Page 7 of Blackout

Chapter Three

Lacey

Opening my eyes, I lift my arms above my head and stretch. My body aches in the most intimate places and the scent of sex lingers heavily in the air, both of which remind me of all the ways my husband made love to me last night. With a smile firmly planted on my lips, I roll onto my side and reach for my man, but my hands come up short as I stare at his empty side of the bed.

“Lookin’ for something?”

At the sound of his gruff voice my smile widens, and I glance over my shoulder. Fresh out of the shower, wearing a pair of sweats that ride low on his waist, he stands in the doorway of the connecting bathroom with his arms raised above his head, gripping the doorjamb. His long, wet hair frames his ruggedly handsome face and I curl my fingers into the sheets, wishing I could comb them through his locks. There are some things I’ll never get enough of and one of those things is Blackie’s hair.

Mindlessly, I continue to stare at him as he drops his arms and pads across the room, taking in the scruff that lines his jaw and his chocolate colored eyes as they work me over. Instantly, I’m transcended back in time, to when he was in the hospital recovering from an overdose. Then, I was just a lovesick girl, battling depression, wishing and praying he would love me a fraction of the way I loved him. I lived for stolen moments and dangerously toed the line drawn between us any chance I got, never imagining I’d one day be his wife. That one day I’d be scrambling to my knees on our bed, wrapping my arms around his neck as he bends his head and touches his mouth to my shoulder.

“Good morning,” I murmur, angling my head to give him access to my neck. His scruff brushes against my skin as he trails his mouth up the column of my neck. Planting his hands on my ass, he squeezes me and pulls me closer to him.

“Yeah, it is,” he rasps against my skin before slowly peeling his mouth away from my neck. Leaning back, he lifts a hand and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “God, you’re fucking pretty in the morning. Best sight I ever saw.”

Inching closer, I peck his lips.

“Lies,” I tease. “I look—”

“You look thoroughly fucked,” he interjects, giving my lips another kiss. I part my lips and wait for his tongue but it’s his turn to tease me and he pulls away before I can taste him. Humor dances in his eyes as I snap my lips together and glare at him. “What’s the matter, girl?” he taunts. “You didn’t have enough?”

“Two can play this game, Petra,” I huff. Giving his rock-hard abs a shove, I shuffle out of the bed and push him out of my way. As I move away from him, his arm snakes around my stomach and his front presses against my back. His erection strains against the thin barrier of his sweatpants and teases my ass.

“Like it when you’re all worked up, Lace,” he growls, touching his lips to my ear. Gently, he glides his fingers down my stomach. My breath hitches and naturally my legs part, welcoming his stroke. I don’t know who has more stamina, me or him, but I pray we’re always like this. That twenty years from now, we’re still the couple that can’t keep their hands off one another.

He slips two fingers inside my pussy and a moan sounds from my lips. My legs start to buckle as his thumb finds my clit. Circling his wrist with my hand, I set the pace and ride his fingers until he pulls them out of me and spins me in his arms. My palms move to his chest and I push him down on the bed.

“Quit playing me, Blackie,” I warn, climbing on top of him. Fitting my pussy to the outline of his cock, I rub myself against him and meet his hooded gaze.

“Yeah, I definitely like it when you’re all worked up,” he grunts, lifting his hips. I close my eyes as I rock my pussy over his cock. He hooks his thumbs in the elastic band of his pants and I lift myself as he pushes them down. Freeing his cock, he lets the pants pool around his thighs, and I take his shaft in my hand, closing my fist around the thickness. My thumb grazes the head, swiping a bead of come away from the tip.

“Get on,” he orders, pushing his hair away from his face. Straddling his muscular thighs, I position him between my legs and move my hands to his shoulders. I steady myself and lower onto him, taking him inch by inch until I’m fully seated on top of him. He places one hand on my hip and the other cups the back of my neck. Neither of us move for a moment, both of us relishing in the feel of one another. I don’t know who makes the first move but suddenly our bodies are busy finding a rhythm. Sleek with sweat, skin slaps against skin as he pistons his hips and I ride him. I come hard and when it’s his turn, I grab his biceps and steady my languid body, taking every drop he fills me with.

Sated, I drop my weight on top of him. My body rises and falls with every breath he takes, and his arms wrap around me.

“At this rate you’ll be pregnant in no time,” he quips.

Lifting my head, I meet his gaze. Blackie very rarely wears a playful expression on his face. It’s like his mind is always working, always worrying about the pressures of the club and whatever storm might be rolling in to wreak havoc on the Satan’s Knights. If it isn’t the club weighing him down, it’s his never-ending battle with addiction and my maker that’s wearing on his mind. There’s always something. It’s like he’s forever holding his breath and that’s really no way to live. So, when he looks at me like he is right now, like he’s actually happy, maybe even excited, it makes my heart soar. The fact that it’s the possibility the idea of me being pregnant that put’s that expression on his face—well, there are no words.

None.

A baby has been a dream of mine since I first walked down the aisle and placed my hand in his. I’ve got a list of names picked out already and I know exactly how I plan on decorating the nursery. But since we got married, we haven’t discussed starting a family. Not because we didn’t want children but mainly because the timing was never right. For a long time, it seemed like every enemy the club ever had, simultaneously decided to strike. The times when things were quiet never lasted long and even now, I’m sure there’s some douchebag lurking in the shadows, waiting to bring the mayhem. The truth is, when you’re an outlaw there is no perfect time to start a family so, when Blackie came inside me last night, the decision was kind of made for us.

The Devil be damned.

Smiling at him, I bring his hands to my belly.

“I hope so,” I tell him, as his eyes move to my stomach. After a moment he draws out a sigh and shakes his head.

“The thought of you pregnant blows my mind,” he confesses softly. I know he’s scared, that having a baby is just another worry to add to the long list he carries with him every day. The concerns he voiced last night are all valid. We’re damaged goods. That, we know. But there aren’t two people more deserving of the happiness a child brings.

“You’re not having second thoughts, are you?” I ask, dropping my gaze to his hands. I wonder if he realizes he’s drawing circles on my belly with his thumbs.

“No,” he replies. Keeping one hand on my stomach, he lifts the other to my chin and forces my eyes back to his. “I don’t think you realize how big this is for me.”

“It’s a baby, Blackie. A living, breathing thing that we’re going to be responsible for. Trust me, I get it.”

He’s not the only one scared.

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