Page 103 of Being Lost

“We do. It’s settled. You’re mine and you’re staying with me now.”

I grimace, wanting nothing more. “But Alder’s still out there.”

He nods. “But now we’ve got a plan for taking him out. Before you ask, it doesn’t involve you, babe. You won’t need to play a part.”

“But it’s dangerous?”

The shuttered look that comes over his eyes shows he can’t hide that it might.

For a moment, I’m undecided, and eye him carefully. I could continue to protest, but I messed up yesterday. I couldn’t go and leave him and my children behind. I’d rather die than live without them, I know that now. I could make his life difficult by insisting he step back and let this thing with Alder drop, but that would mean constantly looking over our shoulders, and Alder’s not a man to give up. If he can’t find me, he could go after my pregnant daughter, and if he discovers my son’s alive, he’d kill him for real.

I make the only possible decision, to trust my man.My man.It has a lovely ring to it.

So instead of protesting, I ask, “Do I get my own cut?”

Air whooshes in through his teeth at the words he clearly didn’t expect. “Fuck, babe. You with my cut saying you’re my property?” He half closes his eyes. “I can picture it now. You, naked, wearing just my leather, and me fuckin’ you hard.”

Seems I don’t have any objection to that. I squirm a little in the seat.

He opens his eyes. “Must admit I thought you’d argue about the word property.”

“Don’t forget I have a daughter who’s an old lady,” I remind him. “At first it was hard to get my head around, but it’s like a wedding ring, isn’t it? A biker promise to his old lady.”

“You want that as well, Patsy? You want my ring on your finger and do it legally?”

For a moment, I stare down at my hands, naked of adornment, which is how I like them. “I was married before, Lost. A ring, a marriage certificate is no guarantee of anything—no vows spoken in front of an officiant promises they’ll be followed when all the fuss dies down.”

“My experience is pretty similar,” Lost agrees.

“I don’t need all the trimmings now, Lost. You and me, promises given to each other, seem to mean so much more.”

He sits down beside me, pulling me into his arms. “I will make a vow. I vow you’ll never regret this. I vow to treat you right every day, and always come home to you at night.” He pauses, then winks. “And I vow to ride you as much and as hard as my bike.”

I chuckle, and taking his hand, bring it to my lips and kiss it. “I vow to support you as I should as your old lady and,” I release his hand, slip out of his grip and start easing myself down to the floor, “learn how to give you a blow job.”

The effect of my words is slightly ruined by both of my knees cracking loudly as they hit the ground.

Lost snorts, I giggle. It’s just a reminder neither of us are that young anymore.

“Babe…”

But any objection is swallowed as I put my hands to the buttons holding the fly of his jeans together. Undoing them, I free him from his underwear, and pull his already hard cock out.

“You don’t have to do this,” he offers, but I can tell his heart isn’t behind his words.

“I told you, I’ve never done this before, so I don’t know if I’ll be any good at it.”

He leans his head back, closes his eyes, and makes me an offer. “Just do what you’re comfortable doing, Patsy. Your hands on me alone is fuckin’ incredible.”

I’ve never spent time examining a man’s cock before. Sure I’ve felt it, sometimes Phil liked me to jerk him off, but to map it with my eyes, to realise there was an odd beauty to the organ that seemed to be stuck on to the body as an afterthought.

Lost’s arises through a thatch of neatly trimmed grey wiry hair, in a sea of white skin. Pushing his t-shirt higher, his belly is tanned, a marked line showing where his underwear lies. His cock is a deep reddish colour contrasting with both shades of skin.

Purple veins protrude. Feeling brave, I reach forward and lick them, tracing them with my tongue. Lost hisses. I use my hands to slide up and down his length, marvelling at his size. No wonder he makes me feel so full when he’s inside me. As I stroke him, a drop of precum appears on the tip. Feeling brave, I lick it off. It tastes salty, not too unpleasant.

Summoning up even more courage, I put my mouth over the crown and suck.

“Jeez!” Lost all but jumps off the couch.

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