Biker's Claim The Broken Angel is Mine (Cora and Jake) novel Chapter 43

Chapter 43

Cora POV

A kiss woke me from a dreamless sleep.

Gunner’s smile was what my eyes saw when I opened them.

What a wonderful way to wake up.

Not just the warm kiss and a cute face, well, cute to me, but food. I could smell it, struggling to get rid of the sleep–heavy body. I got up, went to the bathroom, and my stomach reminded me that I hadn’t eaten lunch and very little for breakfast. It was thoughtful of Gunner to bring it up, sit with me and eat together, something my ex would never have done. The more I think about it, the more I can see my ex was using me, and he was a selfish man, now that I have a worthy comparison to compare against.

After our meal, Gunner went to the bathroom to take a shower. As I removed my clothes, I considered his thoughtfulness, and an idea came to mind. I carefully entered the bathroom and moved in to join him in

the shower.

He had shampoo in his hair and beard, plus all over his face, making it difficult to open his eyes. I squatted down in front of him, careful not to touch him till I was in position and took his member in my hand, and guided it to my mouth, nipping, sucking, and playing with his balls. Gunner jumped at first at the unexpected touch, not having noticed I had snuck into the shower. Water and soap suds cascaded down on my head and back as I took liberties with his body. He groaned at the same time as his hands took hold of my head, and he started to thrust in my mouth. The shower echoed with the loud sound of me slapping his wet butt when he started to thrust slowly in my mouth, which stretched my mouth wider than I liked, causing some discomfort, and him taking control of my fun. He was a big man, and thrusting in my mouth was not on. As a result, he stopped thrusting, removed his hands and placed them on the shower wall, leaning forward to protect me from the cascade of water.

“Stop, or you will get a mouthful. I am about to explode,” Gunner said through gritted teeth. I had hardly started, or that was what I thought. He must have missed me a lot to be already there. That was a comforting thought; it also meant, to me, that he hadn’t had any club girl while I was not at the clubhouse, he could have taken any girl without me knowing about it.

I didn’t stop till he filled my mouth, and he called out my name, panting from the exhilaration. I stood up, gave him a sweet kiss, rinsed, and left him to finish his shower, pleased with myself for being spontaneous. I have never been this; I have always been confident, happy in my own skin, never doubting myself, until that day, when my illusions of happiness shattered. That was when I knew I had to change. But I didn’t know how or what needed to change, not really, like it wasn’t like changing your clothes to suit your mood or your lipstick, but the hidden something emerging, I think, and it clears my head a little more each day. And today was the big step in my change, going for what I want, or at least discovering what I really want, because even that’s not clearly defined either.

I loved the time I had here, but thought I needed to prove I could stand on my own two feet, after the rug

vantes

Com

had been pulled out from under me, in the recent past, it was still too raw too new to completely break down, and departmentalize and moving to that nurses‘ housing was my first step, because staying here at the clubhouse, being looking after, I didn’t think I was healing, the way I thought I needed to heal, or to find

me again..

I needed to prove to myself that I was still the me I was before the incident.

It was like I had started a before–the–betrayal and after–betrayal list now, and I hated it.

What that incident had taken away from me, and that I had changed over time to suit them without even realising I had made those changes, to fit in and accept.

I need me back.

Whoever I am.

Returning here was me, a start.

I don’t know if this relationship will last, and that scares me because making it last would mean I would have to trust Gunner with my heart, and I wasn’t sure if I knew how to trust again, not like that.

Thought at the time, when I moved away and had spent time by myself, it would help me heal and move on, grow, but then Gunner came to me, telling me he wanted to continue, me to be his girlfriend, and see where it goes, to date me, and in a blink of an eye everything changed again, because I wanted that as much as the air I breathe. I wanted to see what he could offer me, and whether I could learn to love again and trust completely, because never trusting again was hurting me. I could see myself becoming a bitter, sad old woman if I stayed closed off. That was not the me I wanted to find, to develop, to grow. Gunner did take me on a fantastic date, better than I expected, on a ride of my life, which I absolutely loved. I can’t wait to be on the back of the bike again, see new places and meet new people.

The bike had another purpose for me on the road to healing and discovery: it was about learning to trust in other ways, because I was learning that trust was more than trusting a man or a person with your heart. There were other kinds of trust, like trusting myself in my job, trusting that my decisions are right because life depends on me, and if I am honest with myself, when on the back of the bike, with Gunner, I recognized that I trusted him, his experience with riding, that he knows his own limitations, and while I am on the back, rides within them, keeping me a safe as he can.

Those are the kinds of trust I am starting to see as my mind starts to think more clearly, without emotions blurring the edges, identifying what I can see as true and real. I have accepted that I would never trust those three again. My family, back in what I used to call home, are dead to me. My father was never one to show me a lot of affection if I was honest with myself, only pretending to make Mum happy, and once my mother died, I had to accept his anger. After losing her, I was told it was a transfer of pain to something or someone close to them. It was common, and that was seven years ago. I often wondered if Dad was not my biological father, but I never managed to find out. I should have done a DNA test years ago to quell those doubts. Stupid ideas, but never did, maybe scared to find out I was on a one–night stand, and mum didn’t know who the father was, or something worse, a result of r**e.

M

Cham

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify