Wild Like the Wind by Kristen Ashley
“Better,” he murmured.
“Hound.”
His gaze went from my tits to my eyes but he kept his hands where they were.
“They might make me do it,” he whispered.
A frisson of fear moved through me and I put my hands to his abs.
“Baby,” I whispered back.
“And I’ll do it. To have you and have my brothers, I’ll do anything, but Keekee,” his thumbs slid over my nipples and again my lips parted as I swayed into his hands, “bottom line, I finally got you, I’ll do anything it takes to keep you.”
I slid a hand up his chest and guessed, “You knew this was a possibility.”
“Yup.”
“It’s not fair.”
“It’s the way it is.”
“It isn’t fair,” I pushed.
“It’s how much you’re worth it to me,” he returned, and I swayed deeper into his hands. “I almost want it, Keekee. That shot to prove to them where I’m at with you. To show Black I deserve you. They decide that’s where it’s gonna be, I’ll be all in.”
I curled my fingers around his neck. “But what if I don’t want it?”
“You know the man I am, the men they are, what this is and how it’s gotta be.” He dropped his head to rest his forehead against mine. “It’ll be their last act of loyalty to Black. They gotta give you up too, Keely. They gotta give you to me. If they can’t find it in their souls to do that without makin’ me bleed, then I’ll give that to them too.”
God, he loved his brothers.
And man, did he love me.
“I won’t like it.”
“Wouldn’t suspect you’d want your man beat to shit,” he said with amusement, lifting his head from mine.
“I know this is just another day in your life, your world, you get how it goes,” I told him, squeezing his neck. “But I want it understood, I don’t like it.”
“I need you at the hog roasts at my side,” he returned. “I need you on the back of my bike on our rides. I need to fuck you in my bed at the Compound. I need you in Chaos with me, Keekee. It’s noted you don’t like this might happen. But I don’t want you pullin’ outta Chaos because your man is Chaos, and to be at my side, I want you a part of everything that makes me.”
Fuck, I had to give this to him.
“Okay,” I grumbled. “But I still don’t like it.”
One of his hands slid from my breast down my ribs, my belly, he bent into me so he could trace the outside of the teddy between my legs, and then he pushed it aside and glided one finger inside me.
Well, there you go.
Hound found a successful way to end a conversation he was done having.
I arched into his chest, breathing out, “Baby.”
“Fuck, I don’t know how to fuck you in this, don’t wanna take my eyes off all a’ you,” he growled, sliding his finger out and then going back in with two.
I wrapped both of my hands around his neck and held on.
“Use my neck to lean back, baby, I wanna watch you in that thing takin’ my fingers.”
I did as told.
His eyes roamed down me and locked between my legs.
I slid my thighs out wider.
“Jesus, so fuckin’ slick. I’m coated thick and you’re still runnin’ down my wrist.”
I whimpered.
He looked at me face. “You gonna give me a day after the day after you said you love me present?”
I fucking was.
“Absolutely.”
He grinned.
It was predatory, feral.
My hips jerked against his fingers.
“Ride that, Keekee,” he growled.
I rode his fingers in my teddy, my breasts exposed, pushed up by the tight lace and mesh, and Hound watched me and kept watching me until I exploded for him, crying out, bucking on his fingers at the same time grinding into the thumb he was using to rub my clit.
I barely got over it when he yanked up the material tight between my legs. I moaned as it dragged hard against my clit. And then I was turned, pushed down with cheek to my comforter, my thighs pressed farther apart, my knees still at the edge of the bed, and Hound was inside me.
“Love you, baby,” I breathed.
He pulled the material again, this time at the back, making it drive up my crease.
Yes.
“Yeah,” he grunted.
“Fuck me, honey,” I begged, slamming back into his thrusts.
Hound’s fingers seized the material at the front between my legs and yanked the teddy taut against my clit and kept doing it as he took me from behind.
“Yeah,” he grunted.
I came up to my hands and he mounted me, chest to my back, one hand rhythmically tugging hard at the material, one hand covering my tit and pulling at my nipple, his cock pounding.
He took me there again and straightened away only to drive two wetted fingers up my ass, and then he took me there again.
Only then did he go there with me, the muted thunder of his roar as he shot deep making me quiver all over on my hands and knees in front of him.
He couldn’t have been over it when he pulled out, flipped me to my back and leaned into a hand beside me in the bed, arm straight, other hand covering me between my legs.
“You still drunk?” he asked.
“Mildly,” I answered.
“I want my cum in every part of you that can take it tonight, Keely.”
I didn’t have to be drunk to be down with that.
I reached out an arm to curl my fingers around the back of his neck and used his solid strength to pull me off the bed so I could put my face in his.
“Then give it to me, Hound.”
His snarling growl sounded and kept doing it even as he kissed me.
It was then he followed through with his plan.
I went to work the next day with a slight hangover, still feeling my man’s cock up my ass and in my pussy.
And I learned, happily, I could still tear life up, move on to the next day and get the job done.
Ghosts Are Rising
Keely
It was Friday morning.
I was at the kitchen table and Hound was on the phone with what sounded like Tack.
He was still making breakfast for me every morning, and this was evidenced by the fact that he’d just slid my plate in front of me.
He was branching out.
Cheesy scrambled eggs, toast and sausage patties.
I grabbed my fork and knife and dug in, but did it feeling funny.
Hound had woken up beside me every day since Monday.
And every day, he got up with me when he could easily stay asleep in bed and he didn’t do it just to fuck me.
He made me breakfast.
We were good. The boys knew and were happy for us. Bev knew and was happy for us. We had an understanding of the worst that might come when we told the brothers and we also had an understanding of how we’d deal with that.
But I’d come home from work the day before to Hound’s truck in my drive, his bike behind it and a massive duffle filled with Hound’s clothes in my bedroom.
I had not asked him to kinda, sorta move in.
I did not mind he’d kinda, sorta moved in without my invitation.
What concerned me was, as far as I knew, until both his modes of transport hit my driveway and that bag hit my bedroom, he only went back to his place to change clothes.
Before the night was done, he moved his bike and truck through the gate at my back fence into the enclosed area, which Black had built for our park model camper he’d bought for when we hit rallies. I’d sold it a few years after his death to Arlo, and that space had gone empty since.
Until now, it became where Hound could park his rides so they wouldn’t be seen sitting overnight at my house by anyone who we might not want to see them who also might pass or stop by.
The hiding had to end and I was all for that, I just wasn’t all for how that might have to
And we’d agreed not to take this slow so he could move all his stuff to my place, I didn’t care. I’d even get rid of the old furniture that used to be in our living room, which I’d moved down to the basement when I’d renovated so the boys could have a place that was their own when they got to the age they needed that. Hound could put his kickass new shit down there.
What concerned me was that it seemed he was avoiding his space and it might not be the greatest, but it was where we started, it was his, and I liked being there with him.
What I didn’t like was that I knew he was avoiding it because he was avoiding memories of Jean.
“Knight’s not gonna take it that far, not with a woman, and as much as she’s an asshole, Turnbull’s still got a vagina,” Hound said into his phone, coming back to the table with his plate.
He sat down at corners with me and grabbed his fork.
But I was stuck on the name he said.
Turnbull.
I knew that name.
I hadn’t heard it said in years, but then again, I hadn’t heard anyone mention Chew in years. But it seemed with that he might somehow be back, and that somehow was not in a good way, as any way a total dick like Chew could be back.
I couldn’t say I hated Chew in the beginning.
I could say I hated him in the end.
“I know our patch is still clean,” Hound went on. “But I think we may need to back his play. He stayed outta it for us. Now he’s in it, we need to get back into it with him.”
He listened and ate. I just ate because he was silent and there was nothing to listen to.
Then there was.
“Yeah,” he said on a sigh. “Another meet. Doin’ that so much, might as well put cots around the table so we can sleep.” Pause before, on another sigh, this one heavier, “Right. Yeah. I’ll be there. Later.”
He put his phone down and sank his fork in his sausage patty.
“Everything okay?” I asked carefully.
“Club shit,” he muttered, shoving sausage in his mouth.
There was a lot of bad that Hound had to deal with coming after Black.
At his clear indication we were not going to talk about his phone call, a calm, sweet feeling settled low in my belly that there was something important, something good that he’d have, coming after Black.
I knew the golden rule when it came to Club brothers and old ladies, and this was not just Chaos. There was a lot that could be negotiated over time between hardcore bikers and their women, and in that lot, it was the old lady who had to make the decision if she was going to put up with it or not.
But I knew the golden rule.
If there was club business happening and a biker babe’s old man didn’t share, it was not hers to have. She didn’t wheedle, connive or nag. She kept her mouth shut and sucked it up, however that business affected her man, and in turn her, and without comment, she was there for him.
If she was smart, but mostly if she was loving, she proved with actions over time that he could trust her. And if he learned that, he might give her a little bit, he might give her it all. And they might have discussions about it, he might ask her advice, or if she turned stupid, there might be arguments.
But if he eventually gave her that trust, the one thing she couldn’t do was know what was happening with the club then stick her nose in it with the brothers.
She might have some influence but that had strict boundaries, behind the doors of the home she shared with her old man. Outside, especially on club turf, she had her man’s back, she had the club’s back and that was most assuredly that.
I knew Chaos had troubles and I had a feeling Hound trusted me. However, with my history, he was not sharing, more than likely because he was protecting me. I lost my mind after Millie had been taken and I went to the Compound to speak what was left in it. He didn’t want a repeat of that, not because I was so angry, because he understood the hurt and fear that lay under that.
I’d need to take the time to turn that around so I could do my bit to be the part of his life that was the calm to whatever storm Chaos had found themselves in, taking Hound right along with them.
The way I could do that now was not to push him about whatever was happening, just let it be and not have any reaction to knowing it was happening.
So I did precisely that.
I also changed the subject, but unfortunately it was to one that might be almost as sticky.
“Bev called yesterday and said she’d like to have a family dinner with the boys and her fiancé. And by family, she made it clear she means you too.”
Hound turned his attention from his plate to me and I quickly went on before he could refuse this suggestion and do it with extreme prejudice.
“She’s excited for us. She’s falling in love with this guy, kinda after the fact, but she is. And I wasn’t really supportive of it all while it was happening. She wants me and the boys to meet him, and she wants you to do that too. She wants him to be deeper in her life, which means knowing the people she loves. This guy is an insurance salesman. He’ll never rub up against Chaos—”
“Set it up, babe, but do it here. You have a dining room table, Bev doesn’t, and no offense to the woman, but she isn’t near as good a cook as you. Tomorrow night. Or Sunday. I’ll talk to the boys.”
I stared at him.
He kept eating.
“You, well . . . you said her, the boys, you and me only and now we’re bringing in Tad,” I mentioned quietly.
He grinned at his plate, shaking his head, muttering, “Tad.”
“It’s the man’s name, Shep,” I told him.
He sat back in his chair, nabbing his coffee mug, aimed his grin at me and stated, “An insurance guy named Tad.”
I felt my eyes narrow. “You’ll be nice to him.”
“Sure,” he agreed, taking a sip of coffee.
“And you won’t talk about insurance people fucking folks up the ass,” I demanded.
“I’ll do my best not to work that into conversation,” he joked.
“Seriously, Hound,” I snapped.
“Chill, Keekee. It’ll be cool,” he returned.
That was what I didn’t understand. That he was “cool” with this when he’d been so adamant it was only the boys, Bev, him and me.
Therefore I got into that. “So now explain why you’re all good with Tad showing, because that kinda freaks me.”
“Babe, he’s an insurance agent,” he said in explanation, which was not a full explanation.
“Yes,” I said back and did it slowly.
“First of all, he doesn’t know any of the guys. Second, he’s probably never gonna know any of the guys, except me but only ’cause a’ you. So like you said, he’s never gonna run into Chaos and if he does, I’ll tell him to keep his mouth shut and that’ll probably not only make Tad’s mouth stay shut, it’ll probably tighten his sphincter so he might not be able to take a shit for a week.”
“Don’t threaten him either, Hound,” I warned irately.
He gave me a big smile. “Jesus, Keekee, you think I’m gonna back this guy into the wall of your foyer with a hand at his throat the minute he strolls in and tell him I’ll serve him his balls for dinner if by some extreme off-chance he runs into any biker in the Denver Metro area and says, ‘Hey, by the way, did you know that Hound guy is bangin’ that biker babe named Keely?’ Christ. Give me some credit, woman.”
As this was something he wouldn’t do, nor would Tad (I hoped), I nodded.
“Just . . . try not to be too naturally badass,” I said. “And warn the boys not to be too badass either. I think Beverly likes his sphincter working properly.”
Hound’s brows went up. “She give it to him up the ass?”
“No!” I snapped. “Well, I don’t know. She shares, but she hasn’t shared that.”
“Maybe you should get her a strap-on for her bachelorette party. One a’ them’s gotta have a dick, and when it’s his turn
I reached out and punched his arm.
He started chuckling.
Since he was in a good mood, right or wrong, I didn’t know him well enough as we were now—Hound, my old man, Keely, his old lady—but I decided to go for it.
“You don’t have to make me breakfast,” I announced.
I found out it was wrong.
His humor vanished, he set his coffee down and he bent back over his plate.
“Shep,” I whispered.
He stayed bent over his plate and turned just his eyes to me.
“I need to make you breakfast,” he stated low.
Okay, that was where he was at and right now, that was where I had to leave it.
I nodded.
“Okay, baby,” I said gently. When he looked back to his food, I finished, “Love you.”
He grunted at his food.
I took that as “love you back.”
Taking us out of those dark waters, I declared, “You don’t have to share what the Club’s into, but, you know, now that you’re rubbing up against Chew again, next time you see him, tell him I told him to go fuck himself.”
I went immediately still because Hound went so still, the air not only in the kitchen but also I figured in the entire house (and maybe down the block) went still.
I watched as, slowly, he turned his eyes to me.
“Chew?” he growled.
“I . . . uh . . .” I started then stopped.
It was not done to renounce the Club. If you became a member of a motorcycle club like Chaos, it was a lifetime commitment.
Chew had renounced the Club.
This was not a popular decision, generally.
In the end, however, I sensed the men were happy he made that choice.
This was because the man Chew proved himself to be when he didn’t vote for Crank’s execution, thus solidifying Tack’s takeover, and renouncing the Club rather than being in it when Tack was leading them to clean was even less popular. The reason Crank’s reign was finally brought to an end was all the reason every brother felt Chew should get his shit in line.
It wasn’t that every man lost respect for him, how deep he fell into the shit Crank stirred up, how dirty he got and how much he enjoyed it.