Conquering Circumstances: Black Shamrocks MC Novella Page 6

  “Like what you see?” Mik snaps at me, dragging me out of my vacant staring into the distance.

  “Huh?”

  “Nothin’,” Mik mumbles. I peer up at him, trying to gauge his mood. He’s been in good spirits all night—even when he found the cuts on my thigh, he didn’t react like this—so his bad mood makes no sense to me. Especially since it seems to be directed toward Timber. The one person I’ve never seen him fight with. Without another word, Mik grabs me by the top of the arm closest to him and hauls me to my feet. Stunned at his actions, I gasp and pull from his grip. Our gazes lock together, my eyes widening with shock. Pure, unadulterated agony fills his hazel gaze.

  Agony from what? He’s free, about to assume control of the Shamrocks, and he’s bought us a new house which allays some of my fears that he might leave me. We should be celebrating; not on the cusp of an argument. I was worried about what’s going down between him and Timber, but that falls by the wayside with the realization that the man in front of me bears little resemblance to the one they took away from me.

  And for that, I have my father to thank.

  In the time it takes me to read his expression, Mik shakes off whatever it is that’s causing the pain in his gaze. Gripping the top of my arm again, he pulls me back to him. With one thick arm, he sweeps me off my feet and into his arms. Clasping me against his upper body in the classic bridal hold, he strides through the bar toward the bedrooms.

  As is the Shamrocks way, everyone clears a path for us, patting Mik on the back and catcalling as we pass. After our tense moment minutes earlier, I’m certain that they’re barking up the wrong tree with their assumptions. Mik kicks the door to the room we call ours at the Clubhouse open, nudging it shut with his heel once we’re through it. Setting me back on my feet, I wait for him to speak—to commence the argument that we were on the tipping point of falling into back in the bar.

  “Strip.”

  I was in the process of putting my hands on my hips to brace for our disagreement. My arms fall uselessly to my sides at his terse command. Surprise takes hold of me, followed quickly by confusion. Crossing my arms under my breasts, I stare at him with one eyebrow arched. The man who’s messing with my mind gazes back at me without blinking. Our silent standoff continues until Mik breaks it.

  Closing the space between us, he pushes my arms down to my sides, taking hold of the bottom of my shirt and yanking it over my head. Then he pulls me toward him by the waistband of my jeans. “Next time I tell you to do something; fucking do it. Don’t stand there silently daring me to bend you over my knee and spank your ass.”

  My heart jumps into my throat, anticipation heating my blood when I realize what he’s trying to do. Memories of the last time I let him dominate me circulate through my mind, giving me a highlight reel of one of the best nights of my life.

  “Oh,” I say, taking a step back from him and unbuttoning my pants. Shimmying them down my hips along with my panties, I try my hardest to ignore the twinge of pain in my injured thigh as my pants move over the bandage. Mik’s way of resetting my psyche is much, much better than slicing my skin. As I step out of my clothes; I promise myself, the universe, and Mik that I won’t do it ever again. Once I’m standing naked before him, Mik twirls his index finger in a circle in the air. Understanding what he wants, I execute a full turn in front of him.

  “Very nice. A little thinner than normal, but we can fix that now I’m home.” Trying not to let his honest appraisal upset me—he’s right, I have let myself get too skinny—I smile when he palms one of my naked breasts in each hand. Lifting them as if he’s testing their weight, he grins at me. “At least, I still have these bad boys to play with.”

  Flicking a thumb over each of my nipples, they peak straightaway in response to his touch. I’ve missed him more than I can say, and so has my body. Every atom of my being, each nerve ending, and inch of skin yearns for his touch. It’s been too long; our quick session at the new house definitely wasn’t enough to satiate my unquenchable desire for him.

  Although, I know that I should wait for him to tell me what to do next, my hands have a mind of their own. I’ve pushed his cut off his shoulders and grasped the hem of his T-shirt with both hands before he can protest. As I begin to lift it, Mik stops me with firm fingers around my wrists, before picking me up in one smooth motion and tossing me onto the bed.

  Sprawled on my back, I prop myself upright with my elbows and wait for him to strip off. My eyes are dying to drink in the sight of his muscled, tattooed body. It’s been months since I was able to run my fingers down the ridges of his six-pack, free to dig my nails into his wide shoulders while he’s driving himself into me. God, just thinking about it has me pressing my thighs together. The throbbing in my core is a delicious prelude to what’s coming. I’m left disappointed when Mik kicks his jeans off and crawls onto the bed, covering me with his large frame.

  “Mik—”

  “Shhhh.” He places a finger over my lips. I eye him through a narrowed gaze, not able to let my protest go without making my unhappiness known. The feral glint in his eyes as they roam my face is saying loud and clear that he’s not going to stand for any further insubordination from me. Knocking my arms out of the way, he chuckles when I let out a small squeal of surprise. My head and shoulders land on the mattress and I bounce slightly. I’m still swaying when big hands pull my thighs apart and I feel his hot breath blowing over my pussy. Tensing, I wait for his next move.

  Please, lick me. Please, lick me. Please, lick me. I chant this over and over in my head. So far tonight hasn’t gone the way I expected so I’m not holding out hope that my man’s next move is going to be the one I’m anticipating.

  “Safe word?”

  His question hangs in the air. Challenging me. It’s time to choose which way tonight is heading—rough fucking or sweet lovemaking. The agony I glimpsed in his expression back in the bar, his strange behaviour toward Timber, and my own need to let go of the cast-iron control I require to function without him, settles the decision in a split second.

  “Angel.”

  With a curt nod of his head, Mik acknowledges my acquiescence. All I can see is the top of his head, the copper-brown hair shorter than usual due to prison regulations, as he buries his face between my legs. I close my eyes and lay back, determined to enjoy every delicious morsel of attention he’s about to shower on me. In my mind, this is my reward for making it through the past five months.

  Warm, soft lips clamp around my clit and suck, then his tongue flicks the sensitive nub. A finger prods at my entrance, sliding into my aching pussy, then back out again. With infinite patience, Mik works me over using his talented tongue and his finger. Adding a second and then a third digit, he has me on the verge of climaxing in a matter of minutes. A continuous moan that builds into low-pitched cries of pleasure leaves my mouth. They bounce off the walls, ringing in my ears as I near the precipice, teetering on the edge of what promises to be an earth-shaking orgasm.

  His teeth nip at my clit and I scream from the unexpected pain. I claw at the sheets on either side of me and arch my back when he curls his fingers upward and hits that spot inside of me that sends me spiralling into a new stratosphere of pleasure and then straight into a soul-defining climax. I’m riding the crest; relishing the lava-like ecstasy that flows through my body, turning every limb languid, and wiping the anxiety I’ve been crumbling under from my mind. The epicentre of my world is Mik—his tongue, his teeth, his fingers—as he uses his many talents to soothe all of the damage rained down on me due to the treachery of the one person I should be able to trust above everyone else.

  My dad.

  Just when I think I can’t stand anymore, Mik slows his ministrations and my climax begins to lessen to a more manageable level. I become aware of the sweat that’s dampening my body, my tight hold on the sheets, and my trembling thighs. Only God knows how I managed to survive without this man and his ability to wipe away all that’s wrong with my world with his ton
gue.

  Except Mik’s not done. He quickens the pace of his fingers, draws my clit back into his mouth and sucking it again. My desire returns full force; building to a peak once more. I’m petrified of edging over the ledge. Afraid that I’ll pass out if I have another orgasm this soon.

  A finger prods at my back entrance, before sliding into my backside. I’m left in two minds—call off the climax that’s stalking me by using my safe word or see if this feels as good as it did the first time he touched me back there many, many months ago. The decision’s taken out of my hands when Mik pumps his fingers in unison into both of my entrances, pushing me closer to another dose of ecstasy. My blood pounds in my ears, my entire body quivering around him as I reach the pinnacle for the second time mere minutes after my first climb.

  “Oh, my God. I can’t. I can’t.” My screams are piercing as I attempt to survive my second orgasm. My eyes roll back in my head as I mount a final protest. “Mik. Stop. STOP.”

  As I’m battling to withstand the onslaught of pleasure he’s wringing from me, Mik removes his fingers and makes his way up my body. He mashes his lips on mine, pushing his tongue into my mouth and his cock into my pussy without preamble. I gasp against his mouth as he drives his erection into me with savage force. Placing his arm under my hips, he lifts them so that he can push as far as possible into my body.

  I try to meet him stroke for stroke in an effort to control the pace, but it’s impossible. His rhythm is manic. Wild. When I look up at his face, I’m met with eyes that are glazed, his expression fierce and dominating. I can taste cigarettes, the beer he drank in the bar, and myself on his tongue. He explores my mouth; his tongue tangling with mine in a similar cadence to the frantic pumping of his cock. It’s almost too much. The riot of sensations bordering on unbearable.

  My hands push on his shoulders. Feeling the fabric of his T-shirt under my hands, I grip it and try to pull it over his head. I want skin on skin. My breasts rubbing against the sparse hair of his chest. My fingernails leaving long, red scratches along his back. I have the material halfway over his head when my hands are seized in an iron grip and lifted above my head. With one hand, Mik pins me. I strain against him, unhappy with his decision. He simply tightens his hold and fucks me harder. With pleading eyes, I beg him to let me undress him. I want to reacquaint myself with his body like he has mine. Mik’s answering glare has me submitting to his wishes this time. I let my arms relax and concentrate on the feeling of his shaft sliding within my channel. It’s euphoric. This perfect joining of our bodies melding our damaged souls together. Solidifying us as a unit again. God, I’ve missed him.

  Tilting my lower body so his cock rubs over my G-spot, Mik slows to a more rhythmical tempo. He pumps into me with methodical intent, each upward stroke pushing me up the bed, leaving me a trembling mess beneath him. My inner walls grip him tightly as my third climax approaches without warning. It takes me by surprise, throwing me into a vortex that leaves my universe centred on the spot where our bodies are united and the agonizingly painful bliss it brings. I’m done. Absolutely spent. Unable to stand another second of his delectable torment.

  “Angel. Angel. Angel,” I scream. I fight his hold on my wrists, squirming beneath him when he doesn’t stop. Mik ignores me. Instead, he continues to thrust himself into me, still chasing his release. He drops his forehead on mine. Staring deep into my eyes, unheeding of my repeated attempts to safe word, he fucks me with abandon until I feel him spasm within me as he comes.

  “My Angel. Mine,” he groans as he fills me with his hot ejaculation. “Always mine.”

  Tears I didn’t realize were coming, run down my cheeks at the naked need in his voice. His obvious pain forces me to let go of the fear tinged anger that had started building inside me when he ignored my use of my safe word. My heart is aching for him as I nod as much as I can with his head on mine and whisper, “Always.”

  TEMPTING FATE, Black Shamrocks MC #4

  AVAILABLE NOW

  SNEAK PEEK of my MMA Standalone, BRAWL.

  OUT NOW

  Hatred. It’s the strongest of emotions—stronger than even love. To have hatred for someone means that you once loved them. To now hate them, well, that means that they’ve hurt you to an extent that forgiveness is impossible...and we all know that being hurt by someone you love is the biggest betrayal of them all.

  I’m filled with hatred. It pulses through me; visceral and visible for everyone to see. It’s branded on my soul, polluting any happiness that might sneak up on me, forcing me to shut out anyone who dares to pry back my protective armour.

  He’s as fucked-up as I am. Angry at the world, a snarling, savage beast, who wreaks destruction with his fists and annihilates with his nasty tongue. I should run a mile like the rest of them, yet I can’t. What’s left of his humanity calls to mine, desperately seeking someone who understands; someone who can withstand the carnage he creates.

  He says he doesn’t want me. Then why can’t he keep his hands off me?

  I refuse to let anyone get close to me ever again. So why can’t I make myself walk away?

  “Come on Cooper. It’s nearly eight... get out of bed or you’re gonna be late for school.” I yell at my youngest brother. Ignoring my head that’s pounding from lack of sleep as I stumble into his bedroom, I nudge his bed with my foot to rouse him and he grumbles his annoyance.

  As usual, I’m on morning duty while our mother sleeps off the excesses of her late night. I use the term mother loosely. She hasn’t filled that position for the past three years, and I don’t expect a miraculous return to form from her any time soon. It was well past three when I heard her stumble through the front door this morning.

  It wouldn’t bother me so much but it’s my first day of freedom since I finished my final high school exam yesterday. In a normal reality, I should be the one with the hangover and no intention of getting up until well after noon. Not dragging my tired brother out of bed, and dealing with my own matching fatigue from our late night last night.

  “If you don’t move right now, you’re going to have to walk to school. Zali didn’t come home last night, so I’m it and I have shit to do today. Get a move on, bucko.”

  “All right, Gabbi,” my eight-year-old brother groans, acting as if I’ve asked him to single-handedly arrange world peace. I feel guilty when I see his red rimmed eyes, but there’s nothing I can do about it. I had to take him to work with me last night since neither our mother or sister were home to watch him. “I’m coming. Jeez.”

  After quickly ironing Cooper’s uniform while he showers, and making some toast for both of us to eat in the car, we make it out of the door on time. Even with the noisiness of our departure, our mother hasn’t stirred from her prone position on the couch. I slam the front door shut behind us, grinning when I hear her whining about the racket. Clenching my fists, I resist the urge to tell her to shut the fuck up.

  After dropping Cooper off at school, I give our sixteen-year-old sister, Zali, a quick call while I’m still parked to make sure she’s made it to her school. I’m assuming that she slept at her dumbass boyfriend’s house last night because her bedroom was still empty when I looked in this morning. A normal state-of-affairs in our home lately. Our mother wouldn’t know where the fuck any of us are, and with less than a year between us, it’s hard for me to tell her what to do, like I can Cooper.

  “Only one more exam to go and then you’ve got eight weeks off before grade twelve starts.” I tell her, in an attempt to cheer her up. She sounds pissed. About what, I wouldn’t have a fucking clue. All I know is I need to calm her down so I can hit her with the favour I need tonight.

  “Oh, wow eight weeks of looking after Coop while Mum gets trashed every night and Dad continues his disappearing act. You’re so lucky to be heading off to art school, away from all this shit.” The vehemence in her tone makes it clear that I haven’t a hope in hell of getting her to agree. I table my begging for later.

  “You know, I’m still aroun
d until March, so chill the fuck out. Concentrate on your exam, not Mum’s crap.”

  “Whatever,” she mumbles. “Are you still going to pick me up after my exam? I want to look for a job today.”

  Pulling my phone from my ear, I check the time. I’ve got grocery shopping to do and bills to pay. If I hurry, I’ll just have time before I need to head to her school and pick her up. “I’ll be there at half past twelve. We’ll head to the gym first and speak to my boss. He’s looking for a trainee.” I laugh, wishing I could see the look that’s going to cover her face at my next comment. “But, ya know, if all else fails, there’s always Macca’s or KFC.”

  “Shut up, Gab,” she bites back in shrill voice. “Pick me up at twelve thirty. Don’t be late.”

  A wide grin curls my lips when my phone beeps in my ear, indicating that she ended the call in a huff. I shouldn’t antagonize her, but I can’t help it. Fucking with Zali seems to be the only thing worth smiling about in my life most of the time.

  ***

  Posting my completed acceptance package back to the art school that I’ve been accepted into next year, I mentally tick that job off my to-do list before heading to the supermarket to grab some groceries. Past experience tells me that our mother won’t get off the couch in time to buy anything before we get home, and God forbid, she actually cooks something for dinner. Most of the household duties have fallen to me since our parents divorced three years ago, and as much as it pisses me off, I just get on with it.

  Someone has to because we’d starve if we waited for her to give a shit.