Desolate Souls (Forgotten Souls MC, #1) (30 page)

“Mr. Martin, do you have anything to add?” Judge Mitchell asks, his gaze meeting mine.

“No your honor,” I say, raising my brow at him. If he’s smart, he will see things my way.

“Alright,” he says, looking anywhere but at me. A lifetime seems to pass as he recites law, talks about the appalling nature of my crimes, and what sentence he could impose on me. “That being said Mr. Martin, I believe you too were a victim of this entire operation. I cannot imagine what horrors you have seen in your years involved with Mr. Daniels and I commend you for stepping forward to bring him to justice.”

It’s like taking candy from a baby. It’s not who you know, it’s what you know and in this case, I know the prosecutor and Judge Mitchell quite well. It didn’t take much to convince Dale Baker to offer me one hell of a plea bargain. With Trix’s help, I was able to pass along my message, which he heard loud and clear. Judge Frank Mitchell will be just as easy. What I know about these two men will not only ruin their marriages and reputation, but their careers as well. Unlike Hawk, I wasn’t hiding in the background. I was out front, negotiating with each of these men firsthand when they had needs to be fulfilled. They know what I have on them and that I will use it to my advantage. The best part is that neither knows of the other, making my plan even more devious.

“It’s my understanding that the original charges in this case were sex trafficking and three counts of murder, and that Mr. Martin has agreed to plead no contest to the charges of facilitating prostitution and three counts of involuntary manslaughter.”

“Yes your honor,” the Dale says, nodding his head, an arrogant look on his plump face. He looks over at me, an accomplished look on his face. He thinks I am going down, and I can’t wait to see that smug look turn into astonishment when my sentence is passed down. He thinks he has the upper hand here and that the judge isn’t in my pocket. He is dead wrong. “The state would ask for the maximum sentence on all three charges.”
Sixteen years. Good luck with that fucker.

“Understood counselor, but I cannot consciously impose such a harsh sentence on someone who was a victim of circumstance. Mr. Martin was forced into this operation at a young age and it is the only life he has really known. As for the charges of involuntary manslaughter, I think it has been established that if Mr. Martin had not reacted, he would not be standing here today.”

I fight back the urge to smile as Dale turns beet red. He knows he’s lost, he just doesn’t know how badly.

Judge Mitchell returns his focus to me. “After careful consideration of the facts in this case, I accept your plea in this matter.” He pauses for only a moment before continuing. “On the charge of facilitating prostitution, I sentence you to six months in prison. As for the charges of involuntary manslaughter, I also sentence you to nine months in prison for each charge, all sentences to run concurrent with credit for time served.”

As the courtroom erupts in chaos, I continue staring straight ahead, planning my next move.
It won’t be long now, Alana. In just a few short weeks, you and I will be together again.

M
y eyes open instinctively when I feel her absence. Rolling over, I can still feel her warmth on the sheets and realize she has just left my side. Throwing the covers off me, I climb out of bed and pull on my boxers before going in search of her.

Stepping into the living room, I smile at the sound of pots clanging, undoubtedly Alana is attempting to make breakfast. Stalking towards the kitchen, I stand back and admire the view of Alana clad in her tiny tank top and boy shorts, oblivious to my presence. Yesterday marked her fourth month of pregnancy and her body is just as amazing as ever. She is barely showing, only a small bump visible, but in her eyes she’s as big as a whale– at least those are her words. To me she is perfect. I can’t wait until her stomach is round with my child, evidence of the love the two of us share.

Alana turns to open the refrigerator, her enlarged breasts straining against the thin fabric of her tank top, making me instantly hard. Thank God pregnancy agrees with her or I’d be suffering from an extremely painful case of blue balls. Alana has been insatiable, wanting sex two to three times a day and far be it from me to complain.

Sneaking up behind her as she approaches the stove, I wrap my arms around her and press my lips to her neck. “Good morning,” I moan against her silken skin.

“Did I wake you?” she asks, taking in a deep breath when I nip her shoulder lightly.

“No babe,” I smile, not wanting to admit I can’t sleep without her beside me. “Whatcha makin’?”

“Waffles,” she says, turning in my arms. “Unless you had something else in mind?” she asks, suggestively.

God how I love this woman. “Oh, I can think of a few things,” I murmur before lowering my lips to hers.

Pulling back, she looks up at me scowling. “Is that all you ever think about?” she asks, putting her hands on her hips. Narrowing my eyes at her, I try to figure out if she’s joking or not, but can’t tell until she bursts out laughing. “Did you really think I was being serious?” she giggles.

“Hey, how am I supposed to know if you’re getting all hormonal on me or not?” I say, chuckling.

“You’re so fuckin’ easy,” she says, pointing to the stool behind me. “The waffles are almost ready.”

“Yes dear,” I say, pretending to sulk as I take a seat, my eyes glued to her ass as she continues making breakfast.

Quickly, she plates two waffles with a side of sausage, placing it on the counter in front of me before sliding a coffee mug my way. “I need to go into town today,” she says, grabbing her glass of orange juice.

“I can take you after church,” I offer around a mouthful of food.

“You sure you don’t mind? I need to buy some bigger bras,” she says, looking down at her ever growing chest. “Is it possible to carry a baby in your boobs?”

“What?” I choke out.

“I’ve got to get some bras. I’m wondering how big they’re gonna get.” She places her hands over her breasts, lifting them slightly.

“I...” my voice trails off, unable to finish my thought, let alone respond.

Shaking her head, she smirks at me. “Finish your breakfast and I’m gonna get dressed,” she says, leaving me alone. My appetite, at least for food, has vanished. Shoveling the remainder of food in my mouth, I stand, rushing towards the sink with my plate, desperately needing to curb my sexual appetite.

Just as I turn to head towards the bedroom, Alana emerges, already dressed and ready to go.
So much for that idea,
I think to myself. “Give me five and we can head out,” I say as I walk towards the bedroom.

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“W
hat do you think about this one?” Alana asks, holding yet another bra up for my opinion.

“They all look the same to me,” I say, shrugging. “It’s an over the shoulder boulder holder no matter what color you pick out.”

“This one is a demi,” she retorts, rolling her eyes at me. “Regretting bringing me to the mall?” she asks, giggling at me.

“Not at all,” I say, although at this moment I am. I had no clue that buying bras would be an all day ordeal.

“Yeah right,” she smirks, adding the bra to the growing collection in her arms. “I’ll be right back,” she adds before stalking towards the dressing room.

I look around the almost abandoned store, my eyes landing on several pieces of lingerie on display, letting my mind picture Alana in each one of them. Closing my eyes, I try to push those thoughts aside. Last thing I need is to walk around the mall with a raging hard on.

“Jax!” I turn towards the dressing room at the sound of Alana’s voice calling out to me. “Can you help me for a minute?”

I glance over my shoulder towards the clerk who is perched behind the counter, intrigued by whatever she is looking at on her iPhone. “Sure,” I mumble, walking towards the dressing area to find Alana’s head peering from around the corner of the doorway.

“I’m having a little problem,” she says, disappearing behind the door, holding it open so that I can enter.

Stepping inside, I see the room is larger than I had imagined, even boasting a chair in the corner. I turn at the sound of the door shutting, my eyes widening at the sight of Alana dressed in a white lace bra, her hardened nipples forming peaks in the barely there fabric, and a matching thong. My cock instantly becomes rigid, straining against the harsh denim of my jeans. Swallowing hard, I force my gaze to meet her eyes. “You said you were having a problem?”

Biting her lower lip, Alana takes the few steps necessary to close the distance between us. Without saying a word, she rises on her tip toes, her tongue darting between my parted lips. Breathing her in, I relish in the taste that is Alana, memorizing the feel of her body pressed to mine.

She pulls back, panting hard, her eyes meeting mine filled with a need reminiscent of my own. Without a word she reaches behind her, releasing the clasps of her bra, letting it fall silently to the floor. As she takes a step closer to me, I reach out, wanting to feel her hardened nipples between my fingertips, only for her to push me back onto the metal chair perched in the corner.

“Hey!” I mutter, only for her to silence me with a single finger pressed to my lips.

“Shhh,” she whispers as she takes a step back. Slowly, with precise purpose, she lowers her thong, tossing it towards me. My eyes are torn between her engorged tits and the sweetness between her thighs, my mouth watering at the thought of eating her sweet pussy until she begs me to fuck her.

Closing the expanse between us, she drops to her knees, swiftly releasing my throbbing cock from my jeans, her eyes never leaving mine as her fingers wrap around my girth, caressing it gently. “I want you,” she mouths before lowering her lips to the crown, her tongue snaking out to lavish the pearly droplet on the tip. She moans ever so slightly, before taking my entire length into her mouth, ravishing my rod with her tongue as she glides up and down.

I want to touch her, make her feel the same pleasure she is giving me, but as soon as my fingertips brush against the swell of her breast, she pulls back. “I’m in control,” she whispers, rising to her feet.

Spreading her legs ever so slightly, she reaches down, giving me a glimpse of her hardened clit before slowly encircling it with her fingertips. Throwing her head back, she continues working herself, her free hand caressing her left breast. Without taking my eyes off of her, I reach down and firmly grasp my cock, stroking it rhythmically, matching her pace. Her eyes lower to my staff, the want in her eyes increasing.

Taking in a ragged breath, her hands drop to her side before she walks towards me. Straddling the chair, she looks down at me with heated eyes. “You are mine,” she whispers as she lowers herself onto my raging cock until I am buried deep inside.

It takes everything I have to remain silent as she rides me hard, bringing me closer to release. Just when I think I can hold back no longer, she slows, rising up until only the head remains inside, and then slamming herself down again. Gripping her hips tightly, I thrust up into her over and over again until I feel her pussy clamping down on me like a vice. Leaning down, she buries her face in my neck, biting down as she finds her release at the same time I find my own.

We both are panting as we come down from the pinnacle of ecstasy. No matter how many times I have her, each time seems like the first and I can’t help but wonder if it will always be this way with us. Then I look into her eyes, and know it will never change because love like ours will only get stronger with each passing day.

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