Keys To My Cuffs (The Heroes of The Dixie Wardens MC Book 4) (18 page)

“The same reasons apply. Staying out in the middle of nowhere puts less people at risk. This is one of the safe houses the club uses in times of emergency. Silas owns it outright. It’s owned under a false name, so there are no tracks that lead to the club. As for why we’re not leaving tonight, we’re going to be having a few riders
come along.

Cleo, Sterling, and Parker will be riding with us. Plus, you said you wanted to say goodbye to your dad before we left,” I explained.

Parker and Sterling had to meet back in Florida to get back to base within the next week anyway, so it was no skin off their nose to head back with me to act as added protection.

Cleo was going because he was amused by Channing, despite only knowing her for a short period of time.

Stripping off my shirt, I tossed it to the floor, and followed it up with my boots, pants, and underwear.

“What,” Channing cleared her throat. “What are you doing?”

I stared at her still clothed body. “Taking a shower. Want to join me?”

Not waiting for her answer, I shucked my underwear and walked towards the bathroom.

The safe house was simple in design. A kitchen. A living room. A bedroom, and a bathroom. Nothing more, nothing less.

It was in the middle of nowhere on twelve acres of land.

The floor was made of wood, and the walls were made of faux wood.

It was constructed on a budget, but it did its job by providing shelter from the elements.

The roof was tin, and with the light rain that was coming down, it sounded heavenly.

Getting to the bathroom, I turned on the water and stepped inside without waiting for it to warm.

The cool water hit me on the chest, and made my balls crawl up tight to my body, but I relished in the cool temperature.

I always took cold showers. Earlier in life, it was because my mom couldn’t afford a water heater. Over time, it became a habit. So much so that I rarely ever turned on the hot water if it was just me. Even rarer was for me to be in the shower with someone.

Hence why Channing shrieked when she stepped into the shower.

Her nipples beaded into tight turgid points as the water spread over her back and shoulders. Goosebumps pebbled her flesh, spreading from her shoulders all the way down.

“Holy shit,” she gasped. “What’s the deal? They don’t have hot water here?”

I reached forward, pressing my body against hers, and cranked the hot water until it was fully on.

Her body felt so right today, and her hips softer, almost fuller.

Her belly pressed into my abs, a small, hardened pooch there now, where before there was only softness.

Then my concentration was stolen from her stomach, to her breasts that seemed to have grown double overnight.

Hot water started to cascade down the both of us, seeping between our bodies, and pooling in the places where there was no distance between the two of us. For instance, the valley of her breasts was gathering a pool of water, held only by the press of our bodies.

Reaching forward again, I grabbed the soap and started running it along the length of her back, letting the solid bar of Dial slip and slide along her smooth skin.

She groaned and let her head fall until it was resting on my shoulder, jostling me and causing a twinge of pain to radiate through my arm.

She caught the flinch, and backed off immediately. “Oh, God. I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

When I’d gone to the hospital, I hadn’t been in nearly as much pain as I was now, which meant the lovely pain meds they’d given me were wearing off.

By the time the whole fiasco and subsequent recounting of the events was said and done, I’d been taken to the hospital where they’d cleaned the bullet wound that went through my lower forearm.

Luckily, the bullet had entered my arm and traveled directly in between the ulna and radius. Now it just hurt like a bitch. If that hadn’t happened, I would have required surgery.

“You weren’t supposed to get that wet,” Channing chided.

I looked down at the stitches in my arm and grimaced. “Yeah, well shit happens.”

“You just let me know how that works for you when your arm rots off from dysentery and Gangrene,” she snapped, gently grabbing a hold of my arm and lifting it out of the water.

She maneuvered it until I had my palm pressing against the top of her shoulder, allowing the stitches to remain water free.

“Dysentery is where you eat bad chicken and get the shits. It has nothing to do with getting your stitches wet,” I observed dryly.

She narrowed her eyes at me. “Whatever.”

Uh-oh.
Them’s fighting words
.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, taking my free hand and running the backs of my fingers along her lower jaw.

She closed her eyes, and leaned her head against my hurt-free shoulder.

“Nothing.”

Strike two. Whatever and nothing.

“Please tell me what’s wrong,” I said softly, giving her cheek and then her neck a soft, wet kiss.

“I’m fine.”

Strike three.

Curling my hand around her jaw with my working hand, I lifted her head until her eyes stared into mine. Then I crowded her until her bare back met the cold tiles.

Her eyes widened, and she gasped when I followed her body, pressing the entire length of my body into hers, from knees to chest.

“Tell me,” I said before giving her a punishing kiss.

The hand that had been resting on her shoulder was shoved aside, forgotten, as she threw her arms around my neck.

She buried her hands into the hair on the back of my head, and she pressed impossibly closer.

My raging cock found a home against the apex of her thighs, and I ground myself into her, eliciting a moan.

“Tell me,” I breathed against her lips.

Her tongue left her mouth, and entered mine.

Our tongues dueled, her tongue running along with mine.

She froze when the head of my cock pressed between her clenched thighs.

Smiling devilishly, she reached for the soap, got a good lather up, and ran both fists along the length of my raging cock.

When it was nice and slippery, she dropped the soap to the bottom of the shower, and then pulled me forward once again.

The head of my cock, newly lubed with the soap, slipped in between her clenched thighs. The head tunneled through the lips of her sex, and disappeared between the crack of her ass behind her.

“Ohh,” she breathed.

Pulling out until the head of my cock rested against the engorged heat of her clit, I gave short strokes forwards and back.

The head of my cock was so sensitive that I was getting just as much excitement out of it as she was.

I looked down and watched as the length of my ruddy veined cock entered and then disappeared in between her thighs.

Soap bubbles were lathering thickly along the stalk of my shaft, mingling not just with my own pubic hair, but with Channing’s as well.

She also watched; both of us were zeroed in on the point where I stopped and she began.

The tight fit of her thighs and the slickness of the water and soap almost made the entire action feel like the real thing.

“I need you inside of me,” she begged.

Grinning evilly at her, I pulled back, removing my rock hard cock from her and backing away until there was a foot between us. My cock was the only thing trying to span the breach, but I wanted answers, and I wasn’t going to get any if I just gave her what she wanted.

“Tell me,” I said, looking into her pleading eyes.

“I...I...” she shook her head.

Bending down, she picked up the bar of soap that had made its way to the drain, and started to lather up her body.

I helped.

Mostly my washing her turgid nipples, first with my mouth, and then with the bar of soap I stole from her hand.

I ran the tip of my finger around her
areola, slowly working my way inside until I was over the very tip. Then I pinched it lightly, eliciting a hiss out of her.

“If you won’t fuck me, I’ll just do the job myself,” she snapped.

Leaning forward, the water cascaded over her body in slow rivulets, washing away the suds that I’d lathered up on her breasts.

Then her fingers disappeared between her thighs, and her eyes closed as she sank her fingers into her wet heat.

“Yes, Loki. Yes,” she moaned.

The sight before me was amazing. I’d never actually witnessed a woman masturbating in person. Sure, I’d seen plenty of women doing it in magazines, but nothing, and I do mean nothing, could compare to this.

Reaching forward, I awkwardly fisted my cock with my left hand, and started working it with slow, stiff draws.

The head of my cock leaked at the sight of her.

Her chest was flushed. Her hair slicked back away from her face. Her tits squished together. One hand was on the opposite nipple, pinching.

Then she lifted her breast and ran the tip of her tongue around the areola before sucking the tip into her mouth.

I froze, mesmerized.

“God,” I breathed.

Her eyes opened, and they communicated with me that she knew what she was doing to me.

Closing again, she doubled her efforts between her legs before switching to the other nipple.

That’s about when my control broke.

Lunging forward, I snatched the hand that was in between her thighs out, and pinned it to the wall above her head.

“Turn around,” I demanded.

Letting the nipple in her mouth go, she turned and presented me with her upturned ass.

Then I lined my cock up with her entrance, and slammed inside.

Gone were my problems. Gone were the ‘what if’s.’ Gone was the outside world until there was only her and me. My cock inside her wet heat.

There was so much wetness that I didn’t know whether it was coming from her, me, or the shower. Whatever the reason, I worked with it.

My cock plunged into her tight pussy unimpeded. The wet sounds of our flesh slapping against each other’s filled the small stall.

One particularly rough thrust of my hips caused Channing to lean forward until her forearms were planted in the tiled wall in front of her.

I felt the telltale sign of my impending release, and I growled. “Touch your clit. Get there quick, honey.”

She complied, dropping her hand until it met the small bundle of nerves.

With each rough thrust, she called out until they finally reached a crescendo, pushing her over the edge into oblivion.

“Yes!” She shouted.

My eyes squeezed tight as I jerked out of her slick heat at the last possible second and spurted hot come all over the crack of her ass.

It ran down the valley, disappearing between her thighs, and then running further down her leg before the water washed it away.

“Jesus,” I panted, leaning my head forward until it rested on the top of one of her shoulders.

“Yeah,” she agreed.

“I think I need a pain pill,” I observed.

My arm was absolutely throbbing. With nothing else to take my mind off of the pain, it started to consume my arm once again.

She rinsed off quickly before exiting the shower, coming back moments later with my bottle of pills I’d had filled before coming here.

Twisting off the bottle, she handed the pill to me.

I popped it into my mouth and rinsed it down with a swallow of water from the showerhead before rinsing the remaining soap from my body.

Once I exited the shower, I wrapped the only remaining towel around my hips and walked into the bedroom where I found her sitting on the edge of the bed.

Her head was hung in defeat, and she looked so very lost that I felt something shift inside of me.

Was it something I’d done?

“What’s. Wrong,” I pleaded.

She broke.

All that emotion that she’d been holding back for the past three hours escaped her in a rush of tears.

She buried her face further into her hands and cried.

Sighing, I gathered her into my arms very awkwardly.

She cried so long; so much so that there was a pool of tears not only on my chest, but running down my side and soaking the sheet underneath me.

“I think you’ve just lost half your weight in tears,” I said to cheer her up.

A watery laugh escaped her, stemming the flow of tears.

“I got you a little wet,” she said as she wiped away the tears on my chest.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind your brand of wetness,” I teased.

She smiled sadly. “Loki...I have something to tell you when we get back from Florida. I’m not ready to tell you yet, but when we get back, promise me you’ll make me tell you.”

My curiosity was peaked, but I allowed her to have her secrets.

“For now,” I confirmed. “But now that I know you have a secret, don’t think I won’t try to figure it out.”

“You can’t turn off the cop in you...can you?” She teased.

I rolled my eyes. “No honey. I’ll forever be a cop, whether I’m wearing the badge or not.”

She leaned forward and kissed me on the lips. “Okay.”

The pain in my arm slowly lessened to just under ‘oh-my-god-i-got-shot-in-the-arm’ levels and I was finally able to take a deep breath.

Channing’s breathing pattern changed until her breaths became slow and steady.

She drifted off to sleep like that, snuggled deep in my arms. Her head pillowed on my chest. My wounded hand resting on the mattress on the opposite side of me.

Channing

“Loki?” I asked into the darkness.

I gave it three seconds before I called him again.

“Loki?” I called again.

Rolling over cautiously so I didn’t barrel into his wounded arm, I found him lying on his side.

He was facing away from me, the broad expanse of his back the only thing I could make out in the darkness.

The only light there was, was from the full moon peeking between a gap between the blinds.

It hit the bed in lines, and cast shadows around the room.

I’d woken in a panic, the dream that had been in my subconscious slowly drifting away into nothing. In the dream, Loki had left once he’d learned my secret. However, the longer I stared at his form and heard the soft sounds of his breathing surround me, the calmer I began to feel.