Chapter Twenty-One – Christopher #2
He didn’t ask fucking questions. Instead, he helped her to free his suddenly hard cock, then pushed into her sweet mouth.
She sucked him down her throat, pulled back, and licked his aching head, tonguing the slit.
Slurping him back in and fondling his nuts, she gagged.
Saliva filled her recesses, wetting his dick and balls, almost buckling his fucking knees.
Burying his fingers in her hair, he fucked her mouth, slamming down her throat, pulling back, and surging into her again, expelling the last of his adrenaline that a night on the prowl for stupid motherfuckers always stirred in him.
The disappointment of failure or the victory of capture and death left him in need of an outlet. It had always been that way for him.
Once, he would’ve rushed home immediately to fuck Megan or have her suck his dick, but he realized he’d gone to the club first because he hadn’t known what to do.
Breathing heavily, he yanked his cock out of her mouth and dragged her to her feet, lifting her into his arms and kissing her deeply.
She wrapped her legs around his waist and he buried his cock inside her hot pussy.
He held her tight against him, bottoming out, stretching her cunt, slamming into her.
“Fuck, baby,” he grunted, his pace relentless. “Fuck, Megan.” He couldn’t fucking think beyond how much he loved fucking her. “Goddamn, your pussy’s so fuckin’ good.”
She nodded, bouncing on his cock, trusting that he’d not let her fall.
For some fucking reason, Easton and Johnnie rose in his head. Just because Christopher was a jealous fuckhead and just the fucking idea that Megan had thought about going on a date with DeLuca enraged him. And Johnnie? No fucking explanation was needed.
“Your pussy belong to me, Megan,” he growled, ramming his cock into her. Glaring at her. “You fuckin’ hear me? Your pussy mine and I’ll kill any motherfucker who even fuckin’ think about takin’ you from me. Your pussy mine. You mine.”
Instead of annoying her, she smiled and kissed him, showing him without words that she agreed.
“Come all over my big cock,” he ordered.
She throbbed around him and he eased his strokes.
Keeping her in a one arm hold, he slid his hand between them and found her swollen clit, then pulled back and fucked his cum into her, growling as he exploded.
Still encased inside her, he carried her to the bed and laid her on the edge, then pulled out of her.
“Open your legs,” he ordered harshly, enthralled by her beautiful fucking skin, flushed and damp. Her swollen lips and darkened eyes.
She parted her thighs and the sight of his cum leaking out of her pleased him.
Kneeling before the altar of Megan, he nosed her slit, loving her scent, smelling him.
Still so fucking insane with jealousy, he sniffed her again, imagining Easton’s cologne on her, Johnnie’s.
Imagining her reeking with the scent of their cum.
She tilted her hips and groaned. Christopher smelled her again, high off the aroma of her just-fucked pussy, filled with him.
Parting her delicate lips, he tongued her clit, tasting her sweetness, hearing her moans, sucking her hole, until she came. Until she fucking begged him to stop. To let her catch her breath. Until her legs quivered and her body trembled and she was hoarse from screaming.
He couldn’t get enough of her. The moment he stood, he bent enough so he could bury himself inside her again and fuck her until she came again and he filled her with more cum. Only then did he feel slightly sated.
Pulling out of her, he undressed, realizing at some point he’d slid his jeans down to his knees. She waited until he was naked before she crawled to her side of the bed and slid under the covers. He got in beside her and took her into his arms.
For a moment, they basked in each other and his eyes drooped closed, his exhaustion returning. The contented kind where everything behind these doors were good and right and safe.
“Why didn’t you tell me about Ember LeBan and CJ?”
His eyes flew open and he tensed, suddenly wide the fuck awake. A number of responses filled his head but he chose the safest option.
“I ain’t wanted to embarrass you and CJ,” he said carefully.
She nodded. “I understand.”
Maybe he needed to leave well enough alone, but if he’d had a fucking clue CJ would open his fucking mouth to his ma about having his dick sucked, Christopher would’ve asked him if he’d lost his fucking mind.
Suddenly, he wanted to help Axel with whatever the fuck he planned with that fucking baby oil.
“You have to talk to CJ, Christopher.”
“I did, baby,” he told her. “She a grown bitch and his teacher and, uh, it wasn’t right.”
She lifted her head. All the better to silently call him a fucking liar.
“A white lie supposed to diffuse shit, Megan,” he told her.
“I already know you probably congratulated him.”
He winced.
“That isn’t what I want you to talk to him about.”
“Then what?”
“You need to tell him he isn’t a freak for not wanting to have sex with a bunch of different women.”
“What the fuck that mean?”
“Just what I said. Not every guy has to be a man whore. CJ is one of those guys.”
“Baby, I know you think the lil’ motherfucker a saint—”
Shaking her head, she laid back in the crook of his arms. “That isn’t it,” she said, and told him about the conversation she had with their boy. “He’s suffering and traumatized. His confidence is completely gone, and no one is giving him a break. You’re the only one who can get through to him.”
“Suppose he really not cut out for the club? Then what?”
“We’ve all been unfair. Not only to him, but all the boys.
Ours as well as our nephews. And I don’t even want to consider how the members and their sons feel.
What about Diesel? We said he’s ours. Our son.
He’s the oldest in that case and no one ever considered him or the role he could and should play in the club.
Is it any wonder he not only feels so insecure but doesn’t see Rebel as his sister? ”
“What the fuck that mean?”
“A lot,” she said and stiffened so fucking much, Christopher knew she was madder than a motherfucker. The more she told him about the scene she overheard and then her confrontation with Diesel and CJ, the angrier she got.
He was going to shoot the fuck out of Diesel and punch the fuck out of CJ. No fucking wonder Axel was panicking so much.
“Leave them alone, Christopher,” Megan ordered, sounding grouchier than that muppet that lived in a garbage can. “By the way, about Celia.”
“We ain’t finished with Diesel.”
“We are. For now. Let’s see how it plays out with Jana. When her and Rebel spend time together, Rebel might be able to get through to her, so she can stand up to that idiot.”
“Rebel the kid. Jana a grown bitch. If she a weak, spineless cunt, that ain’t Rebel’s fucking fault.”
“You’re right, but CJ has a point. I doubt Rebel would desert us for Diesel. She has changed so much in just a few short weeks. She’d know how much it would devastate us if she ran away. However, on the off chance that he’s right, I want to try to do it this way.”
He'd fucking think about.
“I’m going to start taking Rebel on a quarterly mother/daughter trip.”
Christopher stilled. Turned those words over in his head. Repeated them under his breath. “A mother/daughter trip?” he asked aloud, just to be certain he’d heard correctly. “That mean just you and her?”
“For now,” Megan confirmed, without tripping over the words. At least, that would show she didn’t want to fucking leave him. “When Jo’s older, I’ll take her with us.”
“How much older?”
“When she’s about eighteen months.”
“So, you fuckin’ thinkin’ about going away with Rebel once a quarter for fuckin’ ever?” He’d have a fucking heart attack or a stroke every time Megan walked out the door, fearing she wouldn’t return. “Not just the rest of this year?”
“Yes, silly. Forever. Or at least until she says she isn’t interested in going. I think for our first trip I’ll take her back to LA. We can see Rule again and she can shop to her heart’s content on Rodeo Drive.”
“In other fuckin’ words, you liked bein’ the fuck away from me?” He phrased it as a question, even though in his mind, her certainty rang clearly. “You got to do it four fuckin’ times a year.”
“I hated being away from you, Christopher. But Rebel needs me. She needs the safety of talking to me without fearing she’ll be overheard by one of the boys.”
“You can go to fuckin’ Portland for that!”
“That’ll get old and boring really fast,” Megan huffed. “We go to Portland so much, we should have a second home there.”
Horror washed through him. Now, she was talking about a second fucking home?
What the fuck was wrong with her? Didn’t she understand how agonizing and paralyzing their separation was for him?
She’d always understood before. He could count on one fucking hand the number of times she’d left town without him.
Fuck yeah, he’d left her to go on runs over the years. Two or three times, he’d been gone two weeks. Once, it had been nearly a month. Nowadays, though, he usually took her with him. He hated their time apart, a sentiment she’d always echoed.
“Christopher?”
Too outdone to speak, he tightened his hold on her.
“If I could think of any other way, I would. But Rebel needs me and my undivided attention, just like she had in LA.”
“I’m her old man, Megan. You ain’t got to shut me out. The three of us could go places. I’ll stay at the fuckin’ hotel while you and her do shit and bond.”
“Some of our most meaningful conversations took place in the hotel.”
“You fought for her to be equal to the boys. You take those motherfuckers away for mother/son time?”
“Would you let me take them away?”
“Fuck no. We got too many swingin’ dicks in the fuckin’ family. You’d never fuckin’ be home.”
She laughed, but he didn’t because not a fucking thing was funny.