Page 81 of Stoker's Serenity

“Exactly,” I gave her a little shake. “I love you, babe. I love you, and I’m telling you, you’ve gotta let that shit go. I know, it’s easier said than done, but you can’t carry the responsibility of his monumentally shitty actions on your shoulders anymore.”

She sniffed, and stared at me with wide dark eyes, her tear-stained face lovely in the muted lamplight from the room’s bedside table.

“It’s not your fault. It’s super shitty, it sucks hairy balls, but it was never your fault.”

“It still hurts,” she whimpered, and I nodded.

“I know. I get that.” I pulled her in and held her close and sighed. “I want to help you, but I don’t know how,” I said.

“I don’t know either,” she said brokenly.

“We’ll figure it out,” I promised her and she sank into me a little. I guess it was the right thing to say, and to be honest, it was the stone-cold truth. I would help her figure it out. I would work on the problem with her until the end of our fucking days if that was what it took.

“I don’t want to drag you into this,” she said thickly.

“Into what?” I demanded.

“This,” she said, stepping back and bringing my scraped and swollen hand up between us, cradling it gently between her own. She shook her head and murmured, “Where I come from, in my experience, fighting back and standing up for yourself only makes things worse.”

“Yeah,” I whispered, swallowing hard. “I bet you never hit ‘em, though, did you?”

“No, I’m not a violent person.”

“I’m not either, babe. Believe me. There are just some things you cannot let pass in this life. Disrespecting my property is one of them.” I cradled her face in the palm of my hand, smoothing my thumb against the soft skin of her cheek.

I took a breath, paused, and finally said, “This? This was only half you. I had no problem beating the brakes off of one of them – the other I let off easy. This, is mostly my life, the MC life. This is how you settle things with violence. Honorably. You don’t pick up a gun unless it’s necessary. You don’t blow away women or innocent bystanders because of some words. You punch them in the mouth, make them swallow their hate and you walk away. I guaran-damn-tee they won’t fucking do it again.”

I swallowed hard when she didn’t say anything right away. Her eyes flicked up to mine then back to my hand, and I made her a vow. “Anyone wants to fuck with you, they have to go through me, and by extension, the rest of the club. They aren’t so tough when they realize someone’ll beat their ass for it. Just… just don’t give up on us yet.”

She gasped and lifted her eyes from my injured hand to meet mine.

“I don’t want to give up on us. I’m terrified you won’t want me anymore. When my problems get to be too many, when defending me gets too tiresome – what then?”

“Never,” I said, and I didn’t let anything about the single word leave room for argument. Not my tone, inflection, nothing.

I kissed her then, sealing the deal. When words failed me, actions spoke loudest and I poured every ounce of commitment to her that I felt into that kiss. She made a surprised noise against my lips and I pulled her closer. She came to me willingly, dropping the throw she’d had around her shoulders to the floor, her arms going up and around my neck. I gripped her ass beneath the hem of the tee I’d put her in and pulled her against me harder. She gasped at my erection pressing against her stomach through my board shorts, the sound killing me with desire.

“I need to love you,” I growled against her mouth. “Please say yes, that you’re good for it.”

“Yes,” she gasped breathlessly as I trailed my mouth down the side of her neck.

Awesome.

I lifted the hem of the tee and she let me go just long enough for me to pull it over her head and off her arms, dropping it to the floor. She came back to me, pressing herself against me, her kiss desperate, and her touch demanding as she went for the drawstring on my shorts.

While she worked that, I slid out of my cut and gave it a gentle toss to the chair in the corner of the room, eyeing it carefully, satisfied when it pooled in the seat and didn’t slip off to the floor.

I went back to kissing my woman as she shoved my shorts to the floor. I stepped out of them and my thongs as she pressed herself against me with a strained half-whimper, half-moan.

She tore her mouth from mine and gasped out, “Condom?”

“Always. I got you baby,” I murmured into her mouth and it struck me – every time we had sex, she asked for one. Every time, without fail. I filed it away for later and snatched a condom out of the drawer of the bedside table, smirking that I’d put them on top of the typical hotel room Bible.

Sacri-licious, I thought to myself as my ol’ lady practically climbed my body like a fucking tree to get close to me.

“You good to ride me?” I asked, tearing the plastic wrapper open with my teeth.

She plucked the condom free and stroked me with her other hand.

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