CRASH: An Evil Dead MC Story (The Outlaw Series) (60 page)

She searched his eyes, and then asked a question of her own, all the
insecurity she felt showing in her face. “Do you love me, Crash?”

He rolled, taking her to her back on the bed once more. He rose over
her, grinning down, the crinkles in the corners of his eyes showing how happy
he was. “Heart and soul, baby.”

As Shannon stared up at him, she realized he never looked more gorgeous
to her than he did in that moment.

EPILOGUE

Shannon
…

Crash always has a way of seeing right through all my bullshit. Nothing
gets past him. Not in life in general, and particularly not with me and his
awareness of my emotions. The way he can urge me to talk about something, even
when talking about it is the last thing I want to do, reveals he is one hundred
percent aware of my feelings. He always knows when there’s something I’m holding
in, and he just innately knows to force it out in the open, so we can deal with
it.

I remember the day Crash pulled me in front of the mirror and said, “Look
at us, babe. Do we make sense to you?” At the time he was talking about my
outfit, but in reality I’m sure that is the way the rest of the world looks at
us. On the outside, maybe we
don’t
make sense. In many ways we
are
opposites. Still, we seemed to click and somehow, it works. And
we
make sense to
us
, and really, that’s all that matters.

One night as we lay in bed, he asked me what I thought made us
compatible, why I thought we worked. So, I told him some of the qualities that
attracted me to him.

“Under all that badass biker, there’s tenderness,” I told him. “I know
that’s not something you show the world in general. Maybe you’ve only shown it
to me, but I’ve seen it, and I know it’s there. You’re really sweet and
protective.”

“Protective,
yeah
, babe. But
sweet? Not sure I like being called sweet.”

“You have a good heart, Crash. And even with all the teasing and ribbing
and pushing, you’re always there for me in all the ways that count. And when
you touch me, you have this gentle way about you.”

A slow grin pulled at his mouth upon hearing my words. But of course, in
total Crash style, he pushed for more. “How about sexy?”

I grinned. “Definitely sexy, and you’re very perceptive.”

His brow shot up as if I’d called him effeminate or unmanly. “Perceptive?”

“You always pick up on how I’m feeling. Sometimes you know what’s
bothering me before I do. You cut through all the bullshit straight to the
heart of the problem and make me bring it out and face it.”

I’ll be the first to admit, not always a pleasant experience, but always
necessary and always therapeutic. Whatever it is, he lets me get it out and gives
me time and space to deal with it. And I know, even when he backs away to give
me that time and space, that he is always,
always
there for me to lean on when I need him.

Crash…

There was a special meeting called for the Thursday before our wedding.
We never had church on a Thursday, but since most of the club was going to be
attending our wedding, I figured they wanted to get it out of the way before we
all left town. With the meeting winding up, Mack said there was just one more
item on the agenda.

When he didn’t continue I looked over at him. He looked at me. Suddenly,
his serious expression gave way to a shit-eating grin.

With that, the rest of the club bum-rushed me.

I hit the floor a second later. They cuffed me to a chair, and thus
began my bachelor party.

From every member, I had to take a punch, and then I had to take a shot
of Jack.

They got me pretty wasted before they stripped my down. Then they called
in the strippers. What seemed like every one of Sonny’s girls came in the room
one at a time and gave me a lap dance, poured a shot down my throat, and then
to top it off, each one of them wrote their name and number on my body with
permanent marker. Just the kind of body art you want for your honeymoon. At
some point, I passed out.

Finally they took me out, still cuffed to the chair.

All I remember from the rest of the night is being lifted up a bunch of
stairs. There must have been a few club hanger-ons and spectators, because they
were hooting and hollering as the boys carried me up. They took me to Cole’s
room, where I was left to sleep it off, still cuffed to the chair.

Shannon washed off most of the names and numbers when I saw her the next
day, of course she had to scrub my skin raw to get the permanent ink off, but I
gritted my teeth and smiled through it, not about to utter a single complaint
at her less-than-tender ministrations.

By the ceremony on Saturday, the bruising on my face had faded from an
ugly purple and black to an equally gruesome yellow. My fat lip had diminished,
and my puffy swollen left eye had gone down enough that I could finally see out
of more than the slit it had been. Maybe my marked-up body and beat-up face
wasn’t the stuff dream weddings were made of, but my bride took it all in
stride, smiling up at my busted-up mug as the minister pronounced us husband
and wife.

Now it was our wedding night. We were in the hotel in Reno, where
Shannon had first proposed to me. I felt it only right to bring her back here
for the wedding. I walked over to the window and could see the lit up outdoor
pool below, where most of our guests were still partying on after our
departure, the water glowing aqua-blue from the underwater lights.

I pulled my tie off and twisted to see Shannon kicking her shoes off and
diving into the gifts that were piled in our room. “Baby, leave that for later.
I didn’t bring you up to our room to open gifts. That’s not what I want to do
on our wedding night.” I unbuttoned my shirt and pulled it off, tossing it
aside.

“Just one, sweetheart, please?” she begged, sticking her sweet lower lip
out. Christ she could play me like a fiddle. She was quickly learning I
couldn’t say no to her.

“All right, Princess, you can open one. Just one. Then your husband
wants your undivided attention for the rest of the night.”

“You got it, sweetie.” She patted the floor next to her. “Come here.”

I walked over and stood behind her, not about to sit curled up on the
floor like she was. My hands began unpinning her hair as she sorted through the
packages.

“I don’t know which one to choose.”

“Just pick one, babe, or I’m changing my mind.” I began unhooking the
back of her dress.

She picked up a large flat one that was leaning against the pile. There
was a card taped to the front of it. She pulled it free and tore it open,
reading it aloud.

You’re a talented
photographer, Shannon, but this picture I took with my cell phone will always
be my favorite of you and Crash. If you look closely, you can see the smile on
your face.

Best wishes, Angel
and Cole.

She passed the card to me and ripped open the wrapping. It was a large
16x20 matted and framed black and white photograph. It was a shot of me walking
away, my back to the camera. Obviously taken outside the clubhouse. Bikes in a
line just out of focus. And there, slung over my shoulder was Shannon hanging
upside down along the length of the back of my cut, her blonde hair trailing
down. Her head was turned just enough that just visible was the huge smile on
her face.

The caption at the bottom read: My Prince.

I grinned, remembering that day. It was a good shot. It was a good
memory. I imagined I knew exactly where Shannon was going to hang it, but
before I could get the words out of my mouth, she confirmed it. Holding it out
at arm’s length and smiling with her eyes on the picture, she declared, “This
is going over our bed.”

I grinned. Yeah, I knew my girl.

I took the picture out of her hands and set it aside. Then I scooped her
up and tossed her over my shoulder, just like in the picture.

“Crash!”

“Come on, Princess.” I carted her to the bed and dropped her on it. I
stood at the end of the bed, and our eyes held as I undid my pants, letting
them drop. Grabbing the hem of her dress, I yanked the gown down and free of
her body, tossing it aside. She was naked underneath, the one request I’d made
of her outfit today. ‘Don’t care what kind of dress you wear, babe,’ I’d told
her, ‘as long as there’s nothin’ on underneath it.’ My eyes trailed over her
gorgeous body, stopping on the pierced navel, and then stopping again on the
ink I’d marked her belly with. I leaned down, one hand in the bed, the other
trailing lightly over the tattoo. My fingers tracing the rose. “This is you,
baby.” They moved to the barbed wire wrapped around it. “This is me protecting
you,” I repeated the words I’d said to her so long ago. I smiled down at her,
saw her eyes glaze, and then I came down on top of her.

She cupped my face. “Love you, baby.”

“Back atcha, baby.”

Shannon…

I kissed Crash, and then I pushed him over onto his back and rose above
him. “My turn.”

I pressed my face to his gorgeous chest, nuzzling my nose to his skin
and pressing my open mouth softly against him. His left hand came up, fingers
threading through my hair, pulling me closer, holding me to him. I slid lower,
my mouth following the trail of hair, down. Down. Pressing kisses as I went.
His hand left my head and settled palm down on his abs. I took note of the
platinum wedding band on his finger. God, I loved seeing it there.
Possessiveness filled me as I resumed my exploration of his gorgeous body. My
tongue dipped into his navel and his cock throbbed, bobbing by my face. I
looked up at him as my mouth trailed down pressing soft kisses. What I saw in
his eyes as they looked back at me was pure hunger.

“Babe, you’re killin’ me.” His hips lifted involuntarily, his cock
begging for my touch. I slid my palm up along his thigh. Up. Up and finally
closing over him. Still watching him, I saw his right hand fist in the
comforter, fingers curling. I licked and teased the crown as his hips lifted
again. “Fuck, Shannon, take it,” he growled.

My mouth sank down on him, and he groaned. I teased and tormented him
until I felt him building with each surge up of his hips. When I felt him
drawing closer and closer to his limit, his hands were suddenly sliding under
my armpits, and I was yanked up. I landed on my back as he surged up over me.
As I looked up at him, what I saw was all hot, needy two hundred pounds of
aggressive, dominant male.

He grabbed my right wrist and pinned it down on the mattress near my
head. Then he grabbed my left wrist and pinned it against the bed on the other
side. He loomed over me, his eyes hot with need. “Want that pussy. You gonna
give it to me?”

I nodded. “Yes, yes.”

“You wet and ready for me, baby?”

“Yes. Please, Crash.”

He plunged into me, and I gasped. I watched his face. Our eyes held each
other’s as he thrust. I wanted to keep the connection with his eyes, but I
couldn’t help myself. My gaze broke and trailed down over him. There was just
too much beautiful male to look at. I took it all in, his beautiful chest, his
shoulders, his abs, all flexing and moving as he thrust above me. It wasn’t
long before a sheen of sweat formed on his skin. I arched up, my hips meeting
him thrust for thrust. His strokes were long and deep. I began to writhe and
moan, undulating below him. “Crash, please.”

He knew what I wanted. He always knew what I wanted. His right hand
released my wrist, and his hand slid between us. His thumb stroked over me, and
my back arched, my head going back. He kept at it, over and over, stroking as
he continued to plunge inside me. It didn’t take long before I was right there
with him, my legs wrapping around him, urging him on.

His head dipped to my throat, his mouth latching on and sucking. Hard. I
soared toward the peak. I was right there. Right there. His mouth broke from my
throat, and then it was at my ear, his breathing heavy as he panted, “Come with
me, Shannon. Come with me, now.”

And I did. I crashed over the edge, moaning, my thighs tightening around
him, and my whole body shuddered. I felt him thrust two more times before he
rammed hard and went solid and followed me over the edge.
 
He groaned and made several slower strokes,
and then collapsed on top of me. My arms went around him, one hand sliding up
his neck, fingers threading up into his hair. The other trailing down, over his
spine, the small of his back, to his ass. I pulled him against me and heard his
moan next to my ear. I felt him begin to lift off me, but held him tight. “No.
Stay.”

“Babe, don’t want to crush you.”

“You aren’t. I like it. Your weight on me.” I heard him chuckle in my
ear.

“Good. I like you under me.” His left hand slid up along my ribs, his
bicep flexing as his hand closed over my breast and squeezed. “All silky skin
and soft curves.” His torso twisted, and his head lowered, his mouth closing
over my nipple as his hand pushed my breast up to meet his mouth.

My legs were still shaking and trembling with the aftermath of my orgasm,
and his tug at my nipple sent another surge through me. His head lifted, and
his hand slid down to my thigh, feeling the tremors. “You’re shaking.” He
frowned down at me.

I nodded and grinned. He grinned back, and his eyes held mine as he
lowered his head, and his mouth latched onto my nipple. Again he tugged, hard.
My back arched in reaction, and I felt his dick growing hard inside me again.
He released me and grinned, asking, “Ready for round two, Princess?”