Never Kiss an Outlaw: Deadly Pistols MC Romance (Outlaw Love) (31 page)

“I've got the canister,” I said, pulling out the box in the small compartment behind Lucy's seat. “Let's go.”

I held onto Cora's free hand as we walked down by the water. She put on a brave face, holding a smile, despite the hell up ahead.

My eyes crawled to the boulder just a few paces away from the stream. I stopped and remembered the start of our awesome fuckin' honeymoon, the first time I ever bent her over my ride, fucking the ever-living shit outta both of us.

I'd done that about a thousand times since. Real miracle was, it never got old.

Never. Ever. My grip tightened on her hand.

We shared a look while little Lucy laughed, locked in a memory that'd never be rated anything except X.

“This spot good?” I asked, as soon as we touched the edge of the earth.

“Yeah,” Cora said, leaning down to plant a kiss on Lucy's forehead. She giggled, and that got my girl to laugh a little too.

Thank fuck. We all needed to lighten up today.

Music to my ears, hearing both of 'em happy. The kid was too young to understand what was happening. A blessing, really. Cora was the one who needed all the bright sunny shit she could get just now.

The high summer sun gave us a little bit of that. Me, I'd give her the rest.

I reached into my pocket, pulled out my switchblade, and sliced through the tape holding the box together. The silver urn inside was smaller than I thought. Hard to believe a whole man fit inside it, scorched down to nothing but dust.

Ashes to ashes.
I looked at my girl, holding out my arms. She traded me the kid for the can.

Lucy reached up and stroked the short beard I'd been sprouting since I added dad to my resume. “What you doing, girlie? You're gonna pull my face off one of these days. Girl's got her old man's strength.”

“Da-da-da!” Lucy purred, playfully tugging on my whiskers.

That stuff shouldn't make a man happier than a pig in shit, but it did. Hell, it made me a thousand times happier than all the Jack and whore ass I used to pound, a million years ago before Cora Chase.

I looked up as my wife let out a small laugh, all she could manage with her old man's remains in her hands. Pushing my chin lower into Lucy's small hands, I watched her screw off the cap, and crouch next to the water.

She looked at it for a second, unsure. The stream ran harder today, quicker and angrier than I remembered that night I fucked her in the water.

I looked through the trees, studying the path. “It's good here. That force'll be sure to carry it all down, spread him up equally. Whenever you're ready, babe.”

Suddenly, she straightened up, staring at the open urn in her hands. “I finally am. You know, I forgave him a couple years ago, the night we got married. Dust's advice helped.”

“Prez is always good at that,” I said, walking up next to her, holding Lucy tighter as I gazed into the water.

“Nobody helped like you, love,” she said, smiling and reaching for my hand.

I took it, squeezing her fingers in between her, me, and our little girl. “Whenever you're ready, babe. Let the man fly home.”

Nothing in the world could've stopped her from tearing up when she tipped the urn upside down. The three of us went quiet and watched while she emptied it, the dead man who'd brought her into my life disappearing in a slim smoke trail going downstream.

The water swallowed him up fast. She rinsed the urn in the cool water and stood up, gently shaking a few last drops into the roaring stream.

“I can't believe it took me two years,” she said softly, walking with me along the trees lining the water. “So much has happened to us, Huck.”

“Babe, we're only getting started,” I said, smiling as Lucy cooed in my arms. The kid couldn't decide if she wanted to take a nap or go for my whiskers some more. “We've got our whole lives ahead. It's been a helluva thing, these last two years, and the next two are gonna be wilder. Count on it.”

I grabbed her, pulled her into us, holding the babe in the middle. She was smiling through the tears shining in her eyes. Behind us, the stream shuffled faster, or maybe we just opened our ears to the steady roar.

“I love you, Firefly. I couldn't be standing here, doing this, without you.” She paused, looked at the kid, and then at me. “Not without my family by my side.”

“Gonna have a whole lot more of us next time we're here to pay our dues. Baby number two's coming up in seven months. Keep being beautiful, darlin'. You're giving me at least three more.”

Laughing, she punched me in the arm, sticking that soft little tongue out between her teeth. Fuck if my cock didn't twitch, deep in my jeans. Never stopped wanting her. When the sun caught her just right or she moved the right way – and she always did – it was like flipping a damned switch.

Even during the most somber bullshit, I couldn't turn it off.

Well, fuck the sad and black. I wasn't letting the heavy weight of the past drag us down. Not today, when we were saying goodbye to old cancers.

“Let's go, Cora. Back to the truck. We've got a long ride through the Smokies coming up. Lucy's gonna see every spot along the road worth seeing before she's five, and then we're gonna do the same with her brothers and sisters.”

“Only if you save room for me,” she said, leaning into me for a hot, long kiss.

Goddamned, those lips. Those sweet, fiery, suckable lips.

They'd never get old. Not even when our hair turned gray and I'd be lucky to get it up for a third round without a goddamned blue pill.

Fuck that shit. Fuck it all!

This woman, this kid, this life we were building one day at a time meant the world to me, with my brothers coming in a close second behind it.

“Baby girl,” I whispered, sliding Lucy into her arms, and opening the door to the truck. “There's all the room in the world for you, wherever the hell I go. You're my wife. You know damned well where you belong.”

Smiling, she tucked our little girl into the kiddie seat. For a second, we stood there, watching Lucy doze in the open truck, my woman wrapped up in my arms.

“I've gotten to the point where I can say I don't regret anything. For real, Firefly. How about you?” she asked, a mischievous sparkle in her baby blues.

“Cora, you ask me silly fuckin' questions again, and I'm gonna remind you that when I lay my claim, there's no going back. No doubt. No regrets. Never-fucking-ever.”

One hand slipped down her belly, rounding her backside. I caught her ass and squeezed, growling as I pulled her into me.

She'd get it all later, 'til we were spent and flushed all over, just like we'd been hundreds of times before. For now, I'd savor her slow.

Fingers tangled in her hair, I buried her in another merciless kiss.

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Deadly Pistols MC Books

NEVER LOVE AN OUTLAW (Kindle Unlimited!)

Content copyright © Nicole Snow. All rights reserved.

Published in the United States of America.

First published in October, 2015.

D
isclaimer:
The following ebook is a work of fiction. Any resemblance characters in this story may have to real people is only coincidental.

Please respect this author's hard work! No section of this book may be reproduced or copied without permission. Exception for brief quotations used in reviews or promotions. This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. Thanks!

Cover Design – Kevin McGrath - Kevin Does Art. Photo by Allan Spiers Photography.

Description

I'M FALLING FOR AN OUTLAW I HATE...

MEGAN

I wasn't supposed to end up in an outlaw biker's bed. I wasn't supposed to love it. I definitely wasn't supposed to crave his fiery kisses, beg for his touch, or ache to know the man behind the evil looking ink and scarred smirk.

I was the good girl. He was the monster. Then everything changed.

I became a prisoner. I prayed for Skin to save me. He did – and he kept me for himself.

He's no saint, and I'm no angel. They've already taken so much from me. I'm scared he'll take what's left.

Never love an outlaw, they said. I believed it. So why can't I stop myself from falling for this bad boy so hard I break?

SKIN

I went psycho when I saw her in that dirty whorehouse. She's everything I never wanted, a spitfire with a body meant for claiming.

Then she told me her secret, and I almost needed a straitjacket. I saved her life instead. I gave her a second chance.

I know she's a marked woman, caught between my club and the b*stards I killed. Damn if I won't make her wear my name, even if she's trouble on two long legs I can't stop picturing wrapped around me.

I'll brand her, bed her, own her, no matter how much hell I'll pay. Outlaws love like ticking time bombs, and I'm gonna blow Meg's world apart 'til she's begging for more...

The Outlaw Love books are stand alone romance novels featuring unique lovers and happy endings. No cliffhangers! This is Skin and Megan's story in the Deadly Pistols MC series.

I
couldn't remember my own name sometimes.

When you're so shocked, so broken, so completely sick at heart, the ego dies in every breath, and mine died fast.

My pimp kept me chained up like a dog when I wasn't being used.
Fresh,
he called me, the only name I responded to because Megan was so far away.

Megan was my name in another life. Megan was what they called me when I smiled and laughed, before I spent every waking minute in a nightmare.

“Fresh, baby, wake the fuck up.” Ricky grabbed me by the hair and pulled me off my cot, breaking a beautiful sleep where I almost believed I wasn't trapped in this hellhole. “You've got business.”

He grinned, showing his dirty teeth. Maybe I couldn't settle on a name or identity anymore, but I knew his.

Ricky the bastard was my judge, jury, and executioner for every day I managed to stay alive in this place.

“Okay, Ricky. Just give me a minute.”

He nodded, satisfied, and then pulled the tarnished key out of his jeans. His coarse hands grazed my throat as he unlocked my collar. It was always too tight. I reached up and rubbed the tender, raw impression left by that damned collar like I always did.

Another day. Another John. Another chapter as Fresh, rather than Megan.

“The crew coming in means business for you and Bell,” he growled, shoving a small plastic bin of soap, shampoo, and a towel in my face. “Get cleaned up. We're a little light today. Cherry Anne says she's sick, and I'm looking for you and Bell to pick up the slack. These guys aren't our regular big rig cocks. They're tough, mean, and they like to fuck
hard.
You'd better be ready to work for every red cent.”

“Always, Ricky. Always.”

I flashed him that soft, dead look that always seemed to make him shut up. I learned a long time ago not to negotiate, not to even speak to this man in anything resembling complete sentences. Saying more than I needed to got me into trouble, and sometimes planted nasty ideas in his brain, too.

He'd used me before, and it was always worse than the other Johns. The faceless men who came and went, paying for sex, rarely put any emotion into it. But when Ricky pushed my mouth over his cock, the pimp reminded me who held all the power here, and that I'd be his slave until the day he decided to sell me off to someone else.

Holding my breath, I squeezed the towel, almost ready to turn and head for the small bathroom attached to my room. I winced when I felt his fingers on my skin.

The pimp chuckled, running a fat hand all the way down my back, stopping in my inner thigh. He liked to pinch, and this time, he did it hard. I closed my eyes and let out a whimper.

“Fucking whore. You're the best one here, and you know it, don't you?” His dark eyes beamed down on mine, proud, sick, and demanding. “You're goddamned lucky I only let these boys have one hole. You'd think I was giving them the moon when they throw money at me for your hot little mouth. I can't wait to see what the rest of you earns someday soon. We're close to a buyer, baby. I just know it. I've got a couple bites.”