Stitch: Satan's Fury MC(18)

“Batman?”

“Mmm hmmm. Batman,” she said, fighting back a smile.

“No… Nothing like him, darlin’.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. Henley was pretty out of it when she mentioned it,” she laughed. I was about to ask her what she was talking about when she said, “Don’t bother asking. It’s in the vault.” Then she lifted the remote and changed the channel again, finally settling on some old comedy. She dropped the remote in my lap and pulled the blanket over her feet, cuddling up in the crook of my arm.

“The vault?”

“Yep,” she clipped. “In the vault.”

“You know I’ve got ways to make people talk,” I warned.

“Don’t use your Enforcer threats against me, mister. It’s in the vault,” she smirked. “Now behave.”

“Easier said than done,” I smiled.

She rolled her eyes playfully and asked, “What made you want to join a motorcycle club in the first place?”

“Cotton.”

“How so?”

“There are people that you come across in your life that can see your mistakes, all the things you’ve done wrong in your life. Maybe it’s the way you carry it on your shoulders or a look on your face. Not sure what it is, but Cotton has always been one of those people who just knows. Back then, he saw me for what I was, and instead of judging me, he asked me to be his brother. Joining the club gave me a place to move forward, gave me a chance to forget my past,” I explained.

“You don’t seem like the kind of guy that makes mistakes,” she smiled.

“Made plenty. Still make them,” I told her.

“Then, I’m glad that you have Cotton and your brothers. They’re like your family.”

“Exactly, and I’d do anything for them.”

She sat there staring at me for a minute, then a goofy grin spread across her face. I knew she was still feeling her buzz when she said, “I like your beard and you have pretty eyes.”

“Nothing about me is pretty, Wren,” I scolded.

“I disagree,” she laughed as she rested her head on my chest.

As we sat there watching the movie, I slowly ran my fingers through her long soft hair until she drifted off to sleep. When the movie credits started to play, I carefully pulled her into my lap, cradling her in my arms as I carried her back into the bedroom. I gently laid her in the bed as I pulled the covers over her. I had just turned to leave when she called out to me, “Don’t go.”





Chapter 13




Wren




He stopped, frozen in his tracks, looking at me with an intensity I didn’t quite understand. I could see the doubts raging in the back of his mind as he considered my plea, and I couldn’t help but wonder what made him hesitate. There was so much about him that I didn’t know, but I knew how he made me feel. A sense of security washed over me whenever he was near, giving me a feeling of peace that I hadn’t felt in years. I trusted him. I truly did, and believe me, my trust wasn’t something that was earned easily or given lightly. I knew Griffin was different. Right from the very beginning. That first time I met him in the diner, I just knew – I knew that he was different. He sat there in his leather jacket and with all of those tattoos talking to my son, who was looking at him with pure wonder in his eyes, and then he turned and looked at me. Suddenly, I saw past the biker – straight to the man, and like a magnet I felt a pull to him that I could not comprehend. In my gut, in my heart, I was certain that he was someone that I wanted to know. Every self-preserving instinct I had (and trust me, those instincts were finely honed) screamed that he was going to be someone important in our lives.

In just a few weeks, he’d taken my world by storm, making me feel things I never dreamed and as much as it scared me, I wanted it. I wanted him. So while I was apprehensive, it wasn’t him I feared, it was the idea of a relationship that scared me. But the things I felt when I was with him weren’t feelings I could ignore. Whatever was happening between us, it was something I wanted – no, I needed – to explore.

“Griffin,” I urged, as I took the covers and pulled them back, inviting him to come lay next to me.

Without any further delay, he took his phone out of his pocket and kicked off his boots. His fingers dropped to the buttons of his jeans, and I watched with what I was sure were lustful eyes, as they fell to the floor. Leaving him with just a pair of form fitting boxers and his t-shirt. I nearly groaned out loud at the image he painted; he was beautiful. He was built the way a man ought to be built… tall, muscular, broad shoulders… my god. Just looking at him made me feel alive. It’d been a while, a good long while since I’d enjoyed – actually enjoyed, the company of a man, and when he started walking towards me I got hot all over. He quietly settled on the bed next to me, and laid his head down on the pillow.

I rolled to my side and with my face just inches from his, I whispered, “See… that wasn’t so hard.”

“Only one thing hard about getting in this bed with you,” he whispered with a faint growl. “Not sure I’ll be able to restrain myself.”

I leaned in closer to him, briefly pressing my lips to his. “You never have to restrain yourself with me.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I do. I trust you.”

“It’s not that easy, Wren. Never been a gentle man. Never known… gentle.”

I placed the palm of my hand against his chest and said, “Beneath that hard exterior lies a man with a good heart, one that fights for what is right and true. There is gentle in you, Griffin. I’ve seen it. I’ve felt it.”

“I’ve spent all these weeks watching you, seeing that you are everything I’m not. Good. Decent. Loving. I’m none of those things and I will tarnish you with my touch. I’ve tried to fight it. Tried to protect you from me, from the darkness inside of me, but your pull is too strong, Wren. I want you too damn much.”

“Don’t fight it,” I said.

Without any further hesitation, he reached for me, pulling me closer to him as his mouth found mine. An eager moan echoed through the room when his tongue brushed against mine. My hands roamed across the ridges of his chest as he deepened the kiss. He lifted himself from the bed, settling between my legs as he continued to explore my mouth with his tongue. I’d never felt such a strong desire for a man. With just a simple touch he sent a surge of heat coursing through my body, burning me to my very core. He made me feel craved, wanted beyond belief. When he looked at me, I wasn’t worried about the imperfections of my body or my lack of sexual experience. I could see the yearning in his eyes and I’d never felt so beautiful.

Without saying a word he pulled his t-shirt over his head, tossing it aimlessly onto the floor. My eyes were instantly drawn to the colorful ink that marked his body and I couldn’t stop myself from reaching out to touch him. He watched silently as I studied the intricate designs of his tattoos, brushing the tips of my fingers along his flesh. The artistic details were meticulously precise, obviously having taken hours upon hours to complete. I was utterly enthralled by them but was suddenly pulled from my trance when I noticed the large knotted scars hidden beneath the ink. There were so many scars…. too many to count. I looked up at him, my mind filled with questions but the words were stuck in my throat. He remained perfectly still as I continued to run my hands over his chest, feeling the various gnarled grooves on his skin. When my fingers reached his back, I gasped in horror. “Griffin?”

“Happened a long time ago, Wren,” he said. His smile was almost prideful when he said, “Battle wounds of sorts.”

“Someone hurt you?” I asked quietly, my voice trembling.

“Like I said, it was a long time ago,” he said, giving me a thoughtful look. “Can’t change the past, and I wouldn’t even if I could. Every scar, every mark on my body is a reminder that I survived. Just living through it made me who I am.”

I lifted myself from the bed, throwing my leg over him and carefully resting my knees at his sides as I straddled him. I lowered my head and pressed my lips against one of the larger scars that marked his chest, kissing him softly. He clearly had been through hell and back and just the mere thought of what he might have been through tore at my heart. Whatever had happened to him, he’d managed to come out on the other side with a strength and compassion that I couldn’t begin to comprehend.

“If these scars made you who you are, then I am thankful for each and every one of them,” I whispered. I continued kissing and caressing each of the raised welts along his skin. When I brushed my tongue across his nipple, a deep growl of approval escaped his body.

His hands reached for the back of my neck while his fingers tangled tightly in my hair as he took control of the kiss. My hips automatically rocked against him, feeling him thicken beneath me as he devoured my mouth, deepening the kiss. Desire for this man was running rampant through me, and I was losing what little control I had over my body. Any inhibitions I might have had completely washed away when he moved his hands to the hem of my t-shirt, pulling it over my head. He let out a deep breath as he took my bare breasts in his hands, holding them firmly while brushing his thumbs across my nipples. I loved the feel of his hands on my body, every touch sent me soaring into a new level of ecstasy. I felt his erection throbbing beneath me, and I was quickly becoming desperate to have him inside me.