Page 39 of Always My Fate

Blackie straightened, his voice growing stronger. “This club is bigger and tougher than any ghost from the past. We proved that last night. Now we heal our wounded, we tighten our lines, and we get ready for whatever comes next. Because the Freed Riders don’t break. We don’t bend. And we sure as fuck don’t forget.”

He slammed his fist on the table once—hard.

“For the club!”

The room erupted in a unified roar. “For the club!”

On the screen, Horse and his men echoed it loud and proud. From Tyler, Bane and his men added to the cacophony.

Blackie nodded, the weight of leadership sitting heavy but right on his shoulders. He was proud of them.

Humbled by what they’d sacrificed.

And more determined than ever to end this war once and for all.

***

Blackie closed the bedroom door with a quiet click, shutting out the rest of the world. The house had finally gone still after the long day of debriefs, phone calls, and coordinated cleanup. Only the low lamp remained on, bathing Peaches in a soft golden light.

She was waiting for him, propped against the pillows, dark heavy curls spilling over her shoulders and those green eyes watching him with quiet understanding.

He crossed the room, slowly took off his cut and shirt, and slung them to land on top of the dresser. When he climbed onto the bed, he did it with care, stretching out beside her and pulling her gently against him.

“Come here, baby,” he murmured, voice low and rough. “I need you in my arms, safe.”

Their kiss started slow, all kinds of deep and unhurried, as if they had all the time in the world. Blackie poured everything into it: the fear from the night before, the relief of coming home, the bone-deep love he carried for her. His big hands moved with reverence, sliding under her nightshirt to caress the full, taut curve of her belly.

“Jesus, Peaches,” he breathed against her mouth. “You’re so beautiful like this. Carryin’ my son...each new curve, every inch of you...it wrecks me in the best way.”

He was patient, kissing her neck, and traveling across her collarbone. “I can’t wait for Daniel to be here and to have us return to normal in the bed.”

“Blackie, I can take care of you.” She wiggled down flat in the bed and opened her mouth.

“My queen,” he whispered, voice thick. “My strong, perfect woman. Growin’ our boy so well. I love you like this. Love every single part of you.”

Blackie braced himself, pushing up on his arms, hovering over Peaches where she lay against the pillows, her dark hair fanned out like a halo. The doctor’s orders echoed in his head—no sex, nothing that risked her blood pressure spiking—but this...this he could give her. Could take for himself.

He moved slowly, gently sliding the thick head of his cock past her parted lips, letting her tongue welcome him with soft, lazy strokes. “That’s it, baby,” he murmured, voice rough with restraint, one hand gently cupping the side of her face. “Nice and easy. Just feel me.” Peaches hummed around him, eyes half-lidded and warm, her hands resting lightly on his thighs as he rocked with tender patience, savoring the wet heat of her mouth without ever pushing deeper than she could comfortably take.

Every shallow glide was laced with love, a languorous connection that had nothing to do with rushing towards release and everything to do with staying connected. Blackie watched her face for any sign of discomfort, whispering praises between low groans—how beautiful she was carrying his child, how strong, how perfect her mouth and throat felt, with her trusting him like this. Peaches suckled gently, her tongue swirling with sweet devotion, drawing soft sounds from him that filled the quiet room. When the pleasure built too tightly, he pulled back just enough to brush his thumb across her swollen lower lip, breathing hard, heart full of the fierce certainty that he would do anything—anything—to keep her and their baby safe.

“Feel me, darlin’,” he rasped, hovering over her, one hand anchored on the headboard. “Do you know how much I love you? How much I need you. So warm...so perfect for me.”

His rhythm stayed slow and deep even as the coil of pleasure finally snapped. Blackie groaned her name like a prayer, hips stuttering as he spilled across her tongue in thick, pulsing waves.

Peaches took every drop with quiet pride, swallowing around him with soft, devoted pulls of her lips and mouth, her eyes shining up at him with a look that said she was exactly where she wanted to be—cherished, needed, and strong enough to give her man this piece of heaven while her body rested.

When he finally eased back, she licked her lips and smiled, a small, satisfied curve that told him she was proud of how perfectly she’d taken care of him.

Afterward, he slipped down beside her in the bed, curling around her body like a shield. One hand never left her belly as he felt Daniel’s steady kicks, while the other stroked gently through her curls.

“I craved you tonight,” he whispered, voice hoarse with emotion. “After everything...I just needed to feel you. To know we’re still here. Still us.”

Peaches turned her head and kissed him softly. “We’re always going to be solid, Blackie. And in a couple of weeks things will be back to, well, as close to normal with a newborn we can be.”

He held her tighter, the war outside still simmering, but in this moment, with his woman safe in his arms and their son moving between them, everything felt right.

***