Chapter 16 Bree
Panting, I placed my elbows on the bed so I could see Raven better. I’d never met a man who talked so dirty. Were all bikers like this? He seemed hungry enough to gobble me up.
Wow. What a turn-on.
“Tell me, sweet girl, anyone ever devour your pretty little cunt?
“Uh, not with this much enthusiasm.”
He laughed, hard. “Oh, babygirl. You’ve been missing out.”
He didn’t give me a chance to let those words sink in. His face buried between my thighs, and he began to lick, suck, and nibble on my clit, all while sinking two of his fingers inside me.
My head fell back for a few seconds as I breathed, staying in the present. I no longer felt the need to escape my reality.
If I was worried that my nightmares would surface, stealing away my passion, they didn’t have a chance of competing with Raven. He ate me as fiercely as he promised.
My hips rocked, and I grabbed at his head, sliding my fingers over the smooth bald skin.
He knew what he was doing, no doubt about that.
Soft moans left my lips as I let the pleasure unfold within me, holding nothing back.
I fell apart a few minutes later, gasping for breath as I came.
My body jolted as I cried his name, shuddering with the intense sensations rolling through me.
He watched me, grinning the entire time. “I really want to fuck you, baby. Not just fucking, either. I want it slow, fast, hard, soft, and every which way that I can have it with you, but I gotta know you’re ready. There’s no room for ghosts between us.”
He was right.
“I want this, Raven. I want you.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
His big, strong body rose, covering mine. “I don’t want to use a rubber. Hate them. Just so you know, I always have in the past. But you’re endgame, precious. I don’t need to wrap my dick with you.”
“Then don’t.”
Was this reckless? Maybe.
I didn’t want to follow all the rules anymore. I wanted to be free to choose how and when, and with who. Raven was all I needed—every thick inch of him.
“You ready?”
I nodded.
His hand slid over his length, stroking from base to tip until he lined up, coating his cock in the slickness around my opening. I was so wet, and he knew it.
Raven could have gone slow, eased his way in, and I wouldn’t have cared, but that wasn’t the type of man he was. No, he was the kind that bulldozed into your heart, and it wasn’t much different with sex.
His hips plunged, and his cock slammed inside me with a firm thrust, sinking deep as I gasped.
“Eyes on me, my Bree. I want us linked the entire time.”
He began to move, his powerful body riding out every stroke as he watched my face. I felt alive. Aroused. Every cell came alive.
My pussy gripped his dick tight, loving how completely he filled me.
He tilted my hips, driving deep and hitting that perfect spot.
“Fuck,” he cursed. “I need your lips.”
His mouth captured mine, and he fucked me with both his tongue and his cock. The most erotic, amazing sexual experience I’d ever had.
He knew exactly how to move and coax pleasure from my body. All thoughts of the past vanished. All I knew, all I could focus on, was the connection I shared with Raven.
I came so hard this next time that I bucked my hips, almost pushing him out.
He roared my name, thrusting faster, and filled me, pumping several times before he collapsed, pulling me to his chest as he rolled to the side.
Oh, wow. “That was perfect,” I whispered with awe.
“Yes,” he agreed, lifting my hand to press a kiss on top.
Dark ink, some of the most beautiful tattoos I’d ever seen, including a raven that stretched from his bicep down to his wrist, snagged my attention. I traced the ink as my eyes fluttered.
His deep voice murmured into the night, “Sleep, my beautiful Bree.”
I awakened later, rising from the bed as my stomach churned.
“Oh, shit,” I exclaimed, running to the toilet.
I heard Raven slide from the bed and join me, his voice concerned.
“You okay, sugar?”
“No,” I groaned, puking my guts out in front of him and unable to stop it.
“Fuck. Are you sick?”
“I didn’t think so,” I replied after rinsing my mouth out.
A weird expression crossed his face.
“Are your periods regular?”
Why would he . . . oh, no. No. No. No.
I shook my head, backing away from him.
The worst nightmare of all, the one I dreaded and never put into words, had found its way into reality.
“No!” I wailed, running out of the bathroom and spinning around, mentally counting the weeks since my kidnapping. I hadn’t had a period. Not yet.
My boobs had been tender, but that sometimes happened to me during that time of the month.
But this . . . getting sick.
“Raven.” My voice sounded strange. Hollow.
“Bree, baby, are you pregnant?”
“I-I think so.”
Shocked, horrified, devastated. I didn’t know how to process this. My hands shook as I pushed the hair out of my eyes, reaching for my clothes. I dressed, still panicking.
“I haven’t been with anyone, not for a long time. This isn’t happening.” I began to freak out. Spots danced in front of my eyes.
“Brianna!”
I looked at Raven, dreading his reaction.
He didn’t look angry. Or upset. He seemed . . . almost happy.
What. The. Fuck.
“I’ll help you,” he blurted, clearing his throat. “I want to help you raise this kid.”
Was he insane? Who the hell offered to raise the baby conceived from such horror?
“What?” I managed to spit out.
“You shouldn’t have to do this on your own.”
Maybe not. “That doesn’t mean you have to volunteer.”
He frowned. “Maybe I want to volunteer.”
“This is ridiculous.”
“Talk to me. Tell me why we can’t do this together.”
What?
“We don’t know each other well enough.”
“We do,” he argued.
Fine. We could talk this out, and he would run.
“What do I mean to you, huh? I’m just some girl you rescued. Life threw us together a few times. That doesn’t mean you owe me a damn thing, Raven.”
Those words were a lie, spit from my mouth because I was terrified, shattered by this news, and I had no idea how to react, let alone what I was going to do about it.
Raven wasn’t just any man. He had never been, even when our interaction was brief. I was slowly coming to the conclusion that he did mean something to me. More than a rescuer or protector. More than a biker and a girl half his age.
We shared a connection.
I felt it whenever he was near, and denying it pulsed a wave of pain through my heart.
Did he deserve this? Shackled to me because of his protective nature? Didn’t he understand what he offered to me?
It was a lifetime. Forever. A bond that would last this child’s entire existence from birth to our deaths.
“You’re talking about being a father to a kid that isn’t yours.”
“I understand that, sugar. I’m not walking into this blind.”
How could he be sure he wouldn’t regret this later when it was too late to walk away?
“You rescued me and saved my life. I’ll always be grateful, but that doesn’t mean you have to do this.”
I’d heard of something called a trauma bond.
Therapists referred to the term as a psychological response to abuse.
It occurred when an abused person formed an unhealthy bond with the person who abused them.
That didn’t make sense to me because Raven never hurt me.
I never developed a bond with my attackers.
Still, I looked it up on my phone and found four ways to break a trauma bond.
The first was to focus on the present and acknowledge what happened and the impact that it had by reflecting on what occurred.
I’d done that dozens of times through my nightmares alone.
The second, focus on the evidence. Yeah, I did that plenty enough to make myself sick.
Third, practice positive self-talk. Admittedly, I struggled with this one. My self-esteem took a massive hit, and the thought of being intimate still scared me. I fought negative self-talk daily but forced myself to think of something positive to counter it. Sometimes every minute was a struggle.
And fourth, practice self-care. I used to be a girl that cared about my nails, hair, makeup, and clothes. It didn’t seem that important now. I didn’t want to attract male attention. Funny enough, this didn’t apply to Raven. Maybe my mind rationalized that he’d never harmed me and deemed him safe.
Experts suggested journaling, meditation, exercise, hobbies, prayer, or talking to trusted friends as ways to begin the self-care process.
I’d never been particularly religious, and I wasn’t much of a writer.
Meditation seemed awkward. The one thing that made sense besides finding someone I trusted I could have private conversations with was exercise. I’d enjoyed the gym in the past.
The thought of being around a bunch of sweaty guys repulsed me now, and I didn’t think I could relax in that environment. What the hell would I do for hobbies now?
It didn’t matter.
The question remained, how did I move on? How did I accept what Raven offered without becoming dependent on the comfort he provided?
Trauma bond. Yeah, maybe I did see a little of that in how I needed Raven now. He made me feel safe and protected.
Did that mean any relationship we had together would be co-dependent and toxic?
Shit. I didn’t know what to think.
“Hey, babygirl. You disappeared on me,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “I don’t read minds, so I’d appreciate it if you gave it to me straight.”
“I don’t think this will work.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I hated them and disagreed, but I wouldn’t shackle Raven to me because of the shit hand life decided to deal me.
“Brianna,” he replied sternly.
Biting my lip, I avoided his direct gaze. Pulling away, I crossed the room, needing to put space between us. “You’ll see this is the right choice when you aren’t reacting from emotion.”
He snorted, pulling on a pair of sweats. “Fuck, babygirl, that was insulting.” He shook his head. Anger didn’t drive him. Determination did. I could see the resolute grind of his jaw.
“Doesn’t mean I’m wrong,” I pointed out.
“You were put in my path on three separate occasions, Brianna. We didn’t meet by accident.” He closed the distance between us, grasping my chin so I couldn’t turn away. “The first time, after I pulled you from that burning car, I left because I wasn’t free. I was married.”
I knew that. He told me about his wife at the funeral five years ago. She took her own life, but he never told me what drove her to do it. What happened between them? How did they fall apart?
Would we be destined to share the same fate?
“The second time, I was so fucking devastated. I lost the woman I believed to be my mate. The one woman fated to be mine. She died because I wasn’t enough for her. I never had been.” He sucked air into his lungs, breathing hard. “I’ll always love her, but I let Sarah go a long time ago.”
What the hell did this have to do with anything?
“Raven, I—”
“No,” he growled. “You need to hear this.”
“Okay,” I sighed.
“I wasn’t ready, but I should have been.
My biggest regret is letting you slip away a second time.
I should have confessed that I never stopped thinking of you.
You’ve been in here,” he tapped his head and then his heart, “for so damn long, sweetheart. I should have had the courage to say it long before now.”
“But what does this mean?”
His hand lifted, caressing the side of my jaw. “It means I’m yours. Every fucking part of me.”
By now, we’d both pulled on clothes and argued our way into the living room. We should have paid more attention.
It proved to be a costly mistake.
THE CONVERSATION WAS interrupted when we heard glass breaking, and Raven’s body was flung backward. Bright red appeared on his stomach, dripping from a hole in his abdomen.
I screamed, dropping to the floor and crawling over to him. “You’re bleeding!” I screeched, pressing my hands against his hard abs as Raven grunted.
“It’s not deep, just a flesh wound.”
Bullshit! “I can see the damn bullet hole. It’s not a flesh wound!”
“Babygirl, you’re gonna have to calm down. It’s not good for our baby.”
Of all the things he could have said, that was the one I never thought to hear from his lips. “What?”
My ears began to ring, and my heart pounded in my chest. Did I hear that right? He said our baby. Ours.
“I-I,” I stuttered, unable to form a clear response. “Oh, Raven.”
“Asmon, sugar. You don’t have to call me by my road name when we’re alone. That’s just for the club.”
“Asmon,” I began, not saying another word because he pressed his lips to mine, rolling us so that his body blocked me from the bullets pummeling the exterior of the house, shattering windows, and lodging into the walls above our heads.
“We’re gonna make it, babygirl. I swear it.”
I nodded, staring into his eyes. “I believe you.”
“Good. You need to know I love you, precious. I love you so fucking much.”
My chin wobbled as my eyes filled with tears. “I love you too.”
“Now I’m gonna kick some ass and freak you the fuck out because my crow is fucking pissed. Remember what I said. It’s you and me and that little life growing inside you. I’ll protect us with my dying breath.”
Half of what he said was lost in the eruption of gunfire.
“Asmon,” I whimpered, suddenly catapulted back to the night he rushed inside and rescued me from the two Dirty Death MC members trying to rip off my clothes.
We were outgunned and about to meet the man responsible for everything that happened from the beginning.
The Undertaker.