Texas Tornado (Freebirds Book 5) (23 page)

“To bed, stud. You’ve got an early doctor appointment, and I have to do some laundry.” I answered as I made my way to the stairs. He grunted, but followed me up the stairs and to the living room where I laid down.

He covered me with the blanket he’d remembered to grab from the basement floor, and covered me. “Night, Shiloh June.”

“Night, James Jonathan Allen.” I sighed.

Sleep came swiftly after that. Sated and sleepy, I slept until the next morning when the smell of bacon wafted through the house and woke me from a dead sleep.

Chapter 17

It’s good to have beardless friends when you go out. People will assume you’re their leader.

-Bearded fact

Shiloh

When I walked into the kitchen, stumbling and rubbing my eyes, I was surprised to see an older woman standing at the stove. She was dressed in distressed jeans and a stylish t-shirt. Her feet, however, were covered in tennis shoes that reminded me of kid’s high tops, but who was I to judge? I still wore my Doc Martin’s from back in high school.

I said a silent prayer of thanks that I’d remembered to slip on pants before coming into the kitchen. If what I guessed was true, this was James’ mother.

I was proven right in the next moment when she turned. Staring at me was an older version of Cheyenne. She had the exact same features that Cheyenne had. Only her hair had streaks of silver streaked in with the golden blonde.

Her smile lit up the room, and she held out her hand to me. Moving forward, I placed my hand in hers, and she yanked me into a hug every bit as exuberant as the ones I received from Janie.

“You must be the infamous ‘Loh I keep hearing about.” She smiled.

I laughed. “You must be Daina. Yeah, that’s me. My brother used to call me that when we were younger. When Janie started calling me that, that was the first time I’d heard it in nearly ten years; a blast from the past for sure.”

“Yeah, that’s my girl. At least you’re not called Big Grandma like I am.” She laughed, and then cursed when the smoke alarm started going off.

I grabbed a magazine off the kitchen table, and then walked to the shrieking alarm and started fanning it. “I’m an old pro at this. I cook, but I’m also forgetful. It’s hit or miss with me.”

“You’ve got me pegged as well.” She laughed. “I’m afraid you’re the last one up. Janie’s visiting with Kayla. James’ went off to his doctor’s appointment. Your father and brother disappeared around a half our ago and didn’t enlighten me on where they were going.” She explained.

She reminded me of a peppy blonde cheerleader, only about thirty years older. She was very beautiful. I could see how the powerful and magnetic Todd Masterson had snagged her up. She was everything I could hope to look like thirty years down the road.

“They do that.” I said as I walked towards the refrigerator and grabbed the milk. “They also do this secret crap, and whisper like little girls. Only now, James and Sam do it, too. So it’s like the boys club. No girls allowed.”

“Yeah, Max and James have always done that. Then the other boys came, and I haven’t been able to walk into a room without it silencing like a whore just entered a catholic church since.” She agreed.

I smiled at her comparison. “James mentioned something about needing to hire someone to mow the lawn. I was wondering if you had a lawn mower. If you do, I’ll do it myself.”

She set a plate of eggs and bacon down in front of me. Then grabbed me the ketchup, a fork, a napkin, and the pepper. “James told you what I liked before he left, didn’t he?”

She laughed. “That boy of mine is very efficient.”

“Thank you.” I said before digging in, just managing to ignore the little remembrance of last night, and his very thorough efficiency.

She sat down with her own breakfast. When I glanced at it, I understood how she was able to look fucking awesome. It was a half of a grapefruit, two pieces of whole wheat toast, and a cup of coffee.

She must’ve seen me eyeing her food with a disgusted look on my face, because she explained. “This isn’t my ideal breakfast. But once I hit forty, my metabolism took a nose dive. I’ve learned to eat healthy to make up for it. As for the lawn mower, it’s in the shed out back. Although, I want to warn you. It’s a long job. It took me over two hours to mow it when I was still doing it. I haven’t done it in four years, but the yard hasn’t gotten any smaller.”

“That’s okay. I’ve been needing exercise anyway. I haven’t been able to run for a while. I got my cast off two weeks ago, and haven’t worked up the courage to get back to the gym. Although, it looks like your son won’t let that one slip much longer. He wants me to learn some self-defense.” I said.

She nodded. “Gas is in the back of the shed. Careful of all my fabric. It’s a bit of a mess in there.”

The next twenty minutes was spent talking about Daina’s newest embroidery machine, and how expensive of an endeavor it was to pursue. She’d contemplated doing her crafts full time now that she was eligible for retirement, but was waiting until her next three contracts were up before she made any permanent moves.

Once breakfast was finished, she laughed happily when I gave my plate to Boris. “You’ve got a mini dishwasher.”

“Yeah, he’s just like a dog, I swear. He’ll even fetch.”

“I haven’t had any pets here since Cheyenne’s dog moved out. I can’t tell you how hard it is to have to scrub food off of dishes when you’ve had your own pre-washer to take care of that little chore for you for the last five years.”

After a few more minutes of gabbing about my fat cat, I went to James’ room to get dressed.

I stripped off my clothes that I’d worn to sleep, and tossed them on the foot of the bed. James bed wasn’t made, so I did that quickly before digging through the bag at the bottom of the closet for a thong and sports bra.

Once I was clothed in some tight fitting short shorts and a yellow racer back tank top, I made my way out to the back yard shed. The mower was easy to find, and even easier to start up. It was obviously well taken care of and rumbled to life after only the second pull. It put my own lawn mower to shame.

It was an hour into mowing the front yard that James’ bike pulled up, and he surged off it in a huff. I had to let the engine die before I heard what he was yelling over the loud mower.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He roared.

I raised my eyebrows at his foul mood, cocked my hip, and stared at him. I noticed, as he shot toward me that he was trying to hide his limp, but wasn’t quite successful. Which irritated me even more.

“What I’m doing?” I asked. “Well, it looks obvious to me...”

My gesture towards the lawn mower and the grass only served to darken his mood even further. His eyes blazed. When he finally made it to within a few feet of me, he grasped me by the waist, tossed me over his shoulder, and stomped towards the side of the house.

“Hey!” I barked. “I wasn’t done!”

He ignored my verbal protest.

I would’ve twisted and tried to get out of his ironclad grasp, but I didn’t want to hurt him or me. We rounded the corner of the house, and I was dumped unceremoniously into the chase lounge that overlooked the koi pond I’d only glanced at earlier.

James had his hands on the top of his head, turned towards the pond, contemplating it. “What’s the big deal?” I asked.

He stayed facing the fishpond, but his voice carried over the gentle sound of the waterfall. “Your dad’s got the worst goddamn motorcycle club in the country trying to fuck him in the ass. They’d do anything to do it too. Even use his own daughter against him. Is that what you want to be? Bait? Cause they’ll use you. They won’t leave you whole afterwards, either.”

The venom of his anger startled me. I’d known he would be annoyed that I was mowing. However, it’d never occurred to me that it would be unsafe. If I’d known, I would’ve never done it. I wasn’t a bad ass. I was a fucking social worker. How was I supposed to know that I couldn’t mow the fucking lawn?

My anger took a fever pitch, and I stood up, locking my knees and getting right up against his back. I used my pointer finger to poke him sharply in the back.

“Listen here, you big hairy bastard.” I said poking him again. “I know how to take direction. All you need to do is tell me the things I can or can’t do, and I’ll be sure to follow those directions to the letter. Do. You. Understand. Me?” Each word was emphasized with another poke.

With the last poke, his own temper seemed to give way. Whirling around, he towered over me, the finger of his own hand poking me between my breasts. I could see the emotion rolling across his face, and I backed up. He followed me, stalking me like a panther. “I did fucking tell you! Last. Fucking. Night.”

I didn’t remember any such conversation, but I decided it was in my best interest to agree to disagree. That is until he got in my face. I noted that the beard covering the lower half of his face was shaggier than normal. As if he hadn’t had time keep it trimmed as he usually did. Over the past week, it’d only gotten longer, and it looked hot. The look suited him. The patch that covered his chin started to shine shimmery silver, as if it was prematurely going gray.

On some men, a scruffy beard just didn’t look good. On James, it only seemed to accentuate his hotness factor. The alpha male in him somehow was magnetized. Nothing said I’m no one’s bitch like a badass beard.

I longed to feel his bristly chin chafing against my cheeks, my sensitive nipples, and the tender flesh of my thigh.

Then his condescending comment plowed through my perusal like a hot knife through butter. “Maybe if you pulled that pretty little head out of that tight little ass, you would’ve known that you shouldn’t be out strutting that hot fucking ass in public.”

My spine went taught, and I stood up until our bodies touched. My breasts were rubbing along his chest. His cock, which might I add was harder than a steel pole, hit me at tummy level, and my eyes were level with his chin.

Tilting my head up, I ran my sweaty palm up the side of his arm, passing over the distended veins, past the bulging muscles of his biceps, over the soft cotton of his t-shirt, up his neck, until my fingers came to rest on the scruffy hair that covered his chin. Then I fisted what little I could, and yanked his face down to mine.

There wasn’t much hair, but there was enough. His face came down close to mine, until I could feel the hot, panting breath against my overheated skin. “My fucking pretty little head is not up my
tight
ass. In fact, my ass has never had
anything
up it. Not that you’ll ever fucking know. You’re officially cut off.”

Letting go of his face, I started to slide to the side, only to find my ass against the cushion of the lounger, and James’ body following me down. James’ mouth crashed down against mine, and after a short amount of protest, I gave in to the assault.

Twining my arms around his broad shoulders, I thrust my tongue into his mouth. Our tongues rubbed sensually against each other, and my back arched unintentionally, rubbing my distended nipples against his rock hard chest. James pushed hard with his hips, and my legs spread wider to make room for his.

“God, you look so fucking hot. Your ass jiggles when you walk, and your boobs bounce. I watched you for five minutes before I finally came back to reality. I can’t believe you mowed the lawn in this. You probably gave the neighbors across the street heart attacks. Mr. Winfrey’s probably dying a happy man right now.” He never stopped nipping, sucking, and rubbing his scruffy beard against my sensitive skin.

I was doing my best just to stay conscious during his sensuous assault. Each brush of his bearded face against my sensitive skin, and the grinding of his hips against my pulsating clit, had me hurdling towards an orgasm that was sure to send me into oblivion.

Needing to feel more, I ripped my tank top down until my breasts spilled over the top of it, exposing the turgid points of my nipples to the midday sun. “Suck them.”

I didn’t have to ask though, because his mouth was already pulling one of the tips into the slick heat of his mouth. He sucked hard, pulling back roughly until my nipple burst free of his mouth with a loud pop. He wasted no time in giving my other nipple the same treatment, and I ground myself into the rigid length of him even harder.

A loud barking from the neighbor’s dog next-door, and the hiss of a cat brought me out of my ecstasy-induced fog, but then James mouth descended, and I found myself divested of shorts and panties, even though my tennis shoes remained firmly in place.

The tip of James’ tongue ran down my rib cage, past my belly button, and down into the thatch of hair that covered my sex. “You smell like sex.”

“J-J...” I tried to tell him something, really, I did, but as soon as his tongue found the hard bud of my clit, I couldn’t even remember my own fucking name, let alone tell him what I wanted.

“J’s good. You can call me J from now on. Nobody else calls me that.” He said, and then went to town on my pussy.

He devoured me. There was no other word for what he was doing to me. He sucked the juices that were leaking from my core, swallowing them down as fast as I produced them. The thumb on his right hand thrummed my clit with expert precision, and the thumb of his other hand massaged my perineum.

It wasn’t long before I was so caught up in the feeling of his hands and tongue, that an orgasm blindsided me. Completely off balance, I found myself pulling on his beard again, holding him in place so he wouldn’t stop doing what he was doing.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I remembered that we were outside, in broad damn daylight, fucking. Fucking loudly.

But I didn’t care. I was so far gone, that he could have been doing me in front of the whole damn town and I wouldn’t care.

Just as I started to come down from my mind-blowing orgasm, I found myself impaled on his cock. Then he was rutting. In and out of me, over and over. His cock slammed into me so hard that now I wasn’t laying on the flat part of the lounger. I was moving up the incline, and he was pressing me down.

The angle was absolutely delicious. The head of his fat cock worked me perfectly. He hit that spot. The one I’d only read about in magazines. His gaze held mine prisoner, and he watched my eyes as he fucked me into the chair.