Prescott’s fingers dig into my hips as he wrenches me back, his pelvis thrusting forward at the same time. My neck arches and I let out a long moan. I’m so close, I’m about to explode. When I do, it’s going to be magnificent.

“C’mon, peaches,” he growls behind me as his fingers dig into my skin even harder.

“Pres,” I whimper as my body begins to shake and I come. It’s long, it’s hard, and it’s magnificent—just as I thought it’d be.

Prescott doesn’t let me revel in my glory. One of his hands leaves my hip and fists in the back of my hair before he wrenches my body up, my back colliding with his chest. Then he thrusts up inside of me and doesn’t stop until he emits his own long moan and I feel his cock twitch as he fills me with his release.

“Love you, peaches,” he murmurs against my neck.

His tongue traces my tattoo, like he’s done every single time we’ve been together since I came back to him three months ago. I lift my hand and wrap it around the back of his neck, my fingers twisting in his soft hair.

The hand on my hip travels up my side. He slides it across my breasts as he cups one in his hand and just holds me. He’s done this a lot since my return as well, holding me, kissing me, loving me so tenderly that he brings tears to my eyes, almost daily.

“I love you, so much,” I whisper, tightening my fingers in his hair.

He hums before he disengages from my body. I turn around to face him and wrap my arms around his body. He steps closer to the side of the bed and runs his fingertips up and down my spine.

We haven’t really fought once since I’ve been back; maybe it’s because I’ve completely surrendered to him, or maybe it’s because he’s so sweet and gentle it’s ridiculous. But whatever the reason, I don’t care. I’ve never been so damn happy before.

“You sure you really want to do this?” he asks, his eyes showing his worry, hiding nothing.

“Yeah,” I nod.

“Wouldn’t make you any less of a woman. Wouldn’t make me think anything less of you at all if you didn’t want to do this, peaches,” he says as his finger traces my lips.

“I need to,” I whisper.

“At any second you can’t deal, you walk out. I don’t want those demons haunting your eyes again. Took a long fuckin’ time for me to eradicate them.” I can’t help but smile at his words.

I think about him eradicating my demons. It’s been fun. Lots and lots of great sex, cuddles, and talking. I’ve felt like a teenager in the midst of puppy love for months.

Although, as a teenager, I didn’t go to badass biker club parties on the arm of the badass president. I also didn’t run a successful bar. Nope, this is way better than teenage puppy love.

I don’t know what it is, but I don’t ever want it to end.

“Why are you smilin’?” he asks.

“Because eradicating demons was fun.”

“You’re fuckin’ insane,” he chuckles as he pulls me even closer, his nose running alongside mine.

“When does this go down?” I ask, biting my lip.

“Now. Get dressed,” he mutters. His lips touch mine before he takes a step back.

I watch as he walks over to his pile of clothes laying on the floor and he starts to dress. It’s early evening, and there are four men waiting for us, probably scared to death, as they should be.

“Dress warm,” he grunts.

I walk over to the dresser and grab a new pair of panties, socks, a bra and my thin, silk, long sleeve undershirt. Then I walk over to a pile of jeans that I folded just this morning and pull my favorite ones off of the top—a pair of jean leggings. I slip them on and find a thick sweater that’s folded as well. It’s light blue.

Once I have my clothes on, I walk over to where my boots are sitting against the wall, and I solemnly pull them on, lacing them all the way up my calves, letting their warmth envelop my toes, feet, and legs.

“Can you wear your hair up?” Prescott asks as he slides his jacket on.

“Why?” I ask, furrowing my brows.

“Want those pieces of shit to see my mark,” he growls.

I close my eyes then open them, a smile slowly playing on my lips. I don’t wear my hair up; instead, I gather it to the opposite side of my tattoo and I braid it down my shoulder. Prescott grins and traces his road name with his index finger.

“Gorgeous,” he rumbles.

“Let’s go,” I suggest.

“I feel like fuckin’ you again,” he chuckles.

“Can we fuck after?”

I watch as he throws his head back in laughter and wraps his hand around the back of my neck, giving it a gentle squeeze before he presses his lips to my nose in a kiss. Then tells me, yeah.

We walk out of the house together, his arm slung around my shoulders, my arm wrapped tightly around his middle. I’m trying not to show fear, but I’m scared shitless. I don’t know exactly what’s going to happen when I see these men again, but I guess I’m going to find out in just a few minutes.

With my hand wrapped around Ginger’s, I gently tug her through the cold air and into the slightly warmer warehouse. MadDog has a man, a tech wizard, and he hacked and searched and found four more of the Aryan Brotherhood.

They’ve yet to find any of the pregnant women, or any women at all, which is disheartening. But maybe these four pussies will yield some useful information by the time we’re finished with them.

I know when Ginger has seen them. They’re all lined up, their feet bound as well as their arms, and they’re dangling from the hooks we have hanging from the ceiling.

“Prescott,” she whimpers. I look down at her.

I’d wondered if this would do more harm than good, but I decided, as did she, that she needed to face her abusers. Now, I’m not so sure, based off of the fear that I see clearly in her eyes as she gazes upon them.

“These men hurt you, baby?” I ask, keeping my voice low.

“Yeah,” she says through trembling lips.

“You want first go at ‘em?”

I watch as her eyes move to each man, then back up to me. I see a decision has been made, but I can’t tell what it is. Then she rises to her toes, places a kiss on the corner of my mouth, and speaks.

“They’re worthless. Get whatever information you can out of them, then finish them,” she says with a shrug.

“My strong little Georgia peach,” I grin as my hand slides around her waist, pressing against her lower back.

“I’ll see you at home later?”

“Yeah, baby, you will.” I grin before my lips brush against hers. “Free, take my woman home, yeah?”

“Sure thing. C’mon Ging,” Free says as he walks up to us.

“I love you, Pres.”

“Love you more than I’ve loved anything else in my whole fuckin’ life, peaches.” I grin. I release her and take a step back.

Free holds out his hand, and I watch as she slips her smaller one inside. Together, they walk out of the warehouse. I like that she didn’t want to stay, that she didn’t feel the need to shed blood. Maybe she does; maybe she’s leaving it all for me—I don’t give a fuck. I’m just happy that those demons didn’t reappear in her eyes at the sight of these four pieces of shit standing before me.

“Ready to squeal like piggies?” I ask.

None of them respond, but their fear is so apparent, I can fuckin’ taste it.

“Let’s have some fun, boys,” I say to my brothers as we approach the four dead men hanging.

* * *

I strip my clothes off, keeping them separate from my cut and boots. I have to burn them in the morning, but I’m too fuckin’ tired to worry about it right now.

Showering, I wash the blood from my hands and face before I turn off the water and grab a towel. Once I’m fairly dry, I make my way to the bed, our bed. I pull back the sheets and crawl between them, wrapping my arm around Ginger’s middle and sliding my thigh between hers.

“You’re back,” she whispers as my lips touch her shoulder.

“Yeah, I’m back,” I admit.

“It’s handled?” she asks, her body stock still.

“Yeah, baby, it’s all handled.”

She turns around in my arms, and I wait for the demons, deciding that they must have entered her eyes while I was gone. I’m pleasantly surprised that through the moonlit room, I see absolutely no trace of them.

“I wonder how many more there are out there?”

“Wish I knew, peaches,” I murmur as my nose slides alongside hers.

“Thank you,” she whispers before her lips brush mine.

“For what?” I ask, pulling away from her so that I can look into her face.

“For being you. For being my rock during all of this.”

“Fuck that rock bullshit,” I spit as I pull us both up to a sitting position. Her eyes widen and her mouth drops in surprise.

“Pres,” she gasps.

“I’m not your fuckin’ rock, peaches. You are your own fuckin’ strength. You don’t need me. You have me to support you in any way that I can, but baby, you don’t need me. You’re so fuckin’ strong, so strong.”

“Pres,” she says as her lips tremble and tears fill her eyes.

“So strong, Ginger.”

Prescott’s whispered words of my strength undo me. He sees me as this ultra-strong woman when I feel anything but. I feel weak, and just tonight, I couldn’t hurt those men who brutalized me.

Yes, they hurt me, and yes, I wanted to hurt them, but something inside of me couldn’t do it. Maybe it’s exactly what is inside of me that is the sole reason I couldn’t do it.

I can’t keep it to myself a second longer, so I tell him. “I’m pregnant,” I whisper.

“You’re…” his voice trails off as his eyes widen.

“Do you want a boy or a girl?” I ask with a grin.

“Pregnant,” he breathes. I watch as his face slowly breaks out into a huge smile.

I wait for his real reaction. Right now, the news is settling. He lifts his head, his smile still wide, and he practically tackles me to my back. One of his hands wraps around the inside of my knee and he spreads me wide.

“Move those panties to the side or I’m ripping them off,” he demands, his voice deep and husky.

I do as he requests, and his cock presses against my center. I quickly move my hand out of the way before he slams completely inside of me. I gasp when his hands grab mine and press them above my head. He intertwines our fingers and starts to slowly thrust in and out of me.

“Prescott,” I whisper. Our eyes connect, and I watch as he sticks his tongue out and slides it along his bottom lip.

“Pregnant with my baby,” he rasps. He continues to fuck me, his long and lazy strokes making sure I feel every inch of him inside of me.

“I am,” I nod.

“Peaches,” he moans as his hips roll and his pelvis grinds against my clit.

We don’t speak. Our eyes stay connected, as do our hands and our bodies. He slides inside of me, over and over again, slow and steady, with long, languid strokes, in no hurry at all whatsoever.

“Pres,” I whimper once I feel my heart start to race as I climb closer toward my release.

“Come,” he demands on a groan.

He speeds up and I start to pant, climbing closer toward my release. Then, without any warning, I cry out with my climax as my body shakes. He grunts and then his hips start jerking wildly as he fucks me a little harder and a little faster before he arches his back and lets out a cry of his own, coming inside of me.

I shiver when his hands release mine, but slide down my arms as he lowers his face. His lips touch my neck, his tongue gliding against my inked skin. He continues to gently thrust in and out of me as we both catch our breaths.

“Marry me, peaches.”

“What?” I ask in surprise.

“Marry me. Marry your Old Man,” he smiles.

My hands fly to the back of his neck, my fingers twisting in his hair and I search his face.

“You’re serious,” I breathe.

“Fuck yes, I am.”

“Yes, yes, I’ll marry you,” I cry out as I giggle.

The movement causes me to lose him from my body. He looks at me in awe for a split second before his head dips and his lips press against mine in a hard, bruising kiss.

“Later today?” he asks.

“Today?” I practically choke.

“Yeah, peaches, today.”

I nod before I smile. He settles behind me, pulling my back against his chest as his tongue traces my neck like he does every night before he lifts a hand to my breast and squeezes it, telling me to go to sleep.

I lie awake, unable to fall asleep quickly.

I can’t wipe the smile from my lips.

I’m pregnant, Prescott and I are getting married, and I’m finally content—completely happy.

I hold onto her, knowing she’s not asleep. It takes her far too long to sleep, but her body finally relaxes and her breathing evens out. I don’t find my own slumber, though. I lie awake and look at her tattoo, my name on her neck, my baby inside of her, and tomorrow my ring on her finger.

Everything that I have ever wanted is finally coming to a reality.

This woman owns every piece of me, from the inside out. I’ve never been more proud of a human being as I am of this woman in my arms. She’s stronger than the biggest badass I know. She’s everything. And soon she’ll be my wife; then she’ll be the mother of my children; and with any luck, that strength will transfer on to them.

Almost a year ago, I thought I’d lost her. Nine months ago, I thought she was lost to me. Three months ago, I dragged her ass back here, and I’ve not regretted one second I’ve spent with her—not one single fuckin’ second.

I can’t wait for the future.

I can’t wait for what insane shit she’s going to bring into my life.

I can’t wait for how much love she’s going to bring to me.

I can’t fuckin’ wait.