WARNING:
CONTAINS SPOILERS PERTAINING TO PREVIOUS BOOKS IN THE SERIES.
Chapter One: More
Christopher
“Outlaw” Caldwell felt like pulling out his nine and shooting the fuck out of
himself. The breeze blew through his hair while, behind him, the setting sun
sank beneath the horizon, heralding in the first glimpse of nighttime. All
around him, ridiculous fucking music—annoying like a motherfucker—and the
voices of gleeful kids, excited babies, and overwhelmed parents kept him alert.
He wanted to
motherfucking leave this bullshit amusement
park, the last fucking place in the world he wanted to fucking be.
“Christopher!”
Megan called, her tone filled with beautiful, fucking happiness, a sound he
hadn’t heard from his wife in fucking weeks. Her carefree joy almost made this
fucking torture worthwhile.
All-fucking-most.
For this bullshit,
Megan would have to…
What…?
She already did
what he asked of her, so spending the evening at an amusement park racing her
in stupid fucking go-carts, feeling fucking ridiculous on the Ferris wheel,
wanting to slap the fuck out of two dickheads screaming like pussified girls on
the rollercoaster, and fucking with arcade games, shouldn’t have been such a
pain in the fucking balls. He’d had enough miniature golf and bumper cars to
last a fucking lifetime. And the fucking shame of the goddamn carousel.
The carou-fucking-sel. He’d sat in one of
the carriages with Megan snuggled close to him, her eyes bright and sparkling.
They’d already
been there for three fucking hours and he was considering having this
motherfucker blown to bits and fucking pieces so Megan would never, fucking
ever-ever-ever, get it in her head for them to have a motherfucking date here
again.
Fucking never.
Every-fucking
time, they ended up back at these
motherfuckers. The go-carts. After the third fucking time stuffed into those
small fuckers, he wised the fuck up and let Megan win. It became fucking clear
to Christopher she wouldn’t move on until she beat him.
Climbing out of
the cramped space and squelching the urge to kick the fuck out of the go-cart,
he rolled his shoulders, moving off the platform and onto the solid ground,
needing a fucking cigarette as much as he needed a fucking drink. Motherfuckers
didn’t even fucking have the decency to sell fucking beer.
“I win!” Megan
squealed, reaching him, jumping into his arms and kissing his face. He settled
his hands on her ass. His dick jumped at the feel of her. “I told you I could
beat you.”
Not answering, he
sat her on her feet and dragged her toward the adjoining park. The deeper he
pulled her into the dark and silent stands of trees, the tighter her fingers
clutched his hand. Once he decided they were far enough away from everybody, he
stopped and drew her into his arms, kissing her deeply. She tasted so fucking
sweet, like the Dots candy she’d eaten a little while ago. He tongued her lips,
wishing it was her pussy instead.
“Can we fuckin’ go
now?” he asked, groaning when she wrapped her legs around his waist and rocked
against him.
Her arms settled
around his neck. One arm around her body, he cradled the back of her head with
his other hand. As relaxed as her body felt against him, he knew she was genuinely
enjoying herself. It had been days since she felt so pliant. Three fucking days to be exact. Ever
since his fucking MC had been raided by law enforcement and she and his sister,
Zoann, were there without him.
Working to put the
club back together had been nonstop. Many of the walls had been destroyed,
furniture—mattresses, sofas, chairs—ripped apart, clothes thrown aside. Some,
like his, had even been shredded. After all the other bullshit that went on the
past weeks, Christopher decided Megan needed a break. Over breakfast, he’d
asked if going out for an evening would get her mind off every-fucking-thing.
Just to take a fucking break, all of them had gone their separate fucking ways
to wind down. She’d wanted to bring his boy with them, but he decided she’d
needed a break from CJ, too.
Arrow, Bowlie, and
Cowboy had stayed on premises to keep watch and listen out for Dinah. Johnnie
had done a turnaround, just staying in Hawaii long enough to visit his bitch,
and then hop the fuck back on the plane after Christopher told him what the
fuck went down. Although he wouldn’t have put it past Johnnie to weasel his
fucking way to wherever Megan chose, Christopher hadn’t had to punch Johnnie
for making any such underhanded moves. He was with Val, Zoann, Mortician,
Stretch and Ghost at a biker rally.
Christopher would’ve fucked John Boy up, too, cuz he
was still harboring fucking resentment about the ‘I’m human’ comment the assfuck had made about Megan.
Christopher was
fucking human, too, and there was only so much fucking bullshit he’d take from
Johnnie. He already tolerated that fucking cunt on his behalf. He wasn’t about
to put up with the fuckhead still pining for his wife, too.
Even if
Christopher ended at stupid fucking amusement parks with Megan.
Fuck him, when
he’d suggested this, he’d been thinking mainly of Megan, but he’d never fucking
expected her to suggest a fucking amusement park and arcade.
He touched his
forehead to hers, just able to make out her golden hair and skin in the
darkness. She pressed a kiss on the bridge between his neck and shoulder,
hardening his cock all the more.
“I want some
pussy, Megan,” he growled, caressing her denim-covered ass, the jeans she wore
tantamount to a chastity belt and frustrating the motherfuck out of him.
She rolled her
pussy against him and nipped his chin, the feel of her teeth driving him
fucking insane. He sucked the delicate skin of her neck.
“Wanna get
anything from me?”
“Yeah,” she
breathed on a groan. “I want some dick from you, Christopher.”
Her saucy response
pulled laughter from him as he set her on her feet and got to work on her
jeans. Once he got them down around her
knees, he turned her and urged her to bend over with a hand over her back. He
dipped his finger into her pussy, thumbing her clit. The moment he made her
come, he took out his dick and buried it inside of her tender warmth, his grunt
drowning out her sigh. Gripping her hips, he pumped into her, caught in the
grip of her sweet pussy.
Cum already
bubbled up, so Christopher knew he wouldn’t last long. He fingered her clit and
she moaned, pushing into one of his thrusts.
“Let your pussy
come for me, Megan,” he encouraged, fisting one hand in her silky hair.
A moment later,
she shuddered against him, releasing a soft cry. At the sound of her release,
he stiffened and trembled, cum shooting from him.
Slowly, the sounds
of night returned to him. Katydids, crickets, bullfrogs. In the distance,
sounds from the amusement park, faint music, voices, vehicles.
Breathing hard, he
freed Megan, slowly removing his dick out of her and stuffing it back in his
jeans. Once he put himself to rights, he helped her repair her own clothes,
smoothing her hair, jeans, and T-shirt, guided by instinct rather than sight.
Properly clothed again, Megan snaked her arms around him and he kissed the top
of her head. Fucking her had released the tension of the trauma caused by how
he’d spent his evening.
“Can we fuckin’ go
now, baby?” It was her deal, so he wouldn’t mention the biker rally. That’s
where he wanted to be.
“What do you want
to do now?”
Her whisper in her
just-fucked voice caressed his senses. He brought his fingers, coated with her
pussy juice, to his nose and inhaled, the scent of her cunt hardening his dick
again. “What the fuck you think?”
Megan giggled, a nineteen-year-old
having fun and making out with her lover in some forbidden place. In that
moment, she didn’t sound like who she was—his wife—the old lady of a
motherfucker like him and mother of their son. “Not that,” she chastised.
“Give me pussy and
your beautiful fuckin’ smile and I’m a happy motherfucker, so this night for
you.” She’d already given him both, so he was fucking delirious with joy.
For tonight, their
problems were lost in the noise and lights of their surroundings. Tomorrow,
would bring in more work. More problems. More of Megan wanting another baby.
Just fucking more.
She hadn’t spoken
about it in four days, since the night of his ill-planned party where he’d
tried to shut her out. But he knew her.
He. Knew. Her.
His heart
plummeted at what he intended without her knowledge. A vasectomy he hadn’t ever
discussed with her.
The appointment
was wrong like a motherfucker. They kept everything out in the open between
them and never lied to each other. That was the reason they worked so fucking
well. But he’d prefer to pretend to be trying for another baby and know that would never happen then to see
the sadness in her eyes over not only their lost son, but the baby she mightn’t
ever get to have.
Maybe, he was
setting her up for another heartbreak. And, maybe, he’d found the key to help
ease her hurt a little more.
This entire
fucking shit exhausted the fuck out of him. He fucking preferred fucking fights
and gun battles to what he’d gone through over the last few months. To what
he’d helplessly watched his girl go through.
Guilt rushed
Christopher and he sighed. “What do you want
to do?” he asked her again, loving the fuck out of her even if he could do
without the emotion it took to have her and love her.
Silence.
Christopher hoped like fuck her silence meant she wanted to give him more
pussy. He tucked strands of golden hair behind her ear.
This night was for
him and Megan minus the fuckups. Vasectomies, dead babies, and human motherfuckers wouldn’t intrude.
Taking her hand, he guided her back to the amusement park and headed to the
parking area. At his Harley, he seated himself and she climbed behind him. For
once, he’d allowed her to go without a helmet, understanding her need to feel
the wind in her hair and the air kissing her face. The open road invigorated
him and made him feel alive. Free.
Megan needed the
same thing. Glancing over his shoulder, the sight of her swollen lips and
flushed cheeks satisfied him. He lifted a brow, her love for him so stark in
her eyes his chest hurt. Another burst of guilt at his scheduled vasectomy.
Megan fucking trusted him. Could he really…?
Who the fuck was
he kidding? He’d manipulate the fuck out of any situation to keep Megan safe
and happy. No, he’d manipulate shit to keep
Megan. Period.
“So whatcha wanna
do, baby?” he asked gruffly.
“Take me to a
hangout you would’ve gone to before we met,” Megan said softly, her smile
blinding him, her expression unreadable.
A hangout before
they met would’ve consisted of bars, strip clubs, and other clubhouses. Nothing
he wanted her around. “Megan—“
“Please?”
The word pierced
his resistance as much as the feel of her arms around his waist and her cheek
on his middle rocker.
Fuck, still not
what he wanted to hear. She’d fucking offered him to go where the fuck he wanted
and, like a dickhead, he’d insisted she choose. How the fuck was their fucking
thinking getting so the fuck far apart from one another?
Sighing,
Christopher nodded, wondering if those fucking go-carts had fucked up his
brain. No, his fucked up clubhouse was fucking up his brain at the moment. The
brothers discovering he’d gone to a fucking amusement park like a fucking
thirteen-year-old. Fuck, even when he’d been thirteen, he hadn’t done this
ridiculous bullshit.
Now, Megan wanted
to go to one of the places he’d gone to drink, fuck, fight, or make deals.
“What kinda places
you like to hang out at? Let’s go
somewhere like that.”
Tension settled
into her body and seeped into his.
“Well,” she began
in a small voice, “I’ve never gone to a nightclub or anything. I-I’ve gone to
bars with you, but I never had before. I’m not even legal to drink.” The last,
she finished on a mumble.
Well, fuck.
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