Piston (Iron Reapers MC #2)

Chapter 12

TWELVE

PISTON

The punching bag jolts under my fists, the dull thud echoing through the clubhouse gym. Sweat drips down my bare chest as I channel my frustration into each punch. Dagger holds the bag steady, his eyes studying me.

"Yo, Piston, ease up. What's eating you, man?"

I grunt, slamming my wrapped knuckles into the worn leather. "Nothing." But my mind drifts to Jenny, back at the salon after playing nursemaid to my sorry ass. I don't need her here, but damn if I don't sleep better knowing she's close, safe.

Mason's words from the other day rattle in my skull, raw as road rash. He'd burst into my room like a goddamn hurricane, eyes blazing.

"The hell is wrong with you, Piston? You're being a grade-A prick to everyone, especially Jenny. That girl cares about you, God knows why, and you're pushing her away. Get your head outta your ass before you lose her for good."

Each word struck like a punch to the gut, because deep down, I knew the bastard was right. I'd been a miserable fuck, too busy wallowing in my own shit to see what was right in front of me.

I step back from the bag, unwrapping my hands. "Gonna hit the showers." Dagger nods, understanding in his gaze.

The scalding water pounds against my skin as I brace my hands against the tile wall. Steam curls around me, but it can't untangle the knots in my chest. I've been a fool, pushing away the one person who gives a damn about me, who sees past the ink and scars.

Jenny's face fills my mind - her bright smile, the way her eyes spark when she laughs. I hate myself for dimming that light with my bullshit. My cock twitches, growing hard as I imagine her here with me, water cascading over her curves. I wrap a hand around my shaft, stroking in time with my racing heart. I picture her on her knees, my dick disappearing between her full lips. Fuck, I want to bury myself in her tight heat, claim her, make her mine.

My grip tightens, twisting on the upstroke as I lose myself in the fantasy. I'd worship every inch of her body, trail my tongue over her soft skin until she's writhing beneath me. I'd sink into her slick folds, feeling her walls flutter around my cock as I make her come undone. My balls tighten, and with a muffled groan, I spill over my fist, her name a prayer on my lips.

But it's not enough. I need the real thing - I need her. And I'll do whatever it takes to make things right, to prove to her that she means more to me than just a warm body in my bed. Even if it means facing the demons that haunt me.

I shut off the water, resolve hardening in my gut. It's time to man up and fight for what matters. Jenny's it for me, and I'll be damned if I let my own stupidity fuck it up. She's the light in my darkness, and I'll walk through hell to keep her by my side.

I swing by the store on my way back to the apartment, grabbing ingredients for dinner. If there's one thing Ma taught me, it's that actions speak louder than words. Time to show Jenny I'm not just a dick with a patch.

"Hey, darlin'," I call out as I shoulder open the door, arms laden with groceries. "Why don't you grab a shower and get comfy? I've got dinner covered tonight."

Jenny pokes her head out from the bedroom, brows raised in surprise. "You're cooking? Should I be worried?"

I flash her a grin, setting the bags on the counter. "Have a little faith, sweetheart. I've got skills you haven't seen yet."

She laughs, shaking her head as she disappears into the bathroom. "Alright, color me intrigued. But if you burn down the kitchen, you're explaining it to the landlord!"

I chuckle, rolling up my sleeves as I get to work. The familiar motions of cooking settle my nerves, giving me something to focus on besides the churning in my gut. I'm not used to putting myself out there, but for her, I'll do anything.

Before long, the apartment is filled with the aroma of garlic and sizzling shrimp. I set the table just as Jenny emerges, damp hair clinging to her neck, wrapped in one of my oversized t-shirts. Fuck, she looks good enough to eat.

"Wow, Piston, this looks amazing," she says, eyes widening as she takes in the spread. "Shrimp alfredo, Greek salad, garlic bread... I'm impressed!"

"Told you I had skills," I smirk, pulling out her chair. "Dig in, baby. Mi casa es su casa and all that."

We settle into an easy rhythm, the clink of silverware punctuating our conversation. I watch as Jenny takes a bite, her eyes fluttering shut in bliss.

"Oh my god, this is incredible," she moans around a mouthful of pasta. "Where'd you learn to cook like this?"

I shrug, spearing a shrimp with my fork. "Ma insisted all us kids learn our way around the kitchen. Said no son of hers would grow up expecting a woman to wait on him hand and foot."

Jenny smiles, something soft and warm in her eyes. "Your mom sounds like a smart woman. I wish I had half her talent in the kitchen. My attempts usually end up as charcoal briquettes."

"Nah, you've got plenty of other talents," I grin, letting my gaze drag over her curves. "Besides, I like taking care of you for a change."

She ducks her head, a pretty flush staining her cheeks. "Well, I appreciate it. It's been a long time since someone cooked for me like this."

I reach across the table, running my thumb over her knuckles. "Get used to it, darlin'. I plan on doing a lot more of this from now on."

Her hand twists beneath mine, fingers lacing together. "I think I could get on board with that."

We lapse into silence for a bit, savoring the meal and each other's company. But there's something I need to know, a question that's been nagging at me.

"Tell me about your family," I say, leaning back in my chair. "You don't talk about them much."

Jenny sighs, pushing a tomato around her plate. "Not much to tell, really. My dad was in the military - Marines. Did a few tours in the Middle East before I was born."

I nod, understanding dawning. "PTSD?"

"Yeah," she says softly, meeting my gaze. "It was bad when I was growing up. He'd have these episodes, just... check out for days at a time. Mom did her best, but it was hard on all of us."

I reach for her hand again, squeezing gently. "I'm sorry, darlin'. That's a tough row to hoe."

She shrugs, a wry smile tugging at her lips. "It is what it is. I learned to be pretty self-sufficient early on. Had to, with Dad gone half the time and Mom working doubles to keep the lights on."

"Explains a lot about you," I murmur, studying her face. "You're a survivor, Jenny. Strongest damn woman I know."

Her eyes shine with unshed tears, but she blinks them back, straightening her spine. "We do what we have to, right? Life keeps moving, whether we're ready or not."

"Ain't that the truth," I agree, rubbing my thumb over her palm. "But you don't have to do it alone anymore, you hear me? I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere."

She nods, a wobbly smile spreading across her face. "I'm starting to get that."

Then her smile turns mischievous, eyes sparkling with humor. "But if you think cooking me one meal gets you off the hook for being an ass, you've got another thing coming, mister."

I bark out a laugh, shaking my head. "Wouldn't dream of it, darlin'. I've got a lot of groveling to do, and I'm just getting started."

She giggles, the sound warming me from the inside out. "Damn straight. Now, what's for dessert?"

I grin, pushing back from the table and stalking towards her. "Oh, I've got a few ideas..."

And as I scoop her into my arms, her peals of laughter echoing off the walls, I know I'd do anything to keep that smile on her face. She's my redemption, my reason to be a better man.

And I'm sure as hell not letting her go.

A couple of days later, we're sprawled on the couch, some mindless action flick playing on the TV. But my focus is on Jenny, the way she's curled into my side like she belongs there.

"Hey," she says softly, tilting her head to look up at me. "Can I tell you something?"

"Anything, darlin'," I reply, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face.

She takes a deep breath, like she's steeling herself. "It's about my mom."

I sit up a little straighter, giving her my full attention. "I'm listening."

"She died when I was sixteen," Jenny begins, her voice wavering slightly. "Car accident. It was just me and my dad after that, and he... he didn't handle it well."

I tighten my arm around her, silently urging her to continue.

"He started drinking, lost his job. I had to pick up the slack, you know? Make sure the bills got paid, food was on the table." She shakes her head, a bitter twist to her lips. "I grew up fast."

"I'm sorry, Jenny," I murmur, pressing a kiss to her temple. "That must've been rough."

She shrugs, but I can see the pain in her eyes. "It was what it was. But I had Carlie. She's been my rock through everything."

"You two are close, huh?" I ask, remembering the fierce protectiveness in Carlie's eyes when she'd confronted me at the bar.

"She's more than just my best friend," Jenny says, a soft smile lighting up her face. "She's my sister, my family. I don't know what I'd do without her."

I nod, understanding the sentiment all too well.

Piston watched Jenny as she bustled around the kitchen, putting away the last of the dishes from their dinner. Her long brown hair swayed with her movements, catching the light. She was humming softly to herself, lost in her own little world.

He marveled at her strength, her resilience. Everything she'd been through - losing her mom, her dad's struggles, being on her own so young. And yet here she was, this bright, beautiful woman who lit up every room she walked into. She wasn't just a pretty face tending bar and doing hair. She was a fighter, a survivor. Just like him.

Jenny glanced over, catching him staring at her. A slow smile spread across her face. "What's that look for?"

Piston pushed off the counter and crossed to her in two long strides. He reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering on her cheek. "Nothin'. Just thinkin' about how amazing you are."

Her cheeks flushed pink and she playfully swatted his chest. "Stop it. I'm nothing special."

"You're wrong." His voice was low and serious. "You're the most special woman I've ever met. The way you keep going, no matter what life throws at you. Your big heart. That smile that lights up the world. You're one of a kind, darlin'."

Tears welled in her eyes. She bit her lip, blinking them back. "Piston, I..."

He cut off her words with a searing kiss, no longer able to hold back. She responded instantly, opening for him, her arms winding around his neck. He grabbed her hips, lifting her up onto the counter. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer.

Piston groaned as he ground his hard cock against her center, only the thin fabric of her little shorts separating them. He needed to feel her, taste her. With a growl, he shoved the flimsy material aside and slid his fingers through her slick folds. She cried out, her head falling back as he stroked her.

"Fuck, you're so wet for me," he rasped against her throat. "I need you, Jenny. All of you."

"Yes," she panted, yanking at his shirt. "I need you too. Now."

Clothes went flying as they frantically undressed each other, desperate to eliminate any barriers between them. Piston dipped his head, pulling one rosy nipple into his mouth while he thumbed the other. Jenny mewled and writhed beneath him.

He stood, picking her up, and carried her down the hall to his bedroom. Gently, he laid her on the bed, taking a moment just to admire her naked body spread out before him like a feast.

Then he was on her, kissing and licking his way down her body until he reached the promised land. He inhaled deeply, her musky sweet scent filling his nostrils. "Fuck, you smell good enough to eat."

Piston made good on his words, burying his face between her thighs and lapping at her wetness like a man starved. She tasted like honey and sin. He couldn't get enough. Jenny's moans and whimpers urged him on as he drove her closer to the edge with his lips and tongue.

"Piston, please," she begged breathlessly. "I need you inside me."

He surged up her body, capturing her mouth in a carnal kiss, letting her taste herself. His painfully hard cock notched at her entrance. With one smooth thrust, he buried himself to the hilt in her tight, wet heat. They both cried out at the intensity, the rightness of their joining.

He started to move, long deep strokes that had her clutching at his shoulders and meeting him thrust for thrust. The world fell away until there was nothing but the two of them, their bodies moving as one, racing toward sweet oblivion.

"You're mine," Piston growled as he felt her starting to flutter around him. "My woman."

"Yes, yours," Jenny agreed with a sob of pleasure. "Only yours."

Their orgasms crashed over them simultaneously, wave after wave of blinding ecstasy. Piston spilled himself inside her as she milked him dry, branding her as his in the most primal way.

As they drifted back down, hearts pounding, he gathered her close and pressed a tender kiss to her damp forehead. Jenny snuggled into his side with a contented sigh. This wasn't just sex, Piston realized with startling clarity. It was love. He loved this woman, body and soul. And he would do anything to keep her, to make her his in every way.

Piston woke with a start, momentarily disoriented until he felt the warmth of Jenny's naked body curled against his side. Memories of last night flooded back - the mind-blowing sex, the soul-deep connection, the realization that he was head over heels in love with this woman.

Carefully, so as not to wake her, he brushed a strand of hair off her peaceful face. She looked like an angel lying there, his angel. And he knew right then he'd walk through fire to keep her safe, to make her happy.

He eased out of bed, pulling on a pair of sweats before padding to the kitchen. He wanted to make her breakfast in bed, show her with actions since the words still stuck in his throat.

The bacon was sizzling and the coffee brewing when slender arms wrapped around him from behind. "Morning, handsome," Jenny murmured, pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades.

Piston turned to face her, drinking in the sight of her sleep-rumpled and soft in his shirt. "Mornin', beautiful. I was gonna bring you breakfast in bed."

"This is better." She went up on tiptoe to brush her lips over his. "I'd rather be right here with you."

Something in his chest squeezed at her easy affection, her open delight in just being near him. He'd never had that before, never thought he deserved it. But damn if he wasn't going to try his hardest to earn it now.

"Jenny, about last night..." He took her hands, needing her to understand. "I'm all in, baby. You and me, I want to give this a real shot."

Her eyes searched his, a slow smile dawning. "I want that too, Piston. I'm crazy about you, in case you hadn't noticed."

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. "Still can't quite believe it. But I'm gonna do my damndest to be the man you deserve. No more shutting you out or pushing you away."

"We'll figure it out together," she promised, winding her arms around his neck. "I'm not going anywhere."

As Piston held her close, breathing in her scent, he let himself believe it. Let himself imagine a future with this incredible woman by his side. It wasn't going to be easy, he knew that. He still had a metric shit-ton of baggage to unpack.

But for her, for a chance at real happiness, he was ready to try. Jenny was his light in the darkness, and come hell or highwater, he was going to fight for her, for them. The ride might get bumpy, but Piston had a feeling it would be worth every mile.