Madeline Sheehan - Unbeautifully

He. Took. It. All.

He wasn’t giving it back.

Danny was his.

Now he just had to figure out how he was going to convince her father of that.

• • •

“Stop looking at me like that,” I whispered, feeling flustered and blushing as I yanked my skirt down.

Ripper, who hadn’t had to right his clothing because he hadn’t had to do much except unbutton his pants, was grinning down at me, watching me try to re-assemble myself.

“Shirt’s on inside out.” He laughed. “Musta been from the pantry.”

I looked down and, damn it, my tank top was on inside out. Embarrassed, I closed my eyes, thinking about everyone who’d seen me after I’d left the kitchen. Did they know? Had it been obvious what I’d been doing? Had I waited long enough after Ripper had left the kitchen? I didn’t know. Who knew how long Eva and Dorothy had been standing out there.

“Ripper.”

I nearly jumped out of my skin but Ripper, upon hearing his name, had gone still, his smile slipping off his face. It took him all of a second to steel his expression and then he was turning around and facing Hawk.

“Yeah?”

Hawk’s narrowed eyes landed on me and I swallowed hard. How was one supposed to look nonchalant when they felt like anything but?

“What’s up?” Hawk asked warily, glancing between the two of us.

Pulling his cigarettes from his cut, Ripper lit one up and shrugged. “Not a whole fuck of a lot. You?”

Hawk flexed his jaw, his hard stare now on Ripper.

He knew.

He so knew.

“Just hopin’ you know what you’re doin’, brother.”

Ripper’s fist clenched around his lit cigarette. Ash and tobacco fell through his fingers, drifting down to his feet. I stared at his hand, in shock that he didn’t seem to care that he was purposely burning himself.

“How’s D doin’?” Ripper gritted out. “Good? Or is she still throwin’ dishes at your head?”

My head shot up. D? And throwing dishes? What did Dorothy or dishes have to do with anything?

Hawk’s response was nearly imperceptible, just a small flinch, a twitch really and an extra blink, something I wouldn’t have even noticed if I hadn’t been staring directly at his face. Something was going on, something involving Dorothy and Hawk.

The two men said nothing as they continued to stare at each other.

Then Hawk gave a slight nod. “Fair enough,” he said gruffly. “Ain’t none of my business anyways.”

As Hawk walked off, Ripper turned to me. “Go to your room, baby. I got this shit.”

I did as he said, nervous yet confident that Ripper knew what he was talking about, and called Anabeth.

She answered after three rings. “Are you still on lockdown?”

I sighed. “Yes.”

“Ew.”

“Yeah.”

“So, what’s up?”

“I need a favor.”

“A sexual favor?”

I rolled my eyes. “Shut up.”

“Well, what then?” she asked, sounding bored.

“After lockdown, I want to spend a few days at Ripper’s. Will you cover for me?”

“Actually,” she said, snapping her gum. “If it’s next week, it works out perfectly. It’s the annual fam’ trip to the Poconos.”

I grinned. That was perfect. Anabeth would be gone for an entire week, which meant for that entire week I could be alone with Ripper. Alone.

Envisioning all the things we could do while alone, without worry of being caught, my stomach flip-flopped.

“Thank you,” I said, unable to keep excitement from bleeding into my voice.

Her gum snapped. “I want something in return.”

I made a face. “What?”

“I want to know how big Ripper is.”

“Anabeth,” I said, exasperated. “Why do you even care?”

“Because,” she said pointedly. “If you ever get sick of big, scarred, and sexy, I want to know if he’s worth my time.”

Just thinking about Ripper with another woman, let alone one of my closest friends, made me sick to my stomach. But as much as I wanted to tell her to go to hell, I knew she wouldn’t let up.

“He’s big,” I admitted. “But I don’t have much to compare him to.”

“I want inches and circumference,” she said, her tone matter-of-fact.

“Oh my god, Anabeth, seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“Fine.” I sighed. “He’s, um, like as long as…” I trailed off, looking around my room, trying to find something to compare Ripper’s penis to. “The DVR remote. Or, almost as long,” I finished, picking the remote up off my bed and studying it.

“Mmmm,” Anabeth murmured. “Nice. What about girth? When you hold it, do your fingers overlap?”

“Oh. My. God.” I groaned. “I hate you. No, they don’t overlap, they don’t even touch.”

“Perfect,” she purred. “Does he eat you out?”

“I’m hanging up now!”

“What? It’s a legitimate question and a deal breaker for me. If a guy isn’t going to go down on—”

I hung up.

Two seconds later my phone vibrated, signaling a new text message.

What about stamina? Is he a one, two pump?

I was in heaven.

Two days ago my father had come back from New York, officially ending lockdown. The club had gone into secret meeting mode and I’d gone home with Eva and Ivy. The next morning my father and Cage, along with half the club, left for North Dakota.

And now…I was in heaven.

And my heaven consisted of the bare bones of a home, if you could even call Ripper’s tiny, one-bedroom log cabin in the middle of nowhere, a home. He didn’t even have real dishware, only plastic plates and cups and, yes, plastic sporks. There were no curtains or carpets, no pictures or paintings on the walls, nothing was personal except a small picture of his parents he had on his bedside table. They were conservative-looking people, well dressed with an air of importance about them. His mother was a strikingly beautiful woman and his father, an older, clean-cut version of Ripper minus the long hair and scars. They looked nothing like I’d thought the parents of my gruff and overbearing biker would have looked.

My biker.

My biker, whose hands—beautifully large and covered in deliciously rough, hardened skin—were groping me as I lay naked on my back. Sneaking past the slats of the window blinds, warm rays of sunlight were warming my skin wherever they landed. Heaven.

“You hungry?” Ripper whispered, licking at the side of my neck.

Was I hungry? Oh my god, who cared about food? I was sore everywhere, I was excited and nervous and insanely happy and scared out of my mind and…

“Baby,” he said, grinning, “you gotta be hungry. I know I’m hungry. We haven’t left this fuckin’ bed in twenty-four motherfuckin’ hours. Let’s get you in the shower, and then you can make us somethin’ to eat.”

“Mmm,” I murmured, hooking my arms around his neck. “Whatever you say.”

“Whatever I say?” He laughed as he dragged me out of bed and into the hallway. “Careful, beautiful girl, I might take you up on that.”

Like I’d care. Whatever he wanted me to do, whatever he wanted to do to me, I already knew the answer would be a thousand times yes. I was at the point of no return, falling hard for a man I’d had more sex with than conversations. But for some reason, it didn’t seem strange to me.

Every time he moved inside of me, looking up into his gaze, it felt as if we had already spoken a million words at a million different times.

We existed in a world where words weren’t needed. Everything I needed to know, everything he was feeling, I could already see on his face and feel through his touch.

And what I saw, what I felt, was…

He loved me.

I don’t know how I knew, because I’d never been loved by a man who wasn’t my father or my brother, loving me only out of familial obligation. Never, ever like this, nothing in my life had ever felt like this, but somehow I knew…I just knew.

In the bathroom, inside the large tub shower, my eyes closed, I reveled in his touches, his kisses, as the hot water poured down over us, washing away hours upon hours of sweat and sex that I was determined to put right back on us.

“You’re killin’ me.” He groaned as I cupped him and began stroking him back to life.

“Ripper,” I begged, feeling like I would burst if I didn’t have this man inside of me. Right. Now.

“Please…now…please…”

I couldn’t get enough.

I would never get enough.

Pushing me up against the wall, he gripped my side with one hand; his other slid down my leg and grabbed a hold of the back of my knee. Lifting my leg, he situated it high around his waist and then he was there, right where I needed him between my thighs, hard and ready and pushing inside of me.

Moaning, gripping his biceps, I let my body go soft and limp, letting Ripper take complete control.

“Baby.” He groaned, sliding inside of me. “Ah, god, Danny…I gotta see your face, baby, please…”

He stopped, paused to brush several thick clumps of wet hair out of my eyes, and with heavy lids and water-blurred vision, I blinked up at him.

“That’s it,” he whispered, pulling out. My hips jerked up, not wanting to lose him. “You look right at me, beautiful girl. I need to see you, I gotta see that way you fuckin’ look at me.”

He thrust back inside and my eyes closed as all the air left my body.

“Eyes,” he demanded, pulling out and slamming back inside. “Look at me, Danielle.”

I kept my gaze locked with his. Even when it was nearly impossible to do so. Even when my womb was burning, quivering, and clenching with my release, even when he took me harder and faster, even when my legs were shaking, my body jelly, my mind nothing but mush, still I kept my eyes on him.