Authors: Catherine Johnson
He had ahold of her hips, not caring if he hurt her, and bent until he could nip at her nipples as he pulled her body onto cock as he thrust into her. Her pussy was tight and hot and wet. It was heaven.
She had her nails in his forearms. Fuck, he loved that, the scratch and sting. But she was meeting him, thrust for thrust. That wasn’t what he wanted.
He brought his hand up between them, and pushed down on the center of her chest, on her solar plexus, until she was lying flat over the desk, on the piles of crumpled papers that he didn’t give a shit about. Her hair had come loose and was flowing like a waterfall over the opposite edge. He held her in place, with a palm on her chest and a grip on her hips, as he fucked her.
He felt the shift in her body as she relaxed and let him have her. She stopped trying to meet him, to compete with him, and let him take her.
But the look in her eyes nearly floored him.
She knew exactly what she was doing, what he was doing. She was giving him what he wanted. It didn’t lessen the win, it heightened it.
He wanted to show her who was boss. He’d wanted to see submission in her eyes as well as feel it in her body. But even though her eyes were shaded by half-closed lids, her lips slightly parted as she gasped with each brutal thrust, there was something in her gaze. The only word Dizzy’s wild, lust-muddied mind could come up with was ‘regal’.
He slammed into her harder, bruising his thighs on the edge of the desk with the violence of his possession, as he tried to fuck the attitude out of her, needing to dominate her. But that assertive look in her eyes was his undoing, especially when she bowed, nearly leaving the desk completely, her head tipping back, as she came. He felt the orgasm rip through her and let his own climax burst with it.
As they came down from the blinding heights of ecstasy, as they were still trying to drag air into their lungs, Dizzy decided where he wanted to put his ink on her. He wanted to be able to see it when they fucked like this.
He stroked between her breasts and trailed his fingers over her ribs under each full orb, still straining out of the twisted confines of her bra. It would be painful, she wouldn’t thank him for it, but he was sure he could persuade her. It wasn’t like she had a lot of actual real estate left to bargain with since her back was covered.
Fuck, the idea of seeing his mark on her there, while he was buried in her to the hilt, was hot as fuck.
“You got that out of your system now?” She asked, her tone saucy.
At that little half smile Dizzy flexed his still mostly-solid cock inside her. Thea moaned and twisted.
He had to pull out or they’d be fucking over the desk all night. Which, in theory, was possible. Clarice had asked to take Josh for the night. On the condition that he checked in by text every so often on the phone that Dizzy had given him, Thea had agreed.
“Not in the least, sweetheart. Thought I’d take you home for round two, though.”
“Bet you give up first, cowboy.”
Later that night, or rather early the next morning, Thea was lying on her stomach in their bed while Dizzy traced the lines of the ink that flowed over her back.
She’d cried for mercy first. The effort had nearly killed him, but it had been worth it.
Dizzy wasn’t given over to vanity much, apart from his attachment to his Stetson, which had been forged when his father had put his first one on his head before he was even walking. But lying next to Thea, a pale canvas covered in wondrous art, he was struck by the contrast between the soft perfection of her body and his own rough, scarred hide. As Fitz had prophesied, they now looked like twins with their matching collection of scars. The difference being, Fitz had taken years to accumulate his. Dizzy had earned the majority of his in less than half a day.
But Thea didn’t seem to mind. No, she didn’t seem to mind at all.
Dizzy had his head propped in the palm of one hand, resting on one bent arm. His other hand was making lazy patterns on her back. He was enjoying finding the random spots that made her skin shiver and her body shudder.
Thea had been resting her head on her folded arms, but she shifted now, and reached over, stroking the lower edge of his ink that was the collection of skulls massed over his bicep and down to mid-forearm. That ink was his ledger of his time with the Priests. St Peter would take that ink as evidence, right before he slammed those pearly gates shut.
“What does this mean? I get the club ink, but I’ve been wonderin’ ‘bout this.” Her voice was thick with fatigue.
“That’s been a work in progress for the better part of twenty years, sweetheart.”
She circled a couple of the skeletal faces individually with her fingertip. He was beginning to think that she made him feel younger than was good for his health. He wondered if she’d ask him for more details. He didn’t want to have to spell it out that each skull was a person he’d killed in the name of the club. Random acts of violence didn’t count, neither did traitors. Her ex from the Rabid Dogs hadn’t warranted being etched into his skin. These were the people who’d meant something, who for various reasons, Dizzy didn’t think should be forgotten. He could lay a name, or at least a face, to each skull.
“You still want my ink?” He asked her.
The exhaustion was gone, replaced by sharp anger as she pushed up to lean on her elbows. “Really? You really just asked that? You....”
He cut her off with a kiss. “Sorry, sweetheart. I’m sorry.” He mumbled against her lips.
“So you fuckin’ should be, doubtin’ me like that.” She kissed him, a light press of lips. “It’s an angel, right? Where’d you want to put it?”
“Yeah, that’s right.”
He pushed on her shoulder until she rolled over onto her back. He moved over her until he was kneeling between her legs. As he parted her thighs to make way for him, her eyes grew hot.
Maybe they weren’t that tired after all.
He put his hands on her ribcage, just under her breasts, bracketing them between his thumbs and forefingers. His palms were flat against her skin, his thumbs overlapping.
Her lips parted, and she arched and twisted. His cock began to respond to the proximity of her pussy.
“That’s gonna sting like a bitch.” The ire was gone. Her voice was the low, breathless gasp that he loved.
“Yeah, it will.”
She put her hands over his. She let them lie there for a moment, then she moved her palms up to cup her own breasts, catching her nipples between her fingertips.
“Okay. I can take it.”
He reached for another condom. Yes, yes she could.
Thea had approached him with the idea of a Christmas party for the club the day after they’d returned from the last run. Only Nut and Ferret had any family to call their own in the state, and even then, for Ferret it was just him and Lyla.
Thea had wanted to do a meal with all the trimmings at the clubhouse. She wanted to get everyone involved. She wanted to invite the club girls, and Annelle and her girls. She’d planned to persuade them to help with the cooking and the decorating, she was derisive about the men’s abilities in those respects, but she wanted everyone to eat together as the family that they were.
Dizzy had thought it was an excellent idea and given her free rein to organize it as she wanted.
Shaggy and Scooby had gone AWOL with the club van on the morning of Christmas Eve, only to return with a ridiculously large tree strapped to the top of it. Thea had directed them where to set it up in the clubhouse, having moved the furniture around to her own satisfaction.
Then she’d dispatched the duo to keep Josh occupied and out from under everyone’s feet while she, Britney and Dana had spent the afternoon in the kitchen preparing as much of the food as possible in advance. Reba had turned up, looking a little too glassy-eyed to be allowed near a hot stove. Thea had set her up in the main room with small mountains of vegetables and various containers on peeling duty.
Dizzy had wondered if the tree was going to sit there undecorated throughout the festivities, but both his little demons had slapped him around the ears and kept him from actually asking the question out loud.
He’d been glad that he’d held his tongue.
Long after Josh had fallen asleep on one of the sofas, Annelle and the girls had arrived after closing the Dusky Kitten a little early for the night. Lyla, Myla, Lucy and Alex had all been wearing skimpy little Christmas Elf outfits. Dizzy had thought that was amusing as all get out, until after disappearing with Annelle, Thea re-appeared decked out in a similar fashion, carrying boxes of baubles and lights for the tree.
He’d let her get everyone started on the decorating, then he’d thrown her over his shoulder and carried her off to his old dorm room to sound of catcalls and laughter – muted with a little restraint so that they didn’t wake Josh. There was no way she could just walk around with that little fur-trimmed skirt and those striped stockings and not get the living daylights fucked out of her. She’d even had her unruly hair tied in pigtails, for fuck’s sake.
The next morning they’d had some quiet time early on, just the three of them. Thea had made a full breakfast, and they’d opened their gifts to each other in the privacy of their own home. Then they’d dressed up, packed up what they needed to and headed over to the clubhouse.
It had been manic, festive craziness. Thea, Annelle and Lyla seemed to have a handle on what was going on, which was good because no one else did. Everyone else just did what they were told to when they were told to do it, but it had worked out just fine. Thea had arranged the tables into a rough circle so that no one was out of sight of each other while they were eating.
It had been chaotic and loud and perfect. Crosby, Sinatra, Martin and all the other Christmas classics had been playing on repeat. The food had been delicious and the alcohol had flowed freely. There were still piles of crumpled wrapping paper and knotted ribbon around the room like drifted snow. For some reason that Dizzy had not yet gotten to the bottom of, there were two inflatable reindeer, both taller than Josh, guarding the tree.
It was a good thing that they’d still had the air mattresses from the lockdown, because by the time they were done, Josh was the only one sober enough to drive anywhere, and Dizzy wouldn’t testify to that. He suspected that Shaggy had been sneaking Josh sips of Jack during the meal; the boy had crashed out suspiciously early.
And now here they all were, lounging around like any other huge, disparate family. Well, maybe not. Shaggy was being blown by Britney, who was wearing one of the little elf outfits, and Dana was suspiciously comfortable in Easy’s lap. Alex and Cage hadn’t been listening to a word that anyone had said for at least the last half hour. Dizzy was glad he’d carried Josh into one of the dorm rooms after he’d passed out. There were things happening in this room that no ten-year-old needed to see outside of Biology class.
But even with the rampant sexual shenanigans, the conversation, laughter and drinking had carried on. Dizzy shifted in his seat. Thea was tucked into his side, his arm around her shoulders. She was wearing a red dress that looked like something a glamorous Fifties actress might have worn, all fitted up top and lots of material in the skirt. It was classy and sexy as hell and it was his favorite color on her, which she damn well knew, and she was currently running those slim fingers of hers under his shirt along the waistband of his jeans.
Dizzy took one last look at the happy anarchy. Everything was as it should be. His soul was at peace.
His cock, however, was not. It was feeling distinctly left out and ignored. He disentangled himself from Thea and stood. She was starting to pout, but he held out his hand to her, and she smiled instead. The look of excited hunger in her glittering eyes had his cock stiffening to an uncomfortable fullness. She took his hand and he led her out of the room to the dorms.