Wring: Road Kill MC #5 (15 page)

I nod. I definitely know the mechanics. I've
isolated myself by choice, but I understood what to do.

And if the shower is a taste of what sex with
Wring is, I'm so ready to be with him. Still, I'm tense as Wring
begins to rock inside my body. The first bit of him inside me feels
incredible, stretching and filling me perfectly.

As he goes deeper, my body resists. Never having
had a penis inside keeps me from relaxing. My walls clench around
the foreign invader, and I still. Trying to stave off the image of
how all that size is inside me.

“No,” he holds my head, forcing me to see only
him. “Look at me while I'm in you, Shannon.”

My eyes find his, and he presses in another
burning inch. “Hurts,” I whisper.

Wring nods, and a slight smile take hold of his
lips. “Hot as fuck that I'm the only prick that's ever been in your
pussy.”

A short laugh bursts from between my lips, and
my muscles spasm around him. We groan together.

“You have a way with words,” I breathe through
my pain.

Wring places his forehead against mine. “I say
what I'm thinking. I know it's not smooth. It's crude. But it's me,
Shannon—and you're getting all of me. No one else. Just you.”

He pushes stray hairs out of my face and kisses
me.

I lift my hips, and he slides in the rest of the
way. I gasp at the feeling of fullness, and Wring throbs inside
me.

“It's so hard not to go inside you, baby. You're
so tight. Fucking perfection.”

“Why don't you?” I swivel my hips a little, and
my pussy gives an answering pulse to the motion. I groan at the
sensation.

As the initial pain recedes, Wring feels so
good.

He chuckles. “Because I want you to come around
my cock.”

Sliding a hand between our bodies, he begins to
swirl my moist clit, and I sigh, my thighs automatically falling
farther apart. Then Wring begins to move deeply inside once
more.

“Ah,” he breathes and rises up on his hands,
push-up style, pressing deep and withdrawing, thrusting in slow
rhythmic pushes of flesh.

I meet each one, burning beginning to give way
to pleasure.

Wring sits on his knees and grabs my hips,
bringing my body back and forth, using it to fuck him. The sight of
his length buried inside me causes my pussy to squeeze and release
around him.

“Stop,” Wring says through clenched teeth. “I'm
gonna go.”

I
can't
stop. His thumb has found my clit
again and works it hard, swirling and rubbing, peeling back the
small hood and flicking a fingernail over the sensitive tip.

He seats himself with a final thrust deep
inside, gripping my hips as he plunges and simultaneously tramping
his thumb on my clit.

I come so hard I feel like I'm losing
consciousness.

Deep warmth spreads inside me as his release
bathes my womb with his seed and we pulse together.

We stay locked like that, and Wrings spreads his
body over mine like a flesh-wrapped steel cocoon of heat and
protection.

His eyes never leave my face. He whispers one
word, and my nod is shy.

Mine.

*

I wrap my arms around Shannon's fragile body and
briefly wonder why she's so thin.

Gonna fatten her up first thing.

“Got your cast drenched,” I mention, stroking
her long silky hair out of her face.

“I don't care,” Shannon says in a languid
voice.

“Good damn thing.” I kiss her temple then frown.
“Hey, I'm sorry.”

She turns in my arms, and her right breast sort
of falls into my hand. I mound the soft flesh with my fingers and
kiss the tip of her light-pink nipple. It hardens against my
lips.

“Why are you sorry?” Shannon asks in a breathy
voice, arching into my caress.

My exhale is soft. “Not good with words. Just
sort of stole you away from your life and forced you—”

Shannon puts her fingers on my mouth. “No,” she
begins in a low voice, “I'm the one who's sorry. I mean…” Her eyes
drift from mine, and only an ancient nightlight plugged into the
wall behind us shows me any part of her expression. Regret is
etched on her features. “My mom kept telling me to improve our
lives by getting rid of the house and getting more hours, pursuing
a career.”

I put a finger on her chin and turn her to face
me again, wrapping part of the sheet around her body.

“Mom knows she's dying. And she's been
encouraging me to live. I just haven't found a good enough reason
to.”

“Vincent's dead,” I remind her.

One Blood tormenter down. The entire gang to go.
Fuck.

She slowly nods. “He's gone.”

Shannon trembles in my arms, and I tighten my
hold. “But now there's Lopez—and I had this Realtor come by the
house, and he's working for them. If I sell the house now, the only
people who'll buy it is one of those gang losers.”

My feelings swell as I listen to her problems.
They're mine, too, now. I admit quietly, “I don’t have much to
offer.”

She touches me, and I go hard.

“You have something to offer, Wring.” Her smile
is sly.

I cock my head. “Not very virginal, Shannon,” I
tease. It's worth it to make out her blush in the gloom of the
bedroom.

“True, but I'm not one anymore.” She smiles.
“But when it comes to us—and whatever we have here—I don't
care.”

Shannon sits up suddenly. “My mom.” Her eyes
fill with anxiety.

“Storm's there.”

Her pale-blond eyebrow rises, silvered in the
oblique moonlight cast through the old window. “How do you
know?”

“Checked my cell as I got off my ride. Hell—we
were too busy to check before then.” I give a lopsided smile and
the low light from the nightlight showcases the deepening red on
her cheeks.

“She okay?” She bites her bottom lip between her
teeth.

I nod. “Storm's dumber than a box of rocks, but
he's a solid guy. Gonna be a brother soon.”
Helluva lot sooner
than Trainer
, I think with a smirk.

Shannon falls back against the pillows, and I
prop up on an elbow, crossing my ankles. Could use a smoke about
now.

“Come on.” I hold out my hand.

Shannon takes it, and I tow her behind me to the
bathroom. I put a washcloth under warm running water then wring out
the excess water, placing it on the rim of the sink. Turning, I put
my hands at her waist and boost her on top of the vanity.

“Wring!” she squeals, giggling.

Love the way her face looks right then. Happy.
“Hang on, gonna clean you.”

The corners of her mouth lift. “I think you've
done a fine job of it.”

I roll my eyes to look at her, already between
those fine thighs. “A man doesn't take a girl's virginity then do
nothing to take care of her later.”

“Oh,” she says, her voice small.

I stop, washcloth in hand, and stare at her.
“Hey, I mean it. Let me take care of you, Shannon.”

She puts her hand on mine and squeezes. “You
already have. Crude and brash, tender and hard, you take care of
every part of me, Wring.”

I nod. She's got it.

I get to work, cleaning her gorgeous slit of my
cum and her blood. Hymen or not, I'm washing the proof of her
innocence away forever.

It wasn’t stolen by the fucking gangbangers, but
taken by a guy that's falling for her like a ton of bricks.

*

“What is this place?” I ask Wring, looking out
over the jagged landscape. Rolling hills with spears of dark trees
surround the driveway. The road beyond is a ribbon of shadow.

He sits in his tight boxer briefs, smoking a
cigarette while I admire his stomach muscles bunching with his
small movements. The tip of the cigarette glows like a small torch
as he takes a drag.

His feet land on the wood porch as he puts the
cigarette out. “Road Kill MC prez's place. He's letting me use it
while my house is being built.”

I feel my eyebrows rise. “You're getting a house
built?”

He nods, folding his hands behind his head.
“Yeah, out by my brother, Snare. Orting.” He grunts when he sees my
face. “Don't looks so surprised.”

I laugh, thinking I'd definitely been a little
judgey.

Wring's eyes cruise my expression. “Come
ʼere.”

I stand and shuffle away from the rocking chair
where I’d been sitting, holding a fluffy blanket covering my
nudity.

“What put that look on your face. Because”—he
looks up at me then pulls me down on his lap as his face goes
low—“I love the look I put on your face when I make you come.”

Heat rises to my cheeks, and I fight not to
touch them. “But I like this look, too.” He runs a finger down my
hot skin, and I lean into the caress.

“I like the country,” I say simply, remembering
my parent's conversations of a once-rural Kent. Riding horses.
Watching shapes in clouds under the protection of towering trees.
The smell of clover in the summer. The sound of crickets as autumn
approaches. Or the wind through the trees. A wistful sigh parts my
lips.

“Me, too,” he confesses.

We sit for a time, me safe in Wring's arms.

“What was that thing you did to Lopez?” I
finally ask softly.

He chuckles in the darkness that shrouds the
place so heavily. “Which part?”

“The rope stuff. You and Noose—and—Lariat?” I
ask, not sure if I got the guy’s name right.

“That's right.”

“You guys have funny names.”

“The name my parents gave me is Sam Walker.”

“Sam,” I muse then shake my head. “Can't see you
that way now.”

“Wring's my road name. Name we go by in the
club.”

In my head, I tick off the names I've heard him
mention. Noose, Snare, Lariat, and Wring. There's something about
them all… I'm missing the connection. “What do they mean?”

He gives me a sidelong look. “Not into question
and answer, Shannon.”

I stiffen a little.
Well, excuse me.
I
cross my arms, wrapping myself tighter within the blanket
.
“I just gave you my virginity inside of knowing you about a week.
You know
everything
about me. I'm entitled to answers,
Wring.”

He frowns, his features intense. “That's where
you're wrong, sweetheart. You're not entitled to dick. Anything I
give you, I give you because I want you to have it. Not because you
demand shit.”

I feel like crying. Wring had been so tender
with me. So vital. So protective. But I ask a few questions, and
he's running from the answers.

Like he has something to hide.

Suddenly, I don't feel so safe in his arms. I
feel spent. Tired. Uncertain.

I move to stand, and his hold tightens.

“I don't talk. It's not who I am, Shannon.”

I know my expression is fierce as I look at him.
“Well, I'm taking a huge risk here, Wring.”

“And I'm not? I stuck my nose in where it didn't
belong. I protected a girl marked by the Bloods. Road Kill has been
carefully negotiating territory and all kinds of other bullshit.
Now I've blown it all to hell—for you. Forgive me if I don't just
puke out my life's story.”

I lift my chin. “Why then? You said I wasn't
special.”

“Ya are. I just couldn't admit it.”

Okay.

“Noose, Lariat, and me were in Afghanistan
together, SEAL teammates. Patched in to the club after. None of us
could be citizens again after fighting for our country. Had to do
our own thing, on our own terms.”

“The names… they're all—”

“We're knotters. Expert knotters.”

I pull away, looking at his face. It's void of
expression. In the darkness of the porch and surrounding woods, I
can see nothing of what he feels.

I know a little bit about Navy SEALs. “You mean
assassins?” I ask in a voice that's icy calm.

His eyes are serious, not budging an inch. “What
me and the guys did while serving. That's not something we're ever
gonna talk about. Ever.”

My heart sinks.
I can't be with a man who's a
killer.
What does it matter that he did it for America? I saw
what he did to those gangbangers back there. What he could do with
a length of rope.

I let Wring's protection cloud my judgement. My
lust for him led me into a bigger mess than what I have with the
gang.

How could I be so dumb?

“Okay,” I say, my voice is hollow.

“Let's get to bed. Gonna be a long damn day
tomorrow.”

He stands, easily lifting me in his arms.

Carrying me into the bed, he unwraps me like a
gift and climbs in next to me.

Wring holds me in his arms and falls asleep
almost instantly.

I don't sleep for a long time.

I wake up with a start, feeling my chest,
thighs, and head.
What the fuck?

I look around and squint at the vaguely
illuminated hands of the clock.

One o'clock.

Holy
shit.
That means I slept for ten
hours straight.

I look beside me. Shannon's gone, but the side
of the bed where she slept is still warm.

Where is she?

And a better question: how did her being beside
me help me rest? And not kind of rest. I slept like the dead. Feel
fucking swell.

Swinging my legs out of bed, I stand then walk
to the bathroom and take a leak. I saunter out to the kitchen and
fill a glass of water from the spring-fed aqua system Vipe's got
out here, my eyes scanning the cabin's interior.

No sign of Shannon.

Hmmm.
I stride to the bed and wrench my
jeans on. I grab the rope that I always have on my nightstand and
stuff it, knot first, in my left-hand front pocket.

Tearing open the front door, I survey the
landscape with a narrow gaze. “Shannon!” I bellow.

Nothing but birds, bees, and breeze.

Fuck.

I think back on our little chat from the night
before. She didn't seem to warm up on my lack of chatty. Never
tried for anything past a quick lay with most chicks. New to this
relationship garbage.