Saving Dancer (Savage Brothers MC Book 2) (20 page)

“Rotate your hips and rock baby, get used to my cock moving inside you.”

I do as he instructs, careful at first, since I’m unsure. It feels so good though I find myself grinding against his lap and tightening my inner muscles against his erection. He lets me experiment to the point I am about to come. Just when my moves become erratic and I can’t contain the moan of pleasure he grabs my hips and keeps me from moving.

“No!” I call out desperate to finish the fire I’ve started.

“Not yet, sweetheart. Remember how I taught you to ride the other night.”

“Yes,” I whisper as he pinches my nipples. His breath on my skin is just another instrument of torture.

“Ride me like that, Carrie. Fuck yourself with my cock.”

“God, yes,” I say as I start riding him using the movements he taught me. Movements that I know will bring us both pleasure.

“I wish you could see how gorgeous you are right now, sweetheart. Taking your pleasure, and demanding it. You’re so fucking wet it’s like being inside of heaven. You’re my heaven. The closest thing to a miracle I’ll ever see.”

“Jacob!” I yell desperate for more than I’m getting and I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.

“Are you ready to come now, sweetheart?”

“Help me,” I gasp my breath short and ragged. “I can’t…it’s not enough…Jacob, I need…”

“What do you need? Tell me, Carrie.”

“I need you to fuck me!” I growl near mindless with the need for completion.

He rises behind me holding my hips tight as he tilts us so that we are propelled forward. I brace myself on my hands and knees and slowly slide from his. All the while, Jacob makes sure we stay connected. This new position takes what little breath I have away. Before I can gain it again, he is withdrawing and slamming back into me. The force of the blow moves me on the mattress. It takes a few tries to get the rhythm, but I grab it and soon I’m pushing back to meet his thrusts. It’s so intense, so primal that it feels like he’s getting larger, and stretching me even more. I wonder if I might die trying to take all of him. His hands are biting into my hips and the pressure is harsh, painful and everything I want all rolled up together. I will be bruised tomorrow from the force of his hold and I like it. Every time I see it I can remember how wild he was with me, how much he lost himself in our lovemaking.

“Touch your clit, Carrie. Rub your fingers over it baby, and stop fighting it. I want to hear you scream as I fill you so full of cum it’s dripping down your legs. Do it.”

I hear his words and I want to do as he orders, but I’m so lost in the need he has created, I can’t get my mind and body to work together. His hand wraps once more in my hair and he pulls it to get my attention.

“I said fucking touch that clit now. Do it, Carrie.”

I groan, but my hand moves down as he orders. I’m already so close it just takes a couple of teasing touches and I’m ready to climax. Jacob isn’t satisfied though. He pinches my nipples hard. My body jumps and tightens up on his cock all at once.

“Pinch your clit, Carrie. Hard.”

My hands are shaking and with the force that he’s using to fuck me, it’s hard to manage it all. Somehow I do though, at the same time he pinches and twists my nipples and thrusts so deep inside of me I can almost taste him.

I detonate giving a scream that echoes with his cry of release.

Perfection.

Dancer

S
ix weeks. That’s
how long it’s been since all hell broke loose. It’s also the closest thing to happiness I ever imagined I would have. My days are spent working at the club garage. I’ve always had a knack for working on vehicles and the busy work keeps me from going insane. Nights are spent in bed with Carrie and fucking her every way I can think of. She might have been shy when we first started, but each time we’re together she becomes more vocal. It’s fucking phenomenal.

The whole thing with Francis (aka Phoenix) took a lot out of all of us. Crusher has recovered from his gun shot. The bullet somehow managed to go straight through and missed anything vital. He lost a lot of blood at the time, but that probably saved his life. We figure the goon working for
Francis
saw the blood and decided Crush was dead, not bothering to finish the job.

Bull is another story. Bull was released from the trauma center a couple of days ago, but he was sent to a rehab center in Nashville that is part of the Vanderbilt Hospital Complex. The hit on the head combined with the oxygen deprivation he endured (however briefly) took a toll on his body. He doesn’t talk much, not that he ever did—but now it is even less. Something happened with his vocal chords and talking pains him physically, but more than that, he has a stammer. His right side is weak as a result of the damage and for someone like Bull that’s probably the hardest thing to accept. We got him settled and offered to have one of us stay down there with him, but he wouldn’t hear of it. In fact he told us to go fuck ourselves. No one else understood, but on this I totally understood where my brother was coming from. Unless we had been there, our words were useless and pathetic. Dragon is planning on going down and spending the weekend there next week. Carrie and I might go, though to be honest? Fucking bastard that I am? I don’t like Carrie being around him one bit. For all I know, she has a thing for trying to heal the broken and she’ll switch her interest in me over to my brother.

The other thing I’m dealing with is this house of cards I’m building with Carrie. I’m not sleeping. I take a nap through the day so I can function. Carrie believes I sleep when she does. I haven’t been able to manage that. Ever since Dragon confronted me about my dreams, I have this big knot of fear inside of me. I don’t want anyone else to know about the …about my attack. No one, but especially not Carrie, I can’t handle her knowing. The thought literally makes me break out in a cold sweat.

She also thinks I’m going to therapy twice a week. I hide out in a hotel on old State Route 25 and sleep for a couple of hours instead. I’m not about to share those memories with anyone, but especially some jerk in a suit who knows shit about the real world.

I’m not stupid. I know that eventually the cards will fall. I’ll face that day when it comes. In the meantime, I’m doing everything I can to fix it so Carrie won’t leave me when she discovers the truth. I need her to be so deep in this thing with me, she won’t ever think of leaving.

At times, I’m almost like I was before I went to jail. I know that’s because Carrie is in my life. She shines light in the darkness and fills up some of the emptiness which threatens to swallow me whole. I need her to function.

At least Dragon and the club have become less tense with the threat gone. Seems the fucking idiot panicked when Dragon had Freak made sure his assets were tied up. So his big scheme was to blow up Carrie, me and himself all at once to get revenge for his son’s death. Funny, how the mighty fall when they don’t have money to back their asses up.

These thoughts filter through my brain as I pull into the house that Carrie and I have been living in. Dragon offered it to us after I let him know I wouldn’t be living at the club. He didn’t question me about it. I think he was afraid to rock the boat after our last blow up.

Carrie told me it is the one that Nicole and Dani rented when they first got to town. I like it. It’s bigger than the safe house, closer to the club and it suits Carrie. She’s happy. I see it in the way she smiles and that’s all that matters. I need her happy. If she’s happy, she’s less likely to leave, so this house is essential to my plan.

I walk in the back door that leads into a kitchen. The house is quiet, which is unusual. Carrie normally has music blasting while she’s getting supper together. Maybe she’s taking a nap. All of the excitement has worn her out and she’s having trouble catching back up. It doesn’t help that I wake her up all night long to fuck her senseless. That thought makes me smile as I enter the living room. Carrie is asleep on the couch, looking like an angel. No she is an angel. My angel. She’s saving me and doesn’t even know it.

I bend down to kiss her lips, pulling away to watch her slowly wake up.

“Hey, Care Bear.”

Her eyes open slowly, those sparkling emeralds drawing me in yet again.

“I love you,” she whispers and it hits me sweet like it always does. She says it more often these days. The first time she said it, I can remember a feeling of panic and now…now if she doesn’t say it, I panic. I need those three words from her to know she is still mine.

I kiss her lips soaking in the words.

“You okay, Care Bear?”

“I wasn’t feeling good. I’m okay though,” She says her hand caressing the side of my face. She moves her fingers along the stubble of my beard. I keep it trimmed small, because she seems to like it, so I refuse to shave.

“Carrie, you’ve been sick for a week. You better get to the doctor.”

“I made an appointment.”

I fight down the fear at the thought of Carrie being sick. Things have been going too smooth. I’ve been able to keep the nightmares hid from her, I’m behaving almost normal and I have her. That’s more than I dreamed, so I know I shouldn’t get too comfortable.

“How about you and I hop on my bike and go get some food, maybe pick up some takeout and drive down to the marina?”

She studies me for a second and gives me a soft smile. Those might be my favorite of the smiles she gives. They are sleepy and full of feeling.

“I’d like that.”

“Good, let’s get out of here.”

*

We drive down
to the Tasty Freeze Dairy Bar and order a couple burgers and fries. I get a couple of canned sodas and put it all in the bags on the back of my bike. I like having Carrie on my bike. We fit and move like one, as if we’ve been riding together for years. It feels…
right
.

We drive down to the marina and find an empty picnic table looking out over the boats and water.

“It really is beautiful here,” Carrie says placing our food out on the table. I put the sodas down and grab a seat across from her.

“I like to come here and think. It helps to clear my mind. It makes me feel closer to Jazz. You two used to love to play here and feed the ducks and fish.”

I see a look in Carrie’s eyes and I know she’s remembering the night I tried to end it all, but she doesn’t push me about it. She’s my safe zone, at least that’s how she makes me feel.

“I remember, but I have a confession.”

“What’s that? I say and take a bite of my burger.

I watch as she twirls a French fry in the ketchup seeming to think about her words. Then she looks up at me with this impish smile on her face.

“We hated fishing. We only wanted to spend the day with you,” she laughs popping the fry in her mouth.

I stop mid-bite, watching her and can tell that she is completely serious.

“You used to harass me for hours to take you fishing.”

She swallows down her food and grins.

“You’d follow me around and whine until I crumbled.”

“You really were so easy, Jacob. Putty in our little five and six year old hands,” She says with a grin, taking another bite.

“I can’t believe you. I even bought you those matching Barbie fishing rods!”

She pauses, staring off into space like she’s thinking about something, “Actually I think it was a Sleeping Beauty fishing rod.”

“Same thing,” I dismiss.

“Totally not, though to be honest I would have rather had the Spiderman.”

“Get out of town.”

“Nope, I am not a girly girl.”

“Princess, this is the first time I can remember you not having a dress on in forever, you most certainly are a girly-girl—whatever the hell that is.”

“Well maybe about some things, but not most.”

“Name one,” I dare here watching her eat. How can a woman eating be sexy? Seems impossible, but somehow Carrie pulls it off.

“Well, I went through a scene from a bad James Bond film and didn’t fall completely apart,” she says, continuing to eat.

“Bad James Bond film?”

She puts her burger down and licks the ketchup off her lips and starts counting holding up a finger for each new item.

“I was held at gun point. I withstood flying bullets, people dying, a house explosion, fire, having someone I care about get hurt…see? Not girly-girl or I’d be in a corner crying somewhere. Well either that, or a padded cell.”

I nod in agreement, thinking over her words. I feel a twinge of jealousy when she mentions caring about Bull, hell maybe she means Crusher. I hate that it bothers me, but it does.

I look down pretending to eat, avoiding eye contact.

“Oh no. What’s that look for Jacob Blake?”

“Nothing,” I answer, not about to admit it. I concentrate instead on my food.

“You don’t get to do that now.”

I look up and she’s focused on me and the look on her face says she’s not going to let this pass.

“Just thinking maybe you would have been happier if you ended up with Crush or Bull,” I try and shrug it off, dropping my food on the table. My appetite is gone. I sack up my garbage, refusing to look her in the face. A greasy, wadded up paper hits me in the face. I look over at her.