Wild Like the Wind (Page 34)

“Ever?”

She didn’t answer that.

He knew those boys.

They visited their momma.

And he knew now that she’d been putting them off.

“They come here and see me too, Keely,” he told her. “It’s luck of the draw Jag hasn’t needed money for somethin’ since he pissed away whatever he’s got, but sayin’ that, we’ve connected the last two months just because. It just happened during the day when I was able to meet up with him and not tell him to haul his ass here.”

“So you can keep putting him off,” she replied.

“They’re gonna figure it out.”

“Dutch is so caught up in Chaos, and Jagger is so caught up in charming as much skirt as he can find, they’re not gonna figure anything out.”

“You sure about that?”

She again didn’t answer.

She wasn’t sure about that.

“How you think your boys are gonna take it that ole Hound is hittin’ their momma?” he demanded to know.

“Right now I don’t care,” she whispered.

“Well I do,” he bit out.

She suddenly threw her hands out to her sides and tossed her hair.

“Can’t I have a little happy?” she asked, then lifted a hand and gave him a thumb and forefinger an inch apart. “Just a little happy, Hound. Just some time to be me, nothing but me, and do that with you, the only one who gets me. The only one who doesn’t handle me with care. The only one who doesn’t look at me with sorrow in their eyes that Black died and I pissed my life away after he did. The only one who sees,” she slapped her hand on her chest, “me. Keely. A woman who likes to cook for her man and laugh and get fucked hard and get his soft touch after. Can’t I have just a little more of that, Hound? Just a little.”

“You can have that, baby.”

The words were out before he could stop them.

And Christ, the second they were, bright filled her eyes with her tears.

“Fuck, Keekee, get over here,” he muttered.

She flew into his arms.

They closed around her.

“I’m n-not gonna cry,” she told his chest, burrowing into it.

“Good, ’cause I hate bitches that cry,” he replied.

She threw her head back, her hair flying over his arms and aimed a screwed-up face at him, those tears still in her eyes.

“Don’t be a dick, Shep.”

He grinned at her. “You like my dick, babe.”

“Now don’t be more of a dick, Shep.”

“You walked up here without texting me, which I’ll let go this time ’cause we’ve had enough drama today.”

She rolled eyes that were clearing.

He kept going.

“Does that mean I gotta go down to your car to lug up the groceries?”

She shook her head. “I didn’t buy groceries. I didn’t know the state of play between us. But if I won, I figured we’d get something delivered if we could talk someplace into sending a delivery person to your ’hood.”

His brows went up. “If you won?”

“If I won.”

“So this is a game,” he noted, pretty sure how he felt about that, and it wasn’t all that good.

“Life’s a game, Hound. People don’t play it. We’re pawns. It plays us. And every day you don’t know how it’s gonna play you. You could wake up a winner, or you could wake up a loser.” She pressed into him, tightening her arms around him. “But when you’re wild like the wind like we are, you roll with it. Today, I woke up a loser. But I’m gonna end the night a winner.”

He couldn’t argue with that.

So he didn’t.

“I want to spend the night on the weekends,” she declared.

Now she was pushing it.

“Keely—”

She gave him a squeeze and a shake. “If you need to go over and be with Jean, and you don’t want me a part of that, I’ll hang and watch TV while you do. Or snooze, because, baby, you wear me out. But what sucks about this is that it’s been made clear that this might not be the end, but there will be one. So I want all I can get while I’ve got it.”

It’s been made clear?

“It’s always been clear,” he stated.

She looked him in the eye and it took her a beat to say, “Yeah.”

He didn’t get that, but he had Keely in his arms and they had an understanding.

Hound wasn’t sure it was the right one, but it was an understanding.

They both knew where this was at.

And she wanted more of him.

He wasn’t sure it was the right thing to do to give it to her.

But he still was going to do it.

Because they weren’t done.

Not yet.

And he wanted more of her.

Since she was offering . . .

It was dumb as fuck.

But he was going to take it.

Proper Biker Grandma

Keely was going down on him, body slightly to the side, legs straddling his cocked thigh, rubbing her wet pussy along its length, and Hound had had enough.

He pulled out, took hold of her and heard her breath catch as he flung her on her back, gripped her behind her knees and yanked them high and wide, pulling her hips clean off the bed.

He looked her in the eyes as he grasped hold of his dick and led it home.

He had the head in when he returned that hand to the back of her knee and drove inside.

He caught the first moment of her head jerking back right when his did as he felt her slick wet close tight around him.

He bent his neck to watch her face and alternately watch his cock plunge inside her again and again and again.

“Clit and tit,” he bit off.

She immediately moved hands as she was told.

And Hound fucked his Keekee, watching her fingering herself and twisting and pulling at her nipple.

It took it out of him but he held back until she went.

Then he ground as deep inside as he could get and let go.

His alarm clock sounded and he opened his eyes to feel Keely draped on him again.

This time, it wasn’t chest to chest.

This time her chest was over his hips, his morning hard pressing into her tits, head in the bed, the covers tangled around their legs, her round ass, the sway of her back and arc of her neck all he could see.

He ran one hand over that ass and reached the other out to the alarm clock as she shifted, lifting her head, twisting.

The alarm went silent. He felt her eyes on him and looked to her.

It was a few days after their big blowout. Since then, the sex had gone from bionic to stratospheric. With the reminder shoved right up in both of their faces that their time was limited, they obviously were both committed to sucking everything out of it they could get.

Last night was Friday. She’d brought a bag and enough groceries that they didn’t have to leave the house for a month.

He didn’t say dick.

“Gotta take care of Jean, baby.”

She shifted on him, slithering up, putting her face in his, hers was soft and sleepy, something he’d never seen on her. The only time she’d woken up in his bed, she’d had to rush out of it.

He could get used to that look.

Just like he’d gotten used to all she gave him.

Yup.

Burrowing in and sucking out his soul.

And he was the goddamned motherfucker letting it happen.

She touched her mouth to his, whispered, “I’ll be here,” brushed her mouth along the side of his neck then slid off him, reaching to yank the covers up her naked body.