Never Love an Outlaw: Deadly Pistols MC Romance (Outlaw Love) (31 page)

The only answer was in his hips. That was when I knew he was right – I was so wound up, so ready to explore in a shower of ecstasy, that I'd remember this until the day I died.

“Because I just might fuck you so hard you lose your damned mind.”

And he did. One hand tore at my hair, holding me up while his other hand grabbed my ass, all the better to jerk me into him with so much force I knew I'd be sore for days.

This
was fucking.
This
was love.

This was him and I, tangled together on levels I could barely comprehend, thrashing our bodies raw. His cock slammed into me so fast and hard I was sure he'd break, and I didn't fucking care.

Not when the pleasure hit. It throttled me like a nuke going off in my belly.

Slow. Dense. Delicious.

Skin roared when he pushed himself deep one more time, and added his explosion to my clenching, sucking cunt. The hot come I'd learned to crave hurled into me at last.

“Skin! Skin! Skin!”

I came harder than I ever thought possible, screaming his name like a mantra until I couldn't even move my jaw. The whole world froze, locked in this unforgettable instant, this fire so hot it turned to ice.

There was nothing here but me, him, and the flames twirling inside of me. I lost myself in the dizzying pleasure and the sound of his rough grunts, stretching out forever, emptying everything he had inside me.

Or at least getting started.

I knew we weren't finished. Not by half. When this badass told me he was going to fuck me all night, he meant every word. I thanked my lucky stars I'd taken a few days off for the big move.

“Come on, baby. Walk with me.” He jerked me up and pulled me to his chest when we were done, grabbing my old lady jacket off the chair.

I loved the little coat. It had PROPERTY OF SKIN patched on the backside, just like my brand. It made me believe I could be the world's baddest bitch every time I slipped it on, or at least one fit for him, the only man whose opinion mattered anymore.

He wrapped it around my shoulders. He wouldn't let me wear anything else, nor did I want to. Then he led me out to our new porch, stained old world brown, a color that reminded me of my dad's library.

The cool autumn air brushed my legs. He pulled me close to his heat when he felt the first shiver running through my body. I rubbed his arms, remembering how much I loved them.

As if I could ever forget. These were the arms that saved me, loved me, dark and devilish with their inks as they were delightful.

He let me lift his hand to my face and I kissed it. I still wanted to worship every inch of him.

“What're we doing out here?” I asked, as if in a dream.

“Having a moment, babe. Just you and me. I told you before, you're gonna remember tonight for the rest of your damned life.”

It was his turn to take my hand. He pushed it against the bottom pocket. My eyebrows flicked up when I touched the hard little box there. Without another word, he grabbed my hand and pushed it inside, pulling it out a second later with –

“Oh my God.”

The little black box sat neatly in my palm. Amazing how something so small could hold the key to the rest of my life.

“Skin...”

“No, baby. Don't talk. Not yet.” He pushed a stiff finger against my lips.

His other hand circled to the black box in my hand, and he flicked it open. The world's most beautiful gold ring sat there inside it, a tiny silver dagger molded on the loop, with diamond in the middle.

“When I told you I wanted you to remember today forever, it's not because we're moved in. It's not even because we're fucking like wild animals. We've been living together for weeks back at my cabin before we landed this place, and I cherish every damned day with you. But you're gonna remember tonight because it's the night you became my wife. All you've gotta give me is one simple word.” He paused, tense and dramatic. “What do you say, Megan Wilder?”

I could barely think. There wasn't time when it all came rushing out.

“Yes!” I whispered, turning toward him, pushing my lips against his.

At some point we stopped kissing long enough for him to take the ring out and shove it on my finger. Its coolness surrounded my finger, but more importantly, it was
right.

“Don't ever forget I loved you before you just made me the happiest outlaw in the whole damned world.” He grinned, gazing into my eyes.

I eyed the scar running down his face and smiled, a beautiful imperfection as beautifully imperfect as all of this.

Fuck perfect. Fuck the man with the trust fund and the job with a suit and tie. Fuck everything I'd thought was grand, what I'd feared had been stolen from me forever by the pimp.

I had the only man I'd ever want right here, the one who'd shown me there was more life on the back of a motorcycle than a lifetime in a stuffy mansion.

“I'm not sure about that, Skin. I think I can make you a whole lot happier before the night's through.” I reached down, feeling his muscular thighs, rounding my fingers to his cock, hard again and pulsing for attention.

“Fuck, you know I love a challenge, babe. Show me. I already know my old lady gives good head, and now I wanna feel my fiance's tongue on every inch of me.”

Smiling, I dropped to my knees. I worshiped his body all night, the same way I knew I would for the rest of my life.

Alive, loved, and finally free.

I never thought I'd love an outlaw, much less marry one. Now, I couldn't imagine being happy with anything less.

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Kisses,

Nicole Snow

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Content copyright © Nicole Snow. All rights reserved.

Published in the United States of America.

First published in December, 2014.

D
isclaimer:
The following ebook is a work of fiction. Any resemblance characters in this story may have to real people is only coincidental.

Description

AN OUTLAW'S KISS SEDUCES, CONQUERS, AND NEVER LIES...

MISSY

The dirty little secret dad left in the basement was supposed to be our salvation. Guess nobody told him you don't take cash from killers without savage consequences.

Now, the Grizzlies Motorcycle Club owns my sister and I. We're only alive because the rugged hulk with the piercing eyes who won't stop ordering me around says so. He saved us, but he's also an enigma I don't understand.

Why does he keep calling me his old lady? Is he really the light to our darkness? And why the hell can't I stop thinking nasty, shameful things about ending up underneath his wicked tattoos and crude lips?

BRASS

I claimed her on impulse, and all my brothers laughed. Didn't know I'd end up with a smoking hot spitfire who looks at me like I'm the devil himself.

I expected my reputation to crack, but my damned mind's going with it. She's got me questioning my own club and asking myself every single day how long I can keep my hands off her.

It was only pretend, a way to keep her safe. But I can't ignore the very real brutality, corruption, and danger stalking us. Just like I can't forget the storm in my blood that won't stop howling 'til she's wearing my brand and bracing for my kiss.

Play time's over. Missy's gonna be my old lady – no more faking it – and nothing's standing in my way...

The Outlaw Love books are stand alone romance novels featuring unique lovers and happy endings. No cliffhangers! This is Brass and Missy's story, first in the Grizzlies MC series.

“I
t won't be long now,” the nurse said, checking dad's IV bag. “Breathing getting shallower...pulse is slowing...don't worry, girls. He won't feel a thing. That's what the morphine's for.”

I had to squeeze his hand to make sure he wasn't dead yet. Jesus, he was so cold. I swore there was a ten degree difference between dad's fingers in one hand, and my little sister's in the other. I blinked back tears, trying to be brave for Jackie, who watched helplessly, trembling and shaking at my side.

We'd already said our goodbyes. We'd been doing that for the last hour, right before he slipped into unconsciousness for what I guessed was the last time.

I turned to my sister. “It'll be okay. He's going to a better place. No more suffering. The cancer, all the pain...it dies with him. Dad's finally getting better.”

“Missy...” Jackie squeaked, ripping her hand away from me and covering her face.

The nurse gave me a sympathetic look. It took so much effort to push down the lump in my throat without cracking up. I choked on my grief, holding it in, cold and sharp as death looming large.

I threw an arm around my sister, pulling her close. Lying like this was a bitch.

I wasn't really sure what I believed anymore, but I had to say something. Jackie was the one who needed all my support now. Dad's long, painful dying days were about to be over.

Not that it made anything easy. But I was grown up, and I could handle it. Losing him at twenty-one was hard, but if I was fourteen, like the small trembling girl next to me?

“Melissa.” Thin, weak fingers tightened on my wrist with surprising strength.

I jumped, drawing my arm off Jackie, looking at the sick man in the bed. His eyes were wide open and his lips were moving. The sickly sheen on his forehead glowed, one last light before it burned out forever.

“Daddy? What is it?” I leaned in close, wondering if I'd imagined him saying my name.

“Forgive me,” he hissed. “I...I fucked up bad. But I did it for a good reason. I just wish I could've done it different, baby...”

His eyelids fluttered. I squeezed his fingers as tight as I could, moving closer to his gray lips. What the hell was he saying? Was this about Mom again?

She'd been gone for ten years in a car accident, waiting for him on the other side. “Daddy? Hey!”

I grabbed his bony shoulder and gently shook him. He was still there, fighting the black wave pulling him lower, insistent and overpowering.

“It's the only way...I couldn't do it with hard work. Honest work. That never paid shit.” He blinked, running his tongue over his lips. “Just look in the basement, baby. There's a palate...roofing tiles. Everything I ever wanted to leave my girls is there. It was worth it...I promised her I'd do anything for you and Jackie...and I did. I did it, Carol. Our girls are set. I'm ready to burn if I need to...”

Hearing him say mom's name, and then talk about burning? I blinked back tears and shook my head.

What the hell was this? Some kinda death fever making him talk nonsense?

Dad started to slump into the mattress, a harsh rattle in his throat, the tiny splash of color left in his face becoming pale ash. I backed away as the machines howled. The nurse looked at me and nodded. She rushed to his free side, intently watching his heartbeat jerk on the monitor.

The machine released an earsplitting wail as the line went flat.

Jackie completely lost it. I grabbed her tight, holding onto her, turning away until the mechanical screaming stopped. I wanted to cover my ears, but I wanted hers closed more.

I held my little sister and rocked her to my chest. We didn't move until the nurse finally touched my shoulder, nudging us into the waiting room outside.

We sat and waited for all the official business of death to finish up. My brain couldn't stop going back to his last words, the best distraction I had to keep my sanity.

What
was he talking about? His last words sounded so strange, so sure. So repentant, and that truly frightened me.

I didn't dare get my hopes up, as much as I wanted to believe we wouldn't lose everything and end up living in the car next week. The medical bills snatched up the last few pennies left over from his pension and disability – the same fate waiting for our house as soon as his funeral was done.

Delirious,
I thought.
His dying wish was for us, hoping and praying we'd be okay. He went out selflessly, just like a good father should.

That was it. Had to be.

He was dying, after all...pumped full of drugs, driven crazy in his last moments. But I couldn't let go of what he said about the basement.