Wild Like the Wind (Page 95)

“Arlo and me worked shit out and you got your own mind, not mine to tell you what to put in it, but know that. Dog, I didn’t lay a fist on him and let him do what he had to do since he was standin’ in for Black.”

Her look shared that did not make her happy.

Her words did the same. “That’s not his prerogative.”

“It is and we won’t agree on that so I’ll just say, Keekee, I needed that, he gave it to me and we were good before, we’re good now and as for me, I’m better now.”

“You just let him beat on you, he took that opportunity and did it, and you’re better?”

“I needed to prove to them what you meant to me. And usin’ them, prove it to Black.”

“Shep,” she pressed his hand deep into her chest, “please get this. It’s important. Black is not here.”

“Not anymore.”

Understanding hit her face and her fingers curled tight around his at her chest.

“I’m clean and clear and from this point on, it’s Hound and Keely,” he declared. “And when I get a ring on your finger, baby, you’re addin’ Ironside to your name. I know the boys got Black and that lives on. But you’re mine now.”

The happy was back, shining from her face.

Christ, she was beautiful.

“So when are you gonna put that ring on my finger, Shepherd Ironside?”

“I want time with you. I want a baby with you. And I wanna be in a house with a fire pit by summer. If you can do all that and plan a wedding, we’ll go get you a ring tomorrow and you’ll be gettin’ on all that.”

Her head shifted back an inch. “That’s not very romantic.”

“Whose dick did you just ride?” he asked.

She grinned.

“The man belongs to that dick romantic?” he went on.

“In his way,” she told him.

That was when his head shifted back an inch. “When have I ever been romantic?”

“You make me breakfast every day.”

“That’s bein’ a good old man for my old lady.”

“Right, then when you yanked my knees out from under me, fell to your own at the end of your bed and buried your face in my pussy,” she stated.

“That’s romantic?”

“For a biker bitch, totally.”

It was his turn to grin, so he did.

He also used his free hand to roam, sharing, “I’m feelin’ romantic again right about now.”

She rolled her eyes.

He rolled her to her back.

And Hound got romantic not knowing two doors down, Lanie was getting her own version of romantic, one door up, Millie was getting the same, one door up from that, Carissa just finished getting her romantic, and several doors down, Tyra was getting angry romantic in a way the angry part was going to burn out and the biker bitch romantic would be all that was left.

But Tab and Shy were on their way home to their baby.

They’d get theirs later, when Playboy was asleep.

Last, not far away, Snapper was giving Rosalie the gentle version of biker romantic.

And for a spell, all in Chaos (but Boz) were happy.

They would not have time to get used to it.

Blessed

Keely

I watched Hound drop to his knees at the side of our bed.

I also watched him bury his face in my pussy.

After that, with all I felt, all he was giving me, my eyes were closed so I didn’t see anything at all.

When Hound made me hit the stratosphere, I was still flying high as I felt his hands come under my arms and drag me deeper into the bed. My orgasm was still burning through me, but it re-ignited as I watched him yank his jeans down just enough to free his rock-solid dick. He pulled my legs apart, covered me and he was then drilling inside.

I shuddered underneath him, took the violent thrusts of his cock, watched the beautiful savagery in his face and did all of that until I couldn’t anymore when my Hound sent me flying again.

He was still thrusting when I came down so I held him, stroked him, rocked to meet him and when his head jerked back and I watched and listened to him come, I happily felt an aftershock roll through my body as I absorbed the tremors throbbing through my man.

Hound dropped his head so his face was in my neck and I held on to him with arms and legs, keeping him close, feeling him, smelling him, glorying in his cock buried deep.

But I eventually took one arm from around him so I could lift my left hand, fingers spread, and stare at the back of it.

On the ring finger was a two and a half carat simple solitaire diamond set in white gold.

My old man hadn’t lied.

We’d woken up that morning at the Compound. We’d showered together at the Compound. We’d dressed in our clothes from the day before (though Hound had put on a different tee seeing as the one from the day before was bloodstained).

And he’d taken me out for breakfast and then taken me right to the mall.

My first two rides wrapped around him on his bike.

They were perfect.

At the display of engagement rings, he’d asked me to pick.

I’d asked him if he was to pick, which one he’d pick.

He’d immediately pointed to the one that was right then on my finger.

Hound didn’t use words to ask me to marry him. He didn’t get down on one knee.

He bought me a ring and slipped it on my finger right there in the store.

And we were engaged.

Then he’d taken us home and gave me his version of biker romantic by getting me naked, falling to his knees and going down on me.

In all the agony I’d had in my life, all the disappointment I’d endured with my family, it was right then, laying on my bed, connected to Hound, wearing his ring that I realized it was moments like that, moments like standing at a register in a jewelry store and having my man slide a ring on my finger, moments so simple and extraordinary, there didn’t need to be any grand gestures made.

Just as they were, they made all the rest worth it.

“The answer is yes,” I whispered.

He lifted his head and looked at me.

“Say again?” he asked.

“Just, you know, to make it that much more official.”

He stared into my eyes.

Then he caught my wrist, pulled it in front of him and slid his hand up so he could press the back of mine, particularly where his ring lay, against the vulnerable base of his throat.

“You know, and don’t ever doubt, how much I love you,” he declared.

I felt the soft smile hit my lips.

I liked it that he said it, especially now, after he gave me the ring, fucked me hard and held that symbol to the life of him.

But he could just grunt and I’d be good.

“I know, cowboy, and trust me, I’ll never doubt it,” I promised.

He held my hand where it was even when he bent and kissed me.

He did it wet and he did it hard.

And I gave that back.

Harder.

Yes, it was moments like that that made all of it worth it.

When he was done with the kiss and working my neck with his mouth, I put a foot to the bed, shoved up and Hound let me roll him.

I did this because we were who we were, wild like the wind, so we knew to take those moments when we got them.

And tear them up, wringing out of them as much as we could get.

“Nope, the other one, it’s got a dining room,” Elvira declared.

“Totally this one,” Tyra said, clicking back to the one she wanted. “It’s got a bigger garage. They essentially have three vehicles and he’s a Chaos man. They’ll use a bigger garage more than they’ll use a dining room.”