It’s a shock, making me gasp, but oh fuck, it’s so damn sexy. His hands grasp my hips, pulling me tight in to him.
“You feel so fuckin’ good,” he gets out between pants.
“So do you!”
He releases my right hip. Suddenly I feel a slap of his palm on my flank. I startle, but arousal floods through me.
“I think you liked that.” He does it again.
I want to protest, want to tell him I don’t. I want to explain how nice ladies don’t appreciate being spanked in the middle of lovemaking but hell, how can I do that when I feel my muscles start to tense?
“Yeah, my Cat likes that.”
It seems that I do, and that my body isn’t under my control anymore as his cock moves over my G-spot. He releases my other hip, his hands now doing a one-two motion, a slap one side followed by a second on the other.
I can’t breathe as my orgasm starts to build, my muscles clench as everything tightens. I’m reaching… reaching…
He slaps both my buttocks at the same time and I scream.
“Christ, fuck, woman.” His movements are jerky, his words gasped as he comes inside me. “Fuck, you take all my control.”
I suppose I’m feeling quite pleased with myself. “Is that a bad thing, Jeremiah?”
He’s rested his chin on my back, but now he raises his head. “Call me Finn,” he says tersely. “I can’t pretend with you, Cat.”
Is it a good thing he’s reclaiming his name? Or does he also want to reclaim his life? Where will that leave me?
I’ve kind of gotten used to having him here. Moving what we have to the physical level signals to me we could be building something good. But what if he’s still planning to leave?
As his flaccid cock falls out, he deals with the condom in the same way as before, then rolls over onto his side. I turn so I can look at him, memorising his features as if preparing myself to losing him now.
Brushing back my hair with his hand, he sighs. “What’s that look for?”
I breathe in deep. Should I let it ride, should I hide my fears? Should I steal another few hours, days or whatever we have left? But I’m not that girl. I don’t bury my head in the sand. I’m the one who forced my mom to tell me what was wrong when she’d tried to hide her symptoms. Knowing means you can face what’s ahead, even when it’s something you’d prefer to avoid.
“You asked me to call you Finn. Are you taking back who you are? And what does that mean for me?”
He’s silent so long I think I may have it right, but different words come out of his mouth. “I don’t know how to do this, Cat. For the first time in my life, I want to stay in one place. I’m comfortable, content, and I don’t know what to do with that. Of course, you might not want me around, and even if you do, we might not be able to make this work.”
“I’ve got dreams too… Finn.” His name sounds alien on my tongue, but also right. “I moved away to follow my career. I could have stayed closer, but I wanted to experience city life. I’d been a farm girl, grew up in a small community. I wanted to stretch my wings and branch out.”
“Did you find what you wanted, before you came home?”
Shaking my head, I admit, “I couldn’t find my place. There, I was a small fish in a big pond. Here, I’m still small fry, but the pond’s just a puddle and offers nothing for me. I don’t think I’ve ever found what I’m looking for.”
“You ambitious, babe?”
“Not particularly, no. I want to pay my way in the world, that’s why I became a nurse. I enjoy what I do, but it’s not everything to me.” I risk a look at him, knowing if I’m honest, I could turn him off. “I suppose I wanted what my parents had. A happy marriage, a baby or two.”
His face has tightened and he grimaces. “I never thought I could offer a woman much. I didn’t have a good example with my parents. Kids? Never been around them. While other chapters of the Satan’s Devils are family orientated, that’s not happened at the Utah club.”
“You don’t want children?”
“Cat,” he props himself up on an elbow, leans over and clasps my chin, “before I met you, I’d have said I never wanted a relationship at all. Now I’m thinking how the fuck I can keep you. Kids? Can’t say yes, can’t say no.” He winks. “The idea of a little girl with green eyes and red hair who’s as sassy as her mom, well, that scares the shit out of me.”
“And you think I’m not scared of a little boy with a hankering for odd hairstyles.”
He full-on laughs now, rolling over on his back with his arm thrown up over his eyes. His body vibrates as he continues chuckling. “Guess we don’t have to get it all sorted now.”
“When do you need to decide whether to go back to your MC?”
His mirth disappears. “Babe. In their eyes I disrespected everything when I walked out. They think I ran, I didn’t. I knew I fucked up and knew I needed to make retribution. What I should have done was contacted them immediately when I found out you were nothing to worry about. That would have put me in better stead.”
“Why didn’t you?”
Another glance comes my way. “First, I wanted you to be stronger. If I’d called them, I don’t know that they trust me anymore. Preacher would have flown them out to talk to you themselves, and I wanted you able to deal with that.”
“And they wouldn’t trust you because you fucked up.”
He winces at my statement. “I did worse than that. I flat out told them I didn’t trust them. And that’s the problem with going back. They might let me back in, but is there really a way to move on from that?”
“Why did you tell them that?”
He sits up, pulling up his legs and putting his arms around his knees. It gives me a perfect view of that tat on his back, a reminder of what he is. Not an honourable SEAL, but a member of a biker club. Men for whom lives and women are cheap. I should be running a mile, not talking about ways of making a future with him.
“I promised you steak. Let’s go get the food ready, and we’ll continue to talk.”
“Am I asking too many questions?”
He half turns his head so he can see me out of the corner of his eye. “Your questions are making me look at the situation. That’s not a bad thing if it focuses me on what I want. What you want too, Cat. Because one thing I’m becoming certain of, as long as I won’t be dragging you down with me, I want you by my side, whatever we decide.”
He moves off the bed and starts pulling up his jeans. Commando, I note as he tucks his dick into his pants. He picks up his t-shirt, and gathers my own clothes, handing them to me, minus my underwear.
“Er, I don’t mind going braless, but I need panties.”
He rolls his eyes, but bends, picks them up and passes them to me. Jeans without panties, ew.
“So,” I start, putting my arms into my shirt, “you want a pros and cons discussion.”
“Pros and cons?”
“Yeah, sort of like triage. What treatment if any do we offer? Will the patient get better without intervention, or is medication or surgery required?”
“Surgery in my case being going back to face the music.”