Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 76695 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76695 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
A low growl moved through Finn as I guided his cock to my pussy, sliding it up and down my slick cleft before sinking down onto him, feeling him stretch me as he settled deep.
“Fuck yeah,” he groaned. “Feels good to be home.”
He turned then, flipping me onto my back on the mattress, and coming over me, his weight a reassuring pressure against me as he started to fuck me.
Drunk, and oversensitive because of it, by the time I was crashing into that orgasm, the feelings I’d been pushing down surfaced, tears flooding my eyes as I came.
But Finn just fucked me through it, leaning down to press a kiss to each side of my cheeks, catching the tears, before slamming deep and coming himself.
His weight stayed on me for a long time afterward, and my arms held on tightly, not wanting him to move.
When he did, he rolled us onto our sides, and he pressed a sweet kiss to the tip of my nose.
“I don’t want you to go back to your house,” he admitted, voice low.
My lashes fluttered open, finding him watching me.
“I don’t want to go back to my house either,” I admitted.
“It’s settled then,” he said. And for two people who weren’t great at communication, I guess it was.
I wasn’t going home.
I was staying here with him.
Moving in.
Calling a new place my own.
“But you’re going to need to rent a truck,” I warned him. “I miss my music.”
“Like I would ask you to leave your children behind,” he said, smile almost as soft as the look in his eyes. “Guess I gotta start building some shelves for it all.”
And it really was that easy for us.
Him.
Me.
And the music.
Sounded fucking perfect to me.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Finn - 10 days
Fallon kept a crew on watch for Ty and his crew since Perish made sure they took their asses out of our town.
So far, no sightings.
I figured I would maybe pay Junior to track them down to their new location. Just for the peace of mind.
I mean, I figured if he wanted to fuck with us further, he’d have called in his brother’s murder.
But as far as we could tell, not a single soul on Earth missed Trey Taggert.
Not that it would matter if they did. I knew this club. I knew the strengths of the brothers. Hiding a body that would never be found, or at least not until it was nothing but bones and we were all long dead, was directly in all of their wheelhouses.
From the sound of things, it had been Rune and Croft who’d taken the lead on that mission we’d sent them on. I’d caught Nave talking to Fallon about it in hushed voices, like it was some big secret, even though the twins had said they’d done this before that night.
I figured my brother was still trying to suss out what the two of them had been up to while they’d been away, but there hadn’t been a lot of time to sit them down and talk to them about it.
As for those chicks that had started this mess? Well, let’s just say that when Ferryn showed up on your doorstep spinning a karambit around on her finger, you started to rethink all of your life choices pretty quickly.
“Building something?” a voice asked as I stood in the garage of the clubhouse, pulling tools off of one of the shelves.
I turned, finding Callow standing there.
Of the current prospects, he was probably the one I knew the least about.
He was tall and wide-shouldered with brown hair and a matching beard, the dark color making his ice-blue eyes even more prominent. He had a shitton of black & gray ink, and the carriage that came from serving in the military for a good chunk of time.
I knew he’d served with Sully. And that he’d been a Navesink Bank native at one time.
Other than that, though, I didn’t know jackshit about the man.
“Lexy has the biggest CD and vinyl collection I’ve ever seen,” I explained. “She needs a place to keep all of it.”
Though, logically, some of it might have to find its way into other rooms of the house than the living room.
“You got plans?” he asked.
“Ah, yeah,” I said, reaching for the piece of printer paper I’d drawn nothing but my living room dimensions on.
Callow took it, brows pinching as he looked at it.
“This is shit,” he declared after a moment.
“What?” I asked with a snort.
“You’re wasting way too much space,” he said. “The shelves for the CDs should just be slightly taller than the CDs, not the same height as the vinyl shelves. You’ll be able to fit a bunch more CDs if you make more, but shorter, shelves.”
I had to admit that made a hell of a lot more sense than what I was going to do.