Wring: Road Kill MC #5 (20 page)

“I'm a deliberate dude. I don't fucking take
sweet butts out to my digs and give ʼem a tour, Shannon.”

My hands fist. “I don't go to club whore's mom's
funeral.”

I pull her to me, widening my legs, and her
small body moves between them. “I don't love anyone, Shannon.”

Tears begin to run down her face.

I wipe them away with the pads of my thumbs. “I
love you.”

She nods, smiling.

Why do chicks cry when they're not sad?

Then she gives me the answer I'm looking for.
The only one that matters.

“I love you, too, Wring.”

My chest swells into a tight knot. “Hoping you'd
say that.” I take her hand and tow her inside the house.

*

I run a finger over the countertop. It's some
kind of cold stone, swirly patterns of deep charcoal gray and
creamy white look like spilt glitter stirred together into a
delicious pattern.

“House isn't painted yet,” Wring says from
behind me.

I lift an eyebrow. “Oh, I thought white was
it.”

He shakes his head gently. “Nah. Looking for a
woman's touch. One woman. One touch.”

He takes my hand and puts it on his healthy
erection.

I blush. The man's insatiable.

Thank God for lust, because I think it's all
that saved me from my grief. That, and Mom's blessing. She seemed
to like Wring from the moment she set eyes on him.

“We're gonna christen the place.” He leads me to
a bed. It's flat on the middle of a living room floor, the only
furniture in the place.

On the center there's a small box.

Blue velvet.

I cover my mouth. I've only known Wring a little
over two weeks. Blinking back tears, I drop his hand and slowly
walk toward the small navy speck in the sea of crisp white bed
linen.

“Wring—”

“Nope. Open it, Shannon.”

I lower myself to the bed. My fingers shake as I
grab the box. I don't open it right away. The soft plush of the
velvet warms inside my fingers.

Finally, I crack the lid.

“You didn't have a dad to ask,” Wring explains
as I stare at the ring.

Neither of us says anything about my mom.

“And I don't know anything about jewelry for
chicks.” He gives a rough scrub of his short blond hair with a
palm. “So, I saw my mother. Finally.”

I look up at him.

His neck reddens, and he swipes a hand over his
nape. “Anyways, she said I could have my grandmother's ring when I
asked.” Wring looks away, and I see his nervousness.

I don't say anything.
I
can't.
My heart's so full, I feel like I'm drowning.

In the best way imaginable.

“If you don't”—he shrugs—“like it, I can get you
something else…”

I stand and go to him. Hugging him around his
narrow waist, I splay my fingers over the muscles of his lower
back. “I love it.”

His shoulders sag in apparent relief. “I know
this is fast, Shannon.” He tilts my chin back. “But you feel
right.” He grabs my hand and puts it against his heart. “Here.” His
eyes hood. “Let's get hitched.”

I start crying again.

He crouches down so his face is level with mine.
“I'm going to take a leap and guess all these tears mean yes.”

I give an emphatic nod, too emotionally beaten
to verbalize my consent.

But my answer is a thousand times yes.

He plucks the box from my fingers and takes out
the slim platinum band encrusted with diamonds on its
circumference. Slivers of carved half-moons hold the large center
diamond. It's old-fashioned. Unique.

Like Wring. Like us.

He slips the ring on the ring finger of my left
hand. It fits perfectly.

He chuckles softly. “Fits awesome. Grandma was
tiny, too.” Wring kisses my forehead.

“What were you saying about christening?” I ask,
my grin sly.

“House isn't gonna feel like it's mine until I
have you in it, under me.”

I fall backward on the bed as the sunlight
catches the facets of the diamonds, casting them far and wide like
chipped rainbows.

*

Shannon spreads herself beneath me, and I make
short work of my clothes.

I only take time to carefully fold my cut and
put it on the countertop. The rest of my shit gets dumped on the
floor.

Mattress is the only piece of furniture I have
in the whole place.

Shannon's all I need, and now I've made her
mine.

Striding back over to her naked body, I kneel
between her legs.

Conveniently, Shannon shed her clothes. They lie
on top of my own.

I spread her creamy thighs with the flat of my
palms, taking in the gorgeous pink sight of her pussy.

Hot as fuck.

“You always look at me.” A self-conscious shadow
lingers in her voice.

“I'm a worshiper,” I say softly, running a
finger down her glistening folds.

“Worshiper?” She quirks an eyebrow, but there's
a flush to her skin, a depth to her one-word question.

“Yeah, one of those dudes that wants to get down
on his hands and knees for pussy.”

She frowns, clearly taking my words the wrong
way. Talking isn't my best thing.

“But I never felt like I did much of it until I
saw yours.” I put my hand over her mound and sweep the tip of my
thumb inside her wetness.

We groan together.

“Yeah,” I say softly, kicking my head back.
“It's all about your pussy, Shannon.”

Her blush is a brushfire of red over her fair
skin. “You talk dirty.”

“You like it,” I say, thinking about her coming
against my face while I talked about my tongue fucking her
cunt.

She really liked it then, pulsing around me
while I stabbed it inside her deep.

“Yeah, I do.”

“Besides…” I meet her beautiful green eyes. “Now
I'm making you legit.”

I hike her hips up and place the barest bit of
me inside her, stroking into her about a third of the way. Gets her
off fast. Chicks are sensitive that first third.

My thumb begins to work her clit hard. I keep
stroking in shallow thrusts.

Shannon's so fucking tight, I have to think
about doing dirty laundry to keep from coming.

Then she hooks her heels behind my back, and I
groan, biting my lip hard, tasting blood.

“Shannon,” I grit out with hard-won
restraint.

“Ah!” she yells softly, tossing her arms behind
her head. Her mouth parts, and she begins to pant, moving her body
back and forward with the thrusts of my dick.

I shove my length in all the way, the end of me
at the end of her.

We throb together for a suspended moment.

“I'm coming,” she says softly. Her legs spread
slightly wider, and I withdraw then thrust again.

Shannon's pussy pulses around me, clenching my
cock tight enough that I can hardly breathe.

With a final thrust, I bury myself to the hilt,
bathing her insides with everything I have.

Everything I am.

I grab her wrists and lay myself on top of her,
stabbing my elbows at either side of her head. I kiss every inch of
her face, leaving her mouth for last.

I pull back and chuckle at the dazed expression
in her eyes. “Hmm…” Kiss, suck, peck. “You seem satisfied.”

Her soft expression causes me physical pain—it's
that powerful. To see that love she's got for me shining from her
eyes.

“I think I blew a circuit or something.” Shannon
sighs in total contentment.

I roll off her and tuck her in beside my body,
tossing a leg over hers. “Nope, electrical's good.”

She wraps her fingers around my cock and
squeezes me softly.

I hiss in a breath.

“So good.” She kisses me back.

We don't get out of the makeshift bed for the
rest of the day.

One year later

I toss my books in the back of my VW Rabbit and
slide behind the wheel.

The late summer sun slants through the
windshield, momentarily blinding me. My wedding rings twinkle back
at me.

My smile is its own light. A lot has happened in
the last year.

Miracles. Love. Loss.

And most importantly—hope.

*

Wring takes me there.

I should go to Mom's graveside on her birthday
each year. Celebrate her life instead of the day she died. But
that's not how life works.

I'm marking when mine began.

Mom released me. She gave me advice, which I
took. She left earlier than I wanted, but somehow, in a way, she
gave me Wring.

Wring hangs out against a tree, knee bent and
biker's boot planted against the deeply furrowed bark. His hooded
eyes watch me, constantly scanning the area.

He takes my protection seriously.

There's no reason to worry, though. The Bloods
disbanded after their leader was killed and cops were crawling all
over their turf.

Wring still worries. I think it's just in his
nature. And Noose’s and Snare’s. The jury's out on Lariat. Maybe
there's no woman to be his other half.

Arranging the flowers at Mom's gravestone, I
talk to her. “I did it, Mom. I believed. I trusted.”

The diamonds inside my wedding set sparkle as I
spread the petals perfectly at the base of the granite marker.

A fat tear drops on my hand.

Then another.

I wish Mom could have been there to meet Wring's
mom and the guys—even Viper. That thought makes me smile.

But she directed me toward the man who’s now my
husband. He didn't tell me until after we were married that he’d
spoken to her before she was taken.

Wring told her he would always protect me. No
matter what.

Mom believed him.

I’d wondered how she could have died so
peacefully, in a building full of gangbangers who'd done everything
but steal our property. I know now that it was because I was her
greatest possession. Not our house.

Me.

That's what I finally realized: Mom loved people
above things.

I turn and look at Wring.

He straightens from his perch against the trunk.
“Ready, babe?”

I nod then giggle, shooting my arm straight up
in the air. “A little help?” I wink at him.

He saunters over.

“And to think that I was forcing you to eat.” He
gently pulls me to a standing position, and I put a hand to my
aching lower back.

He puts his hand on my swollen belly.

“Love that I knocked ya up.”

I smirk. “I think you liked the process.”

“That, too, babe.” Wring bends over me, kissing
me thoroughly over Mom's grave.

I have to think she's up in heaven, smiling down
on her daughter and unborn grandchild.

I finally found my slice of heaven, right here
on earth.

THE END

Coming winter 2017!

a Road Kill MC standalone novel #6

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I published both
The Druid
and
Death Series
, in
2011
with the encouragement of my husband,
and continued because of you, my Reader. Your faithfulness through
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Tamara

xoxo

Special Thanks:

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, without whom, there would be no books.