Chapter 30
STEVIE
At home, King suggests we have sex, yet I decline, telling him I’m not ready and I don’t feel well.
I appreciate the fact he doesn’t push it.
In bed, he snuggles me close to his body.
His erection rests between us, which is a reminder how long it’s been since we have had sex.
At least, how long I’ve had sex. I’m not so sure a relationship means fidelity to King, and I haven’t asked.
Maybe I’m too afraid to find out he’s been with other women since we got together.
I’ve gone from having so much disdain for King to desiring him in secret.
He’s been horrible and good to me. There are days I think about all he’s done, and depending on how things are going with us, the scales tilt one way or the other.
Little by little I’ve become affectionate toward him, and to my surprise, he hasn’t rejected any of my touches.
He kisses me when he leaves, touching my belly every chance he gets.
I love seeing the gentler side of King. But lingering thoughts of who he’s sleeping with rear their ugly head.
When King’s blue eyes latch onto me, my heart speeds up, and I melt and shiver due to my attraction to him, and fear he’ll crush my heart.
His presence is commanding, rough, yet when we’re alone, he noticeably relaxes.
And his body is defined and gorgeous. Hard muscles, dips, a V cut angling down into an area I’m curious about.
Back in my drug-filled haze, I missed or can’t remember everything that happened when we did it.
Pregnancy has me hornier than normal, so wanting and picturing sex with King comes in waves.
Unable to sleep, I slip out of bed, cover myself with a light robe, and sit outside on the deck. It’s a full moon, cloudless and bright.
Not long after, King comes out fully dressed and says, “Something’s come up. I gotta go. It’s best you stay inside and put the alarm on after I leave. A prospect will be at the front in a couple of minutes.”
This has me out of the chair following him into the house. “What’s going on?”
“Grinder clocked Snake near one of our businesses.”
“You have other businesses?”
He kisses my cheek, opens the door, and adds, “Don’t ask, Rebel. Best you know as little as possible.”
The door closes and I quickly punch in the security code.
One a.m. Hours have past. Nothing from King.
By now, I’m pacing the kitchen, gazing out at the backyard, lit up by perimeter lights and the moon.
I prepare a tea. Pace. Venture into the living room.
Glance out the front to find the prospect outside the fence.
I turn on the television to drown out the silence.
My thumb clicks through the channels. I’m up again.
Warm up the tea I forgot. Shut off the television.
Sit at the kitchen table cupping my mug.
The noise of a motorcycle has me jumping out of my seat and I head to the front door.
I hear the beeps of the code, and the door swings open.
King comes bolting past me, but not before I notice pieces of his clothing hanging off him and blood.
He takes the stairs two at a time right into our washroom.
I put the code in, and go upstairs to pace outside the washroom door.
The showers running, so I wait until it shuts off.
Outside the door, I ask, “King, are you okay? What happened?”
“Fine. A little road rash.”
My hand is on the door. “Let me see.”
“It’s no big deal.”
“I’m coming in.”
The knob turns, and when it opens I find a battered King. Huge, bloody abrasions run down his left arm, his lower left side, and the rest is covered by a towel wrapped around his waist.
I gasp. “My God, King, what happened?”
Without thinking, I retrieve a smaller towel, run it under warm water, and switch on the top light.
“Rebel, I said it’s fine.”
From the way his eyes pierce into me, brows low, and frowning, my guess is he isn’t happy I’m here. Standing on his left side, I dab at the streaks of blood from his shoulder to his wrist, and he doesn’t stop me.
My eyes flit from his wounds to his eyes and back. “How did this happen?”
“Flew off my bike and skidded.”
“King, you should go to the emergency room.”
He attempts to free himself from my grasp as he says, “Fuck no. This isn’t the first time and it won’t be the last.” Gesturing to ointment and bandages on the counter, he adds, “I always have these in the house.”
I squint at the wound to see if any debris is stuck in it, pat it with the towel, and blow on it. “I’ll do it.”
As I work on his arm, cleaning off the blood, applying ointment, and wrapping it in a bandage, he remains still, eyes a constant on me.
“You don’t have to do it.”
My gaze flicks up to his. “Yeah, I do. This is what people do in a relationship. When they care about the other. They support them physically, mentally, and emotionally.”
A smile spreads across his face before I return my attention to his wound, and he asks, “So, when you said you were falling for me, you meant you care?”
I stop to look at him and let out a quiet yes. After his arm is bandaged, I place my hand on the towel and gesture to it for consent. He readjusts his body, holds his arms out wide, and cocks his eyebrow up with a shit eating grin.
With my eyes on his, I drop the towel, bring the supplies closer to me, and slowly kneel down.
No matter how much I ignore his cock, it keeps bobbing for attention.
Erect. Bejeweled. I’ve never enjoyed giving blowjobs, nor am I good at it, but King’s cock is marvelously intense and intriguing.
Soft red skin tailored with hardware. My hands work faster in cleaning his upper leg.
Threading the wrap between his thighs is tough to concentrate on.
Finished, my eyes drift over to his cock again.
A dribble of pre-cum balances on the slit.
My eyes glide upwards to his, which have darkened.
He’s no longer smiling, but suggestively wets his lips.
His body is rooted next to the vanity. I drop my eyes back to his cock, lean forward, and lick the pre-cum.
King sucks in air. I smile before opening my mouth and sliding his cock over my tongue.
I suck in my cheeks, except the jewels clack against my teeth. This is definitely a first.
His cock slips from my mouth, and I gaze back up at him.
It’s a magnificent view. It’s like King is a warrior and I’m his slave.
He’s perfectly still, eyes bolted to me, releasing small breaths.
Contours grace his physique of hills and valleys.
Hard and powerful. I place my hand on his virile thigh for balance, returning to his cock.
My head dips down, running my nose along the underside of his cock and near his balls.
I close my eyes to inhale the manly scent of his soap, and drown in it.
I’m wet from the visual of King and his scent.
My tongue darts out, tracing the pulsing vein toward the head between the three metal barbells pierced in rows, and I circle the tip, wiggling my tongue into the slit.
King places a hand on top of my head and falls forward, catching himself on the wall using the other hand.
Heat and sin saturate the air. His head falls, eyes closed, and when I open my mouth, he angles his hips closer to me.
My mouth swallows the head of his cock, inching over the barbells, and I stop before slowly retracting.
I fondle his balls, latch onto the bottom of his shaft, and move in sync with my mouth.
Hand moving up and mouth sucking down, moaning on his cock.
The speed picks up. His heavy breathing drifts through the air as if beckoning me for more.
I’m slurping the juices on his dick, bobbing up and down, and I feel the shift in his body.
He’s about to come. My hand continues to pump through the lubrication, removing my mouth just in time as spools of cum shoot onto my shirt.
King rests his forehead on top of his arms pressed against the wall. I place my hand on his thigh to steady myself as I stand.
My head rises and our eyes meet. The gray circles around his light-blue eyes appear darker. King straightens, steps forward, forcing my back into the wall.
“I’m sorry I didn’t swallow. I’ve been struggling with nausea—”
“Shut up, Rebel.”
A lopsided grin appears on his face before he captures my mouth.
It’s a dominant, heady kiss. One of ownership.
I oblige as it stirs the hunger inside me.
I can’t recall a time when I’ve become dazed from a kiss.
King’s full lips work mine in an unhurried, controlled manner and I’m captivated by them.
His lips separate from mine and then he nips at my lower lip, soothing it with his tongue.
His body rises and his fingers creep underneath my shirt, brushing over my stomach.
Gathering the hem of my shirt in his palm, he lifts it up while my arms do the same.
Up and over, my camisole floats to the floor, and I instinctively cover my breasts.
I’m naked from the waist up and all that’s separating us are my sleeping shorts.
I let out a shaky breath. “King. It’s been a long time since I’ve had sex while not under the influence.
” His fingers lightly wrap around my wrists, lowering my arms to my side.
“I don’t look like the women you’ve been with.
” He tilts his head as his finger slides over my collarbone.
“I’m older, out of shape and pregnant.” My eyes flick down to my stomach and back up to him. “You’re used to—”
He presses his finger to my lips, shaking his head.
Then his hand drops, and his fingers dip into the sides of my shorts, pushing them down until I shimmy out of them and kick them to the side.
We’re butt naked, standing in the washroom, eyes wandering over one another’s faces.
I’m not sure what he’s thinking as his hands skim over my shoulders, down my arms, the underside of my breasts, and drift over my small, distended stomach.
King bends, capturing my nipple in his mouth, and my head leans back into the wall.
His hand draws invisible circles over my abdomen.
The ceiling light is in my line of vision, distorted as King’s finger slips between my swollen lips.
I unconsciously gasp while draping my arm over his neck.
His mouth’s exploration is curious and absolutely divine.
My God, this rough biker is extraordinary.
A digit dives inside me and I whimper, rocking into the palm of his hand.
A pop sound comes when he releases my nipple. “That’s right, Rebel. Ride my fucking hand.”
My hands grip his shoulders for stability as my hips rotate faster.
His lips brush over the shell of my ear. “Look at me.” My eyes latch onto his. “Let. Go.”
My hazy vision is on him as a guttural cry comes out when I come.
I shatter onto his hand, tears and sweat seeping down my face.
This last reaction is confusing. Ticks and uncontrollable spasms rack my body.
I bury my face in the crook of his neck and I cry.
His hands curl under my thighs, lifting me as my legs wrap around his waist. King doesn’t shush me or tell me to quit crying while carrying me to the bed and laying me down.
He climbs in next to me, placing us on our sides, fronts flushed together.
King’s wonderful lips kiss my temple, forehead, and the top of my head. “I know, right? I’m fucking mind blowing.”
This has me laughing into his chest. “All my emotions came crashing down at once as soon as I let go.”
He lifts my chin, so I can see him. Taking his thumb, he runs it down the side of my nose to the corner of my mouth, leaving a quiet kiss on my lips.
My heart is about to crash out of my chest. Bombarded by a longing of wanting to be lovingly cared for, except it isn’t possible.
King isn’t the loving type. He’ll care for me and the babies, but in an emotionally checked out kind of way.
This hurts my heart, especially being enamored by his handsome face and realizing I am in love with him.
Somehow I surpassed friends, getting to know each other, and smacked right into a heartbreak wall.
How many women has he held this way, teasing them into submission and infatuation, only to walk away without another taste? Or maybe he provides another taste, yet the experience never matches the first one. It’s hollow.
My jittery nerves and heart have me asking, “How many women are you with now?”
King frowns and jerks his head back. “Where the hell did that come from?”
“King.” I gather the sheets to stuff between us. “I have to know for my own safety and that of our babies.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? We’re in the middle of fucking and you’re asking me this question?” He caves after noting my pained face, and says, “No one.”
I lick my lips from the building of anticipation. “No one since we’ve entered into a relationship?”
He falls onto his back, running his hand down his face. “No one since you caught me getting a blowjob after I was released from prison.”
My mouth is ajar. Seriously? That long? This masculine, sexy biker has only had sex with me all this time and it was under the influence?
King grabs the sheets, bunching them up and tossing them to the floor.
I sit up and ask, “What are you doing?”
“Shutting you up. The next thing I want to hear from you is my name screamed so fucking loud every biker in Moose Grove will hear it.”