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I want that hair down so I can grip it while I fuck her.
“Baby, it’s time for a little less talking.”
You want my mouth around your dick instead?”
Still keeping hold of my shirt, she says into the phone, “Cleo, I have to go. My husband came home early and I need to break the bad news to him about what I did.”
Cleo says her goodbyes while I narrow my eyes at Birdie, wondering what she’s done that is bad enough to be deemed bad news. The last time I arrived home to this kind of news, she’d ripped our kitchen apart in our old house. Christ help me if she’s done something as extreme today; we’ve got enough on our plate.
“What have you done?” I ask as soon as she’s off the phone.
She presses herself to me and loops both hands around my neck. “How much do you love me?”
I place my hand on her ass. “I’m not answering that until I know what I’m up against here.”
Grinning, she says, “You make it sound so serious.”
“You’re saying it’s not?”
“Fuck, Birdie, don’t keep me in suspense.”
“Well,” she starts, drawing it out, “it depends on how much you want a roast meal tonight versus how much you want me.”
“The answer to that question shouldn’t be one you even need to think about, angel.”
Her hands tighten around my neck. “I figured that, but things can change, so—”
I bend my mouth to hers and kiss her. “That will never change,” I say, growing hard for her. “What’s changed for you, though, between this morning and now?”
“I got out of my head when I went to work.”
“Thank fuck you went to work.”
“And to think you tried to boss me into not going.”
I scoop her into my arms, catching her off guard and eliciting one of her squeals of delight that I live for. Walking her inside, I say, “So the bad news is that there’s no roast meal tonight?”
“Because you were conserving your energy for sex?”
“And there’s no other bad news?”
Her brows pull together in question. “No. Why?”
We pass the lounge room and then the kitchen, and I note that Birdie has cleaned them both to the point of spotlessness. This is something she does when she’s anxious. “Just making sure I’m not going to find any rooms in the house you’ve started renovating.”
She playfully smacks my chest. “You told me it was a good thing I started that kitchen reno.”
I chuckle as we enter our bedroom. “It was, but don’t go getting any ideas for this week or even this month. A renovation is the last thing we need right now.”
“Winter Morrison, you need to—”
Placing her down, I silence her with a finger to her lips before reaching up to undo the bun she’s got her hair in. I want that hair down so I can grip it while I fuck her. “Baby, it’s time for a little less talking.”
“You want my mouth around your dick instead?”
Hooking my finger under the thin strap of her dress, I say, “You should try harder to read my mind more often.” I drop a kiss to her bare shoulder after I slide the strap down. “Your mouth on my dick is something I’ve thought about at least ten times today.”
Her hands go to my belt and undo it. “Only ten? I need to up my game.”
The harder the battle, the sweeter the victory.
I don’t believe that.
Not when we’ve lost almost everything.
I married Winter knowing what I was walking into.
He married me knowing the same.
We started out full of hope.
Love, family, the club.
We would have it all.
We would do whatever it took to build our family.
We would stand together through everything.
But how does a couple do that when they’ve been ravaged by loss?
We’re about to find out, because the biggest battles we’ve ever faced are breathing down on us and if we don’t cling to each other, we may lose the one thing we swore we'd never lose.
We may lose us.
The explosive and emotional finale of the Storm MC Reloaded series.
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Gypsy at heart.
USA Today Bestselling author who writes about alpha men & the women they love.
When I’m not creating with words you will find me planning my next getaway, visiting somewhere new in the world, having a long conversation over coffee and cake with a friend, creating with paper or curled up with a good book and chocolate.
I’ve been writing since I was twelve. Weaving words together has always been a form of therapy for me especially during my harder times. These days I’m proud that my words help others just as much as they help me.
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