Besides, my balls are already blue from a full night of being tortured by her orgasms I dreamt of watching. Winter starts to shift, her hips rocking slightly, and at first, I think I might have actually woken her. But as she mumbles incoherently, I realize I’m turning her on in her sleep. Without so much as touching her clit. She’s getting excited just by the feel of my cock inside her.
I press a kiss to the back of her neck as my cock swells even more, and my shoulders tense with the effort of keeping my pace measured, of not disturbing her. She’s so incredibly moist and soft and warm. As I fuck her gently, the image of her all nipple-clamped and double-stuffed and needy as I pounded into her last night makes my balls tighten.
Then Winter’s full lips part as a gentle gasp escapes her. And without any prompting on my part, her pussy clamps down around me as she orgasms in her sleep. The feel of her gripping my cock, pulling me deeper into her, is so fucking good, I careen over the edge as well. Pressing deep inside her, I shoot my load, filling her with hot fresh cum. Holy fuck, it feels good to be buried inside her as her pussy milks every drop from me. And even as I go still, she seems to be so deeply asleep that even her orgasm didn’t wake her.
My insatiable little minx. Slowly, I ease out of her, wanting to leave her undisturbed since she’s sleeping so soundly. Climbing from the bed, I pad quietly to the dresser and pull on a warm hoodie and some ratty jeans. But as I tuck my cock away, I find I’m already half-hard again from the thought of leaving Winter in bed, filled with my cum. I’m so tempted to pull back the covers and see it dripping from her pussy, but it’s cold enough outside the covers, I would imagine that might wake her.
Slipping out the door as quietly as I can, I head into the clubhouse to grab a bite to eat before my first day of trash duty begins. I enter through the double doors, expecting to see an empty bar. Usually, I’m the first one in for breakfast. But today, Dally, Rico, and Knuckles are not only already occupying the bar stools, but they’re also practically finishing up their meal.
“Sup,” I greet, less confident than usual that we’re on good terms.
They each give me a nod, and as I take in their faces, I can see that, while we’re past our scuffle, I did a fair amount of damage to them, and they’re not likely to let it go until the bruising and swelling calm down.
“Look, Gabe, about yesterday,” Knuckles starts.
“I lost my shit. I shouldn’t have. I know you guys didn’t mean anything by it.” I can’t bring myself to actually apologize, but I know I have to own an equal amount of responsibility for creating the rift as they do.
“You sure as fuck did,” Rico grouses, looking worse for wear with a considerable black eye.
Knuckles throws him a dark look, then turns back to me. “What we’retryingto say is that we get it.”
Relief washes through me. I’m glad our fight didn’t permanently put a rift between us. Rico may take longer to come around, but if Knuckles and Dally can let it go, then he will too.
“We cool, man?” Dallas asks, holding out his hand.
“We’re cool.” I slap his palm and step forward into a bro hug, then do the same with Knuckles and a reluctant Rico.
Before I can sit down, Mark rises from his spot on the couch in the other room and approaches us. “All right, cunts,” he says by way of greeting, clearly not ready to let us off the hook for our fight yesterday. Tossing a bag of granola bars that smacks into my chest, then a roll of trash bags that hits Dally, Mark looks each of us in the eye. “Get ready to clean the entire grounds—clubhouse, mechanic shop, garage, outside, everything—from stem to stern. You’re not done until the club is spotless.”
Groaning, I look longingly toward the bar and Debbie. The look on her face tells me she has no sympathy for my growling stomach. She’s just as pissed as Mark about us brawling in the common area. Not to mention, I’m pretty sure we broke one of her new barstools.
“And next time,” Mark adds as we slouch toward the door, “resolve your disputes like men. In a designated area where Debbie doesn’t have to spend her time mopping up the syrup you spilled all over the floor.”
8
Winter
Either I’m having incrediblyvivid dreams, or my body managed to orgasm even in my sleep. But when I finally wake, sunlight filters into Gabe’s room and across my face. I vaguely recall the sensation of Gabriel fucking me from behind, gently. That alone makes me think it must have been a dream. When Gabriel fucks me, he does it hard, passionately, without holding back. When I open my eyes, however, Gabriel’s already gone. I press my fingers between my thighs and find I’m soaking wet. More so than if I were just turned on, actually, it feels as though Gabe’s cum is still dripping from me. And seeing as he didn’t come in me very much last night, I’m pretty sure the dream of him fucking me gently from behind wasn’t a dream after all.
The thought sends a tingle of pleasure between my legs. I don’t know why, but knowing he fucked me in my sleep and came inside me, making me orgasm without even waking me, turns me on. Knowing he wanted to fuck me so bad he couldn’t resist, but being considerate enough about my sleep to feel like he shouldn’t disturb me. As I stroke my slick folds, I’m suddenly incredibly turned on by the certainty that it’s his cum dripping down the side of my leg.
Rolling onto my back, I spread my legs, using his cum as lube as I gently circle my clit and run my finger down my folds to press inside my pussy. Delicious anticipation bubbles up in my chest as I find myself close to orgasm once again. In my mind’s eye, I see Gabriel wrapped around me, his cock pressing into me from behind as I sleep soundly. I fucking love that he couldn’t hold back, that he wanted to fuck me so bad he had to do it without my consent. Perhaps that should upset me, but the damage is done, and the thought of him using my body for his own relief is so scandalously hot.
Gasping, I press my fingers hard against my clit as my circles grow more urgent. I can feel I’m close to toppling into my orgasm, and it’s taken me hardly any effort because I’m so fucking aroused. “Fuck!” I breathe as I arch into my release, my arms and legs twitching as a wave of ecstasy send tingles to my fingers and toes. Sucking in lungfuls of air, I collapse back against the mattress as my muscles grow limp.
I think about everything that’s happened over the last two days. Anytime I let my heart decide, it seems like I’m impossibly drawn toward Gabe. My body clearly yearns for him in a completely illogical way. Even as I put my walls up, trying to shut him out last night, he managed to bust through my barriers. I don’t know why the knife play did it for me. I’ve never been one for self-harm or mutilation, but just the thought of him using such a dangerous weapon on me like a sex toy makes my stomach clench deliciously.
I check each of the spots where he scored me, but the marks are nearly imperceptible, like cat scratches without the swollen irritation. A small papercut-looking slit across the tip of one nipple is the worst of them, but no one will ever see them but me… and Gabe. He’s just so fucking sexy, and he knows how to play me just right until I sing with pleasure.
A dull throbbing at the base of my thumb reminds me of the G he carved into my hand last night, and I hold my palm up before my face to examine the cut. It’s completely scabbed over, and the thought of the blade penetrating my flesh sends a shiver down my spine. But at the same time, I find the way he did it surprisingly beautiful. It’s a simply made G, and yet, it makes me feel somehow more secure in him, in us. Just like the mark he left on his hand, proving he’s mine, he physically marked me to show how serious he is about keeping me. And while that terrifies me, it also ignites a small flicker of excitement in my chest.
But today, when I’m alone in the room with my thoughts, I’m able to come back to my senses. This has to stop. I can’t keep the baby. I have to put some distance between Gabe and me so I can do what’s best for me, for my plan. I need to deal with it before it’s too late.
Rolling out of bed, I finger-comb my hair into a messy bun and find some warm clothes to bundle up in. Then I head out the door. I don’t see Gabe anywhere, not in the living area, not the clubhouse. Even his bike is gone. That doesn’t necessarily surprise me. After all, it’s well past breakfast, and Debbie’s moved on to serving burgers and such for lunch.
That’s just as well. I didn’t really feel like eating with him anyway. I can’t seem to stop the nausea from threatening to creep up my throat any time I even think about food. Fucking pregnancy is going to destroy my stomach along with my perfectly white, enameled teeth.
With Gabe gone, I debate my next move. I know where I want to go today, but I’m not entirely sure how I want to get there. I can’t bum a ride from anyone around here again. I don’t want to get them in trouble with Gabe. Not that anyone would be willing to risk their own neck like that for me anyway. But I also can’t let it get back to Gabe that I went to a clinic. That would only raise questions I’m not ready to answer. Besides, it’s not like anyone at the club would be heading in the direction I need to go anyway. To get to a clinic where I’m sure no one will recognize my face, a place where I can give a fake name—and when I tell them I have no job, they won’t make me pay—I know where I need to go. It’s a spot in the next town over. Not easy to get to, but better than the alternative of walking into the clinic downtown and praying that no one there recognizes me or would connect me to Gabe.