25. Tempe

25

Tempe

My eyes flutter open to the feel of Jameson’s fingertips grazing up and down my spine. I’m lying on my side, facing the glass door that leads out to the backyard.

The sun has yet to peek over the horizon, and the clock says it’s only five in the morning, so Austin won’t be awake for another couple of hours.

“Don’t you ever sleep?” I close my eyes, sinking into the feel of Jameson’s fingers roaming my skin.

“Not much.”

I bury my nose into his pillow. It smells like cinnamon and detergent.

“Why not?”

“There’s always too much to do or too much on my mind.” His fingers pause, and I roll over to face him.

He props one hand behind the back of his neck and pulls me into the crook of his other arm. I relax against him, tracing his solid chest with my fingers. Our clothing is scattered, still sitting wherever we tossed it last night. Except his cut, which he carefully hung on the chair before he took me.

“You need sleep.” I brush my finger along his jaw, tracing the stubble there and trying to soothe him. “You’re going to wear yourself out if you’re not careful.”

He closes his eyes at my touch.

“I’ll be fine. Besides, as long as I can continue to keep up with you, that’s all that matters.” He smiles, still not opening his eyes.

I laugh. “I definitely don’t see that becoming a problem.”

He glances down at me. “Not so long as I’m on this side of the dirt, wildfire.”

“Why would you say that?” My eyebrows pinch, and my smile falls. “Don’t tell me you have plans of dying.”

“Not anytime soon.” Jameson rests his hand over mine. “But men in my line of work don’t have the longest lifespans. Especially ones with “President” stitched into their patch. My dad and grandad are two good examples.”

“What happened to them?”

I’m still learning pieces of Jameson’s history, and since he rarely talks about his family, I don’t know much about them outside of the rumors. My dad mentioned once in passing that Jameson got his position when he was still really young, and because of that, he didn’t think he deserved it.

“Well, my grandad went down in a bar fight. Or, at least, that’s what the police report said. The lines between territories weren’t as clear back then, and they stepped into rival territory without realizing it on a long ride back from Portland.” Jameson scratches his jaw. “My dad, on the other hand… He was gunned down when a rival club tried to overthrow the Twisted Kings almost a decade ago. They got in a lucky shot he didn’t see coming. One to the center of his forehead, and that was it.”

Jameson rubs his hand over his forehead.

“I’m sorry.”

He looks down at me, lifting my hand to kiss the back of it. “Nothing to be sorry for, wildfire. That’s how this life is. And now here I am.”

“Next in the line of fire?” I frown.

Jameson chuckles. “Well, I wouldn’t put it that way…”

“I know. But I don’t like thinking about you dying.”

We might not have defined what we are to each other, but there’s no more denying Jameson means something to me. The thought of leaving here rips my heart down the middle. And after his confession last night, I’m starting to think he feels the same.

“I appreciate you wanting me alive.” Jameson cups my cheek. “And don’t worry, I’ve no plans on going anytime soon.”

“Does anyone ever plan to die?” I challenge, but when he frowns, a bad feeling stirs my gut. “What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“That wasn’t nothing. You clearly just thought something about what I said. Talk to me, Jameson.”

Jameson takes a deep breath, scratching his jaw. “It just made me think about my mom. That’s it. You’re right. Most people don’t plan to die, but she did. ”

“You mean she…?” But I can’t finish the sentence as his nod confirms it. “I didn’t realize.”

“You couldn’t have known. Half my men don’t even know about it. My dad was really good at pretending it never happened.”

“I’m sorry.” I brush my hand over his chest. “How old were you?”

“Five.”

“Young.”

“Not young enough.” He shakes his head. “I still remember it.”

Jameson closes his eyes, and he’s quiet for a moment. I rest my hand over his heart, and I swear it’s beating harder than I’ve ever felt it.

“I remember the sagebrush more than anything. My allergies were going haywire. Mom made me take my medicine before Dad took me to the shop that day. It’s the last thing she did for me.” He lets out a heavy breath. “When we got home, all the windows were open. I walked into the living room behind Dad, and she was just hanging there—”

He cuts himself off, his jaw tensing.

“There was this beam above the staircase—” He swallows hard, and my heart hurts just picturing what he witnessed at such a young age. “Guess she couldn’t handle the guilt.”

“What did she have to feel guilty about?”

Jameson’s eyes are filled with sadness, even if he doesn’t shed a tear. “I had a brother—Wyatt. Mom was giving him a bath one day, and the phone rang. She got distracted. Dad said it was just for a minute, but by the time she got back, it was too late. One minute and everything changed. I was too young to remember any of that clearly. But Dad told me it was the one thing that’d always haunted him. Even after Mom left us, he said he barely felt what she did because nothing hurt like losing a child.”

“That’s a lot for a five-year-old to process.”

And now it makes sense why Jameson resists any kind of connection outside his club. He’s felt loss in ways most people never do.

It isn’t his ego or his title that holds him back—it’s his fear.

“My grandma moved in with us after that, and she’s always been good to me. It was a big hole to fill, but she tried her best. I’ll never be able to pay her back for that.”

I plant a kiss on his shoulder. “From what I’ve seen, you try. You’re good to her.”

“I’m not good for anyone but my club, Tempe.”

“You’re good for me and Austin.” I prop myself up to look down at him. “You took us in when you didn’t have to. You make my brother laugh. You showed him how to change the oil on your bike. It’s not always the big things that count. It’s just being there for people. Austin sees that, and he appreciates it. We both do.”

A small smile curls up in the corner of Jameson’s mouth. “Kids are usually scared of me, but he sure takes after his sister. Always keeping me on my toes.”

I laugh. “That’s only because he looks up to you. And he trusts you enough to be himself around you. ”

Jameson’s smile slowly drifts away as he stares at me, brushing my hair off my face. “Nothing’s going to happen to you or him, Tempe. I won’t let it.”

“Promise?”

“On my life.”

“Even when you get tired of us?”

Jameson grabs my jaw. “There’s no such thing as getting tired of you.”

His hand grazes my side, and he grabs my ass. He lifts me to him to steal a kiss. He nips my lower lip, and the mood in the room shifts.

Climbing up, I pull the sheet back and kneel between his legs. Wrapping my hand around his hard cock, I stroke it.

“What do you think you’re doing, wildfire?”

“Thanking you for taking care of us.” I run my thumb along his cock, teasing him. “And relaxing you before you start your long day.”

“You want to relax me?” He laces his hands behind the back of his head and grins.

I nod.

“Then spit on it.”

“Yes, President.” I smirk, and his cock pulses at my words.

Leaning forward, I don’t break our stare while I spit on his cock, stroking it up and down.

His chest vibrates with a growl when I do it again.

“What now?” I don’t need direction, but I know he likes giving it .

And no matter how much I’ve resisted that in my life, I want to offer my submission to this man.

Stroking his cock again, his abs flex with every tight pull.

“Pinch your nipple for me, wildfire.”

I reach up with my free hand and pinch my nipple, tugging and teasing it for him while he watches me. I toy with myself and stroke his cock. And he’s patient, savoring every moment between us. Never rushing, even when I try to.

“You have such pretty tits.” Jameson watches me grab my breast. “Let me get a taste.”

I release my nipple and his cock, leaning forward to plant my hands on either side of his head so my breasts hang over his face. He tilts his chin up, looking me in the eyes but not moving his hands from where they’re locked behind his head, as he darts his tongue out and teases one nipple and then the other.

My breasts are nothing special—a handful for him at most. But he worships them like he does every part of me. Like I’m his personal work of art.

“Are you going to do what I say, Tempe?” He flicks my nipple with his tongue. “Do you want to please me?”

More than anything.

“Yes,” I breathe out as he draws my nipple into his mouth.

Jameson releases the peak, not breaking my gaze. “Then grab the headboard and let me taste that sweet pussy. ”

Nervously, I climb up the bed, facing the wall and grabbing the headboard. But when I try to hover over him, Jameson grabs my ass and pulls me down.

“Sit on my fucking face, wildfire. Ride my tongue, and let me fuck you with it.”

“Holy shit.” I tip my head back as he pulls my pussy to his mouth.

His tongue circles my clit before he drives it inside me. Grinding, losing myself in the soft circles of his tongue. In the rough scratch of his stubble on my thighs. He grips my ass and rocks my hips, kissing me between the legs like he’s desperate for it.

“Jameson.” I close my eyes and throw my head back.

He hums against my clit and picks up his pace, and that’s all I need to see stars. My body shakes as I throw myself forward, grabbing the headboard. But he won’t let me go, and he doesn’t slow down. Fucking me with his tongue as I come hard for him.

“Perfect.” He lifts me off him, licking the full length of me before shifting my hips back. “Now get down there and suck my cock.”

I do as I’m told, slowly dragging my hands down the ripples of his chest as I move down between his legs. I grab the base of his cock and hold it upright, staring into his eyes as I circle the tip with my tongue.

“Fuck, Tempe. That feels so much better when I’ve still got the taste of you on my tongue.” He strokes my cheek with the back of his knuckles. “You do such a good job pleasing me. ”

I close my lips around the head and tease him again before sinking my mouth over him.

Jameson grabs the back of my hair, digging his fingers into my scalp as I swallow him deeper. My hand strokes what I can’t take, slipping up and down the base of his hard shaft as I swirl my tongue over his tip.

He’s already leaking as I drag my tongue over the slit, and I savor the taste of him coating my lips.

Flattening my tongue, I run it along the vein on the underside of his cock then sink my mouth over him again. I hollow my cheeks, slowly dragging up and down, teasing him, staring up into his hooded gray eyes.

There’s something so incredibly powerful about bringing him pleasure.

He’s a man who commands a room. Who runs a club. Who is always in control.

Except right now, he’s at my mercy.

A growl vibrates through his chest, and he watches me like I’m the only person worth looking at.

“Fuck.” He drags his fingers down my back, and I draw this out as he watches the wet path I leave on his cock.

When I reach the tip, he holds the sides of my face still and juts his hips off the bed, forcing himself down my throat. I gag when he hits me deep and fast, tears springing to my eyes.

My hands squeeze the base of his cock as he pounds in.

The hard muscles of his stomach flex with every thrust, but right as I sense he’s about to come, he pulls me off him .

“On your knees.” He points to the floor, and I slide off the bed, sinking to the carpet as he stands over me.

Jameson grabs his cock and strokes with one hand, pushing my hair away from my face with the other.

“Tongue.” His jaw clenches.

I stick my tongue out, and he places the head of his cock on it, sliding it over me slowly while stroking himself.

“You’re so pretty, begging for my cum.” He strokes again, still not thrusting in.

He rubs the head of his cock on my wet tongue, painting circles as he pleasures himself to the sight of it. With a final pull, his body stiffens, and the first warm rope of cum shoots into my mouth.

Jameson holds my jaw with one hand, stretching my mouth open, coating my tongue and lips with his release.

Cum leaks down my throat and drips down my chin as I stare up at him.

“Your tongue looks so much better painted in my cum than it does talking back to me, wildfire.” He collects what’s dripping with his thumb and shoves it into my mouth before pushing my chin to seal my lips around it. “Swallow.”

I close my mouth and swallow him down.

“Good girl.” He leans down to plant a kiss on my lips. “I’m going to fuck every hole. Fill every inch of you. You asked if I meant what I said to you last night, and I do. More than you realize. You’re going to take me every way I want, Tempe. You’re mine now.”