ELEVEN
Blake stared at his wife, disbelieving of everything they had together. In no time at all, she’d given him a life to be proud of. She took care of his son like a real mother should, bore him a daughter who looked and acted more like her every day, and was growing their third child now, as she slept at the opposite end of the couch, feet in his lap.
She’d been working at the school all day, and they were swollen, so as he did every night, Blake massaged the aches away as best he could. It was the least he could do, considering she was carrying his child. That she’d fallen asleep didn’t matter. He kept going, wanting her to feel perfect when she woke.
He was always taking care of her, ready to drop everything at a moment’s notice—just for her. She was his life. Most days, he wondered if the universe hadn’t made a mistake giving her to him, so he was doing everything he could to prove his worthiness so it wouldn’t see a need to take her away.
Too many times, he’d thought he’d lost her. It wasn’t something he’d wish on his worst enemy—okay, maybe that was stretching it. He didn’t ever want to experience anything like that again.
Thinking back to the last and what had damn well better be final time he’d had to question a future without her in it, a pit opened in Blake’s stomach. Luciana Cruiz, that crazy bitch who thought she was the queen of her people, untouchable and immortal, had kidnapped his Gabby right out of their own home.
He’d never been more afraid in his life.
He’d never been more pissed off. That night, after he’d come home to find her standing in their driveway, all her fingers and toes accounted for, he’d graduated to murderous. And he’d stayed that way.
On the surface, Blake was a loving father and husband, but just below simmered a kind of rage he’d never felt before. He’d lost track of how many nights he’d laid awake in bed plotting all the ways he’d make that bitch suffer, how he’d not systematically take her down, but blow her and her entire operation to smithereens in one fell swoop.
He was going to wipe the lot of them off the map, or he’d die trying.
Looking at Gabby now, he could still remember the abject relief that had flooded through him when he saw her that night. He’d gotten off his bike and went straight to her, folding her in his arms and squeezing her and their daughter tight. While everyone was reuniting and chattering away, he was whispering in her ear all the ways he planned to leave his mark on her—one that would last forever.
And he did.
As soon as their property was cleared out, the rumble of motorcycles fading into the distance, he’d carried his woman inside and laid her out on their bed. He’d wanted more than anything to tear her clothes off and bury himself inside her, but she’d been through so much. So he’d taken his time.
He’d worshipped every inch of her body, starting with her bruised and battered feet. He’d bathed her, kissed every mark on her body, vowing to leave one bigger and badder on those who’d caused it, and when he finally slid inside her welcoming heat, he’d made good on his promise.
Blake made love and fucked her in equal measure throughout the night and well into the next morning. When she tried to get out of bed, he told her to keep her ass there. He served her, bathed her, then fucked her again and again, until they were both too tired to do anything but sleep.
Shifting in her sleep now, Gabby was the picture of ease. She trusted him implicitly to take care of her and their kids, to keep them all safe. And he would. With the last breath in his body, he would.
Her heel grazed his cock, and instantly it got hard, wanting inside her again. He’d hadn’t had her since that morning, rolling over as she slapped the alarm to silence it and sliding into her from behind.
Blake had heard some of the brothers from way back claim that a woman’s pussy got all stretched out after having kids, but Gabby was still tight as a fist. Her pussy was sweet and delicious and felt just as good wrapped around his cock now as it did the first time he drove into it.
He couldn’t get enough. And now he wanted her again.
“Why are you hard?” Gabby muttered. Her eyes drifted open, still heavy with sleep, but they found him right off.
“Because you’re sexy as fuck, teach. I want in you.”
“Again?” she said playfully.
“What do you mean again?” he said with a laugh.
“Good Lord, man, you are insatiable.”
“Small words, teach,” he reminded her just because he knew it got her hackles up.
With that defensive look in her eyes, Gabby sat up and crawled into his lap, straddling him. Touching his face, she said sternly, “You’re not dumb, and I’d better not hear you insinuate that crap again, understand?”
“Mmm,” Blake hummed, leaning up to capture her bottom lip between his. Releasing it, his eyes dilated as he watched her run her tongue across where his had just been. “I love when you get pissed off.”
“You like when I’m mad at you,” she said, disbelieving.
“Yeah, you’re even sexier when you have that storm brewing inside. Makes me wanna fuck you, hard.”
Heat crawled up her throat, turning her fair skin red. She leaned into him, her fingers combing through the hair at the base of his skull. “You’re a strange man,” she said, her voice husky with desire. “You’re lucky I find that to be a very attractive quality.”
Palming her ass, he squeezed her cheeks and tugged her closer, pressing that heat between her legs up against his crotch. “And here I thought you loved me for my cock.”
Her eyebrows popped up. “Who said anything about love?”
With a feral growl, Blake twisted and dumped her onto the sofa and followed after her. “You’re going to regret those words, teach.” To prove his point, Blake grabbed her pants’ elastic waistband and peeled them off, tossed them to the floor, then popped the button on his jeans so he could release this throbbing erection.
Gabby licked her lips, and hell yes, he was going to have to make sure he made time to put her mouth to good use too. But first, he was going to do what he’d been thinking of all day.
“You want me to tell you my plans, baby?” Gabby nodded eagerly, her gaze fastened on his lips, telling him just where she wanted to be in that moment. But he wasn’t giving her his mouth until he was good and ready.
“I’m going to spread you open,” Blake told her as he pulled her shirt up and palmed her naked tits. They were too big for his hands, spilling out between his fingers. “Then I’m going to take my big, fat cock and put it inside you, teach.”
“Mmm, Blake,” Gabby moaned, her eyes closing as she pictured it, “kiss me.”
Blake smiled. “Not yet, teach. First I’m going to suck on these fat little nipples, and then I’m going to bite them.” She moaned again. During her first pregnancy, they’d discovered how sensitive her nipples were, and since they hadn’t wasted any time knocking her up again, not only were they still that way, but they were full of milk.
Yes, Blake loved to suck her tits, and he loved when they leaked, leaving them both a terrible mess. He was a dirty man, and she loved it.
“Blake,” Gabby breathed desperately, “stop talking and fuck me already.”
Hooking his finger in her panties, he pulled them aside and fit his cockhead against her slick opening. “Say please, baby.”
“Plea—”
He was buried inside her before the word finished passing her lips.
***
Taco found himself sitting alone in his car parked outside Bambi’s house. Earlier, he’d left because he wasn’t sure how to respond without violence. Always in his life, he’d responded to any adversity with some form of it, but this time he knew he couldn’t. Not with her and not with his son.
So he’d had to leave. He needed to get his head straight before he could deal with this clusterfuck of a situation he’d found himself in.
How had this happened? Hell, he knew the logistics, but he’d spent his life being careful. Protection was practically his middle name. He never went in to the deep end without wearing a raincoat.
So again, how had this happened?
It’d taken a couple hours and some time to get right with the Lord before Taco concluded that the how and why didn’t matter. It was done. He had a kid. A son.
He was a father.
Jesus, how scary was that? A man like him with a kid? It was the stuff of nightmares.
So now he was sitting there like a creepy stalker guy again. The house was dark inside, but then again, it was after midnight. She was probably asleep.
He didn’t much care.
Taco wanted to barge through the front door and claim what was his. That boy was his son, and he’d lost too damn much time already. He wanted to tell her to go fuck herself. He always wanted to beg her to take him back.
He had some serious mixed emotions going on.
As much as he understood her reason for leaving, Taco still had trouble wrapping his head around her doing it so easily. That ache hadn’t gone away. If anything, it’d only gotten deeper and more painful.
She’d left knowing she was pregnant with his child, so not only didn’t she deem him worthy enough for a goodbye, he also didn’t rank high enough in importance to warrant notice that he was going to be a father.
Something like that struck a man’s ego like a battering ram.
So why the hell was he giving her this much power over him? While he sat outside torturing himself over it, she was inside sleeping like a baby.
That was all about to end.
Taco got out of the car and blazed a path up the driveway. When he reached the door, he pounding his fist against it relentlessly, a demand for entry.
“What are you doing?” Bambi screeched when she whipped open the door.
Taco’s fist froze mid-air, and his gaze skated down her curves. She was dressed in a thin white tank top that showed her dark nipples easily—nipples that grew to hard points when the cool night air kissed them. The look was finished off by a pair of tiny plaid shorts that revealed those sexy, muscular legs that used to lock around his hips like a vice.
“Do you know what time it is? Jesus Christ, Curt—”
A single step brought them chest to chest, and before she could finished that thought, Taco grabbed a fistful of that long blonde hair and hauled her up against him, crushing his mouth to hers.