I hear her panting above me, then she moans as her muscles tense. I give him the go-ahead just as I taste the evidence from her orgasm. A scream rips from her lips, her thighs shaking next to my head, but I don’t stop moving my tongue against her sweet cunt.
When she stops moving and her muscles completely relax, I know that not only has she come down from her high, but that the brand is done. Standing, I dip my chin and look between her tits.
The skin is red, raw, and angry, but fuck me—it’s gorgeous. The wound is cleaned and dressed, but I continue staring even after it’s covered from view. With a jerk, I force myself to unstrap her, then help her sit up on the side of the table.
Slowly, the music’s volume is raised and the sound of the party either gets louder or I’m no longer in the fog of the moment. I watch as Avah shifts back into her dress, hissing when the fabric slides against the bandages.
“You okay?” I ask after the small crowd around us has dispersed.
She nods, tilting her head back, looking up at me with red-rimmed eyes.
“It hurt like a bitch?” I ask, lifting my hand and wrapping my fingers around the side of her neck.
She wrinkles her nose, then licks her lips. “I can seriously smell burning flesh, Hawk. It’s gross.”
“You need a drink?” I ask, my lips curving up into a grin that I couldn’t stop even if I tried.
She snorts. “I need about a dozen.”
Letting my hand fall from her neck, I hold my palm out for her and she slips hers inside before I tug her down from the table. Walking over to the bar, I’m not surprised that everyone parts out of our way, giving us a wide berth to the booze.
I walk over to the bar, lifting my hand as I wait for the prospect to make his way over to me. Luckily, it doesn’t take him long. I order a couple of shots with two bottles of beer as chasers.
He sets the shots down and before I can even wrap my hand around my glass, Avah has both of them downed and is taking a sip from her beer. She must be in some serious pain. I don’t comment on it, but I do want to make sure that she’s alright.
“You okay there, honey?” I ask on a murmur.
“Not really, but I will be,” she offers, giving me a wide grin.
Lifting my hand, I call the prospect over and ask for shots to line the bar in front of us, and for him to keep them coming.
“You’re not going to cry again, are you?” I ask, shifting uncomfortably in my seat at the memory of walking into this bar, Avah in tears because she was eating processed food or some shit.
She licks her lips, her eyes meeting mine before she lifts the glass to her mouth and I watch her down another shot. “Maybe,” she whispers.
Shaking my head, I take a shot and down it myself. If I’m going to have to deal with a crying woman, I’m going to need to be fucking plastered. We continue to drink, one shot after the other, as if I don’t have to drive tomorrow morning.
To be fair, tomorrow doesn’t matter. We’re living in today, or rather tonight, and tonight I’m going to get drunk with my woman. My woman. A term that I can officially use and mean it, she’s got my ring on her finger, my brand on her body, and soon my kid in her belly.
“What happens next?” she slurs as she leans toward me.
“Next?” I ask on a chuckle.
She shrugs a shoulder. “You want to live here forever, move, get married? Next.”
Wrapping my fingers around her waist, I turn her away from the bar. She needs a breather from the shots or she’s going to be a crying mess. I still need to bury my cock inside of her tonight, no way do I want to fuck her when she’s crying.
“Girl,” Trista calls out, waving in our direction.
Avah lifts her hand and tries to walk quickly over to her, but ends up not moving her feet fast enough and stumbles. Gripping her waist tightly, I pull her against my side and help her stand upright.
“Slowly, baby,” I rasp.
She turns her head, looking up at me with the biggest, goofiest fucking smile. Shaking my head, I continue to guide her over to Trista and Taz. Looking at Trista, I smirk in her direction, she meets my eyes, giving me a grin of her own.
“I’m happy for you, Hawk,” she murmurs.
“Yeah?”
She nods. “Yeah. I really am. The proposal was perfect.”
“The branding?” I ask on a laugh.
“Gross, I couldn’t watch, not my dad.”
My shoulders shake as I laugh, but Trista reaches out and wraps her fingers around my wrist. I can’t help the gasp that escapes my lips. Trista hasn’t really been overly affectionate since I’ve been back, in fact, she hasn’t been affectionate at all, so any time she shows even the slightest bit, I’m surprised.
“Thank you for bringing my friend home to her family,” she breathes.
Shaking my head, I lift my hand, wrapping my fingers around the side of Trista’s neck. “I’m thankful she accepts me as hers and she allows me to keep her as my own, but this is where she was always meant to be and I would have brought her home no matter what, Trista. Not just for her, but for you, too.”
“Why do you have to be so wonderful. It makes it really hard to be mad at you.”
“Don’t be mad at me anymore, Trista. Fucked up.”
Her eyes search my own. She doesn’t say anything right away, but then she nods her head. “I’m not, Dad. I don’t want to be anymore. You’re going to be married and I’m going to have a baby, it’s time that we move forward.”
Nodding,
