Rev by Jeanne St. James

Chapter Twelve

Reilly wiggledagainst the hot steel pipe pressed into her ass crack. She had no idea what time it was but knew Rev hadn’t gotten enough sleep since she had slept the afternoon away and he had not. After banging one out after he returned yesterday evening and then pigging out on takeout from a local Chinese restaurant, they spent a couple more hours taking their time with each other.

Sleep-deprived or not, Rev seemed to be revving to go again.

Reilly groaned as she stretched her tired and sore muscles, then rolled over to face the naked, ready man next to her…

Whose eyes were closed.

She gently nudged him to his back, slid over top of him and pulled the sheet over their heads, creating a cocoon around them.

Whether he was faking sleep or not at this point, she didn’t know and, honestly, didn’t care. This morning she was going to give back what he’d given to her. Quite a few times. And very satisfactorily, too.

Stretching up, she started at his left ear, running her tongue around the outer shell and over the metal piercings that dissected it. After sucking on his earlobe briefly, she continued on her journey. Her nose traveled along the short, wiry hairs covering his jawline, her eyes catching the glint of the small hoop in his nose.

He and Deacon were the only ones with nose piercings and both of them had it done before joining the Fury, so she had to assume it wasn’t typical biker hardware. She guessed neither were their nipple rings.

She’d say Rev’s nipples were her favorite part of him, but, truthfully, his tongue and his cock were hard to beat.

She paused over his parted mouth, her warm breath kissing his lips. Then she moved on again, keeping the sheet covering them both as she shifted down his body, forging a path with her tongue and lips. Tasting and teasing.

She took her time with one nipple, then the other. Not cranking or yanking them like he enjoyed when he was really worked up and ready to blow, but gently toying with his pierced flesh. Enough to stimulate but not enough to launch his rocket.

During all of this, his breathing hitched and changed slightly, but he said nothing, nor did he move. The few glances she snuck at his face showed his eyes still closed. She traveled down his abs, circled his belly button, then kissed along the happy trail of dark blond hair leading to her final destination.

His erection was hard, thick and rested on the heated skin below his navel, where a string of precum connected the crown of his cock to his lower belly. She collected the tangy, silky fluid on her tongue and kept going, skipping what he probably wanted her to touch the most and heading lower instead.

She wedged herself between his spread legs, kissing a line from one knee up along his lightly furred inner thigh, ignoring the apex, and back down his other thigh.

His cock flexed a couple times, almost as if beckoning her. She’d get there, it and the man attached would need a little patience. She had one stop to make first.

She nuzzled the soft, delicate skin of his sac, inhaling his now familiar and very manly scent, amazed at the heat radiating off him. With the sheet still tented over them both, the heat almost became too much, but she liked the coziness of their cocoon and the intimacy.

The idea that this was how it could be—waking up on a lazy weekend morning with a lover and taking time to appreciate each other—didn’t go unnoticed.

Only this morning, she was taking the time to concentrate solely on him. She was sure he’d “appreciate” her later.

Taking his sac fully into her mouth, her tongue played along his balls as she lightly sucked. A low groan filled the enclosed space under the sheet. Without releasing him, she lifted her eyes to see his blue ones were now open and focused on her. On what she was doing.

“Fuck,” he whispered huskily. His rough, unused morning voice sent a ribbon of heat swirling from the top of her head to the tip of her toes.

She mouthed his balls one more time, then released them, licking up the thick ridge on the underside of his cock. It flexed again and another drawn-out groan filled her ears.

“Fuck, babe.”

A quick swipe of her tongue captured the ivory pearl that had begun to fall. She swirled her tongue around the rim of the bulbous head and circled the tip before shifting up and taking him completely into her mouth.

His breath shuddered and a noise caught in his throat as she swallowed him as deep as she could before wrapping her fingers around the base and squeezing. His fingers wove into her loose, messy hair, pulling tight, making her scalp sting, as she drew him in and out of her mouth. Only pausing to suck on the tip, then taking him as deep as she could all over again.

After a few more strokes, his hips began to rise and fall, following her rhythm, and the grip on her hair tightened to the point of making her eyes water, but she didn’t slow down. She didn’t stop.

“Fuck… babe… Fuuuuck…”

She took him even deeper until the head of his cock bumped the back of her throat and she managed not to gag, though her eyes watered. She could take him that deep two more times before she had to give herself more breathing room. Otherwise, she might not be able to finish him off.

He slipped from her mouth, slick and shiny, and she licked along the underside again, tracing the thick ridge. Down to the root, up to the rim. Down. Back up. He held her head still, bumped her lips with the slick crown, demanding entrance, and when she opened wide, he thrust inside as far as he could.

She did her best to stay with him as he continued to thrust upward, doing what the guys called face-fucking. He grunted each time he went deep, pulling her head down to meet each thrust.

She wasn’t sure she’d be able to do much more, worrying she might have to tap out, but after a couple more times, he growled that he was about to come.

When his body bowed off the bed, thick, hot fluid painted the back of her throat and she managed to swallow it all down and suck him clean before he pulled free.

She took a few seconds to catch her breath and it took him a few more to loosen the fingers locked in her hair and for him to melt back into the mattress. She climbed up his body again, letting her peaked nipples brush along his heated skin, until they were face to face.

She blinked down at him and he blinked up at her.

After a few more seconds, he whispered, “Christ, woman.”

She wanted to smile in triumph at his surprised but satisfied expression. She managed to keep an innocent, straight face. “Did you like that?”

“Loved it. Also hated it,” he said seriously, “’cause I can’t fuck you right now.”

“I think you got your dozen.”

“Yeah? And you got two dozen.”

“I did?” She unleashed her smile. “Some of them are just a blur.”

“You sayin’ they weren’t worth rememberin’?”

“We’ve just crammed a lot of fucking in a short amount of time.” It was one marathon she hadn’t minded being a participant in.

His lips twitched. “Yeah, we did. But we ain’t done yet.”

He brushed the hair away from her face. And once again, whenever he did that, his eyes flicked to her scar and his jaw tightened for a split second. If she wasn’t looking for it, she would have missed it.

“Wanna fuckin’ kiss you but not into tastin’ my own cum.”

“Pineapple.”

“What?”

“Fruit is your friend. Especially pineapple,” she explained. “The woman on the receiving end will thank you.”

He cocked one eyebrow at her. “And you know that how?”

“This ain’t my first rodeo,” she said, keeping her tone serious. “Just so you know, women who like to go down on men talk about these tricks with each other. I’m surprised the sweet butts don’t set out fruit platters around The Barn and the bunkhouse.”

He lifted his head. “Say fuckin’ what?”

“I said I’m surprised the sweet butts don’t tell you guys about that trick as many times as they’ve had your dicks in their mouths.”

“No, not that fuckin’ part. The other.”

“About women talking?” she repeated, purposely being obtuse.

“Nope. Not that, either.”

“Then what?”

“The other part… About women who like to go down on men.”

“Oh, that part.”

“Yeah, that part.”

She cocked her head, struggling to keep the amusement from her face. “Did it seem like that was my first time?”

He blinked.

“Hmm?” she prodded, doing her best not to burst out laughing at his expression.

“Woman,” he growled, flipping her over and getting in her face.

Her smile finally broke free and she pinched his cheek. “Do you like getting your dick sucked?”

He frowned. “That even a question?”

“Then why can’t women like sucking them without judgement?”

“Ain’t judgin’ you if you wanna suck my dick.”

“No, you’ll only judge me for sucking other men’s dicks.”

“So fuckin’ done with this fuckin’ conversation.”

“Wait. You don’t have a problem with sweet butts sucking your dick after sucking everyone else’s, right?”

His jaw shifted.

“But you have a problem if I do?”

“Whose dick have you sucked?”

“In my lifetime?” She shrugged, lifted a hand in front of his face and started ticking off her fingers one at a time. “Well, the first time was back in high school and—”

“No,” he barked sharply. “Just fuckin’ no. Don’t need a fuckin’ count and commentary to go along with it. I meant, who in the Fury?”

“Holy shit,” she whispered, giving him wide eyes. “You know I’m ‘off limits’ and you want me to narc on one or more of your brothers?”

“One ormore? Are you fuckin’ serious?”

His face was now red and his blue eyes blazing.

“Wait. Are you jealous?”

His nostrils flared, his anger quickly doused and his expression closed up like a clam.

“I’ve seen you fuck so many women. Sooo many…” She lifted a don’t-even palm in front of his face. “You know what? I’m tired of the double standards. If I want to suck someone’s dick, I’m going to wrap my lips around it and blow it to smithereens. I’ve had to walk by you double-teaming Lizzy with Ozzy, or Angel with Whip. Or watch Brandy, only wearing thigh-high socks, on her knees sucking you off. I can’t even keep track of the women I’ve seen you boning or blowing your load down their throats. So, you don’t even have a right to say one fucking word. Not one.” He opened his mouth, but she stopped him with a sharp noise at the back of her throat in warning.

His mouth snapped shut.

“Not one,” she cautioned him. “And I certainly would never throw one of your brothers under the bus if it was reversed.”

“Woman…”

“Don’t you fucking woman me. You’re right, this conversation is done and over with. Now, what are we doing for breakfast? Are you hungry?”

His mouth opened again, hung there for a good five seconds catching invisible flies before snapping shut once more. A few reactions she couldn’t read raced across his face.

After a few more seconds, she raised her eyebrows in question. “Breakfast?”

His expression smoothed out. “I could eat.” With that, he pulled the sheet over them, putting them back in their cocoon, slid his hot, naked self down her body and landed between her legs. A few seconds later, his mouth filled with something other than food, and he ate.

Breakfast started with a very explosive bang.

And then it all went to hell from there.

* * *

He hatedthat she insisted she come along to the house today. He would’ve preferred it if she had stayed at the motel while he checked on his father’s progress.

Of course, she wasn’t having it. And when Reilly wasn’t having something, she dug in her damn heels and became an unremovable, irritating splinter.

Most of his brothers had learned it was easier to give in to her than to keep fighting. The woman could be fucking exhausting.

Did he want to come back here today? Fuck no.

Did he keep coming back to this house as a form of self-flaying? Possibly.

If so, why did he feel the need to punish himself? If he was sane, he’d take Reilly, and all of her shit, back to Manning Grove and forget the parents who lived in this fucking house. Pretend they no longer existed.

To him and Saylor, they already died. So, why did he feel the need to stick around and actually witness it?

He didn’t have that answer.

Maybe he’d feel better once he knew John Schmidt was truly gone and was on his way to becoming only a distant memory. Maybe then Rev could shed some of the guilt that still hounded him from leaving Sarah behind that night.

But he was here now, in Coatesville, in the house he grew up in, and he might as well see it through to the end. Afterward, he could go home, assure Saylor the bastard was dead and she could live the rest of her life in peace.

He wasn’t sure that would work, but it was worth a shot.

At least it would be a guarantee that their father could never search for or possibly find her. The risk that he’d be hiding around the next corner to take her back would be down to zero.

Whether his sister could also extract the man from her nightmares, he didn’t know. He sure as fuck hoped so.

He didn’t have too many nightmares from his youth still haunting him but then, what happened to him and what happened to her—from what he could guess, even though she never admitted it—were two different things.

He could never begin to understand what she lived through. He could only be there for her, be supportive of her, if and when she needed it. It was the best he could do. Though, it would never make up for him running away without her.

To his knowledge, she never once held that against him. If she did, she never said a word. Maybe it was just one more thing she kept hidden and buried deep.

As soon as he and Reilly had entered the house a few minutes ago, his mother had caught sight of them and went out to the backyard to hang laundry without a word. Not even a greeting.

Surprisingly, she also didn’t demand they leave. Most likely she knew it wouldn’t do any good and didn’t even want to waste her breath.

He now stood at the kitchen sink staring through the window above it, watching the woman he wished had been a loving mother pin pants and shirts to the clothesline, keeping her back to him.

Shunning the “sinner.” Ignoring his very existence.

Reilly stood pinned to his side, a hand tucked under his shirt and planted on the bare skin of his lower back. Her touch grounded him. Made him aware she was being supportive. Reminded him she would remain there even when he wished she wouldn’t.

He really didn’t want her to witness the fucked-up relationship between him and the people who brought him into the world. He also didn’t want to subject her again to the bitter motherfucker who was supposed to be his father.

On the other hand, if anyone understood shitty parents, she would. Nothing she would see or hear would shock her.

“This house seriously gives me the creeps,” she whispered, bumping her hip against his.

“The house or the people who live here?”

“Both. There are no decorations, nothing to make it seem like a home. It’s very sterile and unwelcoming. I can’t imagine being a child and your childhood being whitewashed like this.”

“Whitewashed is a damn good way to describe it. ‘Cause it definitely was that in more ways than one.”

“Did they even hang any of your art on their refrigerator? Did they read you bedtime stories? Did you and your sister play games? Was laughter even heard in this house at all?”

He turned his head, pulling his gaze from his mother, a lifeless shell of a woman wearing her laundry apron full of clothes pins and stiffly hanging the wet laundry, and settling it on the very full-of-life woman he’d spent all morning making sigh and moan in pleasure. Not to mention, leave a huge wet spot on the bottom sheet.

Reilly’s face had been a work of art as she came during their adult games, he could easily read her mood, and he could still hear her laughter when he touched her somewhere that tickled.

Fun and passionate. Vocal and open. Totally opposite of his childhood.

“Do I need to answer that?”

“No. If this house looked the same when there were two children living in it as it does now…” She sighed, using the hand on his back to turn him toward her. She blinked her big green eyes up at him. “I don’t know how you didn’t turn out to be some sort of cardboard cutout of a man.”

“I left.”

“Yes, but not before some damage had already been done.”

“Instead of groomin’ me for the life they wanted me to live, their actions showed me what I didn’t want. I didn’t want this fuckin’ life. The submissive wife. The obedient daughters I was expected to ‘ready’ for their husbands. Didn’t want any of this fucked-up shit. Didn’t wanna be the one to continue the cycle of what I consider fuckin’ madness.”

She turned her gaze back outside to his mother. “Madness is a good word for it. I’ve only seen the very tip of the iceberg. I can’t image the rest.” She shook her head. “Honestly, I don’t want to. It breaks my heart for you and Saylor, it really does. I still don’t understand why you needed to come back here, but it’s not for me to understand. If it’s something you need, then it’s something you need and this is why I’m here with you.”

He wasn’t stupid, he knew coming along to clear out her storage unit had only been an excuse.

“Woman,” he breathed. She was wedging herself under his fucking skin without even trying. Like that damn splinter.

She glanced back up at him and squeezed his waist. “Can we just get done what you need to so we can get the hell out of this place? I’m worried that the house will start shifting wildly or we’ll see ghosts, or some monster will slither out of the cellar.”

“A monster will slither out of my jeans later,” he assured her.

She rolled her eyes. “Uh huh.” She pulled her hand from under his T-shirt and patted his cotton-covered stomach. “I should have added: Let’s leave before we both start having delusions. I guess we’re too late on that one.” She went up on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his lips.

He hooked an arm around her waist and pulled her into his chest, deepening the kiss for a brief moment. When he pulled back, he noticed how soft her eyes had gone.

Fuck.

Yeah, she might be burrowing under his skin, but he was afraid he was getting under hers, too.

And that was a problem he didn’t know how to deal with. Hell, maybe it wouldn’t be a problem. Maybe once they got home, they could easily go back to the way it was.

Or, for fuck’s sake, maybe he could stop lying to himself. He knew bullshit when he heard it, even if it was his own lie and only said in his own head.

No matter what, he needed to push that problem aside for now and deal with the one at hand.

John Schmidt.

“All right. Let’s go see if we need to stick around or we can head back to the motel where I can unleash my monster.”

A soft smile curled her lips even though her words didn’t match it. “I just want this over for you and Saylor.”

You and me both. But when this is over, we’re over and that’s gonna suck.

She peeled away from him and turned to head back to the sitting room, where his father had been sleeping when they first walked through the front door.

The asshole had probably been faking it to avoid him. But Rev would sit at his bedside all fucking day if he needed to.

“Hey,” he called out softly, stopping her from walking out of the kitchen by nabbing her wrist.

She paused and glanced back over her shoulder at him.

“Thanks for bein’ a fuckin’ pest.”

“You can thank me properly later.” She tipped her head toward his crotch. “By unleashing the Kraken.”

Fuck yeah.“Reilly Porter, slayer of monsters.”

“Oh, I like that title. Maybe I need a whip and a sexy leather outfit to go along with it.” She walked out of the room with a smile.

He stared at the empty doorway in the direction she’d disappeared, unable to get the image out of his head of her wearing a badass leather outfit that hugged her curves and showed off her tits, while brandishing a bullwhip and slaying both monsters and men’s hearts.

Yeah, she could be a huge problem for him.

He unfroze his feet and quickly followed her, not wanting her to face his father alone. When he caught up with her, she was already standing by the medical bed, her smile a distant memory. Her mouth was tight and her expression closed as she glanced at him entering the room.

Her eyes weren’t the only ones glued on him. His father was awake and his normal loving self, though his voice was weak and raspy, like he was struggling to breathe. “See you brought your… whore with you again… You insult me … and sully my home… by bringing her… here, Michael.” Every few words he had to stop to take a rattled breath. He was definitely getting worse by the day. “Why did you come back? … I told you not to…”

“Just seein’ if you’re dead yet.”

“Sorry to disappoint… you.”

“You can’t die soon enough, old man. I’d make it quicker for you, but I’d prefer you suffer ’til you can’t suffer no more.”

“You were always… a horrible, horrible child.”

“How about that. You were always a horrible father. You reap what you sow, old man.”

“Couldn’t even beat… the petulance out of you… no matter how many times I tried.”

“A man reaps what he sows. The one who sows to please his sinful nature, from that nature will reap destruction,” Rev quoted.

“Don’t you dare… throw scripture at me… you wretched, unrepentant brat.” His father lifted his bony, pale hand to weakly tap his own temple. “Figured out why… you are who… you are.”

“We already discussed why. You sowed the fuckin’ spoiled seeds.”

His father continued as though Rev hadn’t spoken. “You have issues due… to who your parents are.” He sucked in a wheezing breath, his chest barely rising under the pile of blankets.

“Ain’t tellin’ me nothin’ I don’t know, old man.”

His father smirked. “Oh, yes… I am, boy... I figured it all out.”

“Figured what out?” His father was playing games Rev didn’t like and wouldn’t stand for, for much longer.

“You came back here… for nothing.” The man’s thin lips almost curled into a smile. Almost. But John Schmidt had never smiled once that Rev could remember so he probably didn’t know how. “After you were born... no matter how many times… I tried to get your mother with child… I failed.” He paused to suck in another noisy breath. “Went to the physician... without telling her… found out I had no fertile seed… Turns out neither of you… ungrateful, sinful children were mine.”

Rev snorted in disbelief. “You’re delirious. That cancer’s rottin’ your brain.”

“No.” The man managed to drum up enough energy to sneer. “Your grandfather…”

Rev leaned forward, waiting. His heart began to pound like a bass drum.

“Gave me your mother… when she was already... with child.”