Tombstone growls and yanks my mouth away from his cock with a popping sound. Releasing my hair, he reaches down and also forcefully removes my hand from my jeans—making me whimper a protest.
“Bad girls who don’t listen don’t get what they want, Bambina.” He smirks, pulling me up to straddle his hips. My jean-clad pussy sits directly over his bare cock. “For not listening to me, I’ll have to make sure you’re punished.”
“Hmm, how do you intend to punish me?” I purr, batting my eyelashes.
Grinning defiantly, Tombstone moves without taking his eyes off me. How he is able to stand to his feet without letting me go will forever stay a mystery. I wrap my legs around his waist as he carries me to his room, sets me on my feet at the edge of the bed.
“You know I’ve been waiting to do this, and now I’m going to enjoy every moment of it,” he growls. The husky, raspy tone in his voice has my panties growing even wetter than they already are. Taking a step back from me he nods at my jeans. “Step out of all of the rest of your clothes, Sutton, and do it slowly.”
Sucking in a breath, I do as he says. Wiggling my jeans down my body and taking my panties with them. I step out of them and kick my pants to the side. Slipping my hands over my stomach, I watch him the entire time I reach for the clasp between my breasts and unhook my bra. I allow the sides to fall open and the straps to slip down my shoulders before falling to the ground.
“Anything else?” I ask seductively.
“Turn around, face the bed and crawl up on all fours,” he commands as he removes his shirt and steps out of the jeans that somehow stayed on his hips even after I’d pulled them down earlier. I’m sure it has to do with how muscular his thighs are. This man is built in all the right places.
Taking a breath, I do as he tells me, making sure to put a swing in my hips as I crawl onto the bed. In this position, I feel even more exposed to his eyes than ever before. I peek over my shoulder to find Tombstone staring at my ass, nibbling his bottom lip as he steps forward.
My breathing grows heavy as he gets to the edge of the bed. Tombstone plants his palms on the bed. Leaning in, he blows a breath against my clit.
“Mhmm,” I pant, pushing my ass toward him, wanting more than his breath.
Chuckling, Tombstone withdraws and brings a hand up to one of my ass cheeks . . . massaging it before bringing his palm down in a stinging slap—making me yelp. “You gonna be a good girl for me?” he asks, soothing the pain away.
I nod, only he gives me another slap to the opposite side.
“Such a beautiful sight,” he murmurs before leaning in and slipping his tongue along my slit. Starting a slow, but lavishing torture of bringing me close to release with his mouth only to pull back. He adds a finger and keeps up with his tormenting until I’m shaking with the need to come.
Sweat drenches my skin, and I plead for him to fuck me. Only when he’s satisfied with my begging does he pull back and climb between my legs to slam home, making me scream.
“Mason,” I pant, loving the brutal thrust he’s pounding into me. I repeatedly come, screaming his name, and begging for more.
On my last release, Tombstone roars my name, joining me as he sends me straight into oblivion.
Breathing heavily, I collapse onto the bed, panting.
The feeling of Tombstone’s hand running along my side is the only thing keeping me in the here and now. Otherwise, I might pass out and not wake up for months on end—he’s just that good with that cock of his.
Tombstone presses a kiss to my shoulder, bringing his fingers up to an edge piece of the bandage, and pulls the whole thing back. “Fuck, Bambina, this is fuckin’ gorgeous. Just like you.”
I’m screwed.
Very. Very. Very much screwed when it comes to this man . . . Mason ‘Tombstone’ Colt. He’s not only broken-down walls I'd tried to build up, but he smashed them and stole my heart.
Chapter Thirteen
Sutton
For nearly a month now, everything seems to have gone back to normal. I started working again with my clients getting things done. Usually, I go to the clubhouse, where I’d sit at the bar or one of the tables working while hanging out with anyone who sat with me.
I could care less about the looks the slutty ass probe-a-hoes, the new name we gave the clubwhores the members call probe pockets or P&Ps, keep giving me. A few of them even had the nerve to come up to Ivy and me while Juniper and Josephine were hanging with us.
One, I think they call her Fuzzy had got ballsy and decided to call Ivy a man stealing cunt. None of us took too kindly to this and decided to teach her a lesson. Josephine being a cosmetologist, brought over her bag of goodies. Juniper and I had held Fuzzy still while our dear friend waxed the whore’s eyebrows and took a pair of clippers to one side of her head.
At first, Reaper looked like he wanted to murder us for ganging up on the bitch until he heard what she’d said about his ol’ lady. He then added his own punishment telling her she gets to clean the bathrooms for three months straight.
If I'm not at the clubhouse, I’d work at the garage assisting Ivy in the office while working on assignments I had for my clients. With Ivy being a little over six months pregnant, the girls and I are trying to help her out where we can.
Today, the girls and I are supposed to be going out to lunch and shopping since Ivy didn’t want a baby shower. We’re also going out to Hellfire Dancers—one of the strip clubs the MC owns, but is managed by Mia, Reaper, and Angel’s cousin.
My phone vibrates along the counter, gaining my attention as I flip the bacon in the pan. Tombstone and I have gotten in a groove here at home. One thing I like to do for him is cook breakfast, though I sometimes ruin whatever I cook. He at least gives me an A for effort. Next week is Christmas, and I’m determined to make him something he’ll eat without looking like he’s only doing it for me. I want him to enjoy the meal.
Picking up my phone, I stare at the screen seeing the same number that’s popped up multiple times over the past two weeks. The first time I'd answered it. Since then, I haven’t, because now I know it is Chad. He’s finally out and has gotten hold of my number somehow. Not even my mother has it. Or at least I don’t think she does.
“Bambina.” I jerk at the sound of Tombstone’s voice and drop my phone on the floor in the process.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” I murmur, clearing my throat and blinking back the haze starting to take over. I take a deep breath to get control over my emotions.
Tombstone squats, picking the damn thing up for me as I focus on the bacon, not wanting to burn it. “You wanna answer this?” he asks, holding it out toward me.
“No,” I mutter, not looking in his direction.
“Sutton.” Coming up behind me, he places the phone on the counter and wraps his arm around my waist and spins me to face him. “You know who’s calling you. They’ve been calling you for weeks. Who is it?”
I shake my head, not wanting to answer him.
“If you don’t tell me, I’ll find out myself, and you don’t want me to do that. It’ll only piss me off,” he growls, pulling me flush against his bare chest. Tombstone reaches behind me to the stove—shutting off the burner I’m cooking on. Moving us until I’m pressed against another counter, he grips my hips and picks me up, sitting me on top of the granite. “You wanna start talking, Bambina? Or should I go about this my own way?”