Jax says there is a plan in progress to grab Mal’s mom, Freya, but it’s in a holding pattern because Marchman, Morning, Dahlia de la Floren, and others are carefully building a trap.
I’m not being told more because I can’t guarantee I can keep the details from Mal. Especially when it feels wrong trying to hold barriers against him in my mind.
When this finally goes down, they want to make it look like Mal and his mom are traveling together to Maine, where Jax’s friend took the cell. Once we get word Sterling’s people have shown up looking for them, someone will drive cross-country with the phones, baiting the pursuers. That will lead them to the trap, a fake nest. The goal is to lure the attackers into an ambush.
I don’t know what happens after. I suspect Sterling isn’t stupid enough to put in a personal appearance, although that would make everyone’s lives easier. Jax said multiple contingencies are being planned. At least there haven’t been more attacks. Meanwhile, I drive Mal to his four-week appointment with Dr. Williams. After reviewing the lab results from yesterday’s blood and urine samples and taking Mal’s current vitals, she smiles.
“Everything looks good,” she says. “We’ll take a look with an ultrasound in four weeks. Might still be too small to see much.”
“Can we have sex?” Mal asks.
She laughs. “As long as you take it easy, yes.”
“Thank gawd!” He turns to me. “I hope you have a couple of hours free.”
“She said to take it easy,” I caution.
“If there’s any bleeding or cramps, call immediately.” She smirks. “You shouldn’t throw him a teeth-rattling rut, or toss him in a puppy pile of omegas, but have fun.”
I have a thought. “Can he fuck me?”
She shrugs. “I mean, that’s between you two. I suspect he doesn’t rut the way you do, so it should be safe.”
“What about shifting?” I ask.
Her head cocks, her gaze narrowing. “No marathons. But as long as it’s comfortable, sure, shifting is fine. Sometimes, when the baby’s overdue, a hard, shifted run helps loosen everything. For now, take it easy.”
I manage to fend off Mal until we’re in the truck but who am I kidding? I love him, and I have missed this. Not like we had much time to engage in full-on sex before everything went sideways.
Mal grabs my head and pulls me in for a kiss. Eager desperation washes off him, and while my cock is hard and uncomfortably wedged against my fly, I want to wait until I get home.
However, if I make him wait, there’s a good chance we’ll end up in a wreck from him pawing at me.
After a glance around to make sure no one’s watching—living in a rural area has its pluses—I push him back against the seat, unbutton and unzip his shorts, and go down on him.
He grabs my hair. “Fuuuuck yes!” he gasps. I barely take him to the root before he’s coming and making me chuckle around his cock. I love how he tastes, and there will be light bed bondage for him in his immediate future, tied spreadeagled on our bed while I wedge myself between his thighs and go down on him. He’s addictive. That we were brought together makes me want to believe the Goddess is real and rewards those She believes are worthy.
His fingers thread through my hair and he bucks his hips, but even after I’ve drained him, he’s still hard.
I finally lift my head and kiss him again. “Zip up, baby.”
Desperation fills his gaze. “Again, please?” I gently peel his hands off my fly, where he’s fumbling to open my jeans.
My sadist wakes up, stretches, and immediately gets handed a warning sheet by my logic brain that a heavy session in the fun room is absolutely not on the menu today.
#sadpandaface
Although… I could move the milker into the bedroom. Add the large vibrating butt plug, and I could lie there and enjoy the show until he’s worn out.
“No,” I firmly say, kissing him one last time. “We’re going home. I’m not doing this in the clinic parking lot. That one was because you’ve been such a good boy and I wanted to reward you.”
He whimpers, sounding so adorably plaintive and desperate I nearly give in. But I hold fast, finally get him zipped up, and point the truck toward home.
Fortunately, my truck’s not a stick shift, because I spend the entire drive with my hand over Mal’s groin where he traps it, kneading his hand over mine.
Fuck, he’s adorable.
I am a very lucky man.
