The Cut by Carol Lynne: Kings of Bedlam MC Series, Book One (13 page)

She picked up the fork and speared several of the fluffy yellow mounds before holding it to his lips. “Is that your subtle way of asking me to feed you?”

He ran his free hand up under her shirt to squeeze her breast. “My hands are full.”

She leaned against his chest as she followed the eggs with a slice of bacon. The cool cloth on her pussy felt fantastic, but his attention to her tits was making her wet. “I could get used to this.”

“I’m counting on it.” He removed the cloth from her raw skin and fit it under her ass before reaching for the lube. “This’ll help, too.” He poured lube onto his fingers as she continued to feed him. “You should be fine tonight, but keep applying lube to the chafed areas today.” He smeared the lube on the outside of her pussy lips before separating them to take care of her most intimate parts. When he zeroed in on her clit, her entire body jerked.

“Oh, fuck,” she panted, dropping the fork onto the table.

With another deep chuckle, he continued to pluck and rub her clit as her body bucked against him. “Push the dishes to the other side of the table.”

She looked up at him. “What’re you going to do?”

“Your delicate pussy isn’t the only thing that’s sore, is it?” he asked.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
He was going to touch her ass again. She didn’t move right away, and he scowled. “I thought you enjoyed what I did last night?”

“I did, but we were in bed, and the lights were off.” She cursed herself for acting like such a virgin. She had no doubt Stake had done a number of things with other women. Most of which, she would probably find shocking, and she knew if she didn’t do everything to keep him satisfied, he’d go elsewhere. As she pushed away the plates, she reminded herself that she had liked the feel of his tongue on her asshole. She simply needed to get over her embarrassment and let loose with him. “Okay.”

“Take off your T-shirt, and lay on your back,” he ordered, lifting her onto the table to face him.

When she pulled the shirt over her head, the loose knot she’d tied her hair in to cook fell out, leaving it to tumble down.

“Goddamn,” he growled. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” His gaze traveled from her face to her tits before roaming further south to her pussy. He shook his head. “I don’t deserve you.”

The statement surprised her, but made her more determined than ever to give him what he wanted. The more she gave of herself, the hornier he seemed to get. She decided to put her fears and embarrassment aside and embrace the sexual woman inside her that had waited too long to be with the man she loved. Lying back on the table, she rested her feet on the edge. With a grin, she spread her legs wide open, giving him a view of what his five o’clock shadow had done to her.

“Oh, babe.” He leaned in and licked her pussy, despite the lube he’d already used on her.

She was thankful he had taken the time to shave before setting down for breakfast. He drew back and reached for the lube. “I’m dying to fuck you, but I won’t let myself.”

For that, she was only slightly grateful. “Later?” she asked, praying she’d never again have to go a night without his cock. She really was turning into a slut, but she supposed it didn’t really count if it was with Stake.

He dripped cold lube onto her chafed skin and rubbed it around with a light touch. “Is this okay?”

“Mmm hmm,” she answered, unable to form words while she squirmed with pleasure. She reached for her tits and began squeezing her hardened nipples.

When Stake’s lubed fingers circled her asshole, she gasped. “Someday, I’d like to try fucking you here.” He pressed the tip of his thumb against her puckered opening until it pushed inside.

“Oh,” she gasped again as he pushed further into her.

With his thumb buried inside her ass, he used tip of his middle finger to press against her clit. The combination skyrocketed her into a climax, stealing her breath. She pressed a hand to her chest and fought for air as the orgasm ripped through her.

Stake noticed her distress and gathered her in his arms. “Babe. Breathe,” he soothed, peppering her face with kisses. He pulled her off the table and cradled her on his lap. “It’s okay.”

Although her body continued to experience small quakes, her breathing slowly returned to normal. “What the hell was that?” she panted.

“Evidently, a damn good orgasm.” He kissed her forehead. “You scared the shit outta me.”

She nodded and opened her eyes. “Wow.”

* * * *

Two days later, Stake found Santana sitting on the back porch swing he’d put up for her the previous evening. He handed her a beer and sat beside her. “I have to go to San Antonio on Thursday, but I thought you might want to take the trip to the cemetery tomorrow. If we leave early enough, we should be there and back before dark.”

She took a sip of her beer. “I don’t think I’m ready to go to the cemetery.” She lifted his arm and draped it over her as she snuggled against his side. “I may never be ready.”

“What about your mom’s ashes?” He understood that she was still processing the realization that her own father had been attracted to her, but he wanted her to have the closure with Ellie that he felt she needed.

She buried her face against his chest. “Is it wrong that I don’t care about what happens to them? I keep thinking about how miserable she made my life, and a part of me wants to defy her wishes in death.” She looked up at Stake. “I’ve never been to Dad’s grave, and I don’t think I’m ready. When he killed that cop, he killed my future, not that he gave a shit because the club always came first.” Her eyes drifted shut as she hugged Stake. “For the first time in my life, I don’t want to worry what either of them would think of my actions. I’m doing this for me, because it’s what I need right now.”

He wanted to tell her about Cecil’s involvement in the shooting, but club business was just that, and telling her the truth would only put her in jeopardy. He kissed the top of her head. “When you’re ready, just let me know.”

She nodded but didn’t look at him or speak.

Their peaceful moment was interrupted by the sound of a car in the driveway. “I swear I’m going to put up a damn security gate,” he mumbled.

Santana’s body went rigid. “Do you think they’re here for me?”

He gave her a deep kiss before getting to his feet. “Stay here, and I’ll get rid of whoever it is.” He jumped off the porch and walked around to the side of the cabin. As soon as he saw the cherry red Crossfire, he groaned.

When he saw no sign of Rachel, he stalked to the front of the house. There she was in all her bleached and silicone glory. “What’re you doing here?” he asked before she could knock on the front door.

Rachel spun around to face him. “Dad told me you have that Rogers slut living here. I came by to see if it was true.” She came toward him with fire in her bright blue eyes.

He held up his hand. “Get off my property,” he warned, so pissed he wanted to wrap his hands around her neck and squeeze. “And if I ever hear you refer to Santana that way again, I’ll forget you’re a woman.”

Crossing her arms, Rachel purposely tried to display her big, fake tits to their best advantage. “Everyone’s talking about how you’ve gone crazy over that bitch. How do you think that makes me feel?”

Stake tilted his head from side to side, popping his neck, in an attempt to control his anger. Unfortunately, it didn’t work. He grabbed her by the upper arm in a bruising grip and jerked her toward her car as he walked. Santana had suffered years of verbal abuse from people like Rachel, and he be goddamned if he’d let her taint the home he was trying to build with Santana. He opened the door with such force he was surprised the metal didn’t buckle, but he wouldn’t have given a shit if it had. He caught Santana out of the corner of his eye and knew she was watching and probably wondering who Rachel was.

Before shoving Rachel back in her car, he leaned in until they were nose to nose so only she could hear him. “If you ever bring your skank ass to my home again, I’ll fucking kill you. And if I ever hear you talking about Santana, I’ll tell the whole club that you’re pussy’s rancid shit, and they should stay away.” He grinned at the disbelieving expression on her face. “Yeah, even your father. I think he deserves to know just what a whore his perfect, little princess is.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” she spat.

With his hands braced on the roof of the car, he leaned down. “You should be, but in case you really believe I won’t lay a hand on you because you’re a woman, maybe I’ll give Santana back her knife and tell her what you said about her.”

Rachel’s face went pale. Before she could spout more venom, he stepped back and slammed her door shut. He stood there until she peeled out of his drive before turning to face Santana. “I’m sorry about that.”

Without a word, she turned and disappeared around the back of the house.

“Shit.” With a sigh, he went after her. He jumped onto the porch to find she’d resumed her seat on the swing. He wasn’t good at apologies, but he knew he owed her one, so he dropped down beside her. “That was Rachel, Magic’s daughter,” he began.

“Yeah. I remember her. I’m assuming she’s one of your girlfriends?”

“No.” He stretched his arm across the back of the swing and buried his fingers in her hair. “I fucked her a couple of times, but that’s all it was. I told her that at the time and a couple since. Had I known she was a batshit crazy bitch, I’d have never done it the first place.” He slid his hand down to Santana’s shoulder and pulled her closer. “I’m sorry she came here, but she won’t be back.” He knew he needed to prepare her for future run-ins, though. “If she ever tries to give you a hard time, you need to take that bitch down. It’s the only way you’ll earn the respect of the other old ladies.”

“I’m used to being on the receiving end of pain, so I’m not sure I could intentionally hurt someone.” Her breath caught with a tiny gasp. “I hurt Gordon.” She covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh my God, I just realized that.”

He tilted her chin up. “Don’t. Gordon deserved everything he got and more. Do not blame yourself.”

She shook her head. “I don’t. It’s just hard to believe that I fought back for the first time in my life.” Tears filled her eyes. “I’ve been worried that something was wrong with me because I didn’t feel bad about what happened to me, but I think I just realized that I didn’t see myself as a victim because I fought back,” she said, drawing the last three words out.

“Fuck.” He ran his fingers through his hair in an attempt to get it off his face. He’d thought only of the attack on her not what she’d done to protect herself. “You’re right,” he agreed.

“I need you to teach me how to shoot a gun,” she proclaimed, squaring her shoulders.

There was something in the tone of her voice that bothered him…resolve maybe? “I’ll teach you, but are we talking self-defense, or are you going to go on some sort of rampage against everyone who’s ever hurt you?”

Santana bit her bottom lip. “There’s only one person I plan to get even with.”

“No!” he growled. “I told you, I’ll take care of Gordon. As soon as the heat dies down a bit, he’ll get what’s coming to him.”

She straddled his lap and faced him. “And if you get caught?” Tears filled her eyes. “You’ve shown me more kindness in a week than I’ve ever known. Losing you isn’t something I can survive.”

He grabbed her ass and pulled her closer, smashing his mouth against hers. He put all the love he had for her into the kiss, trying like hell to convey with actions how deeply his feelings went. For the first time in his life, he felt loved, and he would do anything for her. How the hell could he make her understand?

He broke the kiss, and rested his forehead on her shoulder. Fuck, he wished he was good with words. Maybe if he shared a piece of himself, she would realize that she was the only woman who could break down his defenses. It wouldn’t be enough, he knew that, but it was a start. “You know that biker names are given, right?”

“Yeah, well, I know Dad got his because he was a petty smash and grab hoodlum in his younger days.”

“Do you know where I got mine?” he asked. He’d never told anyone the story he was about to share with her.

“No.” She ran her fingers through his hair, knowing the action always soothed him.

“My name’s Jakob, but ever since I could remember, my mom’s called me Stake. I thought it was cool when I started school because I was the only kid in kindergarten with a biker name.” He took a breath, needing a moment to compose himself. “When I was in the fifth grade, we had to draw a family tree, but I had no idea who my father was. I went home after school, and my mom was drinking. I think her newest boyfriend was there, but I don’t remember who he was.”

He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. They never stayed, anyway. So, I start asking my mom questions because my project was due the next day. She told me she didn’t know who my father was, and that I was a drunken
mistake
that should’ve never happened, which is where my nickname came from.” It took everything he had to breathe after admitting to the woman he loved that his own mom still considered him a mistake.

“I’ll never call you Stake again,” she whispered into his ear. She’d always hated Stake’s mom, but now she had even more reason to detest the woman. “I guess I never paid attention to the way it was spelled because I always thought it was the brothers teasing you because the ladies thought you were a hot piece of meat.” She hugged him tight. “Which, by the way, I’ve always agreed with.”