6. Jenny
Chapter six
Jenny
I stifled a yawn, unloading a stack of leftovers on the kitchen table. Seeing Bobbie and Psycho so in love had stirred up a whirlwind of memories about my own wedding day with Simon years ago.
The way I trembled from head to toe, but he kept me steady while we said our vows.
When his hand covered mine as we cut into our wedding cake.
The comforting weight of his palm on my lower back, holding me close. As if he couldn’t believe I was his wife, and he needed to reassure himself that I was really there.
“That was a beautiful wedding,” I said with a wistful sigh.
“I knew it would bring out your hopeless romantic side,” Simon replied.
He had Mia tucked under one arm, while she leaned heavily against him, struggling to keep her eyes open. Casey was fast asleep, cradled in Simon’s other arm, with his head resting on Simon’s shoulder.
I swallowed around the lump in my throat. Navigating the divorce and its aftermath, Simon was always solid as a rock for the kids. He didn’t want them forced into a position where they had to pick sides between us.
“I’ll put Mia and Casey to bed,” he added. “Then I’ll get out of your hair.”
I said nothing, watching Simon herd our children up the stairs to their rooms. When we split up, he insisted the house belonged to me and the kids. We needed as much stability as possible, he reasoned, and he wasn’t going to push us out of our home on top of everything else.
A lump of emotion lodged in my throat. I rummaged around for a fork, digging into the leftover wedding cake. By the time Simon returned to the kitchen, he found me at the counter, trying to bury my feelings in vanilla hazelnut and icing.
“I was wondering when the waterworks would begin,” Simon said softly.
“I’m not crying,” I protested, even though my voice cracked with betrayal.
Simon came up behind me, skimming his fingertips along my bare shoulder. Goosebumps skittered down my back, and I knew I shouldn’t be letting him touch me like this. Not when my resolve around him seemed to crumble in an instant.
But I didn’t protest when he cupped my hips, pulling me back against the broad heat of his chest. I didn’t say anything when he slid his arms around my waist, pressing his face into the curve of my neck and inhaling a deep breath.
My eyes burned with tears. The wedding today did more than just resurrect memories—it reminded me how much I struggled under the weight of loneliness. Taking care of the kids, trying to rediscover myself and my own identity without Simon.
I was stuck between two worlds—divorcing my ex-husband, and seeking someone new to build another relationship with.
The future was undefined, a blank slate that held no guarantees, while the past belonged to Simon and the well-worn paths of each other.
I wanted a distraction from it all. I wanted the tenderness and security of companionship.
“The way Bobbie and Psycho looked at each other…” I trailed off and shook my head, swallowing hard. “We used to be in love like that.”
Simon gave a quiet hum. A beat of silence filled the air, thick with tension. He skimmed his hand down my spine, cupping my ass with a squeeze through the fabric of my dress.
I gasped, pushing back into his grip for more.
“Take me to bed,” I breathed. “Like you did on our wedding night.”
Simon kissed the back of my neck, making my eyes flutter closed at the heat of his lips and the rasp of his stubble.
“What about your boyfriend?”
“We had one date.”
“Doesn’t answer my question.”
“Greyson isn’t my boyfriend,” I replied, which was technically the truth.
“Greyson,” Simon grunted. “Fuck, I hate the way you say his name, as if you’re savoring the taste of it on your tongue like some fancy wine.”
The grit in his voice and the jealousy coloring his tone shouldn’t sound as good as it did. Simon smoothed his hands up my body, cupping my tits. I whined with need, arching into his palms for more. A torturous ache of emptiness throbbed between my thighs.
I reached back and threaded my fingers into Simon’s curls with a demanding tug.
“Then make me scream your name instead.”
He let out a rumbling growl and turned me around, pinning me to the counter with his hips.
His mouth met mine in a hungry kiss, sloppy and desperate.
I scrambled for his belt buckle, my knuckles grazing the bulge of his cock as I dragged the zipper of his fly down.
When I wrapped my fingers around his length, he was half hard already and pulsing thicker by the second.
“Fuck, sweetheart, you know damn well I can’t say no to you,” Simon rasped. He angled his hips forward, thrusting into my grip.
I pumped my fist slowly up and down his cock, twisting my wrist over the crown, knowing it never failed to draw a sinfully deep moan out of him. Simon closed his eyes and bowed his head, nipping and sucking at my cleavage as he mindlessly rutted into my fist.
My tall, dark, and broody biker was falling apart because of me and I loved every second of it.
Simon slid the strap of my gown off my shoulder and unhooked my bra. He swore under his breath when my breasts spilled free, instantly sucking a nipple into his mouth. Pleasure sizzled along every nerve like a live wire.
After having two kids, my bra size nearly doubled to triple Ds. My pre-baby perkiness was gone, replaced with sagging and stretch marks.
But Simon didn’t give a shit. He cradled my tits at every opportunity, filling his hands and his mouth as if he couldn’t get enough of them. He nuzzled into my cleavage like he would be willing to die there a happy man.
The slick heat of Simon’s mouth, the swirl and flick of his tongue, made the throb between my thighs grow to a painful pressure. I couldn’t stand being so empty anymore.
“Simon,” I pleaded.
He gave a low, wicked laugh, burying his face in my neck as he grabbed fistfuls of my skirts, yanking them up. Hooking one hand behind my knee, he hitched my leg around his hip, grinding his cock against my clothed pussy until I was a sticky mess.
“I’ve been thinking about you like this all day, mi amor,” Simon murmured. “There’s no rush.”
I let out a huff of impatience, then broke off with a whimper as Simon grabbed my ass with both hands, pulling me even tighter against his cock. I could feel the ridge of his blunt crown dragging through the damp fabric of my panties.
My nails dug into the worn leather of his cut when I clawed at his back. Sparks of ecstasy flared through my sensitive nipples every time they grazed his shirt.
“You’re so fucking wet for me already, honey,” Simon gritted out. “Is that what you want, mi amor? Stuffed so full of cock that your legs are shaking?”
I scrambled to come up with a witty reply for the sake of my pride, but I was too far gone for that.
The only sound that fell from my lips was a broken one.
Seeing Simon at that wedding switch between a caring father and a commanding biker was an undeniable turn on.
Just because he was the Road Captain didn’t stop him from taking the time to look after his son's needs.
I would readily admit that Simon’s bad boy appeal was sexy as hell. But his unwavering determination to be a devoted husband and a proud dad made him irresistible in a way that left me punch drunk and coming back for more.
Simon cupped my cheek in his palm, peppering my jawline with kisses. I sighed with contentment, clutching his wrist as I melted into his touch.
“If that’s what my wife wants, that’s what my wife will get,” he said.
With his hands on my hips again, Simon turned me around.
He threaded his fingers into my hair with a firm tug, pulling my head back.
Bobby pins slipped out of my bun, tinkling softly on the floor as he gradually unraveled me, piece by piece.
My spine bowed, pushing my ass out at a better angle for his access.
I braced against the counter, while Simon flipped my skirt up, exposing my panties. He gave the elastic waistband a flirty little snap before stripping them off, pooling around my ankles.
“Christ, look at you, Jenny,” Simon said, his voice hoarse.
He smoothed his palm over my ass with a squeeze.
Then he slipped his hand between my thighs, stroking two fingers along my pussy and up to my clit.
“My dirty angel—the sweetest face and soaked with need for my fat cock to stretch you open.”
He shifted behind me, coaxing his blistering hot length to glide between my ass cheeks. The rough denim of his jeans chafed the back of my thighs. I felt the cold metal of his belt buckle digging into me with every stroke.
“Touch yourself, honey,” Simon said softly. “Tease that pretty little clit for me.”
I nodded, too tongue-tied to speak as I hurried to obey.
Simon removed his hand from between my thighs and curved his palm around my throat, guiding my head back even further.
My lips parted on a sharp intake of breath when I grazed the stiff hood of my clit and my walls spasmed with anticipation.
Thank God I was on birth control, because I didn’t have the willpower to go searching for a condom right now.
Simon brushed a kiss to the back of my head as he lined his cock up and pushed in. We moaned together at the breach, the hot, slow drag of one inch after another as he sank deeper.
“Oh, Simon, that feels so good,” I said on a shaky exhale. Even after all this time together, the girth of him still took my breath away.
Simon planted a hand on my ass and pulled out to the tip, driving in again. My eyes rolled back in my head and my knees wobbled.
“You’re stunning like this, mi amor,” he murmured against my hair, punctuating each word with a hard thrust that left me gushing.
“With your tits on display and your ass exposed, dripping down my cock right here in the kitchen. My beautiful, filthy woman,” he said through his teeth, punching balls-deep and grinding mercilessly.
My arms threatened to buckle, barely holding me up against the counter. I clutched Simon’s wrist at my throat as a wave of sheer bliss washed over me. I was nothing but a puddle in his control, pliant and shuddering and willing to do anything as long as we could continue chasing this euphoric high.
Simon bent over me, kissing my neck, rolling and circling his hips. I pushed my ass back against him, wiggling for more. His belt buckle would probably leave a bruise tomorrow, but I didn’t care.
I felt utterly exquisite in Simon’s care as molten heat coursed through every muscle and every vein.
“God, you’re close, honey,” Simon said, his voice strangled and tight.
Releasing his grip on my throat, he grabbed my hips and rammed in, pulsing with short, quick strokes. Hitting my G-spot over and over.
My vision whited out as I came, clutching the counter, arms trembling, mouth open on a wordless gasp.
Simon kept going with the stamina of a stallion.
Grasping my waist, he pulled me down onto his cock, manhandling me like a toy.
Little spasms of pleasure continued to ripple through my twitching muscles.
The slap of skin against skin and our harsh breathing filled the kitchen.
Then he gave one last thrust as he came with a guttural growl, cock twitching. I reached back and pulled Simon’s arms tight around me, dreading the moment when he pulled out and I was left empty all over again.
Simon slumped with his weight crushing me against the counter. There was a tackiness between my thighs, and my legs felt jittery, as if they might give out at any moment. I leaned my head back against his shoulder with a dreamy little smile.
“After all these years, we’re still really good at that,” I said.
His dark eyes gleamed with adoration and he nuzzled into me with butterfly kisses. I closed my eyes, soaking up every second, cradling Simon’s head in the crook of my neck and shoulder.
“Invite me to stay,” he mumbled into my skin. “Don’t make me go home alone, honey. Please.”
I didn’t have the heart to send him away. Simon rarely asked to spend the night so I didn’t feel pressured into enduring how complicated his presence could be in the house we used to share together.
“On one condition,” I replied.
“Name it,” Simon replied without hesitation.
“I want to fall asleep in your arms.”
He breathed a faint noise of amusement.
“That shouldn’t be too difficult, since I can’t keep my hands to myself when you’re around as it is. I thought you were going to say no touching allowed. And then we would have a problem.”
I laughed softly and turned around, curling into his chest.