Saviour: A Devil's Spawn MC Novel (Savior Book 3) (24 page)

Hunter’s whole face goes soft, and he uses his index finger to trace the outline of my tattoo reverently. What feels like hours later, he looks up his eyes wet, with red slowly creeping into the white.

“Beautiful,” he whispers. Is he talking to me, or about the tattoo I got for him? I don’t know, and the insecurity of not knowing is making my nausea return ten-fold.

Begging I say,

“Please say something. I’m so sorry if you’re upset I just…”

I don’t finish because Hunter’s mouth crushes mine in the most passionate kiss I’ve ever had. Demanding entrance his tongue seeks mine exploring every corner and crevice. Without warning a hand reaches behind me unhooking my bra, throwing it over his shoulder. Where it lands I have no clue, but I could care less. Bracing myself with my hands on his waist I knead and caress the hot skin covering his mid-section, my thumbs tracing the defined grooves of his abs.

I’m getting impatient waiting to see him completely naked. I have a good idea what he looks like, I’ve accidentally on purpose walked in on him in the shower twice, but this is different. This time I can touch, lick, kiss every inch of his skin. I don’t have to go home and get myself off with a piece of silicon fantasising about the sexiest man on the planet wet, soapy, and hard. Yes, Hunter was hard as a pike when I walked in on him the last time. Through the fogged up glass of the shower door I could see he was working with some impressive equipment. It took every scrap of restraint I had to not strip off my clothes, and climb in with him. To make matters worse, at the time he was stroking his cock in long hard jerks, groaning while his head rested on his forearm that was braced on the tile wall. That mental snap shot has gotten me through some of the most sexually frustrated times of my adult life mind you, so I’m thankful for having had it.

All of a sudden my jeans and panties are ripped down my legs, and I’m flat on my back in Hunter’s massive king size bed with a very aroused man looking down at me.

“I’ve got to taste you Baby, I’m fucking dying here. You okay with that?”

Why is he asking me? I don’t like having a man eat my pussy, said no woman ever.

“Mmhmm.” Is all I get out before his head is between my legs, and my knees are thrown over his shoulders. “Hunter.” I moan.

I can feel the rasp of his tongue all the way to the nerve endings in my toes as I fist my hands in the down comforter. He’s teasing me with long licks up my slit bypassing where I need him most.

“You taste so fucking sweet Beautiful.” This time as he delves in he sucks my clit directly into his mouth, applying exactly the right amount of suction. Over and over he licks me, alternating between working my clit, plunging his tongue inside me, and nipping at my folds.

My back bows off the bed as I arch my hips pushing myself further into his mouth. Hunter must feel the tremors of my impending orgasm because he thrusts two thick fingers into my desperate pussy, and I detonate on the spot. Practically sobbing out his name I cum all over his hand.

Letting me ride out the last of my orgasm, Hunter continues to use his fingers to draw little aftershocks from me. That had to be the fastest orgasm on the planet I muse. He doesn’t give me more than a few seconds to rouse from my sated state before he’s hoovering over me again with a condom in his hand. A thought occurs to me, and to be honest it’s a bit too fucking late to think about it now, but I can distinctly remember us
not
using protection earlier. How can I be sure? Easy. When I was forced to spend the afternoon walking around without panties on it’s pretty obvious with the amount of fluid leaking down my thighs that Hunter had forgone a condom, or two. Now usually this wouldn’t be an issue, I haven’t had sex with a man without taking precautions before, so I know I’m clean. Whether the same is true for Hunter I don’t know, but that’s not what’s foremost on my mind.

Because I haven’t had sex in over two years, until today that is, I went off the pill six months ago. I had no intention of hooking up with one night stands, or random guys I met out and about, so I didn’t see the use in taking a pill to prevent something that had absolutely no chance of happening. Famous last words I’d say, because now I may be literally fucked, and not in a good way. Well that way too, but I’m referring to fucked in the way of possibly with child. Hunter’s child.

Hunter grinds against me to get my attention, and I snap my head up to his. He looks concerned, worried even.

“Where’d you go? You spaced out on me there for a minute. You alright, I didn’t do anything to hurt you did I?”

Strangely the first thing that pops into my head with his sweet words is that I need to get another tattoo on my other side depicting this Hunter. The one that even though he’s so turned on I can feel the pre-cum leaking from the head of his cock, he’s still checking on me. Stroking his stubbled jaw I try to smile at him, unfortunately it comes out as more of a grimace, but that’s the best I can manage while I’m in the midst of an emotional crisis.

“You didn’t hurt me Hunter, I’m fine. Better than fine. You have an amazing tongue do you know that? I don’t think I’ve ever cum that fast before.” His crooked grin warms my heart. I just hope he doesn’t flip out when I tell him about our oversight earlier. “Umm… You know before, at the diner, did you realise that we didn’t,” I glance down at the condom on the bed beside us, then raise my eyes to his. What I see there makes me want to punch him in the junk. And I would if it wasn’t currently wedged firmly between my legs, resting hard on the inside of my thigh. Gasping, I breathe out, “You did. You knew.”

Of course he would have realised. When after round one he didn’t have to excuse himself to dispose of the rubber raincoat he would have clicked that he’d forgotten something important. The least he could have done would be let me know.

“Hey, calm down Beautiful, its okay. Whatever happens we’ll deal with it together.”

I hope he’s not fucking suggesting a termination, because I will never do that. It simply isn’t an option for me. I’m all for pro-choice, and that’s mine. A big fat resounding
no
. Noticing what I can only assume as horror in my expression, Hunter rolls off me and pulls me into his chest, pillowing my head half on his bicep, half on his pec.

“Fuck Priss. Do you really think that little of me that you think I’d ask you to do something like that? Jesus Christ. No, just no. I’d never want you to get rid of a baby we made together. There’s nothing in the world I want more than you living here with me, my rings, both of them on your finger, and my baby in your belly. Don’t you get it?” No I really don’t. “I’ve loved you for eight fucking years, been in lust with you for nine. I want kids Beautiful, lots of them. A fucking houseful. Why do you think I bought this place? It wasn’t so I could ramble around the place on my own. I bought it with you in mind Beautiful.
You
. No one else, just you. If Tilly wants to live here too you know I’d love to have her, but the person I want here most is you. Well, you and a baby, or ten would be nice.” He ends on a grin.

Holy shit! Not only did he know, but he actually wants this. As in, he couldn’t have planned it better if he tried, wants this. I should be fucking furious at him for taking the choice away from me, for making a decision that involves both of us, and creating another human being all by himself. But I can’t bring myself to hold on to even a little anger. He was so sincere in his delivery of what he wants, and the word “you” echoes loudly in my head.

Isn’t this what I wanted? Hunter. A family of my own one day. This man I can easily imagine myself growing old with, playing with our children on the lawn, and eventually our grandchildren? Yes, that was the fantasy. The one that had played out over and over in my head on repeat. I just didn’t think I would get the opportunity to make it a reality.

There are defining moments in your life. You may be lucky, or unlucky enough, depending on how you look at it, to have several or only one. I’ve been lucky. I got the chance to be changed by a wonderful young girl that means the world to me. Now I have the chance to make my dreams come true, and all it will take is one three letter word from me to make it happen. But that isn’t the defining moment, what Hunter says next is. Without question I’ll remember this moment above all others when someone asks me when I lost my heart entirely to the amazing man beside me.

“I need you Beautiful. I was fucking lost and broken before I came here, one look at you and everything felt right in my world for the first time in a long fucking time. I didn’t know it then, but I was looking for a saviour. Someone that wouldn’t put up with my shit, who’d pull me out of my head when it got too chaotic in there, and someone to be the light to my dark. You fucking own me Beautiful. Every damaged broken piece of me you own and you have for longer than you’ll ever know. I’m capable of a lot, but I need
you
to save me.” Hunter implores looking into my eyes.

He isn’t damaged. And he isn’t broken. He may have been lost, but I’ve found him now, so he doesn’t need to worry about losing himself ever again. I roll further into him and kiss the hollow of his throat, slowly working my way up to just behind his ear leaving a trail of wet kisses in my wake. When I reach my final destination I whisper,

“I love you Hunter Adams, and I’m never letting you go.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Hunter

Centuries – Fall Out Boy

              Walking in the front door I hang my cut on the hook beside the hall table where I dump my keys, and the all other shit littering my pockets. Sniffing the air I smell garlic and tomatoes and smile broadly to myself. It’s been a long fucking day, and it’s fucking good to be home.

Today I went on a run that was only supposed to be an eight hour round trip; that included meeting with our contact to set up the next transport, which usually takes up about an hour of that. Nothing ever goes as planned when you’re dealing with someone new though.

This is the first transport we’ve done for Riding Warriors MC, and if it was up to me, which it’s not, it would be the last. Anyone that can’t keep a fucking schedule straight shouldn’t be dealing with co-ordinating the shipment of over a million dollars in firearms. The fucking douchebag, Todd the Warriors communications officer, had us sitting around with our thumbs up our asses for an extra three hours. And that shit doesn’t fly with me. Not with the other brothers that rode with me either. Glock was about five seconds off tearing Todd a new asshole when the convoy of two trucks, each with thirty-foot trailers, pulled into the warehouse lot. Lucky for Todd too, because I would’ve held him while Glock, and anyone else that wanted in on the action took turns beating the ever-loving-shit out of him for the simple fact that I wanted to go home, because now I had a reason to.

A lot of shit has changed in the past six months, some good some bad. Thankfully no one else has risen from the dead, because that situation was all kinds of fucked up. It came in two parts, and neither was any better than the other.

Telling Priest, Pipe, and Reaper needed to be handled with finesse, something Jones was lacking in entirely. The stupid motherfucker walked right into Priest’s office and sat himself down on his couch like he was there yesterday. Priest stared at him for a good long while before picking up his phone calling both Pipe and Reaper telling them to get their asses to the clubhouse immediately. I wasn’t supposed to be there that day, I had papers to file, but lucky I was.

Charlee had finally signed the divorce papers after Reaper paid her a friendly visit to the townhouse in Chicago I no longer own and convinced her, (he says he did it nicely, but the jury is still out on that), it was in her best interest to sign on the dotted line. Him refusing to leave until she complied with his, “request” that I think it was more along the lines of demand, but whatever works, might have had a hand in her decision. But like to think its Reaper’s charm that won her over. Regardless, that’s chapter is over for me now. I’ve been officially divorced for five months, and I couldn’t be fucking happier to be free.

Reaper and Pipe made it to the clubhouse in that order, not a surprise Pipe will be late to his own funeral if Selena doesn’t remind him to get his ass out of bed. That’s another one of the changes I was talking about, one of the good ones. Selena Mitchell married Jerimiah Abraham Marks in a small civil ceremony at town hall four months ago. I haven’t seen the bastard smugger than the day he put his ring on Selena’s finger, and if I didn’t know better I’d think he was up to something.

He proved me wrong a month later because he was definitely up to something, or should I say up
in
something? Pipe was ecstatic to announce to anyone who’d listen that he’d knocked his new wife up, and they were expecting a baby in six months, three months from now. Cage wasn’t quite sure what to make of it at first. I can see why he felt that way, he’s twenty-six with an eight-year-old daughter of his own, and now he’s going to be welcoming a sibling two and a half decades younger than him to the family. Yeah, I can definitely see how that would creep a guy out. Cage got over it quickly when he saw Lexi’s reaction to her grandpa’s news. She was over the moon, asking Selena a million questions a day, and talking to the baby growing in her belly every time she sees her.

The other man in attendance, Reaper, is still a moody fucking bastard. I’m starting to prescribe to my woman’s theory that there’s something going on between him and Adelyn. When I say something’s going on I mean, he has an irrational dislike for the tiny dreadlock wearing dynamo. He doesn’t hesitate in taking cheap shots at her whenever he can, he’s a straight up fucking asshole to her actually. Last week for the first time I stepped in. It was getting beyond a joke, the shit he was saying was getting worse, and with no signs of slowing down or stopping any time soon it was time for someone to say something about it.

Adelyn had just finished up a sensational portrait tattoo on a regular client of hers that travels the two and a half hours from Denver to see her. The likeness was fucking remarkable, the woman is beyond talented with a gun, in more ways than one. She can shoot too, actually she’s a fucking crack shot. I was seriously impressed, and it takes a lot to impress me after working as a weapons specialist seeing some of the best the Navy has to offer. Seeing the guy out, Ade comes back to her station to begin clean up when Reaper walks out of his office looking like someone shoved something up his ass. The man has perfected the, I’m-a-fucking-asshole-and-I-know-it look.

Ade accidentally knocks her tray over that’s carrying a few nearly empty ink wells, a pair of gloves, and a couple of paper napkins, that’s all, no big deal right? Wrong. Reaper flips his fucking shit at her.

“Are you fucking serious? Can’t you go one day without fucking something up? Biggest mistake I ever made hiring you.”

Toby’s used to this shit by now, but it doesn’t make it right, him just sitting there staring open mouthed as his boss goes to town on another employee. Right now I’m fucking glad V isn’t here, she would’ve reamed Reaper’s ass for talking to her friend like that, and that would’ve started a nasty chain reaction. No doubt Reaper would tell V to mind her own business, V would tell Arrow what happened, Arrow would storm down here pissed as fuck that Reaper yelled at his three and a half month pregnant wife, (you guessed it, them too), and then Reaper would throw down with Arrow for disrespecting him in his shop. I can see it all now, clear as day in my mind, the sequence of events will go exactly like that. So thank God for small mercies, and V’s day off.

The worst part of it is that Ade looks at him with resignation and acceptance written all over her face. She’s funny, fucking intelligent, sweet, and full of sass when it comes to everyone who’s not Reaper. V’s retold the story of Ade dropping Boss to his knees a while back, at least a hundred times in fact, making her the stuff of legends. But for some reason she won’t stick up for herself against the asshole in front of her. I hope for Reaper’s sake he has a life insurance policy, because when Boss, the president of Vengeance MC, catches wind of this shit, (and he will), he better run for the hills or have his affairs in order, that’s all I can say.

I came in today to have the last of three sessions to complete a piece on my ribs finished, it’s pretty close to the same positioning as Priss’. If Reaper wasn’t such a genius slinging ink I wouldn’t come back after the way I saw him treat Ade. Something’s got to give, it can’t keep on like this much longer.

Stepping up close at her side I rest my hand on her shoulder lightly, but I don’t miss her flinch. I learnt quickly to always make my presence known when coming up on her from behind, or from off to her side. She’s got a past we know that much, but the details are sketchy at best. For whatever reason Ade’s skittish, it should be all the motivation Reaper needs to tone it down.

“You doing okay?”

She seems stunned that I’d bother to ask. That’s not a reflection on me, but them, Reaper and Toby. What the fuck are they doing around here if they’re not even asking if she’s alright when she’s clearly upset? Balling the remaining transfer sheets up and tossing them in the wastepaper basket Ade nods.

“I’m good. Don’t worry about him, okay? He gets like this sometimes, he mustn’t have slept well or something.”

Now she’s making excuses for him treating her like shit. Typical victimology profile, but regardless of that observation, this isn’t going to work for me. I cock my eyebrow at her squeezing my hand sitting on her shoulder lightly.

“That’s bullshit Ade, and you know it. Him treating you like shit is only getting worse darlin’, I think it’s about time we had a word with Boss don’t you?” It’s not a threat said in order to get her to act, it’s a promise if something isn’t done soon.

“No! No fucking way Tank. If you tell Boss this is only going to be ten times worse. He’ll lose his mind, then Diesel will most likely rearrange Reaper’s face, which while he deserves isn’t going to help. You can’t tell them, I’ll work it out myself. Just give me some more time.” She pleads with me, but I’m torn whether to let this go on for even a second longer. I can’t imagine why she wouldn’t want the asshole to pay for his shitty behaviour, especially when Reaper obviously needs a refresher course in how to deal with women, and I can’t think of anyone better to give him that than Boss.

In the end I relent, it seems to be a running theme in my life at the moment, relenting to requests of the women in my life.

“On one condition,” I say waiting for her to agree, which she does nodding rapidly. “You promise to call me if it gets too bad. And by that I mean if something like today happens again you call me immediately.” Ade promises she will a little too quickly for my liking, so I add, “I mean it darlin’, if I find out you’re still putting up with this shit I’ll call Boss and Diesel myself, yeah?”

Sighing Ade pats my forearm giving me a sad smile.

“Yeah Tank, I promise.” I haven’t heard from her since, and that was a week ago. I did have a few choice words to say to Reaper, but as usual he shrugged it off like it was nothing, simply par for the course. It wouldn’t make it any more acceptable, but if I had some idea why he’s acting like this toward her I might be able to reconcile his behaviour with the man I know he is under all this hostility toward her.

Max ‘Reaper’ Andrews on every other occasion is a stand-up guy. Same as the other guys, he’s been FBI since graduating high school, and definitely someone I’d choose to have at my back in a fucked up situation. Like I said before, the man has an impressive skillset. He got married to Carly, a brunette model looking woman with less than two brain cells to rub together, when she told him she was three months pregnant, and the kid was definitely his.

At twenty-one he didn’t have any intention of settling down, having a kid was so far off his radar it hadn’t entered his orbit yet, but being a decent guy who wanted his kid to have two parents that were together he married her, and lived to regret it.

Carly was a selfish cunt, there’s no other way to describe her. She’s the mirror image of the now dead Isabella, Cage’s ex-wife, and if I didn’t know any better I’d say the two were related. Nothing was ever good enough for her. She didn’t give a shit that she had a little boy, which was evident when she and Reaper got divorced then years ago. She hasn’t seen Steel since but for a couple of times when she’s breezed in and out of town stirring up trouble in her wake. If you ask me, Reaper was damn lucky to be shot of her ass. He may have grown to care about her, she did have his kid after all, but he never loved her. I don’t think he’s ever loved anyone, with the exception of his son Steel, his grandbabies, and Lou. Yes. He even loves that crazy bitch.

Like me, Reaper was married for fifteen of the worst years of his life, all throughout the height of the operation to bring down the Satan’s Sons too. How he managed to reign it in enough to do his job, act as sergeant at arms for Devil’s Spawn, and raise a kid practically unaided is beyond my comprehension. But I suppose when you have to do it you find a way to make it work, but even then what was on his plate was extreme. I’ve got a hell of a lot of respect for a man that’s capable of being under that sort of pressure and doesn’t fold. In saying that, my respect is wanning fast with his attitude towards Adelyn. It doesn’t gel, and that in and of itself makes me suspicious.

By nature Reaper is protective, unyielding in his loyalty, devoted to his family, and a damn good brother. It’s as if all those attributes fly out the window as soon as one, Adelyn Pippa London walks into a room. The brothers and I have our theories why that is, none of which have been discussed with the man himself. Because without a doubt the moron that says anything to him will be drinking through a straw for the next six to eight weeks. Personally I think that you don’t have such a strong reaction to someone without feelings being involved. And not the hateful kind. If I had to guess, I’d say Reaper’s fighting the way he feels toward Ade, and the only way he knows how to wage that battle is to do it outwardly. We’ll just have to wait and see how it all pans out, at least it’ll be a hell of a show while it does.

When we were all gathered in Priest’s office, after Pipe and Reaper finished staring at Jones with unabashed hostility that bordered on rage for the longest time, Priest spoke up.