Forged: A Devil's Spawn MC Novel (14 page)

Needing to see she’s on the same page as I am, I look down and see her blonde hair splayed out on the pillows like a halo of golden silk. Her eyes are glazed over and unfocused with lust. And her chest’s heaving with her tits threatening to spill over the neck of her shirt. She’s just as ready as I am, and that’s the last coherent thought I have as I rip her shirt over her head, unlatch the front closure of her bra, and suck one of her hard nipples into my welcoming mouth.

Tilly’s tits may have always fascinated me, but that doesn’t detract from the fact they’ve always been a major erogenous zone for her too. I’ve spent hours sucking, nipping, biting them until she comes hard for me. I’ve mapped every inch of her body. What she likes. What she doesn’t. What makes her the wettest? I know every spot on her body that will have her pulling my hair and screaming my name.

Lavishing attention on the poor neglected bud topping her other breast, I let the first one drop from my mouth with a wet pop. I don’t get far when she frames my face with her hands, staring deep into my eyes.

“I love that you want to take your time, but can you do me a favor?”

“Anything,” I rasp.

Shimmying out of her jeans and panties at the same time, all the while still underneath me not letting me go, Tilly tells me what she needs.

“Can you please stop messing around and fuck me? I’ve missed you, Tobi, and I need you inside me more than I need my next breath.”

At hearing her nickname for me slip from her lips, I launch myself off the bed and strip faster than I’ve ever stripped before. My desperate movements see me fumbling with my belt, and the grin quirking her lips shows me she’s amused at my un-coordination causing a growl to erupt from my chest.

“You sure? You know what you’re asking for right? Because I’ve gotta tell you, it’s going to be near on impossible for me to stop once I start, babe, so you’ve gotta be sure.”

Nodding her head rapidly and smiling in a way that lights her entire face and brightens her eyes she says,

“Mmhmm. At least I hope I know what I’m getting. That is unless you’ve changed the way you fuck like a wild animal when you’re this turned on.” She punctuates her answer with a long look at my poor, neglected cock. Currently it’s straining toward my belly button, hard as stone, throbbing, and so ready to be buried inside her it’s not funny. In fact it’s bordering on fucking painful.

Fuck no, I haven’t changed how I fuck when I’m this turned on. I wouldn’t even if I could. The way Tilly gets off on my cock when I’m unrestrained inside her is magnificent. Why would I want to change a damn thing? The answer is, I wouldn’t. Growling again, I position myself over her holding the base of my cock spreading her legs wide with one knee as I line up the head of my dick with her soaking wet cunt.

I can literally feel the heat rolling off her pussy, and it’s a heady feeling knowing I’m the only one that’s been inside her. That I’m the only one that can make her this wet.

“Hook your legs round my waist, babe, and hang the fuck on.”

Doing my bidding and wrapping her legs around my waist, she locks her ankles at the base of my spine moaning as I begin to move. Thrusting inside her to the hilt in one long, smooth, stroke I groan at the sensation of entering her for the first time in what feels like forever. She feels so good what I thought was only going to last minutes might actually last seconds.

My wife’s pussy is the closest thing to heaven on Earth. Tight, wet, and pulsing she fits me like a velvet fist made perfectly to accommodate me, and only me. Every time we’re together like this I revel in the feeling of coming home. Because that’s what she is to me, home.

Thrusting in and out of her, I drop my head to her neck and lave the skin below her ear. Her answering moan is all I need to hear to have me increasing my pace, barely holding back my own release. If she doesn’t come fast, I can’t promise I’ll be able to hold off much longer. Not willing to blow before she does has me reaching between our joined bodies strumming her clit until her inner walls are quivering around me gripping my cock tighter than before.

Her clit is hard, over-sensitive, and practically throbbing at my first touch. Using my thumb, I add pressure and rub in slow, tight circles, which has her begging me to let her come in seconds.

“Oh my God, Tobi. Yes, there. Right there.”

Nipping at the soft flesh above her collarbone, her nipples rasp across the smattering of hair on my chest tightening them into diamond hard points. The way her hips are canting into mine and the hitch in her breathing at my every stroke has my balls pulling up tight, slapping against her ass as I pound into her furiously. I can feel the tell-tale tingling at the base of my spine warning me I won’t be able to hold off my impending release any longer, so I increase the pressure of my thumb and claim her mouth roughly with mine.

Using my tongue to mimic the actions of my cock, Tilly whimpers into my mouth stroking my tongue furiously with her own until she can’t take any more. Throwing her head back and exposing the column of her throat, I go in for the kill. Running the edge of my teeth up and down her neck, Tilly loses all semblance of control. And when she does, I can honestly without reservation say, she is the most stunning woman I’ve ever seen.

Her back bows off the bed pressing her unimaginably closer to me. Her eyes flutter open and closed. Her breathing speeds up, and her skin flushes the prettiest pink color I can’t help but be proud I’m the one who put it there. The whole time she’s begging, pleading, and demanding I make her come. The words from her lips are like a trigger to a gun and have me tipping over the edge with her instantly.

Growling I demand,

“Look at me. Look at what you do to me. What
only
you do to me.”

As hers eyes finally connect with mine, they’re the spark that ignites the flame. Grinding into her roughly, my neck strains, my chest heaves in effort to draw in air, and my cock shoots thick strand after strand of come into her depths. Pulsing aftershocks from her have my cock twitching in reply, but I could care less what it wants right now. Collapsing beside her, she’s too small to hold my weight heavy and sated on top of her for long, I pull her into my side and close my eyes willing my heart to slow down and even out.

Tilly instantly burrows into my side, throwing an arm around my waist and resting her head on my chest.

“Holy shit. Remind me why we ever stopped doing that?” Realizing what she just said, Tilly tries to backtrack but I’m not standing for that shit.

I know it’s early days, and I know she hasn’t had time to sort it in her head yet, but we’re going to have to be able to talk about it sometime and now’s a good a time as any.

“Stop. Just stop right now. I don’t want you over thinking this shit, babe. I told you what happened, you accepted it and took me into your beautiful body, and now it’s done. All I’ve got to say on it is, we’re doing that again as soon as I can move, babe. Let’s leave it at that, yeah?”

She nods slowly into my chest stroking small patterns on my lower stomach. Her touch has a direct, no holds barred connection to my cock, because no sooner has it deflated to half-mast, it’s reanimated and standing to full attention straining to reach her hand. Not that I blame the poor bastard. My hand hasn’t been cutting it for-fucking-ever now. I couldn’t get myself off if I tried, and believe me I fucking tried. It only wanted Tilly, a sentiment I absolutely, one hundred percent share.

“I’ve got to know, what now, babe? The kids come back from your parents’ place tomorrow. What then?” I desperately want her answer to be we go back to the way everything was before the Stacey shit show, but I’m not holding my breath.

Sighing deeply, Tilly continues her ministrations on my stomach and kisses the hinge of my jaw.

“I know what I want, Tobi. I want more than anything to say, fuck it, and return to the way to was.” My heart stutters at her words, and I know she can feel it pick up the pace when she taps my chest softly. “But I don’t know if that’s the right thing to do, I really don’t. The girls’ have been through this mess with us too. We might have tried to shield them from it as best we could, but to them it’s still going to be confusing you coming home all of a sudden.”

Rationally I get what she’s saying and I’d hate to upset my daughters any more than they already have been, but I can’t help wonder if Tilly’s using that as an excuse. A way to hide in order to protect herself.

“If you don’t want me here, Tilly, you’ve just gotta say it.” I can feel my body tensing in response to the anger building inside no matter how hard I fight to stay calm.

Sitting up, Tilly looks at me with a sad smile and a hint of disbelief.

“Is that what you really think? That I’d use the girls as an excuse. God, you can be such an asshole sometimes. It’s like you flip a switch and go from sweet and caring to King Douchebag in five seconds. It makes me dizzy how fast your mood changes.”

Can’t argue that. I’ve always been a moody bastard, I’m just adept at hiding that shit usually.

“Yeah, you and me both.” I reply casually with a shrug.

Crossing my arms behind my head staring at the ceiling, I remember the other added complication to our already fucked up situation. Thankfully this shit isn’t related to the issues we’re facing tracking Demon down, or half as important, but it is something that’s going to impact Tilly.

Just when I thought our lives couldn’t get any more messed up, my dad calls. It’s like he had a radar on when the worst possible timing could be and used it. I don’t know how he got my number, because I sure as shit didn’t give it to him seeing as I haven’t spoken to him since I left home at eighteen. But somehow he managed to get his hands on it, deciding it was a good idea to finally try and reconnect after years of nothing. Once I got over my initial shock, and yeah that’s exactly what I was, shocked, I got pissed. Pissed he picked now to do this shit, unwittingly or not. Pissed he hadn’t tried before now. And fucking pissed he clearly wanted something from me. Something I didn’t know if I could give him.

“Please keep making excuses for each other’s bad parenting.

It seems to be working out well for you.”

-
                    
Rotten eCard

If you go based on peoples’ definition of normal I probably had the most normal upbringing out of all my brothers. Some of them lost parents’ young, or never had any to begin with growing up in the system. Tank grew up in a wealthy, obnoxiously wealthy family, which sounded more like prison full of social engagements and society functions than a home. Sure, his parents’ are great, I’ve met them and they’re good people, but that doesn’t change the fact his circumstances were far from the norm. Not even Kendall, Cage, or Steel grew up in what could be classified as an average all-American household. They were raised by a bunch of FBI agents posing as bikers, who eventually outed themselves and continued on in the MC they’d dedicated more than half their lives to.

Me on the other hand, I had two parents’ who married young, but were still very much in love with each other. A Sister, Finley, who at only seventeen months younger than me, was my best friend and the most important person in my life. I had friends, the guys on my football and basketball teams, girls who wanted a piece of me, even if it was only for one night, and a chance at getting a full-ride football scholarship to the college of my choice. I loved my life. Until the day that irrevocably changed it forever and I wound up hating it.

We lived in the upper-middle class suburb of, Burbank, on the outskirts of, Los Angeles, about a twenty minute drive from the heart of L.A. depending on traffic. My dad’s an attorney with a reputable and highly sought after firm, and my mom’s a CPA for some of the wealthiest people in Southern California. We lived more than comfortably, Finley and I having everything we needed and most of what we wanted. I’m not sure if our parents’ happily handed over gifts and cash because they felt guilty for working so much, or because that’s just the way they showed how much they loved us, but to a teenage boy in his senior year of high school it didn’t really matter. I wasn’t what I’d call materialistic, but I didn’t hate my parents’ for being overly generous either. And I certainly didn’t discourage them doing it.

Finley was different though. She was sweet, kind, compassionate, and completely disinterested in our parents’ lavish gifts and offers of cash. She would’ve preferred to have them sitting round the dinner table so she tell them stories about her day rather than have them constantly absent, and a few extra dollars lining her pocket.

I think that’s one of the reasons I was drawn to Tilly from the beginning. She reminds me so much of Finley it’s uncanny. Both of them could compete for the title of ‘most thoughtful’, and it would come in a tie. Finley took it upon herself to make sure my football uniforms were washed, my gear organized and repacked, dinner was cooked every night and the house was clean. She didn’t do that shit for recognition. She did it because she knew no one else would. Finley wanted us to be proud of what we had and in turn take care of it.

I asked her about why she busted her ass to do it along with the endless cheerleading practices, helping to edit the school newspaper, sitting on the student council, getting straight A’s in all her subjects, and trying to have a social life. I didn’t get why she’d want to take on all that extra work and responsibility, because I know I sure as hell didn’t. Sure, I helped her out because there was no way I’d let my sister do all that shit alone, but I did it begrudgingly.

“There are lots of people who aren’t fortunate enough to have what we do, Tobi. It would be a shame to be blessed with a life like this and not appreciate it. This is how I show my appreciation for what we have. I don’t want anyone to think we’re entitled brats. I want people to know we respect our parents’ for what they provide for us, and that includes the roof over our heads, the food in the cupboards, and the clothes we wear.”

That was her reasoning and while I got it, I still hated she had such a grown up approach to life. Finley should be talking about makeup and boys, not that I’d let any of the assholes sniffing around her anywhere near her, but even her thinking about dating and prom was preferable to her playing housekeeper and cook. Finley would make the most magnificent mom when she grew up. She was kind, patient, and nurturing, and I could imagine her having a whole hoard of kids, at least four or five. Or that was what I thought she’d do, but less than two months later Finley was gone and what I considered her destiny was cruelly ripped out from under her. She didn’t even get the chance to finish being a kid herself before her life was cut tragically and heartbreakingly short.

My childhood came to an abrupt end the night Finley died. Gone was the easy going, laid-back football player, and in his place was the lonely, grieving, heartbroken teenager that expressed his devastation at his sisters’ loss through violence, brooding, and withdrawing from the world around him.

Nightmares about the way Finley died, the last words she ever spoke to me, and the screams I heard from that second floor window plagued me for years after. I didn’t think I’d ever stop seeing her face staring up at me, covered in blood, with eyes pleading for me to let her go night after night. It wasn’t until I started sleeping with Tilly curled in my arms that I realized the nightmares had become dormant. They weren’t forgotten, but they were few and far between. Just another way Tilly helped to heal me.

Mom and dad had gone to Indianapolis to see dad’s parents’ for a long weekend claiming to need a break from the rat-race. They said we were old enough to hold down the fort for four days and three nights, so they decided to leave early Friday morning and were due to return Monday afternoon. Brent, a good friend whose parents’ were also away for the weekend, decided to throw a house party on the Sunday night. Not an unusual thing for him to do seeing as his parents’ were even more absent than ours. I’ve got no idea how he got away with it time after time though.

I mean, the place was always trashed by the end of the night, shit got broken, carpets stained, and his Dad had to notice his liquor cabinet had been drained nearly dry. But apparently they’d never said anything, and if I had to hazard a guess, they knew what was going on but seeing as Brent always got cleaners in, replaced what he could, and there’d never been a complaint made about the noise to the police, they let him get away with it.

When the unthinkable happened, I was upstairs in one of the guest bedrooms getting my dick sucked by some trashy whore I wouldn’t remember in the morning. Again, not an uncommon occurrence, but this time I wished I’d been able to keep it in my pants for just one night. I wished that I’d been downstairs where I would’ve heard her calling for me, or so someone could’ve told me Finley was there looking for me. But I didn’t keep my cock in check, and because I didn’t the guilt that bombarded me became part of who I was. It changed me, eating away at me from the inside out until I didn’t recognize myself anymore. I blamed myself for years for not being there for her when she needed me, and to some extent I still do. Honestly, I don’t think there’ll be a time it won’t.

Finley came to the party to find me and bring me home, because Mom and Dad had called home telling her they were arriving home early from their visit. Something about Grandpa needing to see to some unexpected business. It was late and Finley shouldn’t have been out. I’d warned her about being out by herself at night. I’d told her it wasn’t safe for a girl to be walking around by herself, but she hadn’t listened to all my lectures and came searching for me anyway. After scouring the party for me in vain, she was crossing the road, which wasn’t well-lit, (the estate Brent and his parents’ lived in only had those old fashioned Victorian street lamps), when a drunk teenager who’d consumed his weight in beer and was driving without his lights on hit her three-feet before she made it to the curb.

I wouldn’t have known anything was wrong if I hadn’t heard the screams of some of the girls downstairs and a few of the guys yelling for someone to call 911. Something niggled at me telling me I needed to detach the chick currently sucking my dick and check out what was going on. I don’t know why I felt it was so important for me to look, but whatever that something was, the something that compelled me to look out the window, I was fucking glad I’d trusted it. Because if I hadn’t, if I’d discounted it as an annoyance, I’d never have found Finley before it was too late.

When I made it to the window and pulled back the heavy drapes, I couldn’t see much. I could barely make out a person lying on the road and the car that was stopped diagonally in the middle of the street, but that was enough. Especially when I saw all that black, waist length hair spread out around the body of the person who’d been hit. I can’t tell you how I knew it was Finley, I still can’t to this day, but in that instant I knew. I just knew it was my baby sister lying lifeless in the middle of a cold, dark road, and she was alone.

On that thought it took me less than a minute to get down the stairs and through the masses of people drinking, dancing, and making out. I pushed people out of the way as I ran out the front door and was kneeling beside her in a grand total of maybe two minutes, but those two minutes were too long. Those were two minutes I’d never get to spend with Finley. They were two more minutes she’d had to be alone and in pain. And it didn’t matter how much I wanted them, I’d never get them back.

Passing the guy who’d hit her, his head in his hands crying openly as he sat on the curb, I catalogued who he was and promised myself after I’d seen to Finley he’d be getting a less than pleasant visit from me. I knew the guy, he actually played on my football team. Aaron Biggs was a good guy, or I’d thought he was. He was a linebacker, a ladies man, and now a murderer. And I had every intension of making him pay for what he’d done. Pay in a way he wouldn’t ever forget.

Looking down at Finley to see her covered in blood, bruises forming under her usually lightly tanned skin, skin that was now turning a ghostly white, I noticed her eyes were unfocused and heavy and that’s when I knew then she wasn’t going to make it. It was another on the long list of things I didn’t understand, how I knew she wasn’t going to make it, but it didn’t change that I felt it down to my bones I was going to lose her. It wouldn’t matter how quickly the paramedics got here, or what they tried to do to help her, my sister wasn’t going to live.

The gut wrenching sorrow that hit me at the realization I was going to lose my best friend would’ve brought me to my knees if I wasn’t already on them. Pain like nothing I’d ever felt sliced through me, flaying me wide open. Open in a way I didn’t think I’d ever be able to put myself back together again. I couldn’t fathom how I was going to go on without her in my life. She was a more integral part of my life than our parents’, than my friends, my teammates, than anyone for fucks sake.

I didn’t bother praying for her to be okay because I knew it was pointless. But what I did do was try and bargain for her life. I offered myself in her place. I told whoever was up there, if they were listening, I would do anything if they would just take me instead. Obviously nothing I begged for worked, because while my beautiful, perfect sister might not have died instantly, she did pass ten minutes later. The paramedics who attended the scene said the damage done to Finley’s fragile body was too severe for her to have survived. That her injuries weren’t compatible with life, and they were shocked she’d hung on as long as she did. They didn’t try reviving her. No CPR. No attempting to shock her heart back to life. Nothing. She was gone and we all knew it. But that didn’t make it any easier to accept.

It was almost impossible to watch them load her in the back of the ambulance and take her away from me. It felt final, too final. I wanted her to wake up and tell me it was all a joke. That she was going to be fine. It was wishful thinking and it didn’t happen, but it was something I hoped for nevertheless.

Hours’ worth of questioning by the police who attended the scene, statements being taken, parents’ being called, and crime scene technicians recreating the sequence of events all culminated in Aaron Biggs being charged and convicted of involuntary manslaughter. It carried a bullshit sentence of three to five years, six months of which he’d already served awaiting his trial. I couldn’t get my head around how you could kill an innocent girl who was intelligent, loving, and sensitive, one who had her whole life ahead of her, and get off with less time in prison than you spend in fucking high school. It didn’t make sense to me and it still doesn’t.

Aaron didn’t make it to lockup without a visit from me however. I caught up with him at his house three nights after he killed Finley, before he was taken into custody while he was taking the trash out and beat the ever-loving-shit out of him. I broke his nose, one of his arms, fractured what I expect was a few ribs, and gave him a severe concussion, but it wasn’t enough for me. Not nearly enough. I wanted him to feel every ounce of the pain he’d caused my sister. He deserved that and more, and I knew just where to find someone that’d make sure he got what was coming to him.