Page 25 of Carver (Satan’s Angels MC #8)

My eyes snap open when Dom leaves my clit.

He licks me lower, tongue circling his fingers where he has me spread open.

It’s so hot, so filthy, so exactly what I need and want, that my soul pretty much tears out of my body.

I’m built on memories, founded on every moment that came before this.

It’s not just this moment or just us. And that’s what makes this so perfect.

We’ve lived. We’ve fallen. We’ve waited, ached, cried, and lived some more.

We’ve known distance and closeness, separation and togetherness, darkness and light.

We’ve known death and we’ve known life. Loss and rebuilding.

The love of family and the painful absence of the ones who should have protected us but couldn’t.

Dom broke. We broke. But we’ve gathered the pieces and we’re here now. Together.

All those thoughts ground me while at the same time, gravity escapes me completely. I’m coming apart, shattering, floating. I’m not a solid form any longer. I’m something lighter, barely corporeal.

I come, biting deep into my fingers so that I don’t make a sound except for my ragged breathing.

The climax rattles through me, tearing me apart.

I writhe on the table, soaking Dom’s hand and face.

He eats me all through it, licking me and thrusting long past the point where I’m too sensitive and want to beg him to stop.

I don’t. I eat up the pleasure and the pain, solidifying it deep inside of me.

He takes me the point where I can’t take anything more.

I have to press my hand lightly over his hair.

He lifts his head, his lips glistening from me, chin soaked.

He edges away, withdrawing his fingers, caressing me one last time like a silent thank you.

He stands and I watch, a flushed, sweating, tangled, heaving, delicious mess on the table after he just ate me like he was starved.

My heart is slamming, my pulse racing, but it picks up when he pops his fingers into his mouth and licks them clean.

“Mmm,” he sighs. He walks around the table and slides his arm under my shoulders, helping me to sit up.

He has a devious glint in his eyes. They’re so blue right now, darkened by his blown pupils.

He bends over, but not to help me off the table.

He kisses me so hard that it has to hurt him.

I’m much gentler, but I do let him capture my whimper of surprise and passion.

I glide my tongue over his lower lip and then his top, tasting myself on him.

I want to devour him, but I force myself to slow down and be gentle.

Just a few weeks ago, it was painful for him to eat.

I saw how carefully he chewed at dinner.

I’m not sure how long stitches take to dissolve, but his are still there.

If I hurt him, I’ll never forgive myself.

“I love you,” I breathe against his lips, feeding him the words, letting him drink them straight from the source.

The first time I ever said those words to him, I was scared and elated. I’ve never required him to return them. I was scared senseless thinking he wouldn’t, but steadfast I that it wasn’t going to change my mind or my truth if he needed more time.

Dom’s hands bracket my face, tilting it up.

I’m hypnotized by the slow sweep of his lashes.

The curve of his nose and jawline, the dimple in his cheek as he illuminates this entire room with that tilted smile that so rarely appears.

I adore the way working with stone has given him defined strength, building up his shoulders, defining his pecs, and trenching out his abs, defining the V muscles.

It’s devastating how that same stone could cause so much damage.

His right arm is clearly smaller, atrophied despite the exercises he’s done to try and improve his range of motion.

I scrape my eyes back to his, worried that he’ll be angry for drinking my fill, but his eyes are just as dark with desire and tenderness.

“I’m in awe of your courage.”

You can tell someone that you love them without using those words.

That’s what Dom has always done. He didn’t know what love was at first. He didn’t even realize that he so fully wears his heart on his sleeve.

He couldn’t say something to me until he meant it fully, but meaning it for him meant that it took a long time.

He had to pick it apart, study it, look deep inside himself.

He’d give me what he knew, in all his beautiful honesty. He’d tell me exactly how he felt.

I can hear the I love you in what he just said. We just made each other come, but I want to take him upstairs, to our bed, and love him fully. I want him inside of me. I want him to mark and memorize and relearn every single bit of my body. I want to beg him in silence and in whispers.

A tiny little squeal from upstairs shatters the moment.

I’m sitting on the table with no pants, my leggings ripped to shreds.

Dom reacts to that cry shockingly fast. He retrieves his t-shirt from the floor, tugs my sweater over my head, and helps me shrug on the oversized clothing. It billows around me like a dress before he even lifts me off the table. He already has his jeans in place before he takes my hand.

“Can I come with you?”

“Of course! This is our house.”

He blinks guiltily. “Do you think we woke her up?”

“Babies just sometimes wake up. She often makes little noises throughout the night. It wakes me up, but it doesn’t wake her up. She’s probably gone back to sleep already.”

We walk up the staircase together. Dom peeks around the screen, but I edge past.

Elowen is already asleep, if she ever woke fully.

She doesn’t always cry out. Sometimes she’ll giggle and she’s not even awake.

I don’t know if it’s a reflex, or if it’s dreams, but I hope they’re always good.

I’m not one of those parents who can’t face the fact that their child won’t be a baby forever.

I can’t wait for Elowen to get older. I want to know the person she’s going to become.

I want to teach her, share in her day, find out more about what she loves and treasures.

At the same time, I can see how people say they wish they could hold onto a moment forever.

This one.

With her face so peaceful, lashes resting on her sleep flushed full cheeks, little lips pursed like she truly is having sweet dreams because she knows just how much she’s loved, and even though she’s in a new place, she doesn’t doubt that she’s adored and above all, that we’ll always keep her safe.

I blow her a sleep kiss and step back around the screen. Our bedroom is on the other side, past the other set of wicker dividers.

Our bedroom.

I still can’t believe that I get to say that.

It’s Dom who leads the way. My eyes drop straight to his naked back, broad and rippling with muscle, and then lower, to his ass.

It looks good in those jeans.

Good being a word for all the other words my brain can’t even properly conjure right now. I feel like I’m back in that first moment of seeing him, where I went straight into brain mush territory because there was a full riot of utter chaos happening.

The ceiling is just tall enough where it dips down on the far end for the headboard, but the middle of the room is quite tall, and on the other side, a long dresser fits perfectly.

There’s no mirror because it won’t fit, but beside a large chair tucked in the corner, there’s an arched gold mirror mounted to the wall.

Dom sits down on the end of the bed. He wraps his arm around my waist and buries his face there, tilting it to press his cheek flat against my belly. His breath is hot through his t-shirt. There aren’t many times in the past when I wore his clothing. It’s the small things that are so special.

“I wasn’t there for her birth, but I’m here for her birthday . I was thinking we could rent something. A hall or maybe a room in an art gallery or something, and invite your family and the people from the club.”

I thread my fingers through his hair. “That’s—”

“A bad idea?” His brows crash over his nose as he looks up at me.

His hopeful eagerness slays me. “I know we just met most of them, and it’s not like we’d have to invite anyone as a thank you for this.

They don’t expect to be thanked. Dravin’s made that clear.

It took quite a few times of him having to repeat it to get it through my head, but I think it’s finally there.

It would just be something nice. But that’s…

it’s… it would be a lot of people. We could just do something small.

Just us, or with your family. Or both. I just want it to be perfect for you and Ellie. ”

If I didn’t love Dominic with every bit of my being already, I would, just because of the way he’s looking at me right now. Like we’re the center of his whole world.

“I’d love to rent out a room and have everyone there.

My family was a little bit worried when I first told them about the club, but not when I explained about Dravin and Kael and all the things the Satan’s Angels have done for Hart.

Once they realized that it wasn’t just a bunch of thugs, they had zero reservations about letting us come here and make our own decisions as a family.

It’s crazy how you can know someone for years and not get them, but feel totally entrenched into a tightknit community after just a few hours.

It’s the people. It’s their stories and their hearts.

That makes all the difference. That’s what life should be about.

I want that for Ellie. Community. Family. People. Before anything else.”

Dom’s arm tightens around my middle. His hand splays over the small of my back. “You make me feel like I’m the center of your everything. After just a few minutes, I was so gone for you.”

“You’ve never told me that before. I thought I annoyed you.”

“Never. I was fighting myself, scared senseless, in utter disbelief that you’d even talk to me, but I was also doing the craziest happy dance. You know how much I love those popcorn ice cream treats?”

“Yes,” I say, caressing his hair, laughing.

“I didn’t know that I loved them until you introduced me, but you sitting across from me so boldly and fearlessly, with your radiance, so regal and beautiful that was like getting hit straight between the eyes with one of those.”

“Or reading a really good book for the first time. Something that just blows your mind and you know you’ll think about it forever.”

He mock sighs. “Books are more profound than ice cream, I do agree.” It’s so good to see some of his dry wit returning.

He leans further back on the bed, releasing me to take my hand.

He kisses one palm and folds my hand up tight.

“I’m going to pretend to get into this bed gracefully.

I’d be more than honored if you’d join me. ”

“Should I keep your t-shirt on?” I mean for it to be playful, but it comes out so much deeper, just like his response.

“Yeah. I like seeing you in it.” His eyes are a starry night sky after weeks of clouds.

He takes the side next to the wall so he can sleep on his left and still face me.

It’s amazing how you can want someone so badly, and how quickly that carnal desire can be replaced with something nearly transcendent.

I tuck myself in against him, so tight that my back is pressed all along the length of his chest. His arm slants over me waist. I don’t wriggle until my ass is touching his groin.

It’s crazy how you can want someone in so many different ways all at once.

I want him inside of me. I want him to turn me over and fuck an indent of me into this mattress, and I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve even thought that word before.

I want his skin pressed against my own. I want to fall asleep that way and greet the start of each new day with nothing between us.

I want him branded inside of me and all over my skin like tattoos.

I want his leashed power, his brutal energy, his transcendence, and his base violence.

I want to be the only language he speaks, a private dance in a world entirely of our making.

But there’s time.

After over a decade of knowing him, I can say that.

For the first time, I get to fall asleep with him and wake up with him. I get to have breakfast with him and Ellie, and spend an entire day, just the three of us.

I can wait to give him my body, because this intimacy is so much more important.

Dom tucks his nose into the crook of my neck, brushing my hair away with his chin to make space for himself. His arm bands around my hips. We’re not on either side of the bed. We’re right in the middle. I’m so wired that there’s no way I’m going to sleep, but his voice is already deep and heavy.

“You’re not the love of my life, Bronte. You’re the love of my existence . Since the dawn of whenever we’re created, wherever we originate, until wherever it is we go.”

I’ve always known that my chest was barely big enough to contain my heart and all its swellings, but the boundaries are definitely getting tested tonight, especially after Dom’s breathing evens and I know that he’s sleeping.

For all my extensive vocabulary, I can’t find words that match what it is that I feel right now, but if I had to pick one, I’d go with honor.

I’m honored to be in this man’s life, to be a part of him, to have his child, to share in his growth and dreams, to watch him change.

I’m honored to be loyal to him, to have faith in him- even when he can’t.

I’m honored to be the one he holds, to listen to his breaths, to count the beats of his heart echoed against my ribcage.

I’m honored to decide. I’m honored the universe picked us for each other.