Chapter Forty
Lochlan
I knew she’d be this perfect.
Her arousal intoxicates my senses, sending blood rushing rapidly in and out of my heart, and swelling my cock to the point of pain.
I’ve become familiar with the pain.
Months of following this beautiful woman around without having any intention of admitting my attraction…
My obsession.
I’ll continue withholding, giving her everything I can without taking what I shouldn’t.
That’s what I tell myself as I inhale the soft skin below her belly button, unable to stop my hands from climbing up the backs of her thighs and squeezing.
Her ass is as full and firm as I’ve dreamed about, and drooled over.
The rough pads of my fingers don’t belong on her angelic body.
I don’t deserve it as they hook the top edge of her sexy underwear and drag the cotton centimeters down her hips.
My ears have never been given a better pleasure than her soft gasps and her quiet moans.
And, I know my eyes will never witness anything better, so I lean back to make sure I get to see every inch of her gift to me.
Only, my attention is drawn to the dip between her hip and lower abdomen, and the tiny, almost invisible, outline of a heart.
No bigger than the tip of my pinky.
“You have a tattoo.”
“Barely,” she breathes out.
“Who the fuck touched you, here?”
I glance up at the moonlight casting a halo of light around her face, and watch the shy smile stretch across her cheeks.
“I was invited to a brand event two years ago. A tattoo artist was there, providing their services as a party favor. She was very gentle.”
I kiss the ink.
“I’ll be gentle, too,” I whisper against her as my fingers grip her panties once more, continuing their journey.
“Don’t be.” She gasps when I kiss her bare mound then again when I kiss the very top of her clit, letting her tiny threaded bow dictate my path downward.
My tongue is teased with the taste of her until I’m suddenly jerking away and jumping to my feet as a loud crash assaults our haven on the porch.
The gate explodes wide, slamming into the fence on either side as a truck comes barreling through.
It skids to a stop, illuminating the house and the porch where we stand, but reverses within the same second, tires spinning as they retreat.
“Dammit!” My arms flex protectively around Jo as she buries her face in my chest.
“Get inside, baby.”
She doesn’t move, and I kiss the top of her head, “Get inside. Call Hayes.”
“Where are you going? ”
“After them.”
* * *
The Bronco’s engine roars as I speed down the mountain and after the shit box truck.
They probably weren’t expecting anyone to be home, or for anyone to come after them, but they did get a good head start.
Just not enough of one.
I’m not letting this fucker get away.
My tires barrel down the road, barely seeing the faint glow of their red taillights ahead of me.
There’s only one reason to brake at this point down the mountain, and that’s to go into the carryout.
I floor it, skidding to a stop near the gas pumps when I see Frank, the dickhead, step out of his truck.
He’s the only person in the parking lot, the only person who could have come from my property.
My foot punches the gas, and he’s a deer in headlights watching me accelerate towards him.
My engine jets forward, barely stopping in time to merely pin him between my truck and his.
His hands are up, but his feet shuffle away from my bumper as I slam my door.
“You’ve been attacking my home!” I lunge for him, dragging him across the hood of the truck.
“No, no! It wasn’t me!”
I toss him to the ground and regain myself.
Beating him to a pulp won’t get me anywhere.
The clone of Jo sitting on my shoulder is keeping me from letting loose.
“You just destroyed my gate!”
He starts kicking his legs to scoot away from me, but I stomp on his shin to keep him immobile.
“Fuck you!” He yelps.
“I gave you an opportunity to get back on your feet, and this is how you repay me? Men beg for a shot like this when they get out of prison!”
“You had everything,” he screams, trying to dislodge his leg from under my boot.
“I’ve been through hell and back to get where I am. And, being where I am still isn’t great.”
“You got her.”
Her?
“Jo?”
“You told us we couldn’t talk to her, we couldn’t look in her direction, but I saw the way she looked at you. It wasn’t fair,” he slurs.
“You’re confused and drunk.”
“I’m not.” He jumps up, blindsiding me with a rock.
The stone pierces my flesh, and I stumble back a step, but he swings again, clipping my cheek with it.
I stare at him as the tang of iron coats my tongue and the warmth of blood trickles down my temple.
My rational behavior goes out the window.
He charges me, attempting to take me down from my waist, but I hold him off easily, not letting him get me to the ground.
When my elbow connects with his spine, he howls in pain and falls back onto the pavement.
“You’re a stupid son of a bitch.” I grab him by the collar of his shirt and throw punch after punch, the impact of my fist against his face sends blood spraying, but I don’t stop.
It isn’t until someone hooks their arm under my shoulder, preventing me from swinging, that I let my arm go limp.
“Dammit, Loch. You’re going to get your ass thrown back in prison,” Hayes scolds angrily.
He drags me back to my truck and throws me up against the side.
“What the fuck were you thinking?”
“He attacked us.” I spit blood onto the concrete.
“Yeah, you better hope the law sees it the same way.” He nods towards the road as the Sheriff pulls in.
Jo must’ve called her brother, too, but I don’t fault her for it.
An innocent mind like hers only goes down one path when it comes to inflicting justice.
“I need an ambulance to my location,” Malec talks into his radio as he walks over to us.
“Are you hurt?” He asks, surveying the blood covering me.
“He got me good on the side of the head, but the rest of the blood is Frank’s.”
Malec folds his arms and sighs.
“Jo told me someone rammed the gates, and you went after him. Did he say why he did it?”
“He was angry after I fired him. He wanted Jo.”
His normally cool exterior stiffens briefly at the mention of his sister, but if you blinked, you’d have missed it.
“That doesn’t make sense. He’s not the instigator of all your trouble, then?”
“No, there has to be someone else.”
“Let me chat with Frank. See if he’s more forthcoming in a holding cell.”
“What do you need from me?”
“Lay low. I’ll have a lawyer get in touch about pressing charges. And, get some stitches in your head, you’re bleeding like crazy!” He yells as he walks away.
This is the most blatant violence I’ve been a part of in front of a cop, but the most mediocre shakedown.
He didn’t even try to make me sweat or question my actions .
He believed me.
He and Jo have their perceptive tendencies in common, I guess.
Jo.