Page 72 of StoryTeller's Tale

I resist the urge to start bucking and hammering inside her, wanting to prolong this as much as I can. She feels so amazing, skin on skin even better than I remember it being before. Although it’s not a foregone conclusion she’s going to keep it, the idea that she’s incubating my child is a massive turn-on.

My spine tingles and my balls swell. I keep my pace slow but groan, trying to hold back my own pleasure until hers is done.

She’s holding her breath, her head’s thrown back, her mouth opens and she gasps, thenthank fuck,she’s there. I don’t have a chance. Her internal muscles clamp down and I let myself go with a roar.

Christ. This has never felt so good before.

It takes me a moment for my senses to clear, for the blood to return to my head. My eyes are squeezed closed, but when at last I’m able to fill my lungs with air, I raise my eyelids once more.

The satisfied smile on her face is beautiful. There’s a glow to her skin, a red tint that extends down over her breasts.

I feel something inside me, a pressure in my chest, which makes me lean over her and before planting a kiss on her swollen lips, makes me utter the word, “Mine.” Then with another wave of possession, I place my hand on her belly and repeat, “Mine.”

Her eyes go wide. I don’t know what reaction I was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t for her to shove me away, roll off the bed and start reaching for her clothes.

“Babe?” I kneel up in my naked glory and reach out to grab her arm. “What are you doing?”

“You’ve had your booty call. Now I’ve got to get on with my life.” She wrenches loose and bends to put on her pants.

“Sheri.” I stand, shaking my head, trying to understand. “What the fuck’s gotten into you?”Booty call?I just fucking told this woman she was mine. A claim I don’t make lightly.

For an answer, she finishes dressing, picks up her backpack and swings it over her shoulder. Then, she makes a move to the door.

I’m there before her. Blocking her way, I pick her up fireman style, and throw her back on the bed, covering her with my body and gripping her hands over her head.

“Fuckin’ talk to me, woman.”

She struggles but I’m not going to let her go. One moment, all seemed to be fine, we were lying in post-orgasmic bliss, and the next, she’s like a wild animal trying to get free. I feel like an ass when tears fill her eyes, but I’m not going to let her leave. Especially not when there’s a man out there trying to kill her, me or us both.

“Talk to me,” I demand again.

She stops fighting at last but relaxing only so she can turn and spit the words into my face, “You’re a biker.”

My eyes crease, but I keep the smile off my face. I shrug to show I’ve no idea what she’s talking about.

“I’m… me.”

What she says doesn’t make sense.

Her eyes close briefly, showing her frustration. “You told me I was yours, but for how long? You’re soon going to get bored. I saw those bikers out there,” she waves vaguely in the direction of the clubroom, “having sex in the open and no one cared. Well, that’s not going to be me. I can’t give you that.”

“Been there, done that. That’s not what I want.”

“StoryTeller—”

“Jake.”

“Jake!” She throws up her hands and huffs. “I’m a normal girl. I didn’t even like riding on the back of your bike—”

I pull her to me, holding her cheek tight to my chest, wanting to correct all her misassumptions. “Let me speak, huh?” I give her a second, but she doesn’t object. “For a start, that wasn’t my bike. You’ll like mine, I promise.” I know I’m babbling, words spilling out of my mouth in an attempt to persuade her. “And I’ll keep you safe. You can’t know my mind, Sheri. You haven’t been where I am. You weren’t there the last couple of months when all I could think about was a fiery redhead who I let walk away.” I tighten my hold on her. “I jumped at the excuse to come see you. And when I did, I was fully prepared to be disappointed, to see you weren’t the woman I’d built up in my dreams. Instead, I found you were everything I remembered, and more. I’d be a fool if I let you go again.” Softening my hold, I nuzzle my lips against her hair. “And I won’t, especially not if you’re having my baby.”

“I don’t have to,” she tells me. “Jasmine offered me—”

“No.” I had one reaction when Strider suggested his easy access to abortion pills. Now it’s coming from her, my visceral response is heightened. I know it’s not fair for me to insist she has my child, when it’s her that will have to carry it and suffer any lasting effects of the pregnancy, and any of the risks that might come along with it. But in my mind, it’s all too easy to picture a redheaded baby, a son or a daughter.

After Fi, I’d given up my hopes of being a husband, of being a dad, but fate has intervened and put the opportunity within grasp.

Sparks fly from Sheri’s eyes. “What the hell do you mean, no?”

---