His Old Lady - Debra Kayn Page 0,91

cock stroked and hit the sensitive erogenous zone deep inside of her and pulled a gasp from her.

Again, and again.

"Curley." Her fingers curled on the wall, and her arms shook. "I can't. I can't."

He pulled out of her and turned her around. Relief swept down her arms, and she reached up, sliding her hands around his neck. He gripped her waist and lifted her. Facing him, she hooked her legs around his hips.

Shards of pleasure split off inside of her, filling each limb as he settled her on his hardness. Capturing his mouth, she made love to his tongue.

A light sheen of sweat coated his back. Her grip on him slipped.

He took her down to the floor. She bucked underneath him, biting into his shoulder. The slight taste of salt coiled her insides. Her pussy squeezed down on him.

"Oh, God." She rhythmically thrust up, moving her hips, climbing higher.

He grunted. She strained. Both of them moaning, grabbing, pulling, pushing—doing their best to crawl inside of each other.

Her heart lurched. Caught in the grasp of her climax, she couldn't stop.

Curley pushed up to his hands and lengthened his strokes inside of her, grinding against her when he hit the end, only to pull back and start over.

His gaze fluttered between her breasts and her eyes. She whimpered, losing control.

"Scream it." He grunted.

The prominent slap of their skin played for her ears. As if drugged, she left her body as her orgasm coiled and unraveled.

"Cur..." Her whole body convulsed, suspending her in time. "...ley."

He buried himself in her and groaned. His shudder rocked her body.

It was the most beautiful, peaceful feeling to ever overcome her. She pulled him down on top of her and held him. Welcoming his weight, she closed her eyes.

"I love you," she whispered.

He lifted his head, framing her head with his hands. "Never doubt that I love you."

Chapter 41

Curley

Faye clung to his hand. Curley squeezed her fingers, watching the door. They'd already waited an hour in the holding room to find out if Walker would see them, and if the prison would allow them both to come back at the same time to visit.

The rules posted on the wall permitted two people back at a time. Though he knew from experience that none of the Tarkio members on the outside would ever be allowed to go inside in pairs.

Rules meant shit. If the higher-ups wanted to stop visits, they'd find an excuse not to let him in.

He hoped for Faye's sake, they'd let a female in with him.

They'd already agreed back at the house if only one person gained access to Walker, it would be him. It was important to Faye that he and Walker talk.

The door opened. A male guard with a clipboard scanned the room. "Carl Albright. Faye Walker."

Faye glanced at him, probably taken back by the use of his real name. He shielded his reaction, not wanting his road name used within the building, and brought Faye forward with him.

She looked forward to the visit and led the way as they walked through the long hallway. It would be the first time in sixteen years that all three of them would come face to face together.

A short time for him.

Almost a lifetime for Faye.

And for Walker—Hell had no time.

Shown to the partition, blocking them from the other visitors, he let Faye sit in the chair at the counter in front of the Plexiglas. He stood behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. Underneath his palms, he picked up on the slight tremor in her body.

Or maybe that was him.

He hadn't looked forward to the visit. It was hard to face his MC brother, who'd given up his freedom to save him. Over the years, he'd gone from pissed off and full of rage toward Walker for having taken the hit for him to not wanting to face him because the guilt crippled him.

It should be him behind the glass.

He squeezed Faye's shoulders.

If he lived two lifetimes, there was never any way he could pay back Walker for what he'd done. There would be no Faye in his life if he was serving time.

Faye stiffened. Curley gazed toward the left as far as he could see and spotted Walker. The guard led him toward the table. Their slow procession dictated by the chain-linked from the handcuffs to the ankle shackles.

A perpetual frown marred Walker's hard-lined face. The pit of Curley's stomach hardened. Knowing Walker had already received the news of what happened with Cal