Gunner

She gasps as I loosen the grip around her chest. I’m fucking insane.

She’s pregnant and injured, and I’m behaving like a fucking ravenous animal.

“Sol, baby…” I don’t know what else to say.

“Okay,” she says and straightens as her hand dives under her dress and she wiggles.

I freeze at the realisation of what the meaning of her movements is—she’s sliding her panties down. They wrap around her ankles and she steps out of them clumsily, guarding her twisted ankle.

Her fierce gaze shifts to mine as one corner of her lips rises.

“So, are you going to fuck me or not?” She winks at me and puts her elbows on the table as her ass rubs against my dick.

My heart races like mad. “You want to go to bed?”

“No.” Her voice has this sultry rasping of hers, making me feel absolutely mad.

I don’t hesitate.

I open my trousers as my rationality evaporates without a trace. My hard dick springs free and I hold it, stroking myself up and down. I gather Sol’s dress up to her waist, exposing her perfect round ass.

My fingers travel to the back of her neck, and I brush her skin with my fingertips, delicate circles.

“No,” she says.

She doesn’t want any foreplay? Fine. We can snuggle after we have sex. Now, I need to fuck. I need to fuck her. That’s my most primal and my most important need.

I line up my cock with her entrance and push in. She gasps as her shoulders dip and she stretches her arms out on the table.

“Sol,” I rasp.

Her cunt clamps around me, so hot and tight that I see stars in my head.

“Jeez, you’re big, Gunner.”

“We don’t have to—“

“Don’t stop.”

Heat shoots to my toes as I push my dick deeper inside her then thrust into her gently so the baby in her womb doesn’t get hurt. I’m on the brink just being inside her. She’s the love of my life, after all.

Her breathing accelerates, becomes sharper, louder.

“Harder,” she gasps and pushes her ass against my hips.

“Sol, baby, you’re pregnant.”

“Fuck you.”

I chuckle, stroking the lower of her back. The dense power of my desire for her is all that guides me. I cup her ass cheeks in my hands and thrust into her harder, faster. She starts panting.

It’s so good with her.

No—

It’s never been this good because all the other women I’ve had were not her.

Her breathing halts, and she arches her back, letting out a moan of pleasure. Her inner walls contract around my cock, pushing me over the edge. I growl as I empty myself into her cunt and an earth-shattering orgasm surges through me.

There is blackness in my head, deafening nothingness, then the sensation of something ultimately pure and good.

My cock slips out, and I pull Sol up, enclosing her with my arms. I kiss her cheek and massage her stomach.

“Sol, baby, I love you so much. It will be alright. I’m gonna look after you and your baby.”

I will buy a small house.

I will marry her in a nice chapel.

I will cook for her, clean for her, even iron for her.

I will carry her in my arms so she won’t get tired.

I will look after the baby like it’s mine by blood.

She will rest and maybe ride her motorcycle if she feels like it. Or on my motorcycle. Hell yeah. I’d love to have her on my bike with her soft body clinging to mine.

“Get off me,” she growls and separates herself from me like I’m some fucking tarantula.

Her hands rise dramatically as she looks at me with such repulsion that my blood turns into ice.

“This...” she gasps. “This didn’t happen.”

“Oh really? My cum is trickling down your thighs, Sol.”

She sweeps her hand. “It didn’t happen.”

“Yeah, really. What was that ‘harder, harder’ of yours?” I mimic her voice.

She shows me her middle finger. “Get out of my house.”

“Let’s talk, Sol.” My jaws clench as my fingers roll into fists.

“Fuck you, Gunner. I don’t want to talk. I don’t want your fucking help.”

“Fuck you, too, Sol.”

I back up and leave the house. A decent man would have probably begged her for a sensible conversation, but the angry animal inside me wanted to force her on all fours and fuck her again to punish her, so it was better to leave.

I wander around the garage like a brainless zombie until it’s dark and chilly. Ominous clouds layer the sky, obscuring the silver crescent of the moon. As I walk towards the front door of my house, I see my dad sitting on the stairs leading to the veranda. His frame is illuminated by the light penetrating the glass in the front door.

I drop onto the lower step and a cloud of vapour leaves my mouth. The chill bites my face like tiny needles.

“How’s Mom?” I put my hands on my knees.

“Asleep.”

“Good. She needs some rest. Yeah, it will do her good.”

“How are you, Gunner Junior?”

Right, this question means he already knows I have just fucked something up.

He knows everything, always, like he can read my mind.

His long grotesque body waves as he squeezes my shoulder. My mom loves him so much and he’s so fucking ugly. The doctors he saw two years ago suspected he had mild Marfan Syndrome, but it’s not confirmed. He’s in good shape, so we’re not overly worried about it.

He is ugly to everyone. Not to me though. Not to Nikko. Not to my mom. Shay called him daddy with very long legs.

Shay loved our dad so much, loved being thrown over our dad’s shoulder, loved our dad’s mice. He loved everyone in the family as a wise old person would.

I love my dad in my own fucked up way. I smashed a few friends’ faces for calling my dad names when I was a kid. I broke two arms of some motherfuckers who stared at my dad with disgust when I was a teen. For me, he’s been the best dad I could wish for.

My mom grew up in a kind of dysfunctional family. Her parents were overprotective. Initially, my dad had to look after her like she was a child. He accepted and loved both her sons like they were his own. More than that—even though I was his only son by blood and Nikko and Shay were his stepsons, he treated them more leniently than me when we were kids so they wouldn’t feel bad because of me. It pissed me off then. Now, I know my dad is a good and wise man.

He is gentle and caring even though I saw him kill. He once was an outlaw like the rest of my uncles and granddads.

“So,” Dad says.

“Sol, I...”

“I know you love her and I know you just fucked her.”

“You know?”

Right. He really must have some kind of dirty secrets detector.

He nods. “I knew when you fucked your first chick, remember?”

I prop my elbows on my knees and rest my head in my palms. “Sol...”

“It will be alright.” He pats my shoulder. “She needs time like your mother.”

If my dad says it will be alright, I shouldn’t worry.

“Let’s go inside,” Dad says.

We rise to our feet and go to check on my mom. She’s lying on the coach in the living room. Two drawings of steam punk vampires hang above the white fireplace and two narrow bookcases guard its flanks.

Mom likes reading romance, or she liked reading this genre before Shay’s accident.

“You need anything, sweetheart?” Dad asks as she raises her sleepy eyes to him.

“No, baby,” she murmurs.

“Something to drink?” Dad strokes her hair. “A glass of orange juice? A kiss?”

Mom chuckles. “A kiss from my personal knight.”

Dad kisses her lips. This gesture brings a sense of painful beauty to my heart. Dad corrects the blanket around Mom and we go the kitchen to open two bottles of beer. We drink in silence.

Sol

Gunner comes late in the afternoon and acts like nothing happened. Good. Nothing happened. I will erase all the memories of this incident and all the feelings it has evoked from my head.

My baby would never forgive me if I built something with Gunner. It would be like a sacrilege, like taking my baby’s identity, like killing Shay again.

I don’t deserve happiness because that would mean I didn’t love my husband. Falling for Gunner would mean that I cheated on my husband.

Gunner puts two plates on the table. “Supper is ready.”

There is no emotion in his voice, no movement of the muscles in his face, only the violent blaze in his eyes, sending chills down my spine.

“Thank you,” I say.

“I’ll prepare a bath for you after you have your supper.”

“Thank you.”

I should tell him to leave and never come back again. Instead, I’m torturing him. I hate it when he’s around me and I hate it when he’s not.

We eat in silence then he collects the plates and puts them into the dishwasher.

“Can I look at your ankle?” he asks.

“I’m fine. It’s healing. No need to be concerned.”

He doesn’t listen. Instead, he squats down in front of me and unwraps the elastic bandage. His fingers examine the injury site expertly. Heat rushes to my cheeks as every brush of his fingertips sends an electric current across my skin. It’s a fucking examination, yet it feels so erotic my thighs quiver and my pussy pulses.

“Looks good,” Gunner says.

I swallow thickly. “In a day or two, there’ll be no swelling or redness left.”

Gunner wraps the bandage around my ankle, applying pressure, and lifts himself. “Now, the bath.”

“Sure, why not?”

He backs up, and I want to scream. I want to scream my guilt, my anger, and my need for a good fuck.

The front door of the house creaks, the sound of light footsteps follows, and my mom enters the kitchen as Gunner calls me from the bathroom. She kisses my head and starts bustling around the worktops. I go to the bathroom, passing Gunner in the corridor in silence like we’re occupying two different dimensions.

When I walk out after a long bath, only my mom is sitting in the kitchen.

My heart feels like a knife is stabbing it.

I can’t breathe. I choke back tears.

“You okay?” Mom signs.

“You know how pregnant women are. Gunner…”

“Went home a few minutes ago.” She tilts her head, her eyes narrowing. “I can make a braid of your hair.”

“I’d love you to.” I drop into the chair as she goes to grab a hairbrush from the bathroom, returns to the kitchen and begins to detangle my hair just as Amanda, her mother-in-law, used to detangle hers.

My grandma, Amanda, owns a very special place in my mom’s heart. This place is filled with pure love and gratefulness. Mom and Amanda do not have an average mother-in-law and daughter-in-law relationship. There is a mysterious, unbreakable bond between them, a bond that only two people who stood side by side in a real shit situation can have, love that’s been tested and hardened.

My grandma Amanda, grandpa Boulder, his twin brother Blaze, and his lady, Maria, live in the Scottish Highlands. They love it there.

Mom loves it here, in Cornwall. Her ancestors were Irish, but she was born in the US like every kid in the family. My grand granddad, Munroe, was a Scottish gangster who took his wife to America just after the World War 2 ended.

My dad misses the desert. He dreams of going back where the Shadow Wolves MC was born. He dreams of jumping on his bike and speeding through the sandy hostile land of his childhood. Me too.

Mom kisses the top of my head. “Lo-vve yyou, Gria-nn.”

I love it when I can hear her voice.

I stroke her hand with mine. “Love you too.”

I like being with her in silence. She radiates an invisible warmth that soothes me and no words are necessary.

She’s been waiting patiently for me to start talking. She’s been waiting since Shay’s accident.

I’m not ready yet. I doubt I’ll ever be.

I fucking can’t tell her the truth about Shay’s accident.

Gunner

I respect her wish, but I can’t stay away from her.

That’s my fucking atonement for killing Shay.

I’ll fucking love her until I die and she’ll hate me until she dies.

It’s Sunday so I go to her house after 9 am. As I walk into her kitchen, silence envelops me. I throw my cut over the chair and go to check on Sol. She is still in bed. I prepare breakfast and hear her have a shower. As she walks into the kitchen and drops into the chair, I deliver the food and drinks on the table.

“We could go for a short walk,” I say. “Around the house. I’ll help you walk.”

“Fuck off. I’m not in the mood.”

“You’re living in your own prison. You need to go outside—“

“Gunner,” she growls.

I raise my hands in a warding gesture. “Fine. No walks. Rot inside the house. I’m gonna check on your ankle in the meantime.”

Right. I learned to be mean from the best in our family. Grandpa Dimitri was my idol for some time in childhood. I practiced his famous remarks to be as good as he was.

Sol moves her foot forward, and I kneel to unwrap it. It looks good. The swelling is almost gone as is the bruising. It’s fading with a rotten yellow tinge.

I take a deep breath and inhale her. She smells delicious—green tea hinted with her own musk. Her scent clouds my head. My dick awakes.

I lower my head and kiss the inner side of her knee.

Sol

I suck in a breath as he plants another kiss on my inner thigh and tugs the belt of my satin kimono robe, untying it. My foot jerks to smash his face, but I withdraw it as another hot kiss landing on my knee makes my insides melt. My body shivers. Heat surges through my veins, and I surrender to his touch.

Gunner unfolds my robe and watches my breasts with the same hunger as previously.

“You like what you see?” I ask.

“Yeah.” He nods then glides his palm over my stomach.

I have no panties on and my arousal dribbles out of my pussy.

He spreads my knees wider and sinks his face between my thighs, pulling my ass towards the edge of the chair.

As his hot mouth kisses my pussy, I dig my fingers into his shoulders and moan. God, he knows how to pleasure a woman.

Shay was my first and I was Shay’s first. We learned everything together. It was really funny sometimes.

Gunner knows how to make a woman feel delirious. It’s dark with him, wild, so erotic.

I feel his tongue penetrating my pussy as he rubs his thumb against my clitoris. I sink my fingers into his hair and push my crotch against his face.

He runs his tongue along my slit and sucks my clitoris gently. A jolt of pleasure surges through me.

Gunner lifts his head as his hands travel to my breasts. I want to beg for him to work my pussy with his mouth and make me come. And the bastard must sense it because he teases me and circles my nipples with his fingers. He moves slightly to the side, squeezing my breast. His fingers roll my nipple then he draws my breast fully into his mouth and slides a finger into my pussy.

I’m limp, my hands collapsing. I’m tense. I’m a primal need. My fingers sink into his hair, and I urge him to give me more, pulling at his wisps. I’m impatient and angry as his skilled mouth and fingers turn my body into one hot hyperawareness and make me almost reach my peak.

He devours me and slows down alternately. I want to scream my frustration.

“Gunner,” I growl. “For fuck’s sake.”

His hot breath is like an incinerating flame. His tongue is like the cool drop of rain on a summer day. His need enhances mine.