Like always, it worked.
Pleasure cascaded through me, enough to make me hold my hand over my mouth, to restrain myself from screaming with the explosion that was an orgasm with my Old Man.
His fingers dug into me, biting hard into my flesh and I groaned, overwhelmed and joyous all at the same time. As he dragged me into him for one final thrust, as he came in me, marking me, branding me, I sank into the sheets, a limp and soggy noodle that was done for the day before it even started.
As I splatted into the sheets, he nestled close to me, flat on his back, both of our chests heaving as we just laid there, trying to come down from the cataclysm that never ceased to amaze me.
After a good ten minutes of silence, where we both knew the other was awake but we were just glad to be in each other’s company, I murmured, "What do you want for your birthday?" He snickered, and I whacked him on the stomach. "What?" I complained. "You have to tell me unless you want me to get you something you don’t need? It’s not like you’re a necktie man, is it?"
That had him snickering harder.
"I don’t need anything," he said after he managed to stop laughing. "Just you."
I grumbled, "Don’t say that. It makes me feel bad when I have a list of things I want for my birthday."
"Ah, so it’s guilt that has you asking," he teased, turning his head to the side so we could look at each other.
And as simply as that, he stole my breath.
I reached over, tracing that smile with my thumb—even though it was kind of awkward in my current pancake position—all while his sparkling eyes held mine.
"You know, when I was eighteen, and I saw you outside of school, I was pretty sure that I hadn’t seen eyes sadder than yours. I never realized how right I was." I smiled. "They’re not sad now, though."
He shook his head. "Nothing to be sad about." His gaze drifted to another point of the bedroom, a point I couldn’t see, but I knew he was taking it in.
We’d lived in smaller houses for most of our married life—I knew why now. Thanks, Dad—but this place was large. Five bedrooms, a massive family room, an office for him, a schoolroom for the kids, a room for me. Five baths, three half-baths, a kitchen, a separate dining room, and all of it beautifully decorated. Like it belonged in a magazine. Well, that was after the housekeeper had finished tidying it up. Mostly, it looked like a bomb had dropped what with so many people roaming around the place.
Beside us, Digger and MaryCat had a property for them and their three kids, Sweet Lips was on the other side, as were Picasso and Slayer with their Old Ladies. There were eighteen properties in total, with North and his Old Lady building one right now.
The Coshocton chapter was less illegal and more legal than its other Satan's Sinners' counterparts. They were still one-percenters because of the runs that traveled through our compound, but Storm’s speciality, so it had turned out, was laundering money and creating thriving businesses that worked.
He’d recruited a further thirty brothers over the years, each with families and lives of their own, and while he sat at the throne, I stood by his side. Club life wasn’t alien to me anymore. I wasn’t frightened of clubwhores or of the parties in the bars. In fact, the sweetbutts were frightened of me, and the brothers respected me. I had friends here, of which MaryCat was my BFF, and more importantly, we’d put down roots, made our own family among the Coshoctonites.
As he looked around the room, I knew that was what he saw, what he was thinking.
In four years, we’d achieved more than we had in the previous twelve.
A solitary warble sounded down the hall, jerking us both out of our contemplative thoughts, and recognizing it as the godawful ringtone of Cyan’s that she’d put on to piss Kelly off, I frowned in surprise because it was a little too early even for Cyan and her Krav buddies.
Yeah, Cyan was still practicing Krav, as well as a whole host of other activities I’d never have imagined her taking part in. Gymnastics had gone the way of the dodo. Martial arts were her thing, with two black belts in Judo and Taekwondo making every brother in the clubhouse respect her because she could, and would, put them on their asses.
When a sharp, short scream sounded down the hall, I immediately clambered to my feet. It had been years since she’d had a night terror, but we both reacted as if it were yesterday.
Unlike me, Storm didn’t wait to grab a sheet. Nope, that would be too easy. He just took off at a fast clip, dragging his shorts off the floor and hauling them on, as he lived up to his name as he stormed down the hall to reach our kid.
I raced after him, nearly tripping over the sheet in my haste. When I caught up, Cyan was sobbing in his arms.
"What is it?" I demanded, wondering what the hell was going on.
Cyan’s sobs tore at my heart, ripping it to shreds. Kelly came tumbling out of his room, some paper stuck to his head which told me he’d been cramming for the test we were going to have today and had fallen asleep at his desk, and in the next room over, I heard Phoenix start to wail as he heard his sister and responded to her pain.
"Jesus, what’s going on?" Kelly rattled out, huddling close to us all, creating a triangle in which Cyan stood at the center.
"I don’t know," I rasped, looking to Storm for answers.
His mouth was tight as he held our devastated daughter against his chest. "That was Rachel."
"Rachel?" Kelly mumbled sleepily. "Why’s she calling?"
"Rain’s MIA."
Dear Diary
KELLY’S SENIOR YEAR
Today was perfect. So, so, so perfect. All Kelly’s hard work has finally come to fruition. Watching him get up on that stage, dressed in his graduation gear and accepting his degree was one thing—summa cum laude, dontcha know—but watching him give the valedictorian speech is something I’ll never forget.
We were all there for him, the whole chapter rode down, the Posse and their Old Men came with, and we took over this motel on the I-80. Literally everyone is here. We took up nearly the entire auditorium, and that was before they asked some of us to leave to make room for other families.
It was hilarious, though.
Storm or some other brother must have texted them to let them know when he made it on stage because a fucking riot of horns blared outside when he accepted his diploma.
I swear everyone jumped in their seats.
Not the chapter, of course, and not me.
I think today was the first day I’ve actually realized how integrated I am with the club. It hasn’t exactly snuck up on me, but I’m just… well, I guess when you do something every day, you don’t know it’s happened until something reminds you.
Giulia would slap me upside the head, call me a dumbass for taking this long to figure it out, but I’m glad she didn’t. I’m glad I worked it out for myself.
Hey, never let it be said I’m not slow to process things. Took me twelve goddamn years to stop being flighty, but once the lesson is learned, that’s it for me.
Sitting by Storm’s side today, his arm around my waist, his fingers tracing my brand on my side—I remembered what it was like when I was younger and we first met, I remembered when we married, and I remembered when Cyan was born. I’d imagined myself at a place like this, grabbing a diploma, getting cheers from friends and family, but that hadn’t happened. Not yet. There was time still. And life hands you different kinds of achievements, doesn’t it?