Rowe by Jessica Gadziala

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Billie

I hadn’t given much specific thought to who would save me. I just knew that someone would. I trusted that my people would stop at nothing to bring me back. Hopefully before anything truly horrific happened.

But I guess, in my mind, Rowe was too hurt to come.

And he was.

He was absolutely too hurt to ride his bike, to rush down the street, to charge into the house, to do anything that involved coming to get me.

But he did it.

And that was the most amazing part, wasn’t it? He didn’t care how much pain he was in or what it might cost him in recovery time. All he could think about was getting me back, and making the man who wanted to hurt me pay for what he’d done.

I didn’t need him to grovel for what he’d once said to me, for the months of insecurity and uncertainty that followed.

This man was willing to risk permanent back pain for me.

That told me all I needed to know about him.

I knew that maybe it wasn’t the best course of action to get physical with him right then. But I was still buzzing from the adrenaline from the rescue as well as riding high on the sincerity in his words when he’d told me he’d always wanted me, that he would always want me.

God, it felt good to know I’d been right all along.

It was the first time in months that I truly felt like myself right down to my core.

Besides, he wanted me too. There was no denying that. Despite his fears about the club and our loved ones being one room away, his cock was rock-hard against me, begging for release.

There was a tight, coiled sensation low in my belly that was aching for relief as well.

Rowe’s hands were on my ass, fingertips sinking in, pulling down, forcing me more tightly against his hard length.

“Tell me again,” I demanded, nipping at his lips.

“Tell you what, baby?” he asked. One of his hands moved from my butt and slid up my spine to massage the back of my neck.

“Tell me you want me,” I demanded, a needy part of me demanding to hear it again. And again. And again. Until it washed away all the times I thought he didn’t.

“I want you, Billie. Always have, always will.”

My lips pressed into his then, soft and sweet at first, all-too-aware that we needed to take things easy, but it wasn’t long until his hands were roaming, creating little fires everywhere they touched.

“Off, baby, take this off,” Rowe demanded, tugging impatiently at the tight material of my tank top.

I sat back, reaching down to pull up my shirt, but doing it slowly, enjoying the heat in his eyes as each inch of skin got exposed.

“You’re killing me,” Rowe groaned, his hips shifting, making his cock grind against my cleft.

Heady with the power of making a strong man so weak, I lifted the tank fully off, leaving me bare to him from the waist up.

“Fuck,” Rowe hissed as his hand moved up my side, teasing over the tattoo there, then cupping one of my breasts. His thumb moved inward, the pad toying with the edge of the barbell in my nipple. The barely there sensation made a shiver work its way up my spine, then course through my body. “Sensitive.”

It wasn’t a question, but I found myself answering as I pressed my chest forward into his touch. “Yes,” I agreed, taking a deep breath. I hadn’t even been focusing on it, but I felt the energy shoot down between my thighs.

“Love that,” Rowe mumbled as his thumb started tracing around my nipple, toying with the barbell, until my nipple was hard and straining, until my hips were rocking against him, desperate for relief as the desire built.

But Rowe wasn’t done torturing me.

His fingers left my nipple, hand going around my full breast, lifting, squeezing, getting to know me.

Then his hand moved across my chest, repeating more of the same torment as my restless hips found a steady motion that created friction, but just not quite enough of it.

“Rowe, please,” I begged, circling my hips.

“Please what?” he asked, shooting me a sly smile as he looked up at me with heavy-lidded eyes.

“Touch me,” I demanded.

“I am touching you, baby,” he said, fingers gliding across my belly.

“Rowe…” I whined, doing another swirl of my hips.

“Eventually,” he said, fingers tracing the curves of my tattoo. “I’m exploring.”

Well, two could play that game, couldn’t they?

Leaning forward, I scooted my lower body backward. I couldn’t explore his chest and stomach, thanks to the brace we couldn’t take off.

My hands reached for the waistband of his boxers, fingertips teasing over the skin underneath.

The sound that came out of Rowe right then was a primal, animalistic growling noise that turned my stomach liquid. I wanted to tease him. But even more than that, I wanted to hear more sounds like that from him.

Heartbeat thrumming, I reached inside fully, my hand closing around his hard, hot, velvety smooth cock.

A shiver coursed through Rowe at my touch, a movement that had my gaze lifting, finding his intense gaze on me. His jaw was so tight that a muscle ticked there.

Gaze on his, I leaned down further, my tongue moving outward. Then, as his exhale shook through his chest, I teased it around the head of his cock.

“Fuck,” Rowe hissed as his hand landed on the back of my neck, grabbing there for a long moment before gathering up my hair and moving it out of the way so he could watch as I slipped my lips around him and lowered down inch by inch.

I’d always considered selfless sexual acts with a partner as a really important part of your intimate life. But I’d never felt quite as invested in it as I did right then, with Rowe’s cock in my mouth, with his body under mine, with his hand in my hair, with his tight, breathless groans and dirty words meeting my ears.

“I’m not done,” I grumbled when his hand curled in my hair, twisted, then yanked until I had no choice but to move back to ease the sting coursing across my scalp.

“It’s my turn,” Rowe told me, eyes blazing.

“Your turn?” I asked, sitting up fully.

“Hop up and take off your pants,” Rowe demanded. “And panties,” he added, a dark promise in his gaze as my sex clenched hard in anticipation.

I climbed off the bed and slipped out of my pants and panties as Rowe watched every movement I made. With his hungry gaze on me, I did a slow turn, feeling his eyes roaming over my back, my ass, my legs before I turned to face him again.

“Get over here,” he demanded, and I took a couple steps closer to the bed, close enough for Rowe’s hand to snag my wrist. “I meant over here,” he said, using his free hand to rub at the scruff on his chin. “Come sit on my face so I can taste you,” he told me, making that sex clenching sensation even more acute. “Can’t tell you how many times I woke up with my cock hard from thinking about tasting you,” he said as I climbed up near his chest, smiling down at him for a second.

But then he was grabbing my ass, and yanking me upward until I hovered over his face.

“I said sit,” he growled up at me as his hands reached for my hips, dragging me down the rest of the way.

I swear my thighs shivered at the feel of his tongue sliding up my slick cleft the first time.

Rowe’s hands grabbed my thighs as his tongue found my clit, working it in slow, deliberate circles as my eyes slid closed, as I arched backward, lost in the moment, in the sensations, in the way it felt to finally get to experience what I’d fantasized about for so long, the very thing I was sure I was never going to be able to feel.

He drove me up slowly, methodically, never changing his pace, but playing around with movements if I was getting too close too fast.

By the third time he edged me, I was sure he was just not going to let me come.

But then his hand shifted.

Two fingers slipped inside me, drawing a long, low moan out of me, my body getting some of the fullness it was craving as his fingers turned, crooked, and started teasing over my G-spot.

It wasn’t long then.

And he didn’t try to slow me down or stop me.

His tongue circled.

His fingers caressed.

And I crashed down hard into an orgasm that stole all the strength from my thighs as the waves crashed through me over and over.

It wasn’t until the fog of the pleasure started to ebb that I realized I’d dropped all my weight onto Rowe.

On a choked laugh, I threw myself backward, smiling down at him as he sucked in a greedy breath.

“I almost suffocated you,” I said, a high, strange laugh escaping me.

“Oh, but what a noble fucking way to go,” Rowe said, eyes dancing as I lowered myself down at his side, reaching downward, and closing my hand around his cock.

“What are you doing?” he asked, looking over at me.

“I got to finish. You didn’t.”

“Not the type to keep score, Billie,” he said, shaking his head. “But I’m going to finish,” he said, his hand moving to frame my face, his thumb tracing my lower lip. “When I am buried deep inside you. After your pussy squeezes me as you come again,” he added, making my pussy throb.

“We can’t.”

“We can,” he countered. “I can’t. But you can,” he clarified.

“I could hurt you.”

He didn’t object to that, not exactly. But the lip of his finger slipped between my lips and a shudder moved through him. “I have to be inside you, baby,” he told me. That time, it was me the shudder moved through. “I’ve waited too long already,” he added, reaching out, and starting to pull me over him again.

I should have objected more strongly, knowing how much he’d already pushed it that night. But the aching emptiness between my thighs was unexpectedly undeniable.

Our lips met again.

Soft and slow at first.

Then harder and faster as the desire reignited through our bodies.

I reached into the nightstand, finding a condom, and ripping it open.

“What?” Rowe asked, brows pinched as he looked at me, making me realize I was smiling as I pulled the condom out of the foil.

“Bought the variety pack, huh?” I asked.

“What?” he asked, confused.

“This is flavored,” I told him right before turning it, and sucking it into my mouth slightly, watching as recognition heated his eyes as I shifted my body downward until I was positioned over him again. Then I leaned down, closing my mouth around his length, and carefully rolling the condom down his hard length.

I sucked him for a long moment after I was done, feeling the desire lapping at all my nerve endings at the sounds he made as I worked him before he yanked me up again.

“Ride me, Billie,” he growled, voice low. “Now,” he demanded, voice getting rougher. “I need to feel your pussy squeezing my cock,” he added as I straddled him again, lifting my hips upward.

Rowe fisted his cock, sliding it up and down my cleft a few times, tapping it at my clit until it was throbbing, then slipping it back down, holding it against the entrance of my body.

Waiting.

But his body was shaking with the need to be inside me.

Taking a slow, deep breath, I started to lower my hips, feeling him penetrate me, widen me as I took him inside inch by thick inch.

When he was settled deep, I paused, just taking a moment to feel the fullness of him inside me.

And nothing, absolutely nothing, had ever felt quite as right as our bodies joined together.

“Billie, move, baby,” Rowe growled, his fingers crushing into my hips.

My body responded before I was aware of telling it to.

My movements were slow and careful at first, barely a movement at all, not wanting to hurt him, not wanting to make his back any worse than it already was from overdoing it.

“Baby, I said move,” Rowe demanded, bucking his hips up into me.

And that was all the encouragement I needed.

My hips ground down into him. Back and forth. Up and down. Then in the circles that felt best, driving me up faster and faster as I got closer and closer.

Rowe’s hands roamed over me. Up and down my thighs, over my belly, up to my breasts. Then down again, moving between my thighs, engaging my clit as I moved faster and faster, riding him harder and harder.

“Come, Billie,” he demanded, one of his hands grabbing my ass hard as he struggled to hold onto control as well. “Yes, squeeze my cock,” he growled as my orgasm slammed through my system, stealing my breath, exploding through each inch of me, sapping every bit of strength I had left, leaving me falling forward to bury my face in Rowe’s neck as he thrust up into me a few more times, then came with my name on his lips.

I couldn’t say how long we stayed like that, with his arms wrapping me up, with our heartbeats trying to return to normal. But by the time I felt fully recovered from it, my whole back felt cold.

“You gotta let me up for a minute, babe,” Rowe said, fingers brushing my hair off to one side, and turning his head to press a kiss to my temple.

“Nope.”

“One minute,” he promised.

“Fine,” I grumbled, rolling off to the side. “You need help?” I asked as his arm shot out to grab the headboard so he could swing his legs off the bed.

“No.”

“You’re being stubborn,” I said when he hissed and grumbled until he managed to get himself into a seated position.

“Yep,” he agreed. “One of my many negative traits,” he added, letting out a string of curses as he stood up.

“It’s okay. I have a lot of those myself.”

“Babe, you’re practically a fucking angel,” he said, shooting me a look over his shoulder.

“You won’t be saying that when I drag you to naked potlucks,” I called as he hobbled into the bathroom. “Or when I am testing new teas and salves on you,” I added, hearing a snort from him through the door he left open. “Or when I drag you out into the middle of the woods to make love with me under a full moon.”

“Baby,” he said, appearing in the doorway of the bathroom with pants he’d somehow managed to tug up his legs, “if I ever complain about fucking you outside under a full moon, the fucked up one is me, not you,” he said, shooting me a soft, sexy little smile.

“Are you leaning in the doorway to look at me, or is it helping hold you up?” I asked, moving my legs up and down on the mattress.

“Honestly? A bit of both,” he admitted, and the pain and exhaustion was clear on his face.

“Okay. Enough of the tough-guy bullshit,” I said, hopping up, and going over to help him into bed, then pulling the blanket up over the two of us. “Fair warning, I’m a snuggler,” I told him as I rested my head on his shoulder.

“Wouldn’t want it any other way.”

Neither would I.

I fell asleep in the arms of a man I’d felt an instant connection with from the first time I’d seen him, a man I thought I would never get to be with.

All was right in the world.

—

“I’m going to need to have words with him about this,” my father said as I made my way out of Rowe’s room early the next morning, wearing my pants from the night before, but one of Rowe’s sweatshirts that fit me more like a dress.

“I figured you would,” I agreed, following him into the kitchen to turn on the kettle and get Rowe a cup of coffee. He hadn’t been able to move yet. “But let him get some pain medicine in him first. He can barely move today. He went way overboard last night.”

“Saving you,” my father said.

“Yeah,” I agreed, a smile tugging at my lips.

“Can’t hate a man too much who risked fucking up his back for life to get my girl back,” my dad admitted, sighing.

“That’s what I told him,” I agreed. “He’s worried about what you think.”

“He should be. You were off-limits.”

“Oh, please, Dad,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Would you rather me be with Rowe, who you like and trust and respect, or Briar? Do you remember Briar?”

“The pot dealer with a pin-cushion face?”

“Yep, him. Or there was Marcello,” I added, watching my father’s face darken.

“The drug dealer,” he grumbled.

“Yep. Oh, and there was River,” I said, getting an actual growl from my dad. “Who once splattered your leather jacket with red paint, if I remember correctly. He was the animal rights activist,” I added.

“Okay. Fine. Rowe is fine. But I still want to have words with him.”

“About not hurting me,” I said, grabbing the teabags one of my aunts kept stashed in the cabinet. It wasn’t the herbal stuff I preferred, but since I’d been avoiding the clubhouse for a while, someone probably already tossed my stash.

“Exactly.”

“He’s a good man, Daddy.”

“I know he is.”

“If, for some reason, something didn’t work out with us, he’s still a good man. And even if I got hurt, it wouldn’t be his fault.”

“Babygirl, it is my right as the father of a daughter to put the fear of God in any man who thinks he’s worthy of you. Let me have this.”

“Okay,” I agreed, shrugging. “He knows it’s coming. Don’t make him wait too long. The suspense is going to give him an ulcer.”

“You really like him, don’t you?”

“I do,” I agreed.

“Heard the rumors about you moon-eyeing him for ages.”

“I did.”

“But he didn’t make a move?”

“No. He said he knew I was off-limits. He even tried to reject me. He did reject me. But then his back got messed up, and Malc brought him to me to help…”

“Don’t make me feel bad for the man, Bills. I need to threaten to cut off his balls and shit in the near future,” he said, smiling at me.

“He’s the right one, Dad,” I told him, nodding. “No one has ever felt right before. Because it was always him all along.”

“I’m happy for you, baby,” he said, coming close to press a kiss to my temple. “But he still gets the threat of castration with a dull knife,” he added, making a laugh burst out of me as he took the coffee I was making for Rowe, and walked in the direction of his room.

I took my tea, going into the living room, and finding Layna, Vi, and Hope all sitting there waiting for me.

“Oh, hey guys. Did you stay here last night?”

“We had to crash with Voss and Valen in the basement,” Hope grumbled. “Do you know he makes dream-threats?”

“Valen or Voss?” I asked.

“Voss,” Layna clarified. “He’s a scary bastard.”

“Oh, keep your panties on,” Hope said, rolling her eyes. “You will get him kicked out if you sleep with him.”

“Hey, is it my fault that I have a type?” Layna asked with a smirk.

“When that type is ‘homicidal maniac with a good beard,’ then yes, yes it is your fault,” Hope said, but she was smiling. “We stayed because we wanted to talk to you. We didn’t get a chance with all the family around.”

“Talk to me about what?”

“About Rowe, mostly,” Layna said.

“And getting kidnapped,” Hope said, rolling her eyes.

“We are mostly concerned with his level of grovel,” Vi said, kicking her mismatching sock-clad feet up on the coffee table.

“He saved her life, Vi,” Layna said, rolling her eyes. “That’s pretty grand and over-the-top, don’t you think? I mean the man ran out of here with a broken back, rode his bike across town, ran through the neighborhood, then put a plug in some dude’s head. I think we can forgive him for making her sad for a little while.”

“I want to know he felt bad at least,” Vi said, shrugging.

“He did. And he said a lot of nice things,” I assured them.

“We don’t mean nice sex words, Billie,” Vi said, smirking.

“Well, he said those, yes. But no. I meant just regular nice things.”

“Well, fine then,” Vi decided.

“If it makes you feel any better, my dad is in there now giving him all the warnings. Before he’s had his morning pain meds.”

“That’s sufficiently sucky,” Vi declared. “So, how are you dealing with the other stuff? The kidnapping and such?”

“I’m okay,” I admitted. “I reserve the right to feel about it in the future. But… I’m okay. It was scary, but a part of me knew that I would get myself out, or one of you would get me. I’m more upset that they kind of tainted the sacredness of my class. And now, what? I have to go in there and lie and say I don’t know what happened to Reggie and Lizzie?”

“Well, technically, Bills, you didn’t see anything,” Layna said, shrugging. “And you…what’s up, Brooks?” Layna asked as he came in the front door.

“Got someone here to see Billie,” Brooks said, looking confused.

“Me? Who?” I asked as a tall, bearded guy came walking in holding a box.

“This is Finn,” Brooks said.

“Finn?” I asked.

“He works for Quinton Baird,” Hope supplied. “He’s a fixer.”

“A fixer of what?” I asked.

“My guess in this case, crime scenes,” Hope told me. “What’s up? Do you need to talk to Fallon?”

“No. I, ah, I have this for Billie,” he said, holding out a box.

“Listen, it better not be a body part or something,” Layna said, hopping up to follow me over toward Finn.

“It’s not. You, ah, you lost your earring at the house,” he said, making my gaze shoot up. “It was broken, though.”

“Damn,” I grumbled. “It was my favorite pussy flower. You brought me the pieces?” I asked, taking the box.

“No,” Finn said as I pulled off the lid.

And then there in the pretty cushioned box was a new pair of pussy flower earrings. But with purple and yellow petals instead of the pink and yellow I’d lost.

“Where did you find these?” I asked, mouth falling open. I’d made my pussy flower earrings for fun with my mom. I’d never seen anyone actually selling them. Least of all in town, which is where he must have found them if he got them to me so quickly.

“I, ah, I made them.”

“You made them?” Layna asked, brows raising. “You re-created her pussy flower earrings in the spare time you had after cleaning up a crime scene?”

“Something like that,” Finn agreed. “I, ah, I didn’t have any pink.”

“You have polymer clay on hand?” Layna asked.

“Me? No. My niece. I stole it from my niece.”

“This is… this is very sweet. Thank you so much.”

“Welcome,” Finn said, nodding, then turning and leaving without saying anything else.

“What was that?” Layna asked, turning back to face the others.

“I heard a rumor once that when he cleans a scene, like if a woman shoots an attacker in her bedroom, and he has to get rid of the body, he always redoes the room all nice for her,” Hope said. “Nicer than it was before even.”

“These are kind of nicer than the ones I made,” I admitted.

“You know what I heard about him?” Hope said.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“He’s with that woman who did that true crime podcast. Polly? Or Patty? No.”

“Poppy?” Layna asked, mouth falling open. “Crime Time with Poppy? I loved that podcast. That’s a strange couple.”

“Those are usually the best kind,” Vi said, shrugging.

“Oh, shit,” Dezi grumbled, coming out of the prospect room wearing boxers and his cut. And nothing else. “It’s early for all this pretty,” he said, shooting all of us that boyish smile of his.

“Just out of curiosity, how did you end up in a cut without a shirt?” Vi asked, smiling at him.

Dezi’s hand went to his stomach, patting it. “Can’t deprive you ladies of all this,” he said.

“Yes, how would we ever survive without all that manly goodness?” Layna asked, walking up to him, resting an arm on Dezi’s shoulder.

“You’re trouble, pretty girl,” Dezi said, shaking his head.

“Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea,” she said, eye-banging him. No one, in my opinion, could casually eye-bang a man quite as well as Layna. Even when she was just toying with someone like she was with Dezi.

“You know,” Dezi said. “It seems like they are loosening up the rules about club members and princesses. I mean, first Andi, now Billie. I might—“

“Not a chance, Dezi,” Layna said, pressing a kiss to his temple.

“You’re breaking my heart,” Dezi said, pressing a hand to his chest.

“If it helps at all, Gracie is on her way in with pastries.”

“That does help,” Dezi agreed, eyes brightening.

“It’s a sad day when my charms can be replaced with apple turnovers,” Layna said, shaking her head.

“Baby, if your apple turnover was on the menu, we’d be having a different conversation,” Dezi said, making a slow, surprised smile tug at Layna’s lips.

“I was told you had a way with the ladies,” Layna said, turning back to face him. “One of my cousins said you bagged a half a dozen chicks one night. All at once.”

“Ah, yes,” Dezi recalled. “Nearly suffocated under that pile of women,” he said, eyes sparkling.

“You have more competition now, though,” Layna reminded him. “What with Valen being back. And that grumbling psychopath with the very ride-able beard,” she said.

“Hey, my beard is ride-able too,” Dezi insisted, reaching up to rub it.

“Yes, it is, buddy,” Layna said, patting his shoulder.

“Sure, sure. Drool over the new guy,” Dezi grumbled. “Gracie still loves me, don’t you Gracie?” he asked as the woman in question moved through the front door with two big boxes of pastries and a tray of coffee in her arms.

“Oh, my God, Dezi, you don’t have to lay it on that thick. I always give you the first pick,” Gracie said, out of the loop.

“Dezi here is a little put-out about the new guy being a panty-dropper,” Layna said, taking the tray of coffee from the stack.

“Voss?” Gracie asked, grimacing. “I mean, if you’re into big, scary guys, I guess so.”

“You don’t think I’m scary?” Dezi asked, shoulders slumping a little.

“Oh, you’re terrifying,” Gracie affirmed in an appeasing voice as Dezi opened one of the boxes and took out a cheese Danish before moving off toward the kitchen.

“He actually is,” Hope said, shrugging.

“What?” Layna asked. “You never think anyone is terrifying.”

“Well, he is. Voss is outwardly scary. Dezi is a big, sweet puppy dog ninety-nine percent of the time. But that one percent? He’s like a rabid dog left off his chain. That’s scary. Like a Jekyll & Hyde sort of thing. I mean, I was driving home from work one night and he was street fighting with a Long Island Iced Tea in his hand… and a smile on his face. He thrives on violence as much as he thrives on partying and fucking.”

“Partying and fucking,” Danny said, coming out from Fallon’s room in one of his shirts that came down mid-thigh. “Are we talking about Dezi?” she asked. “Hey, how’s your head?” she asked.

“My head?” I asked, slow blinking at her.

To that, Danny let out a laugh. “Oh, the sex must have been good if you forgot all about getting whacked in the head with a pipe,” she said, smirking.

“Oh, right,” I said, reaching up to touch my head. “But, yes, it was,” I added.

“Good for you. I always got repressed, but highly capable vibes from him,” Danny said, taking a coffee Gracie offered to her. “How’s your dad taking the news?”

“He’s having a talk with him right now,” I said.

“Well, I haven’t heard any gunshots yet, so it should be fine,” Danny said.

“I approve of your brand of comforting,” Layna declared, nodding at Danny.

Not two minutes later, his bedroom door was opening, and my father was walking out. He gave me a wink before heading off toward the kitchen.

“I’m going to go make sure all Rowe’s bits are intact,” I said, toasting my loved ones with my tea, then making my way back into Rowe’s room to find him sitting off the side of the bed. “Hey,” I said, leaning in the doorway.

“Hey, babe,” he said, taking a deep breath, then looking up.

“Are you still intact?” I asked, moving in, and closing the door.

“Intact?”

“Yeah. My father mentioned cutting off your fun bits,” I told him. “Which would be a real shame since I am just starting to enjoy those.”

“Well, you’re in luck. They’re still at your disposal,” he said, holding out an arm, inviting me over.

“Good,” I said, sitting down next to him, and leaning my head on his shoulder. “I have lots of plans for you and your bits.”

“Should I be scared?” he asked, pressing a kiss to my temple.

“You should stay hydrated,” I told him.