Page 4

Chapter 4

Christopher

I fucking love the smile on her face as everyone passes her around, hugging her, rubbing her tiny baby bump.

I’m so in love with Elle, she is the light in the room as everyone swarms around her.

Derek, her dad, is standing a few feet away from me holding a beer. There is one thing that I need to take care of.

I move over next to him. "Brother, how do you feel about getting some justice today?"

His head snaps toward me, a slow grin on his face. "What did you have in mind?"

"I think someone needs to learn a lesson." He raises an eyebrow at that, with Reid watching us. "Anyone up for some fun?" I wave them over, and my dad joins in too. We gather in the corner while I fill them in on what happened earlier.

I walk over to Elle, who's surrounded by the girls, already planning the nursery. I kiss her on the temple and hug her close. "The guys and I are heading out for a bit, we'll be back later to pick you up." She smiles at me, looking happy.

Harlan and Cole volunteer to stay and watch over the girls. We don't have prospects anymore like we used to back when my dad was first starting out in the club with my grandpa as the president.

Speaking of Grandpa, he jogs out of the clubhouse with that wicked grin on his face that speaks of trouble.

“Well, shit.” Butcher laughs at the sight of his father-in-law escaping the crowd.

Adeline walks out of the clubhouse rolling her eyes. “Remember your back is out, ole man!” she yells after him.

Grandpa doesn't even know what we're up to, but he's along for the ride anyway. That's just how he is, always ready for action. As we all kick our bikes into gear, the rumble of engines fills the air.

The wind whips against my face as we tear down the open road. There's nothing quite like this feeling—the brotherhood, this sense of belonging. Our cuts flap in the breeze, a symbol of who we are and what we stand for. This town is ours, and everyone knows it.

I edge my bike up next to Dad's, and he flashes me that grin I've seen a thousand times before. It takes me back to the day he bought me my first bike.

Now, as we ride side by side, I can't help but think of Elle. One day, she'll be on the back of my bike, her arms wrapped tight around me.

We cross town, leaving the familiar streets behind and rolling into the newer developments. The houses here are all shiny and new, cookie-cutter perfect.

Grandpa pulls up beside me, confusion etched on his weathered face. He eyes the pristine houses then looks back at me, one eyebrow raised in silent question.

"See that house over there?" I nod toward a particular house "That belongs to the manager of McGuire's. You know, one of our restaurants?"

Grandpa's eyes narrow, and I can see the wheels turning in his head. "And why are we paying him a visit?" he asks, his voice gruff with suspicion.

I clench my jaw, anger bubbling up as I remember Elle's hurt expression. "His wife thought it'd be a good idea to disrespect our girl today. Treated Elle like she was complete shit."

A low growl escapes Grandpa's throat. "Well then," he says, cracking his knuckles. "Looks like we've got some manners to teach."

While everyone’s smiles fade, Smiley's grin grows even broader, and I can't help but share a smirk with him.

The manager steps outside, his face going white as he takes in the sight of our crew. He tries to play it cool, but his voice wavers. "Hey, guys, what's going on here?" His eyes flicker nervously from one intense face to another, sweat starting to drip down his temples.

“We need to talk. Is your wife home?” I step up his front steps, my boots echoing ominously. The manager swallows hard, glancing nervously at the crew behind me before he stammers out, “She… she’s upstairs.”

“Better go get her,” I order, my voice cold and unyielding. He rushes inside, tripping over himself in his haste to obey me. We own this house too; he lives here rent-free as part of his payment for managing the restaurant. But today, that privilege counts for nothing. Today, there will be consequences.

We step into the house, my eyes scanning the interior. Clothes strewn across the floor, dishes piled high in the sink. It’s a fucking wreck. The disarray only fuels my anger. This bitch can't even keep her house clean, but she has the audacity to disrespect Elle?

I hear footsteps on the stairs and my gaze snaps to the source. Walking down the stairs is the bitch that disrespected Elle. She looks put out, her eyes heavy with sleep and her hair a tangled mess.

But then her gaze lands on me, and I watch as the realization hits her like a freight train.

The color drains from her face, her eyes widening in fear as they dart from one leather brother to the other.

I can practically hear her heart pounding from here. The sight of her terror is like a balm to my rage.

I take a step forward, my boots heavy on the hardwood floor. She flinches at the sound, pressing herself against the wall as if she could melt into it.

"What's going on," I say without emotion, "is that you and I need to have a little chat about respect."

Her husband appears behind her, his face a mask of panic. He places a hand on her shoulder, whether to comfort her or to use her as a shield, I'm not sure.

"Please," he starts, "whatever this is about…"

My eyes never leave the woman's face as I speak, my voice low and controlled. "Seems your wife here has a problem with respect, Charlie. Today, she decided to treat Elle like shit while they were waiting at the doctor's office."

Charlie's face drains of color, his eyes darting between me and his wife. "What did you do?" he hisses at her, panic evident in his voice.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about," she stammers, but we both know it's a lie. I can see the slight tremble in her hands as she tries to compose herself. "I… I didn't do anything," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "I just went to the doctor’s and came home. I'm not sure what this… boy has told you."

The word 'boy' hits me like a slap to the face. I feel my jaw clench, my fingers curling into fists. I glance at my dad, and I can see the rage building in his eyes. This bitch has no idea the line she just crossed.

Charlie looks like he's about to pass the fuck out. "Don't call him that," he pleads, his voice cracking. "Apologize to him and Elle. Please, just apologize."

But his wife, apparently oblivious to the danger she's in, shakes her head defiantly. "I didn't do anything wrong," she cries out, her hand dramatically clutching at her stomach.

Charlie sits down in a chair, his legs not able to hold him up anymore. “Do you know what you’ve done? They could kill all of us for this!” he snaps at her, getting some of his backbone back.

She looks confused. “Why, I didn’t do anything wrong. I just spoke the truth.”

I lean forward, my elbows resting on my knees. The movement causes her to flinch, and I can't help but feel a flicker of satisfaction.

"One lie for sure," I say smirking, "is that your husband is the owner of that restaurant you were bragging about. You see," I continue, standing up slowly, savoring the way she shrinks back, "that restaurant? It's ours. Your husband here? He's just the manager. And you? You're nothing but a disrespectful bitch who thought she could treat my girl like trash."

Charlie pales even further and she looks over at him, shocked. “Wait, you mean that it’s not yours?”

He rubs his face hard. “I’m the manager of the place.” You can hear the shame in his voice.

I can't help but savor the moment, watching as the realization hits her like a freight train. Her world is crumbling. “And guess what, sweetheart?" I lean in closer, my voice low and menacing. "We own this house too."

"What is he talking about, Charlie? Should I call the police on these thugs? They are whoring out teenage girls! I know what this is, this is trafficking!" she screeches in an annoying voice, and I resist the urge to cover my ears.

At this, Derek steps forward with me. We stalk over to her, getting in her face, rage burning through me. "Charlie, you have an hour to get your shit out of our house, and your job is terminated," I tell him, never taking my eyes off her. Her bottom lip trembles like she is going to cry.

She doesn’t say another word until we turn around to leave the house. “Why did you do this to us?” she cries.

I look back at her in disgust. “Because my Elle deserves justice and no one disrespects her.”

Elle

I wake up to the feel of Christopher lying flush against me, his dick resting against my ass. It takes every ounce of my self-restraint not to press myself back against him.

The clock on the nightstand reads seven o'clock. I must have crashed as soon as we got home yesterday.

Christopher shifts in his sleep, his arm tightening around my waist. The movement causes his hips to press more firmly against me, and I can't suppress the small gasp that escapes my lips.

His breathing changes, and I know he's awake. His hand is on my bare stomach. I'm wearing one of his t-shirts and my underwear.

I swallow hard, my mouth dry, and I don't dare to move, even though I can feel exactly how happy he is this morning.

I clutch the blanket in my hand as his fingers glide below my belly button. Goosebumps spread across my skin in anticipation.

"Do you know how beautiful you are?" he says gently, and I turn over to look at him.

The butterflies in my stomach swarm through me, his hand rubbing tiny circles on my stomach.

"I can't wait for the day when we can feel her kicking in my stomach." I place my hand over his. Christopher's hand moves to my waist, pulling me closer. Our bodies fit together perfectly.

"Me neither, sweet girl."

I want him to touch me, to feel me and show me how I'm his. He is making sure that I'm okay, but I don't think I will be if he doesn't touch me. The urge to take his hand and place it between my legs is overwhelming.

I lick my lips, my eyes fluttering from his lips to his eyes. "Fuck, it's so hard to keep from touching you the way I want." He sighs loudly, letting his head fall into the crook of my neck.

My arms wrap around Christopher, pulling him close. He's careful not to put his weight on my stomach, his body hovering just above mine.

I open my mouth to speak, then hesitate. My heart races, pounding so hard. Taking a deep breath, I finally gather the courage to ask, my voice barely above a whisper, "Why do you hold back?"

He shifts, propping himself up on one elbow. His free hand moves to my face, fingers gently brushing my hair back from my forehead.

He smooths my hair out of my face and onto the pillow by my head. “Do you not want me to hold back?” he asks me.

This is a huge step and I know without a doubt what I want. I want to take the next step. He’s been so patient with me, not once pressuring me.

“No, I don’t.”

He doesn't waste a second before kissing me fully, deeply. This kiss is one that changes everything.

He's making love to my mouth, his hand gripping my hip tightly, drifting down to my thigh. I'm terrified out of my mind, and it's not because of him but of the way he makes me feel.

My lips chase his, fighting to keep up. When he pulls away, I gasp, trying to catch my breath, my nails biting into his shoulders and back.

“Is this what you truly want?” he asks me as he watches me carefully to make sure. “It would kill me if you felt like you had to do this and not because you want to.”

That’s why I want to be with him, why I love who he is.

"Christopher, I have cared for you for as long as I can remember. You've always been my protector." I run my fingers along his hard jaw, loving the slight stubble there.

I know from the way he is looking at me that he cares for me. I remember how on the playground in grade school he would protect me.

His intense gaze holds mine, and I can see the depth of his devotion reflected in his eyes. "I would fucking kill for you, Elle," he says, his voice low and husky. "The things I'd do to keep you safe and happy… they might scare you if you knew."

"Nothing about you could ever terrify me, Christopher," I whisper, meaning every word.

A slow smile spreads across his face, lighting up his eyes. He leans in, his lips brushing against my ear as he speaks. "I want you too, angel. But this isn't about me. This is all about you." His hand slides down my side, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. "I want to make you feel good, to take care of you. And when you're ready for me to take you completely, I will."

His words wash over me like a warm wave, soothing an anxiety I didn't even realize I was carrying.

Sex is something I crave, but there's a part of me that's hesitant, almost like my body remembers a trauma my mind has forgotten. I may not recall what happened to me, but somewhere deep inside, I know something did.

Can I touch you?" he asks me, and I feel like I can't breathe. I don't tell him no because I do want to take this step, even if it scares me.

"Yes." I give him the word.

Christopher

S he is so fucking beautiful.

Her dark brown eyes gaze up at me, filled with such trust it makes my chest ache. I don't deserve it. No one does. This angel is too pure for this world.

But fuck, from the moment I could walk, I knew she was meant to be mine. Call me selfish, but no one else could ever love her like I do. No one else could protect her the way I can.

I want to shelter her from everything and anyone that could hurt her in any way.

I want to wrap her in my arms and shield her from every danger, every pain this cruel world could throw at her.

My eyes drink her in, savoring every detail. Her skin still holds the golden kiss of summer, a stark contrast to the blonde hair fanned out on the pillow like a halo. Those eyes, so dark they're almost black, give her this innocent, doe-eyed look.

Her body is all soft curves that make my hands itch to explore. The light dusting of freckles across her nose is so fucking cute it should be illegal.

I can no longer fight the urge to taste her lips. With her chest against mine, I can feel how fast her heart is beating.

Her shirt is pushed up, showing her tan stomach, the slight roundness to her belly, and I can’t keep my hands off her.

I yank the blankets off to the side so I can fully see her, and my breath catches in my throat as I take in the sight of her long, tanned legs. Her pussy is barely covered by her underwear. A low growl escapes my lips as I fight the overwhelming urge to bury my face between her thighs.

"Fuck, Elle," I breathe, my voice rough with desire. "I need to taste you. Please, let me taste you,” I practically beg her.

Her eyes widen at my question, and she clears her throat, unable to hide the blush spreading down her neck.

Her thighs are thick and lush, begging for me to bite them. “You can.” Her voice trembles and I spread her legs wider, able to see the wetness between them.

A low groan escapes my throat. "Fuck me." The words come out rougher than I intended, raw with need.

Elle's face flushes a deep crimson, and she tries to hide behind her hands. I can't help the smirk that tugs at my lips, even as I try to reassure her. "Don't be embarrassed, angel. You're fucking perfect."

She grabs a pillow, burying her face in it. The sight of her shyness only fuels my desire. I slide down her body, my hard cock dragging against the mattress. The friction is almost unbearable, and I grit my teeth, fighting for control. Christ, I'm so hard I could fucking hammer nails with my dick.

My eyes lock onto her panties, soaked through and clinging to her folds. The outline of her pussy is clearly visible, and it takes every ounce of willpower to not rip them off right then and there.

I position myself between her legs, my face mere inches from her center. The scent of her arousal hits me hard, making my mouth water.

Without hesitation, I lean in, my tongue darting out to lick the wetness on her inner thighs. I savor every drop, groaning at her taste.

Elle jumps so violently I have to grab her hips to keep her from tumbling off the bed. The pillow flies to the side as she props herself up on her elbows, wide eyes meeting mine. The look of surprise and the lust on her face nearly undo me.

Keeping my gaze locked with hers, I lean in again. This time, I lick her through her panties, pressing my tongue hard against her clit. The moan that escapes her lips is music to my ears, sending a jolt of electricity straight to my cock.

That sound breaks the last of my restraint. I grip the sides of her panties, tearing them apart with a satisfying rip. There's nothing between us now, and the sight of her bare pussy, glistening with arousal, makes me growl with need.

I lift her legs, draping them over my shoulders. My hands spread her lips, holding her open for me. "Fuck, Elle, you're so beautiful," I breathe, before diving in.

I've imagined this moment countless times, but nothing could have prepared me for the reality. She's sweeter than I ever dreamed, tangy, and intoxicating. I lap at her hungrily, my tongue exploring every fold and crevice.

She is a drug and I’m an addict.

Elle's hips buck against my face, her fingers tangling in my hair. "Christopher," she gasps, her voice breathy and desperate. The sound of my name on her lips in that moment is the sweetest thing I've ever heard.

“Oh my God,” she moans, and I suck her clit into my mouth.

Her body stiffens, her legs closing in around my head, trying to strangle me as she fights the orgasm.

I slide my hand between us, my fingers ghosting over her slick folds. Slowly, carefully, I slip a finger inside her. She's so tight.

She screams as she orgasms, pulsating around my finger over and over like she is trying to suck them deeper.

Her body is jolting with the aftershocks but I don’t stop because I want one more out of her before I’m satisfied. So I continue, my tongue and fingers working in tandem to build her up again. She pushes at my head, overstimulated and sensitive, but then a moment later, she's grinding against my face, chasing that high once more.

Elle's entire body goes rigid, a strangled cry escaping her lips as she comes undone for the second time and strangles me with her legs.

I can’t help but laugh as her body jerks around like she is possessed.

As she collapses onto the bed, I admire the sight before me. Her skin is flushed and glistening with a light sheen of sweat. Her chest heaves as she struggles to catch her breath. I climb up the bed, unable to resist touching her. I smooth her hair away from her face, marveling at how beautiful she looks.

Once she can breathe normally, she looks at me, smiling. “That was unreal,” she tells me, and I won’t fucking lie that it doesn’t thrill me that I can make her fall apart like that.

Then her face falls. “What about you?” she asks me.

I can't help but groan at the concern in her voice, at the way her eyes darken with renewed desire. My cock twitches, straining against the fabric of my underwear, begging for attention. But this isn't about me. Not yet.

"Don't worry about me, angel," I say, my voice rough with need. "This was all about you."

Elle's hand starts to move toward me, her bottom lip caught between her teeth in determination.

“Can I touch you?” she asks sweetly, hesitantly, and I lie back onto the bed instantly, letting her do whatever she wants with me.

“Let me know if I do something wrong,” she says, unsure of what to do.

I take her hand, kissing the back of it. “There is nothing you can do to me that won’t feel good. You don’t have to do a single thing, angel,” I tell her once more, giving her an out.

She gets a determined look on her face and I try to hide my grin when she bravely reaches into my sweatpants, pulling my dick out with her hand.

The way her hand feels wrapped around me is unreal. She slowly runs her fingertips along the length and the thick vein I have on the underside of my dick.

“Is this okay?” she asks and I nod.

She tightens her hand around me and strokes me from the tip to the base.

“Fuck, baby,” I growl to her, and she grins at my reaction.

Getting bolder, she moves faster, running her thumb over the slit, and then to my utter shock, she bends her head down, running her tongue along the head.

“You better move now before I come,” I warn her, and she gives me a heated look as she slips the head between her lips hesitantly, still unsure but so fucking sexy with the way she is looking at me.

She sucks hard, in tandem with her hand, and I fall way too soon. I grip the headboard hard so I don’t reach down to her hair and hold her still as I come in her mouth.

She swallows me down, not missing a drop, and from the wicked look she is giving me, I can see I’m creating the best kind of monster.

Elle sits up and smiles at me sweetly. “Was that okay?” she asks me, and I let out a shaky breath.

I snag her and lift her to my chest, wanting to hold her. “Fuck, that was amazing.”

I can feel her lips twitch against my chest and I know she’s smiling. “I’m so happy, Christopher, because at one point I never thought I would be, but this is better than I ever dreamed.”

Same, angel. same.