Brawler (31 page)

Keeping it brief, telling him what I know, he calls it in, requests the security tapes from the front of the building to see if we can get any leads, and I take her phone, forwarding the photos she took. Holding her hand, I disconnect and try to calm the fuck down so I can get her home safely. Finally, she takes a deep breath, then scrunches her nose while reaching under her. She pulls out the bear I bought her, looks at it, and starts crying all over again.

Pulling my truck over, throwing the hazards on, I try to calm her down. “Princess, why are you crying now?” I ask her.

Sniffling and rubbing her eyes, she pouts so adorably I want to pull her into my lap.

“I squished my present!”

“It’s stuffed,” I remind her. “Probably didn’t feel a thing.”

Suddenly the tears dry up, her eyes narrow, and she takes a deep breath. “Those motherfuckers threatened my baby!” she growls.

“I know, Princess, I’ve got —”

“I want the surveillance tapes as soon as possible, get a warrant or something. I want to review it so we can come up with a plan. They knew my name, what I looked like, and that I am pregnant. I want to know who they are and who they’re working for. Then I want to —”

Pulling her mouth to mine is the only thing I can do. Jesus, she could have been a cop. I also could have lost her, too, which is riding me hard right now. Priority one, getting her home and under me.

Wasting no time, we make it back. Opening her door, I pick her up, even the bear, and carry her into the house. Setting her on the couch, I kick my shoes off, toss my keys, wallet, gun, and badge, not caring where they land, and straddle her hips. Her eyes are big but clouded with lust for me, and that’s all I care about.

Connecting with her, feeling her, reminding myself I made it in time, she defended herself, she’s safe, she’s home, she’s fucking here right now, is what’s driving me to be more aggressive than I’ve ever been.

Not bothering with small talk or words of seduction, I lean in to suck on her bottom lip which earns me a whimper. Hearing it, feeling it, I need her like this. She’s helpless except for what I can give her, only me. When she reaches for me, I grab both hands and secure them above her head. Holding both wrists with my left hand I undress her blindly, savagely, and quickly with my right. I didn’t take my time; I ripped that shit straight off her body and she let me.

Within seconds she’s bared to me. She’s so fucking beautiful it hurts. Staring first, then touching, I can’t slow myself down. Taking my knees I force her legs apart. She doesn’t put up a fight; she just lets them fall open. Dropping to my knees on the carpet, I trust her to keep her hands where I put them. Placing one hand possessively on her belly I use the other to spread her open, wide enough to receive my mouth.

I can’t wait to taste her anymore. To swallow her. This belongs to me; I own it. So I take it. Sucking, pulling, licking, and yes, even biting, I claim her here, my mouth in her pussy. Every moan, thrash, and whimper belongs to me. I own it. I decide when she gets it.

Once I feel her explode on my tongue, I swallow it, savor it, and let it wash through me. Taking her wrists back, I guide them to my cock. She takes it, owns it, makes it her own. Pulling me closer she takes me down the back of her throat without question, knowing I wouldn’t settle for less. I’ve never fucked anyone’s mouth before, but I’m sure as shit fucking hers right now. I’m holding my release back, desperate to fuck every hole she has. She’s gagging, but she ain’t quitting, and I love her all the more for it. When I decided she’s had enough, I pull back, stand up, and pull her down the cushion, flip her over part her legs, and take her from behind.

I’m taking her harder than I ever have. Every thrust is with purpose, every slap of my balls against her skin sends my need higher. I tell myself to slow down, she’s pregnant and delicate, but I can’t. I want to make her pregnant again and again. I want to fuck her straight into her throat. I need her to know that losing her would destroy me. Wreck me. I’d put a goddamn bullet in my head if I lost her. I fuck her because I love her so fucking much; I want her to know no one will ever fucking love her like I do. Taking my hands, I push down on her back so I can get more leverage, get in there deeper. Needing her to come on me again I do something I’ve never done before. I smack her ass hard, hard enough that she is screaming from it. Seeing my handprint there on her perfect skin make me want to do it again, so I fucking do. Just as hard, wanting that scream.

Close to coming, claiming her, and fucking her to death, I grab her hair, forcing her to arch her back so I can take her mouth. She gives it to me without a fight, I fucking knew she would. She gives me everything. My body is on fire, my cock is ready to burst, so just before I let it all go I release her mouth, move to her shoulder, and just before I bite down I give it all to her.

“You won’t ever leave me,” I growl. “Fucking say it.”

“I won’t ever leave you.”

“I protect you, fucking say it.”

“You protect me.”

“You’ll fucking marry me and love me forever, fucking say it.”

“I’ll marry you and love you forever.”

“Beg me to own you, Princess.”

“Jonas please…”

“Beg me! Fucking do it!”

“Oh god, own me, Jonas.”

“Not good enough,” I tell her, fucking her so hard neither of us will walk for a week.

“Fucking own me!”

Sealing my lips over her shoulder I bite down hard, she screams, and I come so hard my legs seize up and I fall on her back, remembering to roll us onto our sides at the last minute. Seconds pass and I’m still coming. My body jerks at random times, but still the aftershock feels fucking good. As the last shock eases I’m able to breathe, to relax, and hold her. Wrapping myself around her, I hold on for dear life. I can never let her go and I can never let her be hurt.

Lost in my own thoughts, I feel her shaking; then I hear her crying. Pulling her to face me, I feel like the biggest fucking bastard. I hurt her. Because I can’t handle my shit, I hurt her.

“Fuck, Princess, I am so fucking sorry,” I tell her, bringing her face up to meet mine.

“S-S-Sorry?”

“I hurt you,” I whisper. “I just wanted you so much that I didn’t think.”

“You didn’t hurt me,” she whispers.

“Then why does your face have red spots, your nose is all snotty, and your eyes are almost swollen shut?”

“I’m happy,” she tells me. “You came for me, kept me safe, and you love me. That means everything, Jonas,” she says, curling into my lap.

“I didn’t hurt you?”

“Far from it,” she whispers again, playing with my hair. “When can we do it again?”

“Jesus,” I say, tightening my grip, then I think on it. “Give me twenty minutes.”

When she doesn’t say anything I look down and notice she’s out cold. Ha! I fucked her unconscious! Smiling to myself and feeling like a champ, I carry her upstairs along with the bear and tuck her in. Grabbing my phone, I crawl in next to her and set the alarm.

I’ll give her an hour.

N
ot wanting to wake Jonas, I tiptoe into the kitchen to grab a Vernor’s and call Venessa to fill her in. Odds are she already knows, but I wanted to tell her my side of things, about how fucking scared I was. Not for me, but for my baby. If I’m being honest, this isn’t the first time I’ve wondered if giving up on the completion of the drug wasn’t the most reasonable course of action. Its very existence is putting my unborn child in danger now, and that changes things.

Then I wonder, even if I stop, would the people looking to get their hands on it stop, too? I’m guessing they wouldn’t, they’ve gone to extremes to get it so far. What I can’t understand is why anyone would use it for malicious purposes.

Not a single soul knows the formula except me. I memorized it. The only data shared is vague at best, because my worry was someone within my network would seek it out and try to steal my concept. Believe me, it happens more than you’d think.

I’m onto something with this, I know I am. But in light of yesterday’s events, I can’t help but wonder if the ends justify the means anymore. Hitting her number, I sip on my pop, hoping I can keep it down long enough to enjoy it and seriously wishing it was coffee.

“Hey, brawler,” she says on the second ring.

“Hey yourself,” I say, “Got a minute?”

“My minutes are yours. Seriously, this I have to hear.”

So I tell her in detail what happened in the lab, followed by the confrontation outside of it. She’s quiet for several seconds but I know she has something to say; she always does.

“How did Rafe take it?” she asks.

“How he handles everything,” I tell her. “He protected me.”

“Sounds like you protected yourself,” she says, “I’m proud of you, Macy; that had to be scary for you.”

“I wasn’t concerned about me,” I tell her. “I was afraid for the baby. Jonas showed up and handled the rest but uh … he really handled it when we got home.”

“Fuck,” moans Rogan. “I don’t want to hear this, do I?”

“How strong is your stomach?” I ask him.

“This one time I ain’t listening; fuck that shit.”

“He’s stomping outside to take Boner for a walk; proceed.”

So I do. In detail, smiling and swooning during the entire thing. I wish words could describe how amazing it was, but I think I do a good job of making my point with key words.

Venessa sighs into the phone and tells me, “I’m so fucking glad you’re safe. Damn. Bar fights, tazing, jail time, thugs, and Rafe? I think I’m jealous. My life is boring. That was seriously hot, yeah?”

“Yeah,” I say, sighing like a teenager.

“Glad we talked it out. On that note, I’ve got someone I’ve gotta do.”

“Love you, V.”

“Love you too, brawler.”

Disconnecting, I turn back to my Vernor’s, look up, and see Jonas walking bow-legged toward the kitchen. And yes, that’s seriously fucking hot.

“Mornin’, Princess,” he says, kissing me on the mouth. “Mornin’, kid,” he says, kneeling down and kissing my belly.

“Sleep well?” I ask.

“Best I’ve ever slept,” he says. “Still have your taste in my mouth, Princess.”

“Oh,” was all I could seem to manage. I’ve never had anyone like the way I taste before. The men in my past treated oral sex as a chore, but not Jonas. He acts as if it was a privilege.

“Got nothing else to say?”

“Thank you?”

“No, Princess,” he says, grabbing my chin to kiss me again “Thank
you
.”

I felt my face heat up, followed my belly clenching in a good way. I’ve said it before; he never ceases to surprise me. He grabs a cup then settles in next to me. Moving his chair closer to mine he puts his hand on my belly again, and I blush even harder, and my belly totally drops. Just like that, I want in his lap. So that’s what I do. Setting my drink down I make the move to straddle his lap. Setting his own cup down he grabs my ass and starts moving me back and forth over him. One thing I will say about pregnancy, when I’m not chucking or crying, I’m wicked horny.

“Fuck, Princess,” he says, kissing my neck. “Gonna have to take a rain check for now. You need to get dressed. We got someplace to be in two hours.”

“We do?” I ask, rubbing myself all over him. Two hours? I only need two minutes.

“I know what you’re thinking, and yeah, we do. Go grab a shower, I’ll make you two breakfast.” Kissing me hard, he stands me up, walks over to the fridge, and does just that, makes us breakfast. Doing as he suggests, I make my way upstairs to shower, secretly excited about whatever he has planned two hours from now. If I know Jonas, I’m going to like it a lot.

Undressing and waiting for the shower to warm I stare at myself in the mirror. I look like a woman loved. I look even closer and notice my stomach is showing the pregnancy. Not that you’d notice with certain clothes on, but it’s just enough to look like I ate too much. Rubbing my hands over the bump, I fight back tears. This kid is going to be loved well and hard. Jonas and I are going to give this kid everything. For once in my life, I am looking forward to my future.

I am looking forward to my family.