that day, the first day back after her ordeal in hospital. I think she was trying to get Orla to leave the club.”
“I’d been considering coming back for her,” I admitted. “Louise knew that.”
Sheridan gasped. “Oh god, why didn’t you?”
“I got the note,” I added simply. “It kept me away.”
“I’m sorry, Alex.. It wasn’t my story to tell you, even though you deserved to know. I wish I had told you back then, told you when she admitted she was pregnant, but she didn’t want you to find out that way.”
I nodded. “It’s fine, Sher. Thank you for telling me.”
Sheridan smiled. “You know, even though Louise tore apart Orla’s self-esteem, especially when it came to that baby, the next day after she heard what Louise said at the clubhouse…she went and got that club tattoo.”
“She did?”
Sheridan nodded, and laughed. “Yeah, it was her way of branding you on her skin. That was something Louise would never be able to take away. Either way, Louise couldn’t get to her anymore. Maree put her foot down.”
I smiled at that. Louise had always been frightened of Maree, and of Donald’s wife Enna. She’d been put in her place time and time again.
“I’m glad.”
Sheridan nodded. “What are you doing here, Alex? Go back to her bed.”
Chuckling, I wiped a hand down my face. “Yeah…I guess…it took me by surprise.”
“She would understand that. Now, go and tell her that and don’t be the brooding Bear we all know you to be, it’s okay to use your words.”
I flipped her off, earning myself a laugh before I moved out to get my bike and head back home to Orla.
When I got inside, I moved down the hall to my bedroom where I saw Orla curled up, crying. My heart pulled in a violent twist as I realised I had done that.
How many times had I caused those tears?
I pulled off my cut and my shirt, followed by my jeans and boots. Orla stirred and looked over at me. Her face shone with wet tears from the lamp on the side table.
“You came back.”
“Always,” I said, moving over to the side of the bed, taking her face in my hands. I dried the tears from her cheeks with my thumbs. “Don’t you ever allow me to make you cry again. If I say something stupid that does this, fucking hit me over the head or something.”
“You don’t hate me?” she asked, her voice full of fear and worry. It killed me that she didn’t know how much I would fucking dominate this world for her.
“Orla, you could fucking shoot me in the chest, flay me alive, walk over me with spikes and I would only love you more,” I admitted to her. “I’m not a big emotions guy, nor do I say I love you to many, but I fucking love you, and I always have.”
Orla’s mouth found mine first, and I felt every wave of emotion she’d been feeling in that kiss.
I pulled her body to mine and deepened the kiss, laying her back on the bed.
I moved down, leaving a trail of kisses on her skin before I yanked at her panties.
Sliding them down her legs, I widened her legs as I gazed down at her pink pussy.
The one I craved more than anything else in the world.
I slid down, pulling her thighs over my shoulders as I licked a trail up her slit.
She instantly arched her back. Pressing the tip of my tongue to her clit, I moved my fingers underneath her thigh and skirted around her core with my fingertips.
Orla’s hips thrust against my mouth, my tongue circled her clit, sucking on it.
Her heavenly moans filled the air as I sunk a finger into her.
“Oh fuck,” she grunted, her thighs trying to squeeze my head.
I slid another finger into her with ease as her hips bucked wildly.
The second I sucked on her clit again, increasing the rhythm, I built her to a crescendo.
Unable to control myself anymore, I knelt between her thighs and slid my hard cock into her to the hilt.
Orla tensed around me, her mouth open in a perfect O as her eyes widened at the delicious stretch. Her nails dug into my arms as I pounded into her, needing her to be mine. Needing to feel every bit of her, and for her to be ruined for all other men.
Her pussy clenched around me hard as I pounded into her with everything I had.
She screamed out as her orgasm ripped through her violently fast, my cock being squeezed to within an inch of its life.
Once I felt her pussy walls’ vice like grip release me, I thrust into her until I hit the same crescendo, pouring everything into her, riding out the orgasm that rocked me to the core.
Falling down beside her, I tried to get my breath back. She drew lazy circles over my tattoos on my hand, and the sensation was the most erotic thing I’d felt.
“I’ve never really been a missionary girl, but damn.”
I chuckled into her shoulder, pulling her into me, little spoon to my big spoon. “Get used to it, Or, because I want you on your back as much as humanly possible.”
Her chuckle warmed me from the outside in.
She was mine.