AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Always at his side.
My chest is heaving as I suck in deep lungfuls of air. It’s like I can’t catch my breath, but I know it’s simply because everything feels different in this moment.
The smile Crosby gives me is sweet and caring, full of nurturing pride and adoration.
When he rolls us, he doesn’t pull out of me and the fullness of having his cock still inside of me along with his warm cum has my pussy clenching his length. He grunts in response as he positions me until I’m draped over his large frame comfortably. Well, at least until my hips start to burn because he might taper down to his hips, but the man is still wide and I’m out of practice when it comes to riding.
You can’t just jump back onto that saddle. It’s much better if you work up to it. And maybe stretch beforehand.
I chuckle against the hot skin of his chest, my eyes roaming over his tattoo that covers the entire ball of his shoulder and then travels down the length of his arm. I didn’t allow myself the luxury of studying it the first time we were together. That would have been far too intimate.
And my mind was already littered with memories of our time together, I didn’t want to add even more to the mix.
Not that it mattered in the end because I couldn’t forget a single thing about the man, and I certainly couldn’t keep him at arm’s length.
Crosby’s large hand runs up and down my spine, relaxing me while keeping me right on the edge of arousal. His chest vibrates under my cheek with his words, “What are you thinking about, Firefly?”
“Us,” I tell him honestly, “and how I could have fucked everything up because I was lying to myself about how I feel about you.”
Crosby makes a humming sound, his hand stilling for a moment as he listens to my words. “I wouldn’t have let that happen, Sioux. You have to believe that.”
I prop my chin on his chest and look up into his eyes. “I do,” I tell him honestly. “But that doesn’t mean I couldn’t have lost whatever this thing is between us.”
He arches an eyebrow, challenging me to give it a name because we both know what that is. My eyebrows are much more manicured than his, which makes my arch better. Everyone who is anyone would agree; I’m sure.
Crosby laughs and shakes his head in admonishment which is hard to take seriously when a small smile plays on his lips. “I’m going to let you off that hook. For now,” his words are ominous, but they don’t make me afraid.
No, they make me giddy instead.
I rest my head back on his chest and the beating of his heart lulls me into a state of blissful relaxation that I’ve been hard pressed to find since the day I was shot.
It’s strange to have such a definitive moment in your life that you can measure time against. There was the time before I was shot. And then there’s after.
I’m not sure I’ll ever completely be the person I was before. How could I when our experiences—traumatic ones as well as ones full of celebration—shape us into the people we become. We’re ever evolving as life moves forward and we continue to exist.
“Tell me what happened,” I prod him gently.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Sioux,” he hedges.
But what he doesn’t do is outright refuse me, which is kind of what I expected him to do. I trace patterns on his skin, loving the way his body shudders underneath me.
“Really,” he doesn’t let up, “I don’t think it would be a good idea for you to know the details.”
I sit up abruptly and try to scramble off my man as anger surpasses my need to comfort him and listen to his problems. Before I’m even able to climb off his large body, his hands are holding me tight and he’s begging me to listen without words.
When I let out a huff of indignation, he barely stops himself from grinning. But, from the way he keeps looking away from me, I know it’s only a matter of time before he lets the whole story out. We stay like this, watching each other and waiting to see if the other is going to crack.
I know I’m not going to be the one who gives first. This has to be him, and I have a feeling that I might not like what he’s about to say, but that I need to hear it.
“It’s taken the Riding Rebels,” I tense when he mentions the name of the club that Anarchy used to lead before his untimely demise, and his jaw clenches while his eyes blaze with exactly why he didn’t want to share with me in the first place, “some time to get their shit together and put new leadership in place.”
“It’s taken this long?” I can’t help the question as my face twists up in confusion.
It’s been months. I can’t imagine the DSMC taking so long for the leadership to change over. Isn’t this why there’s a VP and other positions in the first place?
Crosby grunts and runs his fingers through my hair to sooth me. And damn it, it works like a charm. I relax back into his chest and allow the beating of his heart to punctuate his words.
“They’re fuck-ups, Firefly. Don’t forget that. After what,” he pauses and I know it’s because he’s reliving that moment the same way I do sometimes, “happened at the Poker Run, Lucifer has made sure to be aware of what they’re up to. For a long time, they just jostled over power, but we knew it wouldn’t last forever because of their ties to Martinez and his organization.”
