CHAPTER 20
ADDYSON
When I scrunch up my face after taking a drink of the hard lemon-cider, or whatever it is, in my hand, which is far too sweet, my best friend laughs. She leans into me, nudging me, her voice curious as she asks, “Why are you even drinking that? You like beer and whiskey.”
“Or tequila if I want to burn the world down,” I remind her.
We share a look and then burst out laughing. Who knows if we’re even thinking of the same incident, since there has been more than one, but I bet we are.
And that is what I love about Tallulah. Our history.
When we calm down enough, I tell her, “The night I first came here, the prospect at the gate was a little short with me.” She stiffens, but I wave my hand and remind her, “He was doing his job. He wasn’t threatening or disrespectful, just short.”
“Fine,” she sighs, “I get what you’re saying.”
“Which is why I’ve never mentioned it or anything to anyone,” I keep my voice down and widen my eyes to make sure she gets the point. With a sage nod, she tells me she’s got it. “Anyway, he got this for me, special, from the store when he did a grocery haul. I think it’s his way of saying sorry.”
“Damn it, that’s kind of sweet,” she grumbles.
I give her shoulder a soft shove and gripe, “It’s very sweet. What’s going on with you?”
My best friend, my soul sister, heaves out a big sigh. She looks over at where Scythe and Mayhem are talking after her man slipped into the main room. He had been putting Joplin down and currently has a baby monitor on the table in front of him.
When she looks back at me, there are tears in her eyes.
“I’m so glad you’re safe. I was scared for you, but I knew they would protect you here and take care of the problem.
” When my mouth opens, she waves her hand and shakes her head.
“Whatever that may be. I’m not interested in details, knowing you’re safe is what matters. And you are.”
Her face scrunches up and the next words run out of her mouth like one big word, “I was just hoping you’d come to New Orleans and fall in love with a biker there because then you’d be there with me, but I see it isn’t going to happen.”
I stare at my best friend for a long moment before barking out a laugh. “I can’t believe you got that out in one breath.”
“That’s not the point,” she pouts. “I feel awful for feeling that way because all I want is for you to be happy. But I also miss you.”
“You know the distance doesn’t matter,” I whisper.
Even as the words leave my lips, they taste a little like a lie. Not in spirit. But in reality. We’ve always been close, in proximity. The distance has been hard.
“No,” I sigh, and wrap an arm around her shoulders while hers slips around my waist, “it does and it sucks.”
“It doesn’t matter in my heart,” she admits, “but life just keeps going and there are times when I just want to pause it and rewind and be able to have you there.”
“Yeah,” I sigh, my eyes going to Briggs.
The brothers have given us a wide berth and I’m happy to report that the clothed angels have as well. But our men haven’t taken their eyes off us.
An idea pops into my head and I squirm a little. “You know our men would do anything for us.”
“Of course,” she grumbles, “I don’t see how that’s relevant.”
“What if we find a place, about halfway between both of us, and we get it together. A vacation home,” I offer up my idea. It’s a little out there, but it’s kind of perfect.
Tallulah sits up quickly and stares at me before nodding and clapping. I think I hear Scythe groan, “Oh fuck, this is going to involve us somehow.”
“Probably,” Briggs agrees. He sounds resigned to his fate.
Good. That’s for the best.
When I look at him, he’s trying to hide a smile. Jensen is as well; his eyes locked on Tallulah.
“We got lucky,” I remind my friend.
“I know.”
She turns toward me, her eyes studying me. “You’re happy?” Her voice drops to a whisper, her tone earnest like she needs me to feel the depth of her question, “With the cut? With the ring? With the family?”
It’s not an accusation. It’s not a judgement. It’s the need for affirmation.
“Blissfully,” I admit.
“Okay.” She blinks rapidly, fighting the tears. I’m not doing much better, honestly. “If it ever changes, you let me know and I’m here,” her voice drops to something sinister, “and he better watch out.”
We start giggling and then there are two bikers looming over our table. Scythe gently takes the drink from Tal’s hand before throwing her over his shoulder and stalking away. “I’m taking advantage of Jop sleeping to snuggle with my woman,” he grumbles.
I giggle, but the sound fades as I notice just how intent Briggs’s focus is. And all of it is at me.
“You walkin’ or am I carrying you,” he challenges me.
I stand up slowly, putting my drink down before gliding past him, almost touching, but not quite. “I’m perfectly capable of walking.”
I don’t get two more steps before I’m up and being cradled in the strong arms of my biker. My laughter fills the room as I wrap my arms around his neck, and he starts to stalk toward our room. Yes, ours. We’ll talk about the house on the compound, and the vacation one, later.
When I look up, Scythe has stopped and Tallulah is looking at me with her head tilted slightly. She nods and then whispers something to her husband who resumes his path to their room, one of the guest suites. Yeah, my friend gets it.
That doesn’t mean I don’t understand what she was saying. I would love to be close to her, but our paths won’t allow it right now. We’ll figure it out and who knows what the future will bring.
As our door is kicked shut behind us, I find myself suddenly air born. Then I’m bouncing on our bed, the whole thing happens so quickly I don’t have the chance to let out the shriek lodged in my throat.
Briggs is there, kneeling at the side of the bed when I sit up, his hands reaching for me and tugging at my clothes. He treats my cut with the same reverence as his own.
Watching it does something to me, alters something, helps me feel it too.
What he’s treating with such gravity isn’t the cut, not really, not the leather it’s made out of or even the shape of it.
It’s really this feeling of belonging, of acceptance, of support through the hard times, of celebration during the best times.
He’s offered it to me without hesitation.
“I’ll never take for granted what you’re offering me, what you’ve given me so easily,” the words feel like the start of a covenant. “I love you, Briggs.”
“I love you, my Addyson.”
As we undress, our hands are steady and quick, but not frantic. By the time we’re naked, I’m dripping for him and pre-cum is coating the angry looking crown of his cock. His body covering mine and pressing me into the mattress is everything.
He pushes inside of me slowly and there is something so grounding in the way he fills me. When his head falls back on his shoulders, his hips pushing his cock just a little bit deeper as if he can’t help himself, I can’t help but gasp. It’s sexy as fuck.
“You stretch around me so fucking perfectly,” he grinds the words out through his clenched teeth. “Wet and perfect.”
Everyone should experience a big biker praising them with softness, like words are feathers, at least once in their life. Not my biker, but a biker.
Mine is taken.
He moves above me, his body begging me to meet, to climb together, to find a rhythm that pushes and pulls in a way that is tantalizing. My hands slide up the back of his head until I can grip his hair. His mouth finds mine when I pull him down to me.
“Yes,” I moan before he swallows down the sound.
I tilt my hips and he’s able to go just a little bit deeper. The drag of his cock along my walls is delicious. I fall into the sensation with my arms wide open. His shoulders are tight with tension from the control he’s holding onto.
He doesn’t speed up. He doesn’t thrust harder.
Briggs’s movements are measured. Sure. Solid.
And the way they build me up gently is almost too sweet. The agony of it, the denial, and the pleasure within it, has tears building in the corners of my eyes. If one falls and disappears into my hair, it goes unmentioned.
I cling to him, my limbs wrapping around him as his arms on either side of my head cage me in. He’s bigger than me and the safety of that, the way it makes me feel complete, is a gift.
“When you come,” he promises, “you’re going to soar with the stars. See galaxies,” he fills me again and his lips pepper my face with kisses.
They’re a sweet calling to my soul.
His name falls from my lips with a moan. He moves inside of me, our bodies reaching and arching, moving together and pushing each other.
I get lost in the rhythm. The sweetness. The sparks of pleasure.
The feeling of him cocooning me has tingles engulfing my skin. I can feel every brush of him against me as if everything has been turned up. All the while the connection between us thrums, a string pulled tight and used to bind.
Us.
It binds us.
Pulling and relaxing, giving and taking. It strengthens us, together and apart. It spirals through me and anchors deeper.
We groan, the relief as we peak and then fall, our bodies sweaty as our lungs battle for air. Our bliss is entwined, the experience one of union and promises kept, even in the darkness.
As we come down, his cock softening and slipping out of me, his kisses drug me into a state between the realms.
I huff out a breath and wrap myself tighter around him, unwilling to let go. Not now, not ever.
“You’re the last thing I was expecting to find, Briggs,” I tell him honestly. His crystal blue eyes lock with mine and soften. “I’m so glad I did,” my voice is thick, the thought of what might have never been hits me hard.
“I would have found you,” his voice is steel, as if there is no two ways about it.
“If I knew it was you, that you existed,” his eyes roam over my face as if memorizing me and all my just been fucked, mussed glory, “I would have scoured the world looking for you. I’m so glad you found me and knocked me right on my ass, Tempest.”
I snuggle into him when he rolls us, my body draped across him. He’s so warm and I find my eyes drifting closed, even though I would rather stay awake and soak up more of this feeling.
His large hand runs up and down my back and the gentleness of his touch has my mind drifting to the future. Or maybe it pops into my head because of holding Joplin for the first time today.
She was so tiny. And helpless.
It was terrifying holding her, of being given that much trust, but it was also amazing. I fell in love with that little girl the moment she was put into my arms, and I will ensure she knows she can always come to me, no matter what. I’ll always have her back.
As if my biker has developed ESP, he rumbles, “One year of us, and then I’m putting my baby inside of you. One year.”
My cheeks heat and my pussy clenches, making a mess of things and reminding me that I still need to get cleaned up. I kiss my man’s chest, right where his heart is beating and then look up at him as I rest my chin there.
“I can agree to your terms.”
He scoffs, “Keep believing I was giving you a choice.”
I shake my head while he grins and winks at me. Then I’m standing up and walking toward the bathroom. When I look over my shoulder, my biker is staring at my ass and isn’t the least bit embarrassed about being caught.
“You coming? I figured you would want to practice this whole baby making thing while getting clean,” my words are a tease.
Briggs practically levitates off the bed and races after me. We’re in the shower in record time and he manages to make me utterly filthy before cleaning me from head to toe. He touches me like I matter and like he needs me to survive.
If this is what I get in return for protecting his heart, I think it’s a damn good deal.