Saviour: A Devil's Spawn MC Novel (Savior Book 3) (26 page)

At Pipe’s suggestion, after four and a half hours of storytelling and question and answer time, Priest excused us allowing the brothers to vote on two issues. One was whether we would remain members of the MC, and the second was if we’d retain our current leadership positions. I won’t lie, I was on fucking edge the entire forty minutes they deliberated, and I wasn’t the only one.

All-in-all nineteen fully patched Devil’s Spawn MC members voted that day, and it was a unanimous yes on both counts. We would stay, and the hierarchy would remain unchanged.

As for Priss and I, she moved in within a month of the news going viral around Blackwater, and after a few occasions that had me seeing red, seeking out motherfuckers that were causing her trouble. It was over me no less, so there was nothing for it than for
me
to put a stop to it. And I did, in a very permanent way.

News hit town the way it I expected it would. There were reactions ranging all the way from excitement there were real live “spies”, their word not mine, through to disgust they socialised openly with “narks”, again their word not mine. Priss bore the brunt of that shit, and to say I was fucking furious would’ve been an understatement. She’d had her car keyed, windows smashed, the siding on her house spray painted with the word “whore”. But the last straw for me was when she was grabbed by some asshole at Rough Shod one night as she was making her way through the crowd of people to me.

The asshole has already made himself known to the MC for assaulting a woman outside the bar a few years back. Luckily the woman was left relatively unharmed, but that wasn’t his original intention. It was just sheer dumb luck he was stopped before he could take it too far. She only had a couple of scrapes and bruises for her troubles, she was terrified and saw a counsellor a few times, but otherwise she was okay. None of that mattered to us, Devil’s Spawn doesn’t tolerate violence towards women in
any
form.

Ricky Pointis was lucky he walked away alive after the beating I put on him. After thinking it was okay to put his filthy hands on my woman, I wasn’t so sure he’d be walking away this time. Thankfully, for me, Reaper was there that night talking me off the ledge before I found myself on the opposite side of the bars for a change. Priss wouldn’t have been happy if after all this time we finally get it together, and she has to spend the next twenty-five to life visiting me in prison.

Reaper ended up taking care of it not trusting me in my current state of rage to keep myself under control so as not to kill him. Seeing the bruise forming on Priss’ delicate skin in the shape of a handprint, I’m not surprised but I am grateful, that the next time I saw Ricky out-and-about he was sporting matching casts on both arms. Obviously Reaper feels the same way about women being manhandled as I do.

We later found out Ricky was the one behind all damage done to Priss’ property and possessions. He’s not a fan of law enforcement, apparently being arrested and then incarcerated twice, both for eighteen months will do that to a man. The arrests were just, and both for domestic violence involving his now ex-wife. In hindsight, we did Blackwater a favour, but personally I see it as a public service that we took out the trash, teaching him a lesson he wouldn’t soon forget. Meeting the ends of Reaper’s fist has hopefully curbed his need to take his anger out on defenceless women in the future. I honestly don’t believe he’ll survive another go around with the pissed off biker tattooist if he pulls that shit again.

Priss moving in with me might’ve been a fucking good day, but the day she told me she was carrying my baby trumped any I’ve had to date. She was a week late, so she took a test while I’d gone to check up on the guys I supervise at Chasers. The two assholes that own the place with me refuse to teach the newbies fuck all, so I end up with the unenviable task. They’d get there’s because I was intending on hiring a new body work specialist in the next few months. My area of expertise is mechanical, anything that has moving parts, so those to asshats were going to have to work together to train the new guy. I’d been spending as much time as possible with Priss since getting together slacking on my duties, which Cage reminded me of by calling every ten minutes for three hours solid.

If I hadn’t been in the process of fucking my woman raw, I’d have ridden down and kicked the shit out of him then and there. As it was that’d have to wait. Looking back I should’ve known she was up to something the way she all but pushed me out the door. She did it under the ruse it was to get Cage off my back, and so she could get me back into bed uninterrupted, however I know now that they weren’t the only reasons.

I sped home faster than I should have. It was stupid, but like I said earlier I fucking hate leaving Priss for any reason, and this time was no different. Walking through the door she launched herself at me, I was able to catch her, but only just. At her request I took her into our bathroom where she thrust a white plastic stick at me telling me to look at it. At first I thought she’d lost her mind, what the fuck did I want with a piece of plastic? On closer inspection that piece of plastic turned into the best gift I’ve ever been given.

That afternoon I took my time worshipping the woman that holds my heart, and healed my soul. I kissed every inch of her skin lingering over her abdomen that was now carrying my baby, and I finished by burying my face, then my fingers, followed by my cock deep inside her tight, wet pussy. As much as I wanted to roar with satisfaction, beat my chest and claim my woman I held back, fucking her slowly, gentler than I ever have.

Every touch. Every whimper. Every time she cried out my name. Every orgasm she had that day I catalogued. I wanted to remember that day, memorise everything we did. The next thing I did was call every member of my family, both blood and club that would answer their fucking phones. Originally Priss said she wanted to wait, make sure everything was okay and went to plan before sharing our news. I wasn’t having that. I’ve waited thirty-six years to become a dad, so I was damn sure telling anyone that’d listen.

My mom and dad were ecstatic, promising to come out and visit A-SAP. My brothers were much the same, except Reid, and we all know why that is. He still isn’t over losing Priss to me, not that it was ever a competition and if it was he didn’t stand a chance, but he was slowly coming around to the idea that we’re together, and that isn’t going to changed, ever. The brothers decided to celebrate biker style, going all out to throw the party to end at parties in way of a celebration. I could barely walk or talk the next day, and I think I’m still suffering from alcohol poisoning more than five months later, but it was worth it because that was the day everything changed for Priss and I, and we haven’t looked back since.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Hunter

In The End – Linkin Park

I set Glock a task prior to the party, I may have threatened his life if he didn’t get it organised within the two week timeframe I set him, but he’s alive so he obviously managed to accomplish it.

I promised myself when I had a baby with someone I’d be married to its momma. The fact that I wanted to marry Priss before finding out she was carrying our baby is the most important part to remember, her being pregnant only sped the process up. I had every intention of proposing to Priss the week after she’d taken that pregnancy test. The ring was bought and paid for, sitting in the back of my wardrobe, but she beat me to the punch with her announcement, and I didn’t want her thinking I was only doing it because of the baby. This is where Glock comes in…

Glock’s job was to find someone, anyone, to marry us, get everyone we know to the clubhouse by three in the afternoon, and make sure my brothers remembered to pick up my parents from the airport by midday. You’d think they could manage a few simple instructions, but fuck no. I got six calls by eleven AM, and then one frantic one from my parents when they realised there was no one there to pick them up. Jesus Christ, they’re worse than trying to corralling ADHD toddlers after feeding them cotton candy, and locking them in a bare room for hours on end. All of them had gotten distracted by something else, leaving me to drive the hour there and back to collect my parents with an hour left to spare to get myself ready. Not that I needed a lot of time, I just didn’t want to have to run around all over the countryside the day I was due to get married.

The whole set up was simple, nothing like the detail that was put into Cage and Kendall’s wedding. Even Arrow and V’s reception at the clubhouse had taken a month and a half to plan. I didn’t want it to look like I’d rushed things, was only making it official because of some fucked up sense of morals, but I feared that would be how she saw it.

A small card table was set not far from where we’d tie the knot for signing the relevant documents. Priest got his hands on a marriage license for me at short notice, and Brenna had tried to put together an after celebration with the few pieces of information I’d given her. Things like; Priss’ favourite colour is aquamarine, her dress
has
to be ivory, Priss mentioned once a long time ago that she’d hate to get married in white, it’s too pretentious, and I wanted a short service. That’s all I gave her, everything else was up to Brenna. Food, decorations, drinks, I didn’t care, all I wanted was Priss as my wife and in a few short months a healthy child.

Watching her walk toward me that day took my breath away. The ivory gown Brenna chose fit Priss like a glove, showing off her gorgeous tits, rounding them, pushing them up for my viewing pleasure. Brenna mentioned something about the dress being mermaid style. I had no fucking clue what that meant, but she was stunning in it. With her silky long blonde hair loose, lightly curled and a few pieces gathered away from her face, Priss made the perfect picture of a bride. And she was, my bride. Soon to be my wife. And I couldn’t fucking wait.

I’d opted to wear a suit, but instead of the jacket I replaced it with my cut. The MC is a part of me, a part Priss readily accepted, and it felt right. After everything we’d been through with the club of late to include them in the service somehow felt important.

I saw the tears in her eyes as she got close enough, so I pulled her in close reassuring myself they were happy, that I hadn’t upset her. Telling me that I’d made her the happiest woman alive set my heart soaring. I didn’t believe I could love her more than I did in that moment, but I was wrong. I’ve fallen more in love with my wife every day since.

Our marriage is nothing like mine and Charlee’s. The difference wasn’t that I was no longer in the Navy, or that I was home almost always. The difference between the two is Priss accepts me for who I am, faults and all. She loves me for what we give each other, not what she can take. She gives me solace, peace at the end of a hard day. She’s my saviour when the nightmares creep in on my otherwise restful sleep, which is only possible because she’s lying next to me. They aren’t as frequent these days, and I’m quicker to let the disturbing images go having her in my arms, in our bed every night.

We haven’t spent a night apart since the day her parents showed up, bar one. I had an overnight run, one I couldn’t get out of, and I tried to desperately trust me. I took my name off rotation when it came to runs that would have me gone for a night or more. It isn’t just that I have trouble controlling my baser protective and possessive traits when it comes to her, it’s that I suffer what’s akin to long-term drug use withdrawals if I don’t start, and end my day with her. She knows this and has supported me, but she’s also encouraged me to take the runs if I felt like I needed to ride with the guys. To me unless it was absolutely fucking essential to the other brothers safety that wouldn’t be happening. It didn’t feel right. I couldn’t sleep well without her. I fucking hated it. All good enough reasons in my book not to do it.

Leaning against the dividing wall that separates our kitchen and dining room, I watch her intently as she sways her hips to the beat of whatever song she has on today. Every night my woman cooks dinner, and while she’s doing it she plays her shitty playlist, and dances around the kitchen while making a mess the likes I’ve never seen. I swear, she can use every pot and pan in the house to make a simple pasta dish. But as long as she’s happy, greeting me like she always does, with a kiss that has me hard in seconds, leaving me that way until I can take care of it using her gorgeous body later, I don’t care what she fucking has blaring out of the iPod dock.

Priss lets out an adorable shriek when she turns noticing I’m home.

“Holy shit Hunter, you scared the crap out of me.” One hand is clutching at her chest, the other resting protectively over our son. Yes, we’re having a boy. There was no convincing me to wait so that it could be a surprise like Priss wanted. I needed to know. I wanted warning, time for preparation if we were having a girl. It’s bad enough that even six months pregnant my wife is checked out by every man whose path she crosses.

They stare at her tits, her ass, her sexy as fuck legs, regardless of if I’m on her arm or not. It doesn’t matters to them that she’s sporting a perfectly rounded beach ball for a stomach. My wife is stunning, and during her pregnancy she’s only gotten more fucking beautiful.

Her skin glows. Her hair’s shinier, I didn’t know that was possible, but there you have it. And her curves are even more delectable, it’s a daily struggle to keep my hands off her. Restraining myself from bending her over every surface we pass is getting harder and harder as the days go on.

Speaking of hard.

“You got something for me?” We’ve had the same routine for months now. If she doesn’t jump into my arms immediately after I walk in the door I make damn sure she isn’t out of them longer than absolutely necessary.

Closing the distance between us Priss wraps herself around me as I take in her sweet subtle scent. The way she feels nestled into me. The feeling of my son kicking against my abs. Pressing her lips to the base of my throat she asks,

“Did everything go okay today? You look stressed Baby.”

“Yeah, Beautiful everything’s good. Didn’t go as planned, but we worked it out.” Placing my hand over her swollen belly I enquire, “How’s my boy doing today? Not giving you too much trouble?”

Lately, Axton Hunter Adams, (I got to choose his given name and what better than to have one he can shorten to use as a road name later?), has been giving my wife hell. If it’s not heartburn bad enough to bring tears to her eyes, it’s him kicking her so hard her ribs ache even hours later. Kissing my lips softly she nuzzles back into my chest.

“Nope, he’s been good all day. Maybe he’s getting used to being squashed in there.”

Running her hands up and down my back under my tee I feel the resurgence of my ever present, when she’s within ten feet of me, erection. My decision’s made for me, and in less than two minutes I have her sitting naked on the kitchen counter spread out for me like a feast. And I intend to do just that, feast on her. Devour her until she’s begging me to put her out of her misery, if I make it that far. I’ll be the first to admit that I have serious issues when it comes to delayed gratification.

Ripping my tee over my head I unbuckle my belt, and unbutton the first button of my jeans. My boots and socks I toed off earlier while I was ravaging her mouth. She’s kissing my chest, using her fingers to caress over the date inked into the centre of my tribal sun.

A few months ago she finally asked me what it stood for, what it represented. I’m genuinely surprised it took her that long. Priss is naturally curious, and has difficulty waiting a minute to ask a question, let alone years. Eight years ago I fell in love with the woman I’d spent my life waiting for, two weeks later I had the date I met her inked permanently in my skin. When I told my woman what it meant to me, how much it means to me now she’s mine, Priss spent the next hour paying extra special attention to my chest, and has done ever since.

Bending down I draw a line from the bottom of her ear all the way down to her belly button feeling her entire body shudder with need. I don’t keep her waiting long before I trace the pink folds of her pussy, drawing, feeding, lavishing attention on every inch of perfect hot flesh.

Her moans, the way she’s pulling, clutching, tearing at my hair has me sucking her clit into my mouth, and shoving two fingers deep inside her. We learned early on that I have to prep her before the main event, I can’t drive into her spontaneously, Priss is too tight for that. I need to stretch her, make room for me to plunge into her. She’s rotating her hips against my hand writhing on the counter, desperate to cum.

Scooping her up I’m glad I had the forethought to leave my pants mostly done up. Striding the length of the hallway I deposit her on the centre of our bed, and watch as her hand immediately takes up where I left off. Watching my wife finger fuck herself has me undressing in record time, ditching my clothes in a pile on the floor, where I’m sure they’ll stay until the morning. I have no intention of letting Priss out of our bed until it’s unavoidable.

Snatching her hand away from her cunt I lick her fingers clean, savouring the taste that’s so uniquely her. The taste I crave on my tongue every hour of every day. The taste I can’t get enough of. Sucking the last of her cream off her fingers I brace myself above her. I’m more aware of my size now than I ever have been. Not my cock, although that has caused me more than my fair share of concerns about whether I could hurt her, or the baby.

My build isn’t small or average, I’m a big guy, and the last thing I want is to cause her pain. I’m forever making sure I don’t make her take too much of my weight, afraid I’ll put too much pressure on something I shouldn’t.

Staring into her eyes I take both of her hands in one of mine bracing them over her head. With her hands captured I line my cock up with the entrance of her dripping wet pussy, and with my free hand spread her juices down my shaft to ease my entry. Rubbing my cockhead over her clit, up and down, I push my way in slowly giving her pussy time to accommodate me, get wetter for me, show me she’s ready for me.

“Now Hunter, please now,” she begs sweetly. Far be it for me to deny her.

Thrusting inside her halfway feels like heaven. She’s everything I dreamed she would be. Perfection. Working the full length of my cock inside her takes too long in his opinion, but not long enough in mine. I always want more time with her. More time on, in, around her. More everything. Finally all the way inside, caressing her cervix from the outside, I grind my hips into hers making sure not a fraction of my cock misses out on the experience.

Eyes meeting, staying locked on each other, our hands now intertwined, our breathing in sync, and our hearts beating in time, with our bodies so perfectly connected I say,

“I love you Beautiful. More than I’ll ever be able to show you. You’re it for me. My forever.”

Her body stills, with wide aqua eyes, blonde hair spread out over our pillows framing her beautiful face, body moving again in time with mine she replies saving me all over again.

“You’ve always been my only forever.”