Read Saving Belle (A Category 5 Knights MC Romance Book 2) Online
Authors: Olivia Rigal
Saving Belle (A Category 5 Knights MC Romance Book 2) (7 page)
B
elle gazes
up at me as if the entire weight of the world has been lifted from her shoulders. All the anger and outrage at my sneaking around behind her back melts away, and all that's left is a vulnerable woman who wants nothing more than to be loved.
She leans back slightly, looking up to me, and I cup her cheek softly as I lean down to kiss her. It's slow and soft for a long time. I hold her, trying to soothe her worries, spoken and otherwise. All I can think about is how much she needs a hand to hold. I can't exactly relate to her struggles, but seeing and hearing them is heartbreaking.
When I try to pull back to catch my breath, she leans forward and kisses me deeply. She's still practically curled up against my chest as I wrap my arms around her—vulnerable, soft. Before I know it, we're almost ritualistically undressing each other, small kisses interspersed throughout, far different from our first wild session. Knowing her struggles, and letting her into my heart seems to've changed the way I see her completely.
Sure, she's got a rocking body, and she's gorgeous, but she's so much more to me than that, especially in this moment. My hand comes to her chest, not to grope and squeeze at her, but to feel her heartbeat quickening in anticipation of what's coming. She stares up at me, blinking away happy tears, wearing nothing but her jeans now.
Belle urges me back toward my chair, and when I sit, she strips her jeans off and eases herself into my lap. The kisses continue, just as they were—soft, loving. I really do love this woman, and while I might've been able to put the truth of it out of my head until now, it's a lost cause the moment I pull back to look at her.
I want to take care of her. I want her to feel safe. I want to make her feel wonderful in every way possible. She's worth every bit of effort it took to get to this point, and I couldn't have ever hoped for anything more.
She threads her fingers through my thick hair as she straightens up, urging me toward her breast. My lips part eagerly to take her prominent nipple in, sucking and lapping softly as a hand comes up to squeeze at the soft, pale flesh. My other hand cups her ass, holding her against me, small moans escaping her lips. She becomes more and more animated and vocal the longer I go on, and soon I'm hungrily sucking at both breasts, alternating between them, a low growl of a moan present on my lips as well. I'm not used to being so absorbed in the whole of a woman, but every inch of her calls for dedicated worship and devotion.
I lay her back over the desk, thankful that I'd managed to take care of the mess left for me. I lavish her, kissing her belly and sides, letting my hands roam over her, fingertips lightly dragging. She seems so trusting, her eyes closed and head leaned back. Just as I'm giving myself to her, she's giving herself to me. Before, it almost seemed like we were taking our pleasure from each other, instead of giving it.
I slip a hand under each of her knees, parting her legs gently before I lean down to give a single long, firm lap at her soaked slit. I pause as I reach her clit, taking it between my lips, giving a quick series of licks. She gasps out in surprise at the intensity of the sensation as I begin sucking more eagerly, her legs spreading of their own volition now. Her hips rock gently toward me, urging me on.
I slip two fingers deep inside her, slowly curling them and pumping, relishing the loud moans every motion draws from her, her hips now rocking in time with my hand. Before long, the pace is quickening, though I'm not sure if it's her hips or my hand guiding it. Maybe it's just the intense desire to please from me and the overwhelming pleasure she feels. I bring her close to the edge again and again, slowly sliding my fingers near-completely out as she bucks down toward them, giving a little plaintive whine, begging me to go on.
When I finally do, her hand slips back into my hair, holding on tightly as she bucks her hips, unable to repress the loud cry the orgasm forces from her, her body rigid and shaking, hips lifting up and off the table entirely.
As it passes, she falls slack, panting and moaning hard. After taking only a few moment to recover, she props herself up on one elbow, her other hand slipping down to spread herself, her eyes locked on mine. She opens her mouth to speak, but the idea's quickly abandoned as I stand and lean over her, slipping out of my pants. She stares up at me in anticipation, gasping out as she feels the head of my cock pressing against her opening. She bites her lip, nodding firmly as she wraps her legs around me.
In one swift motion, I'm pulled forward and she wraps her arms around me as the entirety of my length is enveloped in her slick warmth. I kiss and bite gently at her shoulder and neck as her hands roam my back, legs pulling me toward her with every thrust.
Soon, I find myself hovering only inches above her, staring into those beautiful eyes. I'm completely and utterly in love with this woman, and I can read it in her eyes, she's in love with me. The pressure of her legs around me slacks slightly, and we simply gaze into each other's eyes as I pump her slowly, almost carefully.
I can't get enough of the feeling, the intimacy, the beauty of it all. Getting off is the last thing on my mind. All I want is to make her feel good. When, after a long while of the slow, gentle pumping, I begin to pick my pace up, she's quickly pushed close to the edge of climax. I can feel my own orgasm building quickly, and as she wraps her arms around me tightly, practically screaming against my chest, I fill her, clutching her to me, both hands at her back.
Declarations of love spill from the both of us as we come down in a hazy, dizzy bliss.
S
ide-Light
, Peanut and I sit atop our bikes on A1A, across from the Carters mansion, waiting for the old man to leave. As far as his wife is concerned, on Tuesday and Thursday mornings, honorable retired Judge Carter leaves his beautiful mansion and aging wife to play golf with his hifalutin country club buddies.
Turns out, he only plays golf once a week—on Tuesdays. On this Thursday morning, as on all others, Mr. Carter does drive in the direction of the golf course, but he never reaches his destination. He pulls into a lovely condo and strolls in as if he owns the place. With a little digging, Ice’s crew figured out that this was the home of a retired court stenographer.
His affair with the woman has been going on for decades—over two, in fact. Some would congratulate him on being faithful in his unfaithfulness. Hell, even I find it a little touching, but I very seriously doubt Mrs. Carter would be so forgiving.
One thing I know for damn sure is that after losing their only child, she'd be pretty damn devastated to learn that not only has her husband been running around on her for more than twenty years, but also that the woman has two daughters who look a lot like old Mr. Carter. Their college tuitions have been fully picked up, along with their vehicles.
At least Mr. Carter was a real gentleman and only financed the girls with his own money instead of his wife's. Being a real pillar of morality and a paragon of virtue, Mr. Carter found an alternative revenue stream. That's where the findings of our investigation get
real
interesting.
Gotta hand it to Whiz and to the
Friendly Persuasion
agency. They’re damn good. They didn't stop at digging up the affair and giving me that. They provided me with information that could send the old man away for life.
Like clockwork, Mr. Carter leaves his house at around ten in the morning and rides south to Fort Lauderdale's Galt Mile on A1A.
The boys and I follow him into the residence's parking garage. Peanut stands by the entrance looking proper menacing, and Side-Light and I have a very, very productive conversation which ends in him swearing to sign anything he was given. Every single paper Belle's attorney could ever need to ensure that Chris would come home to her was readily and is hastily signed.
An hour later, I’m back in Defiance after dropping off the papers at the attorney's place in Point Lookout. My crew and I park up in the Truckers Heaven lot and take the short walk to Belle and Holly's shared house.
I wave to Chaser, who's sitting sideways on the driver's seat of the MC's truck, the door wide open, blasting classic rock. I make my way into the tiny two-bedroom apartment and take a quick look around.
It seems even small, now that the only things left are the meager furnishings they'd been provided with by their landlord, the owner of Truckers Heaven. The man isn't happy to see them leaving, and had made some noise to protest about some lease or contract, but a few hard looks in his direction and he was almost offering the girls to help them pack.
Holly and Belle's commute to work will definitely be longer, but right now they don't seem to mind in the slightest. I hear squeals of laughter and excitement from another room. Listening to them on their final walk-through, one might think they were sixteen, tops.
I can't tell who's more excited—them or us. I head out to wait with Chaser, who's wearing an ear to ear grin. It's the same triumphant smile he wore when we moved out of our last foster home together.
We're all turning a new page.
Defiance has been damn good to us.
We've established a new chapter for our MC.
The alliance with the Iron Tornadoes is cemented.
New revenue streams are opening up every day.
And, as of tonight, we've got our very own old ladies.
Mine happens to come with an adorable boy attached to her hip, but I don't mind in the slightest. The kid's never really had a father before, and if he lets me, that's a role I know I'll enjoy playing. I'll give him everything Chaser and I never had—stability, love, and support.
B
orn in Manhattan
, Olivia Rigal spent her youth going back and forth between the United States and France.
She lived and studied in both countries.
While studying she kept herself busy with a variety of jobs.
She worked in the Clignancourt Flea Market as well as in a Parisian recording studio.
In Manhattan, she was a dog groomer and an administrative assistant in a famous English auction house.
Olivia settled in France to raise her family. She travelled throughout South East Asia and has a special fondness for Laos and Thailand.
When her day job does not keep her busy in Paris, she runs away to write novels in her Florida home next to MacArthur Beach State Park.
In December 2012 she started publishing short novels in English as an indie.
Early 2014, she began translating them into French and in 2015 into German. The Spanish version is in the works for 2016.
Most of the stories she tells stand alone.
However her characters often meet so you can run into them again and again in other books.
She loves to chat with readers so come hang out with her on Facebook.
R
ide
with The Iron Tornadoes MC
o
r with The
Category 5 Knights MC
P
lay
with The Curve Masters
S
ee
what’s cooking in Paris
Learning Curves (The Complete Story)
O
ther books
Flirting with Disaster
(with Ava Catori)
Homebound (with Shannon Macallan)
F
rançais
Les Tornades d’Acier
Noël au chalet
(avec Shannon Macallan)
D
eutch
Iron Tornadoes, Brennende Kälte
C
astilaño
FRIO COMO EL HIELO - MC Tornados de Hierro n°1
FRIO ARDIENTE - MC Tornados de Hierro n° 2
P
ortuguês