Falling For Crazy (Moroad Motorcycle Club) (27 page)

"Let's make it official," he said.

She nodded.

His agitation and frustration settled down, and he stilled. He clutched her waist and picked her up, her back hitting the mattress. Desperate for his skin to touch hers, she reached down and unbuttoned his belt. She barely had his jeans down to his hips when he tugged her shirt, taking her hands off him and over her head. Her bra came off next, and then her jeans.

His eyes focused on her breasts, bouncing from the frantic need to be naked. He reached for her nipple, rolling it between his thumb and index finger. She sighed at the rush of pleasure.

She pulled him down, knowing what he needed.

He greedily sucked. She moaned as he drew her into his mouth. Her nipple and surrounding flesh encompassed by his lips. Once he had them erect and hard, he pulled back. His arousal heavy in his eyes.

She skimmed her fingers over his tatted shoulders, down his arms. "I've missed you."

He growled and slid his hand between her legs. She let her knees fall to the sides.

He slid his finger along her slit. Her body jolted and warmed.

Lowering his head to her shoulder, he continued stroking her. "I've got you."

He trailed damp kisses along her neck, between her breasts, over her stomach, and settled between her thighs. Completely naked underneath him, she raised her head and watched him take her all in. The light still on in the room left nothing for the shadows.

Everything was out in the open and unhidden. There was nothing else to question. The truth was out there for both of them.

They were both crazy.

Wonderfully crazy.

In love with crazy.

He spread her legs wider apart and kissed the inside of her thigh. She shuddered at the closeness and his warm breath near her damp opening.

He glanced up, eyes focused on her, and slid one of his thick fingers into her pussy. Her neck arched, and she shifted her hips, making room for him.

In and out, the sloppy sounds of wetness filled the room. When she couldn't catch her breath, she panted. He brought his finger out and circled her clit. Sensitive and needy, she reached out and fisted the blanket at her side, bending to his touch.

His tongue ran over her clit. She dug her heels of her feet into the mattress fearing he'd stop. His finger tapped her g-spot. Her body spiraled higher.

He groaned against her. Vibrations traveled to her core. There was no stopping. She shuddered on a cry, squeezing her eyes shut, holding her breath and losing the battle until she gasped, letting her orgasm loose.

Her body came down swiftly, spent and weak, yet he refused to stop his endless caress with his tongue until he was satisfied. Then he raised his head, licked his bottom lip before wiping his mouth with his arm and getting on his knees.

His hand went to his cock, hard and pulsing. He stroked himself. "Not done."

"Never done." She half-rolled and grabbed a condom out of the nightstand.

He rolled the protection on, and she caught him as he lowered his body on top of hers.

His cock slid into her without any resistance. She sighed in pleasure.

With sure, long strokes, he fucked her as if they had a lifetime to enjoy each other.

He watched each inch of him disappear inside of her and withdraw, over and over, until the motion blurred, and she looked up into his eyes. The heat rolling off his intense gaze was the sexiest thing she'd ever seen. His mouth hung open, and he moved within her as if it was his personal mission to fill her with his body, and he couldn't go deep enough.

Her back arched. "Jacko?"

He grunted in response.

"Jacko?" She held his face, bringing him closer. "Let go. I'm not leaving you."

His mouth captured her lips. She swallowed his moan as he climaxed. Caressing his tongue, absorbing his control, she whimpered at the magnitude his body rocked against her, uncaging him from his worries.

T
wo months later —

Sarah sat in the recliner in the corner of her private room next to the large glass window overlooking the patio. Jacko sat on the edge of the twin bed watching Amy braid her sister's hair. The gentle tugs on Sarah's head never registered.

In profile, the two sisters held the same solemn expression, except Amy's vibrant eyes showed the passion and love that flowed through her.

"She used to love when I played with her hair." Amy removed the elastic band from her wrist and tied off the end of the braid. "We'd take turns giving each other fancy hairstyles with Mom's extra supplies and pretend we were going out on dates. We were both young and full of giggles."

Jacko looked way as Amy swiped the corner of her eye. Slowly over time, the truth of Sarah's condition hit Amy hard, though she pretended otherwise and never let her sister know there was no cure.

Amy retained her hopes and dreams despite the hardships she faced and the pain he'd put on her. He had no idea how she managed to take care of him, Sarah, and still have time for the club and her job.

The roar of motorcycles invaded the room. He watched Sarah for any sign she was aware of the noise from her past, her surroundings, and found none.

"Is it time?" Amy put her hands on Sarah's shoulders and gazed at him.

He nodded. The timing was perfect. He'd stepped forward in his relationship with Amy and needed to bury a part of his past before he could let go.

Amy moved around the chair and crouched down to line herself up in Sarah's blank gaze. "We have to leave, but I'll be back tomorrow after work. Jacko will come by this weekend with me."

Sarah's eyes blinked, but her gaze remained empty. Jacko stood and shoved his hands in his vest pockets. The nurse would be in soon to move Sarah to the bed for the night.

Amy picked up her purse from the bed and hung it on her upper body, letting the bag hang at her hip. He took her spot in front of Sarah, bent down, and kissed her forehead.

"Your hair looks real pretty, sweetheart," he whispered.

Then he turned and slipped his hand into Amy's and led her from the room. The motorcycles louder in the hallway, he walked through the lobby and out the front door.

The Moroad Motorcycle Club took up the end of the parking lot. Each free member released from prison waited for him to start the caravan back toward Federal. At his Harley, he passed Amy the helmet and sat his bike. Once she was behind him, arms tight, he started the engine and led his MC brothers down the narrow lane leading to the county road.

He'd tried talking Amy into staying back and not joining him tonight, and she'd put her foot down. He glanced in the side view mirror and grinned. Hell, she put more than her foot down. She'd hauled off and threw his boot across the room and demanded she was never going to leave his side, and that included when he planned to commit another felony.

He gave in to Amy and banned the other Moroad women from coming. Amy had grown close to the others, especially Lola, who'd recently came back from visiting Jeremy after the judge sentenced the kid to fifteen years in the state penitentiary and refused to sleep with any of the men.

From what he'd heard, Jeremy would've got off with an eighteen-month sentence, except before the guards could escort him to the courthouse, he'd stabbed a Blues member on the inside. In retaliation, Cam ordered Blues to pay double the amount of the extortion money every month. Money was good for all of them.

He turned left into the canyon, rode down the asphalted driveway, and came to a stop. The other members parked behind him. He sat on his motorcycle staring up at the house his parents abandoned when they'd walked out of his life.

"If you do this and get caught, it's a one to twenty-year sentence. With you being a felon, you'll get twenty years," said Amy.

He laughed, reached behind him, and patted her thigh. "Did you look that up?"

She hopped off his Harley and stood at his side. "Yes."

He toed the kickstand and rolled his eyes as he joined her in the driveway. "You're fucking sexy when you're being smart. I always wanted a smart girl. The smarter, the better, and you're damn smart, Momma."

She grabbed his vest and pulled him to her. "Yeah, and I seem hooked on the crazy guy."

He kissed her hard and glanced at his club waiting and silently supporting him. "Keep your helmet on and get ready to roll."

He slipped on his gloves and removed the one-gallon gas can from the back of his motorcycle. He winked at Amy and strode to the house.

On the porch, he headed for the stack of dry firewood at the end. He poured a trail of gasoline on the pile and walked the length of the porch leaving a line of flammable liquid in his wake. Opening the door, he continued his path through the living room, the dining room, the kitchen, and back around to the stairs. At the bottom of the steps, he threw the gallon container to the second-floor landing and stared up at the picture of himself hanging crooked on the wall.

He clearly remembered the day he'd sat in the gym at the high school his junior year and smirked for the camera. His mom had argued with him that morning because he'd missed the appointment to get his haircut the day before. As if a yearly school picture ranked high priority in his life.

He pulled out his pack of cigarettes and lit a smoke. The house was still in his parents' names and would be until they passed away. For him, the home was a constant reminder of the length his mom and dad went to forget about their son. How he'd disappointed them. How they'd abandoned him.

Minutes passed until he had no idea how long he'd stood there remembering the hurt that never went away. The house darkened. He turned around and walked back out the door. There was nothing inside he wanted. The only memories he wanted to keep involved his club, Amy, and Sarah. They were his family. Amy was his life.

He stood on the porch, gazing out at his brothers. He trusted each man with his life, and none of them with his woman. That's the way he lived life. She was his, and he'd do everything he could to make sure nobody touched her.

Turning around, he faced the house one more time. He swayed left to right, right to left, and inhaled the nicotine from the cigarette he lit and left in his mouth. Not wanting to waste one of life's simple pleasures, he waited until the burning coal almost reached the filter.

He flicked the burning cigarette to the wooden porch and watched fire grow in a thin line, getting bigger as it swarmed into the house through the door. The rug in the entry way was the first thing to burn. He stood and watched the flames lick the wall, the rotten drapes, and finally the ceiling.

He threw back his head and laughed. The sound busted the constricting hold always present around his chest, freeing him. "Burn, motherfucker."

Positive the place would burn to the ground before anyone was alerted to the house fire, he walked away and back to Amy.

She stared at him. He got on his motorcycle and lifted his chin. "Let's go home, Momma."

Within minutes, he no longer smelled smoke. His MC brothers rode behind him. He turned off before the viaduct and the others continued riding to the motel to continue the party. They'd shown their support and left him in Amy's care.

He wouldn't go down as the person responsible for the arson fire. If anyone spotted him, they'd have to identify the whole club and his family wouldn't rat him out.

Now, he only wanted to go home and fuck his woman.

Twenty minutes later, he held Amy's hand as he walked her into her childhood house. The place had a lot of work that still needed to be done, but it was livable. It was home.

She'd found love and security growing up here, and he'd found acceptance. Whether he stayed out of prison or ended up back behind bars, he was positive Amy would never leave him.

Inside the living room, he sat down and untied the shoelaces on his boots. "Amy?"

"Hm?" She put her purse on the scarred table next to the door.

He used his toe to kick off his boot. "I need you naked. The faster, the better."

She undressed without question. He loved that about her. He might be insane to everyone else, but she trusted him, and he never had to ask twice for sex.

He removed his clothes, strode to the couch, and sat with his arms spread to each side over the back cushions. He watched her strip and crooked his finger, motioning for her to come to him.

She walked across the room, breasts bouncing and hips dancing. Stepping to his sprawled legs, she climbed on his lap, situating her ass until she sat stomach to stomach with him. He gathered her hair and spread it down her back. Nothing was going to block her breasts from his view.

He palmed her ass. "I like your cushion."

She rolled her eyes. He grinned and laughed when the blush colored her cheeks, making her freckles stand out more.

"You're not supposed to say anything about the weight I've gained back," she said.

He let his happiness wash over him. "Ride me."

She tilted her head, and her eyes warmed. "Yeah?"

He gazed down at her breasts. "Hell, yeah."

She reached between her thighs and stroked his cock. He groaned, letting his head fall back on the couch cushion for a brief second. All day, he'd planned to take her. On the ride home, he'd changed his mind. He wanted her front and center, riding him.

Her thumb skimmed the thick vein running the length of his hardness. Impatient, he stopped her and fisted his dick.

She caught her lip between her teeth, raised up and sank down on him, inch by slow fucking inch. His toes curled. It felt even better than he'd imagined.

Amy closed her eyes and settled fully on him, panting through the fullness. Yeah, he knew, because she was squeezing every inch of his cock in pleasure.

Her eyes blinked open, and she gripped his shoulders, leaning toward him. Her nipples brushed his beard. He followed her breast with his mouth, licking, sucking, nuzzling. He wanted to pound inside of her and feel the sensation of her coming around him, but he'd waited all day. He could wait a few minutes more.

He palmed her ass, squeezing, lifting, feeling. "Ride."