Biker's Claim: The Broken Angel is Mine

Chapter 6

Gunner POV

Seeing Cora asleep on my bed was confusing. Part of me wanted to see her never leave the bed; another part pushed the first away, as women are nothing but trouble, having more than one had tried to say they had my child, and I refused to believe them, waited for the births before letting them in my life. One was never pregnant, and the other, when the DNA report came back, said I was not the dad. I was so glad about that bit of news: the girl was a certifiable nutcase. I found they get hooked on you fast, and want to be your girl, and want you to parade them around like some sick trophy.

But Cora was different, unsure whether it was because she saved my life or not; it was an odd feeling. I don’t like being mixed up like this.

It's not good for my image.

I need to sort it quickly, in my head.

I left her on the bed and headed for the shower, where I took my hard d**k in hand. It's been hard since she was laid on my bed, and I started the age-old rhythm I was used to by now. It had been at least a month since I bothered being between a girl's thighs, or had a girl give me a head job. As much as others believe I was constantly in need of getting between their thighs, my hand does the job and gets me to the desired relief. I use my hand more in the past year than I did when I was in puberty and had a constant hard-on at that age.

My hand fisted faster, and I felt the telltale signs of my release approaching: my breath shortened, the feeling of a pending eruption tingled through my body, my balls jumped, and the wall soon received my load, leaving a white trail, before the cascading water washed it away. It hadn’t taken long for me to explode, faster than normal, as that woman on my bed invaded my thoughts, as I fisted my d**k, her toned legs, tight backside, long mousy brown hair, Hazel eyes, where they don’t know if they want to be brown or green. She had to be at least five-eight or nine.

When my breath came back, I started to wash my body the best I could; luckily, it was my left shoulder that was dislocated, or I would be in bigger trouble. Being right-handed would have put me completely out of action for the day. I have had a few dislocations, and with Cora pushing it back into place quickly, I should be right as rain tomorrow. If not too bad, I wouldn't have the place to think their enforcer was out of action.

For some reason, I started to sing, something I rarely do, or have had a reason to, but a song got stuck, and it’s a shower, a place to clear the mind, and relax. It was ‘Am I ever gonna see your face again? By the Angels” Good, lively song, The Angel in my bed, had caused it to come to mind.

I can’t let her go. I have decided she’s mine. End of story, one way or another, she's mine.

Just hope she’s not like the club girls, because that would be disappointing.

Cora was up and looking around. I liked seeing her in my shirt. I surprised her when I spoke.

She had a lot of stuff, all of her worldly possessions, I would say, packed up and running in a hurry. Wonder what or who she was running from—plenty of time to get into her head and find out all I need to know.

"You can fill that walk-in robe. I don't use it much, and the drawers on your side of the bed are empty. The rest we can store if you don't need it, or put them in the walk-in robe, your choice. Cora's expression was that she was expecting something from me, but I had no clue what, and wasn't about to ask. Up to her to reveal what she needs. I have all the time in the world.

"Hungry? I am starved." I waited for her to respond before deciding whether to carry her downstairs or bring food up to my room.

"Yeah, I could eat." Her stomach growled, and my eyes dropped to her stomach.

"Let me put on some clothes. Not going downstairs like this." Cora unzipped a bag, pulled out some jeans and a shirt, and turned to look at me.

"What? I have seen it all already, and you will be sleeping with you, and I might be giving you a shower later. Where I will get to see the rest." Cora rolled her eyes, turned her back to me and tried to put on her jeans, but the stretching to reach her feet was causing her pain. Cora was determined to do it herself and not ask for help, and in the end, huffed and turned her head over her shoulder.

"Satisfied now, I can't get dressed without help, stop grinning that I told you so, look, and get that body over here, and help me." She grumbled at me, causing me to laugh. I haven't heard her swear yet; maybe that's something to work on. This was going to be fun.

I squatted in front of her, lifted one foot, and pushed it into the jeans, then the other foot, made her stand, and I turned her around, gently, leaned over her, pulled her jeans up over her thighs, pulled up the zipper and put the button at the top. As if I was pulling on my own jeans, luckily these jeans weren't skinny or skin-tight, giving room for the bandaging. Turned her around, and sat her back onto the bed, and started to pull on her socks and shoes.

"I feel like a five-year-old being dressed by my dad." She mumbled in a huff, still frustrated that she was going to need my assistance for the time being.

"Doubt I look anything like your father." I chuckled back as I finished tying her shoelaces. This was not something I had envisaged would be in my life. Dressing a full-grown woman, I am more used to stripping them off.

"Your cut says enforcer, I don't remember if you told me, my mind is still a bit scattered. What do you enforce exactly?"

"Everything, whether it needs strong arms, to keep the peace or just the presence of muscle, when going into a possible fight, I am called upon." I hadn't really thought about what I do, not in so many words; I do.

Cora pulled on a clean shirt and pulled her hair into a ponytail.

"As ready as I can be," Cora said, and looked at me expectantly.

"I don't think a piggyback would be suitable, so I will have to carry you bridal style. Let me know if it hurts too much." Not giving her a chance to argue, I picked her up easily; she didn't weigh that much.

Not to me. I lift weights at training that are heavier than she is.

A small squeak came out of Cora's mouth as I lifted her; it didn't sound like a pain squeak. Her hands suddenly rushed to grasp me around the neck, holding herself close to me, and I found my jeans suddenly getting tighter, which I had to ignore.

Cora snuggled her face into my shirt as we reached the stairs, hiding it from Cora watching us descend. I guess she thought I would drop her. I suppose my recent dislocation could give her nursing side concerns about my ability to keep hold of her, long term. I get it, and it makes me smile more. This girl doesn't know much about me yet. She would learn, dropping her was the least of her worries.

We made it to the dining hall, and many were already there eating. I moved to the table with the President, VP and other officers who were seated, and by the way, they were still piling up the plates; they hadn't been seated for long.

"Cora, meet our president, Oddball. Next to him is his lady, Strike; then VP Dozer, his lady, Dizzy; the doctor you met, Scrubs; Snail; Lobster; and c*****e. Brothers, this is Cora, my lady." I set a claim on her immediately, giving the others no chance to claim her because I hadn't done so verbally yet. I wouldn't put it past one of them to try someone on, and I won't have any of that. Cora was mine from the moment she climbed out of her car and stepped into my life.

Keeping her on my lap, I started to fill a plate.

"Um, Gunner, can I sit next to you and eat?"

"No, chair left, Sweetheart, you have to stay put, and share my plate." A soft mumble of something I didn't catch had my rising tightness in my jeans twitch.