“You’re going to kill me,” he gasped, hands digging into my ass so hard it hurt. “It’s worth it. I’ll take whatever you have. I never want it to stop.”
I ignored him, focusing now on the pressure and need growing between my legs. Everything in my body wound tight and I realized I might come dry humping him like a teenager in the back of a car—that’s how much his body called to mine. I ground harder, feeling it just beyond me, and then it burst and I moaned, shuddering over him.
I rolled off, reaching down to slide off my panties. Horse shoved down his boxers just enough to free his cock, which sprang up long and hard between us. He reached toward me, obviously planning to pull me on top of him, but I stopped him. Instead I leaned over his lower body, wrapping my lips around his erection and sucking him in deep.
He shuddered, wrapping the fingers of one hand in my hair as I swirled my tongue around his head and started stroking him with my hand down below. I couldn’t fix anything for him. I couldn’t bring back Bagger or change what had gone down overseas. But I could make him forget for a little while and I didn’t plan to do it halfway.
I sucked him and licked him, pulling away every once in a while to attack his balls with my mouth, drawing them in and rolling them around my tongue. Then I got creative, sliding one of my fingers up into his ass as I suctioned hard, squeezing and stroking him with my fingers until he groaned and twisted underneath me, captured and desperate for release. He tugged at my hair, trying to pull me away, but I wouldn’t let him. Instead I held him captive with my fingers and mouth, swallowing triumphantly when he exploded into me, hips jerking and trembling.
When he finished I pulled away and sat up, wiping my mouth off with the back of my hand. He smiled up at me, and while he still looked sad, his terrible tension had eased.
“Thanks,” he said softly, reaching up and tracing the line of my lips.
“No problem,” I whispered. “I’m going to brush my teeth. No offense, okay?”
He gave a low chuckle and nodded. When I came back to bed I found him naked. He pulled me close into the crook of his arm, bringing my leg up and over his. I felt peace. Nothing could undo what had happened, either to him or Bagger, but for tonight he could sleep.
I felt like a very, very good old lady.
Chapter Twenty
The morning of the funeral was cold. I wondered how much of it was the temperature and how much was the cloud of wrongness and grief hanging over all of us. Bagger hadn’t been a religious man but Cookie had asked a biker chaplain from Spokane to come over and do a graveside service. It would start with a viewing at the funeral home, followed by a procession to the cemetery for the interment.
Maggs and Darcy took charge of making arrangements because Cookie couldn’t handle the details. Her in-laws, who didn’t live locally, were elderly and utterly devastated. They were pathetically grateful for the support, unable to think of anything but their lost son. That’s why the night before the service, the women of the club held a strategy session at the armory. Apparently Cookie was particularly worried about Silvie coming to the cemetery. It would be cold and she’d started acting out, probably from all the tension and grief in the air. She still didn’t understand what had happened to her daddy, and would carry the laptop to any adult she could find so she could talk to him online.
Cookie asked me—as Silvie’s favorite babysitter—if I’d help watch her at the service. If Silvie couldn’t handle things, she wanted me to take her back to the armory rather than subject her daughter to something she couldn’t possibly comprehend. Of course I said yes, so the morning of the funeral Maggs parked my car around the back side of the cemetery. That way if Silvie needed me, I could take her and leave quickly and unobtrusively. Horse didn’t like the idea but even he had to admit that the Devil’s Jacks wouldn’t dare disrupt the funeral. Not with a hundred Reapers watching, not to mention half the veterans in north Idaho.
I hadn’t left the clubhouse all week but Em had been my lifeline. She even bought me a black dress to wear, and that morning I rode to the funeral home with her. The men followed us on their bikes, which had to be incredibly uncomfortable in the bitter cold. Nobody complained.
Driving motorcycles in a winter funeral procession didn’t seem that sensible to me, but apparently that’s the way things were done at a biker’s funeral. Maggs had warned me, but I was still stunned to see hundreds of motorcycles parked outside the funeral home. Not only Reapers, but the Silver Bastards and a bunch of other clubs I’d never heard of. There were men who weren’t part of any club too, and vets flying MIA/POW flags off the backs of their Harleys. Even more of the riders had American flags. There was no way this many people could fit inside the funeral home for the viewing but nobody seemed to mind. Maggs took me inside and I watched as more people arrived, waiting patiently in the cold, talking to each other quietly in small clumps. Some of them stuck what looked like bumper stickers on the casket, which freaked me out at first. Then I realized they were Reapers support badges and nobody seemed to have a problem with it. I saw Cookie and managed to go up to her to offer my respects. She smiled at me but I don’t think she even recognized me. Silvie did, though, and I picked her up and carried her around. She loved it and I lavished attention on her.
Then it was time to pile into the cars for the procession. I walked Silvie over to Cookie, who seemed completely disconnected from reality. Couldn’t blame her for that. When her mother-in-law tried to take her granddaughter from me, the little girl started crying and clung to me, kicking.
“Come with us,” Cookie said suddenly, as if she’d been startled awake. “Whatever makes her happy. Please take care of her for me, I need your help.”
That’s how I wound up riding in the limo with the family, right behind the hearse. It felt so wrong, so presumptuous, but it made Silvie happy and Cookie certainly wasn’t up to handling her. We drove slowly through town and I was astounded at the show of support and respect. I guess I’d been cut off from events out at the armory, but I honestly hadn’t realized just how big Bagger’s funeral procession would be. This wasn’t just the club, or even a group of clubs. The whole town was stepping up to honor Bagger for his sacrifice.
It started with six police cars, driving two abreast with their lights flashing. The Reapers weren’t big cop fans, but Bagger’s dad had wanted to accept their offer of an escort so no one complained. Then came the hearse and the family in three limos, followed by the indescribable roar of hundreds of bikes. We drove right down Sherman Avenue and instead of having us avoid the main roads like a typical funeral procession, they closed off the streets in his honor. People lined the curbs to pay their respects, standing at attention as we drove by. Many held American flags and handmade signs saying things like “Thank You” and “We Will Not Forget”.
Cookie watched them with dead eyes while Silvie pressed her little face to the glass, fascinated. When we finally arrived at the cemetery, the limo stopped and we got out. The Reapers came behind us, more of them than I’d ever seen. It seemed like hundreds, although I learned later there were about a hundred and twenty-five. Behind them rode other clubs and veterans’ groups, followed by an endless line of cars. There were also active-duty servicemen in dress uniforms and even the local high school marching band, wearing poorly fitted black suits instead of their usual flamboyant regalia. It took nearly an hour before everyone could park, so we made Cookie get back into the car to wait. I climbed into another limo with Silvie and let her play on my phone.