Loved

Nicky and Cat

 

 

 

CAT RAN ONTO THE porch of our house when she heard the commotion.

I peered out the window as she stood there with her long jet-black hair floating over her shoulders, a look of total shock on her face.

“We surpriseded Momma!” Danny clapped his hands, strapped into a car seat behind me.

“You bet we did, dude.” I turned off the engine, released him from his seat, and led the way outside the vehicle with his small hand clutching mine. “You’re darn good at keeping a secret.”

His little hand met mine for a high five. Then he went nutso, waving his arms like a semaphore in the air at Momma while sprinting around and around . . . and around the vehicle.

“What, pray tell, is this?” Cat narrowed her ice queen eyes, walking down the steps of our sprawling log cabin.

“Pray tell? You sound like my mimi used to.” A bittersweet feeling washed over me; sometimes it still hurt, thinking about Mimi.

Cat smiled softly then went back to pointing at the RV parked in front of our house out in the boonies beyond Mt. Pleasant.

“Road-trip. Family-style.” Crossing my arms over my chest, I waited for her true reaction.

My Wildcat still tried to hide herself from me . . . at times. I got it. She’d been arrested. Her parents had died. She’d been through rehab.

She’d suffered a fucking lot. But she’d come out on top. And I was always, always, there for her.

We’d been through some shit ourselves the last couple of years. Life didn’t always hand out an HEA, but we were luckier than many. Still crazy in love. Still on top of our games.

And then there was Danny, busy running circles around the huge, bus-sized, top-of-the-line camper.

“And what am I supposed to do about my students during this family-style road-trip?” She ambled—about ten paces behind Danny—around the RV, inspecting it with only a half smile.

I wanted to see the brilliant shine of my gorgeous wife’s full smile.

“I got Reggie Malone and Kinkaid Ryder to cover for you—I mean, your studio’s right next door to them.”

“You have an ex-male stripper lined up to teach dancing to my girls?” Rounding on me, her glare hardened into pale blue ice.

I tucked my lips between my teeth, waiting for Cat to realize what she’d just said.

A small laugh tumbled from her lips. Then she outright guffawed, bending over and holding her stomach, laughing almost hysterically.

I joined her, chuckling it up. Danny crowed, too, hands on his belly even though he didn’t have a single clue why we were busting our guts.

“That was bad, huh?” Cat straightened, swiping at the tears of laughter on her cheeks.

“Little bit.” Leaning forward, I kissed her.

Not one of those tender brushes of lips, but a complete mesh of mouths and tongues and my hands pulling her into the larger cradle of my body.

I vaguely registered Danny groaning. “Ick!”

Cat separated to smile at our son before she lowered her voice in my direction. “I’m the ex-stripper.”

“Mmm.” I winked. “But exotic dancer is closer to the correct term. And I really like it when you dance for me.”

“Of course you do.” Her fingers glided across the stubble on my jaw. Then she thumbed back toward the camper—and Danny scurried off again. “What about you though?”

“I ain’t never been a stripper.” I held my hands up in the air.

“Asshole,” she said under her breath so Danny didn’t hear. But she grinned. “I meant about your writing.”

“You know I just finished up my Wanton Wiccans series. I can work anywhere, but this time I’m leaving the laptop and the iPad at home.”

“So I have you all to myself?” My black-haired beautiful Cat looked so sexy strolling closer, I almost stroked out.

Wanted to stroke one out at least. Probably all over her magnificent body.

But before I could grab her for another long, thorough, wet kiss, Danny made another circuit of the camper, landing beside us with a skid of his sneakers.

 “Momma! We goin’ on a trip!”

She picked him up and balanced him on her hip, her loud kisses smacking all over his dimpled face. “We are?”

“I kepped the secret.” Voice lowered, face stern, our boy appeared very serious for all of ten seconds.

“You did?” She coiled back, feigning shock.

And he laughed again—the tummy rumble of a toddler. A sound so infectious Cat wiggled him in her arms, giggling the way only our son could make her.

“Not like last Christmas when he told you about the best present ever,” I groused.

“Daddy, you silly.” Danny reached out, and I hauled him to me, remembering how Josh grumbled about JJ growing up too fast.

Daniel was our baby boy, and I wanted every moment to last.

“Is Viper comin’ wid us?”

“Viper has a long playdate at Gigi and Tucker’s with the Dobermans.”

“No fair.” Danny pouted. “I wanna go on a playdate with the doggies.”

“Wouldn’t you rather have a playdate with me?” Cat pretended to be hurt by his preference for the dogs.

“Yes!” He launched himself from my arms to hers, like a flying squirrel, massive grin replacing the pout.

He was such a mama’s boy. Couldn’t blame him. So was I . . . I just called her Wildcat.

****

The next day saw us on our way.

Josh, Leelee, JJ, Josie, Gigi, Tucker, Viper, and the Dobies waved us off.

Josh mouthed something I didn’t hear. Probably fuck off or fix your shit. He was my surrogate brother, his kids our honorary nephew and niece . . . he knew everything I didn’t wanna tell anyone else.

We drove out of Mt. Pleasant, our bikes hitched on the RV’s trailer. Cat’s chrome horse with the angel wing emblems and my ’46 Indian Chief strapped side by side.

On the road, we took the same route as our first trip . . . the time before we’d eloped in Vegas . . . heading southwest. Mile upon mile sped past. We ate at old-fashioned diners. Explored brightly lit truck stops. Hit every landmark on the way while I continued to keep our final destination a secret from Cat.

The third night, we stopped at a KOA. Cat cooked dinner while I attempted to teach Danny the finer points of Frisbee.

Then we headed to the pool, Danny swinging from both our hands. As soon as he saw the water, he broke free to belly flop—entirely fucking fearless—into the deep end, frog-swimming to the side of the pool.

Cat wrapped her arms around me, her skin warm, her body hardly covered in the black bikini. “He’s amazing.”

“Gets it from you.”

Her hand played low—dangerously low—along the waist of my board shorts. “Daddy’s pretty cool too.”

Smiling at her one second, grinning the next, I hauled her into my arms and vaulted her into the pool.

Danny clapped, swimming over to splash next to her.

Cat sputtered water from her mouth.

I cannon-balled almost on top of her, laughing underwater when she trapped me between her legs. Because being between her thighs was such bad payback.

Roaring, I broke the surface, my wife in the circle of my arms.

We grabbed Danny to us, treading water, hugging.

Starting again. But in a different way this time.

We’d tried for another baby.

We’d almost reached the point of divorcing because of the strain on our marriage.

The hormone injections, cups full of my sperm delivered to the clinic, three attempts at in-vitro fertilization.

So many heartbreaks.

So much disappointment.

Life had a habit of being a hard bitch.

Too much love to waste.

That night, Danny fell immediately asleep on the opened sofa, wedged on top of a stuffed Rottie with a Viper tag on its collar.

I kneeled beside him, holding Cat’s hand while she covered him in a lightweight blanket.

Not long later, Cat and I were in bed—a decent-sized one in the actual real-ish bedroom—at the back of the RV. We’d left the door cracked in case Danny needed us during the night, but it seemed he really was completely out like a light.

Which boded well for my plans as I turned to Cat, drawing her up for a luscious kiss, swiping her tongue with mine, gathering her heat in my mouth, her body in my arms.

I nibbled down her neck to the top of her breasts. When I reached her dusky nipples—already peaked—she shivered with a moan that barely escaped her throat.

Smiling, I bent down, rolling my tongue around one tightened nipple. She arched, fingers raking through my hair. I glanced up, taking in her parted lips, her half-shaded eyes still the lightest most intense blue I’d ever seen.

I took her hands in mine, moving to lathe the other nipple at the crest of her tit. Then I pulled her hands up, up, placing them firmly above her head, which popped her wet breasts up even more.

After all these years, I was transfixed by the sexy sleeves—flowers and sugar skulls—decorating her arms, tats that were no longer hiding her shame and pain but a celebration of her strength.

After all these years, I was greedy, impatient for her body.

Nudging her long legs apart, I settled between her thighs.

“Nick. God, Nick!” she almost shouted when my cock butted against her slick cunt lips.

“Shhh.” My husky murmur breathed across a nipple I took into my mouth.

“I know.” She gyrated against me, the sleek heat of her pussy wetting the underside of my cock. “This thing is as bad as those thin walls at Janice’s.” Her legs locked around my ass, urging me closer, closer. “But you’re louder than me.”

“Bullshit.” I tugged the other pebbled peak between my teeth, stroked my cock along her plump labia.

“Have you heard yourself?” Her foot caressed my ass, so flexible she was almost able to reach my balls, which were about ready to burst. “You sound like a caveman or one of the grunting creatures from your books—”

“Wildcat?”

“Hmm?”

I thrust into her to the hilt, her pulsing heat sucking me deep.

“Yes!” she squealed, proving my point.

But the point didn’t matter at all. Just her. Her sheer pure heart. Her beautiful wild love. Her incredible undaunted spirit.

The fuck was fast and dirty, almost soundless and so friggin’ hot. She lunged up every time I pumped down, plunging into her over and over.

We kissed until it was impossible, the sensation too good, too reckless.

She came with a scream she barely managed to bite off, and I followed straight after, ass flexing, balls pulling tight, cock deeply embedded in her pussy.

Just as quickly, before I could even catch my breath, Cat curled into me, sobbing so hard she broke my heart.

All I could hear was her sad bewildered words as I pulled her on top of me. “I don’t want to try again. I don’t want to try to get pregnant anymore!”

Tears wet my eyes, her crying shaking through her body and into mine.

“We won’t.” My voice rasped from my throat.

“It’s so hard. It’s . . . it’s . . . it’s breaking me up inside.”

“We’re done with that, Cat. Right now.”

“But how can I be a woman if I can’t have more kids?”

“You’re fucking with me, right?” Leaning up, I smoothed her hair from her tear-streaked face. “You are all woman. Damn, you’re more woman than should be legal.” I huffed a wet laugh. “Besides, we have tons of kids. Not just Danny, but all your students. Roxy and Cara—our nieces. Josh and Leelee’s crew.”

“Don’t hate me.” She rubbed her face against my shoulder, the sniffles slowing.

“Not possible. Not even ever possible.” I exhaled, deeply, raggedly. “Now let me hold you. At last, let me hold you all night.”

And we fell asleep, clinging to one another, maybe feeling a little more peaceful, a lot more whole . . . together.

****

Cat had been lounging with one bare foot propped on the dashboard when we pulled into the Writer’s Rodeo in Skull Valley, Arizona.

“We’re visiting Janice?” She sat up straighter.

“Auntie Jan!” In the rearview mirror I saw Danny pump his fist to the air.

“More than visiting.”

“We’re not moving here.” Cat looked so immediately horrified I chuckled loudly.

When I finished laughing, I mentioned—oh so casually, “We’re dropping Danny off before we do the last leg of the trip.”

“What?” There was that horrified expression again.

“Well, you didn’t think I brought our bikes along just so I could haul a trailer on the back, did you? We’re goin’ riding.”

“We cannot leave Daniel at a commune!” she screeched. “He’ll starve to death. Remember the Mexic—”

“Mexican goulash?” I snorted while she looked thoroughly disgusted.

“Nick.” She was now gritting her pretty white teeth together.

“He’ll be fine, Wildcat.” I patted her hand. She hissed and snatched it away. “’Sides, Janice has backup.”

We rolled to a stop at Janice’s little hut, situated among other little huts, in the middle of a tumbleweed-strewn, scrubby-green summery landscape.

Janice flounced out of the cabin, wearing a big floppy hat, a big floppy skirt, blue-tinted glasses, and about a million bangles.

“Gimme that boy! Where’s Danny?” She started a ruckus before I’d even gotten the door open.

“Nice to see you again too, darlin’.” I kissed her cheek.

“Get off me. I’ve decided I like your son better than you.”

Cat took my hand, digging her nails in as she did so, and alighted. Damn but she was graceful even when getting out of a camper. Even when still pissed as hell.

Janice stopped her tirade long enough to pull her into a hug.

“I take it you like me better than Nick too,” Cat commented drily.

Janice probably didn’t even hear her, because Danny took the first step out of the RV then flung himself straight into her arms.

Cat and I were on standby while Janice smattered kisses all over his face, tickling him, tussling with him—basically ignoring the both of us.

“I guess we’re surplus to requirements.” Cat commented . . . drily.

“I feel so ignored.” I huffed in exasperation.

We smirked at one another, united in our second-place status.

Janice finally remembered we were standing there—her guests—and Danny clambered back to us—his parents. Our hostess pulled her phone out of the billowing folds of her peasant skirt.

“Let’s get a family pic for Twitter!” She snapped the shot then typed into her phone, exclaiming, “Hashtag Lovely!”

“Well, I suppose that’s better than hashtag Mexican Goulash,” Cat muttered.

I snorted again, clasping her hand in mine to draw her to my side.

The mayhem carried on as we lugged Danny’s duffel and backpack from the RV, rolled our gear into the saddlebags on our bikes, surreptitiously checked all over Janice’s cabin for childproofing like parental vigilantes.

Meanwhile Janice flittered here and there in her fluttery outfit, Cat looked less and less convinced about this plan, and I half wondered if Janice was on peyote.

Then Missy Peachtree swanned inside, swathed from head to toe in a silky robe, flip flops on her feet . . . and the pearls around her neck.

“See? Told you she had backup.” I nudged Cat, who smiled in relief.

“That shower block though. I know I write BDSM, but that’s just plain torture.” Missy arched one very well-waxed brow.

I shared a glance with Cat. We’d christened that very same shower block years ago, her screams basically peeling the paint off the wall.

“Sing it.” Jacqueline entered, wearing denims, her usual nail art as elaborate as ever, toting her MacBook beneath her arm. “But what I wanna hear about is this Mexican Goulash horror story been happenin’ on up in here.”

Instant affection surged through me for all these women. Ones who’d become as close as family.

The greetings in the small cabin were infectious, loud, contagious. Danny passed from honorary auntie to auntie, Cat hugged and kissed, me in the middle of it all.

Missy peeled away from me. “About the ghoulish goulash—”

“Hey, I take care of the paranormal ghouls and ghosts around here.” I interrupted.

“I will be doing the cooking during this vacation.” Missy then spoke in an aside to Jacqueline, “Or the takeout ordering.”

“And I’m on entertainment detail. All G-rated.” Jacqueline crouched in front of my son, inspecting his old school Matchbox cars, the ones my brother Daniel and I used to play with.

“I think it’s high time to get Danny up on horseback.” Janice took the knock to her cooking skills—questionable at best—in stride.

“I guess so.” Cat chewed on her bottom lip, hand dropped onto Danny’s head where she toyed with his hair.

Beautiful. That was it. She was purely beautiful. Mom, lover, partner, dancer, friend, sister, aunt, biker. Her long black hair and rocking goddess body, the cut-off shorts and T-shirt slanted at the shoulders, her glacial eyes turning warm as she regarded our son.

“As long as the OutFAGEous Fans of Nicky Love are nowhere near here,” she added.

“Who are the Out-whatsit-thingies, Momma?” Danny tugged on her hand.

“A bunch of whor—”

“Nobody important, dude.” I cut Cat off.

“Hell no.” Jackie wrinkled her nose. “We all got restraining orders against that special kind of cra-cra.”

“Including Pandora.” Janice smirked. “And her box.”

Cat and I stayed for dinner, which was takeout as predicted, but the fancy kind bankrolled by Missy. Danny’s sleeping bag was set up in the spare room, his Rottie stuffed animal on the bed. The Hens waited expectantly for us to leave, watching yet pretending not to watch Cat and me.

Evening arrived; my vintage Chief and Cat’s chrome Harley waited.

So did the open road.

“Less than a week.” I squeezed her hand.

“He’ll be okay?”

“He’s gonna be spoled like Mimi would’ve done.” I placed my hand on the side of Cat’s face, peering into her glistening eyes. “Like your folks would’ve done.”

We said our goodbyes, Cat holding in the tears but turning back for a last hug before Missy ushered us out with murmured reassurances coupled with her kickass brand of cut the apron ties.

Cat zipped her body-tight leather jacket, slipped her helmet on, revved her Harley.

Me? I was just along for the ride.

The ride of my life with my wife.

On the way back to Skull Valley, after several days of sun-tanning and skinny-dipping and hot-sexing, on our last night alone, we set up camp beneath the stars. The Red Cliffs of Arizona. The same place I’d asked my Wildcat to marry me.

Beneath the bright jewel-like stars, we lazed in front of a fire, sparks popping, s’mores eaten, kisses lingering.

And a lingering worry creasing Cat’s brow. “Are you sure one is enough?”

I stretched. Blew out a breath. Stood to shuck all my clothes then Cat’s, too. I dragged the joined sleeping bags from the pup tent, unfurled them under the majestic never-ending night sky, and pulled her down beside me.

“Now”—naked with nothing between us, I met her gaze—“ask me that question again.”

“Is one child enough?” That time the timbre of her voice trembled.

But her hand was sure, and her warm palm moved up over my heart to my shoulder to the tat I’d had inked years and years ago for my brother, Daniel.

“You’re more than I can handle, let alone Danny.” I took her hand, kissed that soft palm.

“You promise?”

“Wildcat”—I flipped her on top of me, watching the reds and oranges of the open fire dance over her neck, her tats, her breasts, her belly—“what we have is . . . amazing.” Pushing up, I kissed her with a heart full of longing for her, never satiated. “No, not amazing”—one hand curled around her hip, the other tangled in the black fan of her hair—“nothing short of epic.”

Loved her so much I’d started my next book series with a title named after her. Wildcat.

She didn’t know it yet.

But the dedication read:

To my wife, my soulmate, my beating heart . . . my everything.

My Wildcat.

“Still fun fucking you though.” I raised a brow when she nipped my bottom lip then traveled down my torso. “Sex as a recreational . . . sport.” The last word came out on a gritty groan when she licked the length of my cock.

“Like boxing?” Cat swallowed the engorged head—pretty much shattering my mind with one simple suck.

“Better not”—I grunted loud, like she’d said—“hit me in the nads.”

“I’d never do that.” Wickedly, she lapped down the glans, the shaft, and straight onto my full balls.

After pulling one testicle into her mouth, she let it loose with a wet slurp.

Her head rose, my cock upright and in her face.

“This is good.” And her whisper-tease-breath-tongue curled around the throbbing meat right . . . in . . . front . . . of her mouth.

It was good.

So good she blitzed me straight through my body.

“So good.” Hauling her up, I mashed her against me. “It’s more than enough. You are everything to me.”

 

Love like this never hurt so good. And it would never feel better than with Cat.