Read Online Sanctuary (Freaks MC Book 2) by Sarah Osborne - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sarah Osborne
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partaking in the delights that the club had to offer. Not for Samson, though. Like a dick, he'd promised to keep it in his pants. So while his brothers buried themselves in Canadian pussy, he was sitting in the corner, sulking.
His cell vibrated and he pulled it out of his pocket, grinning as he saw her name. “Hey, baby girl.”
“ Hey.” He heard a loud sniff. Shit, she was crying. “Is my house off-putting, Deke?”
“ No, baby. Your house is perfect. Is that what the realtor said?”
“ She said.. She said...” Shit she wasn't just crying, she was really bawling. “She said it was too specific... I don't even know what that means, too specific for what? And she said the yard was ugly, and I should lose the clutter. She said I should paint it beige!”
“ Oh, baby.” He wanted to wrap his arms around her until the crying stopped, then find that insensitive bitch and shake her till her teeth rattled. Could she not see how much Emma loved that house? Didn't she notice how her eyes lit up when she explained that in her kitchen, no matter what the weather, the sun was shining? That it wasn't clutter, it was things she thought beautiful? That ugly yard was where she stood wracked with guilt at the sight of dead slugs in the beer traps and had then spent hours scouring the internet trying to find a plant they liked more than her lettuces so they could eat them instead. Did the stupid bitch not see how carefully it was planned out? Did she not stand out there listening to the girls clucking away and smell the flowers she'd planted for the butterflies?
“ I know it's just a house. I guess I sound stupid, huh.”
“ No, you don't.” This was his fault. She was selling the home she loved to be nearer to him. She was crying because of him. “Emma, you don't have to...”
“ Yes, I do.” He could almost see her trying to compose herself. “I'm sorry. I just needed to hear your voice. I'll be okay.”
He'd needed to hear hers, too. “You can call me when you're not drunk or having a meltdown, you know.”
“I know.” Her laugh was a little shaky. “But I try to limit calls to emergencies only.”
“ Getting drunk or having to paint your house beige are emergencies? Shit, baby girl. What are you doing with me?”
She was silent for a beat. “You think I'm a pussy?”
“No, I think you're perfect.”
~ oOo ~
In the two months he'd been away, Emma had transformed her home. She'd boxed up her stuff and put some of her furniture into storage. Deke had to admit it would be nice not to have to yell “Goddammit, woman! Get rid of that fucking piano!” every time he stubbed his toe on the fucking thing, but the room was too empty now. All the rooms except the kitchen were now painted cream, and she'd even stripped and re-varnished the living room floor. He stood with his arms around her and looked around. “I'm sorry.” It was all he could think of to say. The room felt…dead. It wasn't her anymore.
She smiled. “It's okay, Deke.” Her hands found their way up his tee shirt. “It's okay, I love you. I want to be with you. It's only a house.”
She was so beautiful - he bent and kissed her - she tasted so good. He wanted to taste all of her. To feel all of her. “Emma...” She reached up and grabbing his hair, kissed him harder, her teeth grazing his lip. Reluctantly, he pulled away. “You really need to get naked.”
He followed suit as she began pulling off her clothes. Jesus, she got more perfect every time he saw her. She frowned. “Deke, you're doing that staring thing again.”
“Admiring.”
“ Whatever.” She stepped closer and with her hands flat against his chest pushed him backwards until his calves were pressed against the sofa and he had no choice but to sit, then climbed onto his lap and began to bite his neck.
He wanted to push her off, to force her onto her knees. He wanted to control her. To own her. He wanted... He felt, rather than heard himself moan as her
His cell vibrated and he pulled it out of his pocket, grinning as he saw her name. “Hey, baby girl.”
“ Hey.” He heard a loud sniff. Shit, she was crying. “Is my house off-putting, Deke?”
“ No, baby. Your house is perfect. Is that what the realtor said?”
“ She said.. She said...” Shit she wasn't just crying, she was really bawling. “She said it was too specific... I don't even know what that means, too specific for what? And she said the yard was ugly, and I should lose the clutter. She said I should paint it beige!”
“ Oh, baby.” He wanted to wrap his arms around her until the crying stopped, then find that insensitive bitch and shake her till her teeth rattled. Could she not see how much Emma loved that house? Didn't she notice how her eyes lit up when she explained that in her kitchen, no matter what the weather, the sun was shining? That it wasn't clutter, it was things she thought beautiful? That ugly yard was where she stood wracked with guilt at the sight of dead slugs in the beer traps and had then spent hours scouring the internet trying to find a plant they liked more than her lettuces so they could eat them instead. Did the stupid bitch not see how carefully it was planned out? Did she not stand out there listening to the girls clucking away and smell the flowers she'd planted for the butterflies?
“ I know it's just a house. I guess I sound stupid, huh.”
“ No, you don't.” This was his fault. She was selling the home she loved to be nearer to him. She was crying because of him. “Emma, you don't have to...”
“ Yes, I do.” He could almost see her trying to compose herself. “I'm sorry. I just needed to hear your voice. I'll be okay.”
He'd needed to hear hers, too. “You can call me when you're not drunk or having a meltdown, you know.”
“I know.” Her laugh was a little shaky. “But I try to limit calls to emergencies only.”
“ Getting drunk or having to paint your house beige are emergencies? Shit, baby girl. What are you doing with me?”
She was silent for a beat. “You think I'm a pussy?”
“No, I think you're perfect.”
~ oOo ~
In the two months he'd been away, Emma had transformed her home. She'd boxed up her stuff and put some of her furniture into storage. Deke had to admit it would be nice not to have to yell “Goddammit, woman! Get rid of that fucking piano!” every time he stubbed his toe on the fucking thing, but the room was too empty now. All the rooms except the kitchen were now painted cream, and she'd even stripped and re-varnished the living room floor. He stood with his arms around her and looked around. “I'm sorry.” It was all he could think of to say. The room felt…dead. It wasn't her anymore.
She smiled. “It's okay, Deke.” Her hands found their way up his tee shirt. “It's okay, I love you. I want to be with you. It's only a house.”
She was so beautiful - he bent and kissed her - she tasted so good. He wanted to taste all of her. To feel all of her. “Emma...” She reached up and grabbing his hair, kissed him harder, her teeth grazing his lip. Reluctantly, he pulled away. “You really need to get naked.”
He followed suit as she began pulling off her clothes. Jesus, she got more perfect every time he saw her. She frowned. “Deke, you're doing that staring thing again.”
“Admiring.”
“ Whatever.” She stepped closer and with her hands flat against his chest pushed him backwards until his calves were pressed against the sofa and he had no choice but to sit, then climbed onto his lap and began to bite his neck.
He wanted to push her off, to force her onto her knees. He wanted to control her. To own her. He wanted... He felt, rather than heard himself moan as her
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