by V. Theia
The moan rattled his chest, their eyes locked and loaded. Weighed down with a barrage of unsaid things.
“Sweet fucking hell. That’s what it feels like between your warm thighs. My personal hell.”
He gave her a dry dirty thrust hard enough she squeaked and dug her nails into his skin.
Lust had always been present between them.
When she was too young and him too old. It romanced between their legs, coating them in a mist of want and over time it only worsened.
She hated it. The want. The agonized need. The tearing hunger to be with him, In and out of his bed.
Roux was not prone to be led by anything, least of all a man. Until Tad. To say she resented the feeling was an understatement. Only in times of weakness like tonight did she give in. Just for a moment.
She didn’t get the chance to give him the last inch of her pride by whispering her answer. Frozen under his scrutiny, his hand rolled from her throat, down between her breasts before he tugged one of her nipples. Pain and pleasure boosted her to another level and his mouth stole her air with the bruising kiss he crushed on her.
“I’m going to ruin you.” He said, thrusting his erection against her pubic bone.
Roux was already wrecked by him.
She savored every lick. Every press of their starved lips.
He kissed her without any reservation, like he had a right to, like she was his.
God, how right he was, and he must know it because he consumed her from the inside.
His hands going everywhere, burning her up. Putting his claim on her, making sure she would never be the same.
“Always hungry for my tongue, aren’t you, Roux?” He dipped inside and she sucked hard then gave him a bite.
He pulled back with a hiss, eyes dark as a thunderstorm, as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Her stomach jumped. The action was so primal and hot, a fresh wave of lust flared inside her, swirling her feelings into a mess. She suddenly wanted him inside her so badly that she was willing to beg if she had to.
Roux made sounds she only ever made when she was with him.
His mouth made its way to her ear, while his big body kept her pinned under him, she heard him reaching into the nightstand and then a crackle of paper that could only be protection. She sighed… hated that he even had them there. She didn’t want to think about it. She’d brought her own condoms in the pocket of her jeans.
“Someday I’m gonna put you in front of a mirror so you can see how incredible you look when I fuck you.”
Her eyes rolled with pleasure. She’d take anything from him. Do anything.
Hell, he’s the only man she would have ever done anal with. I want to own all your holes.
A small tremble ran through him when she touched the bobbing Adam’s apple in his throat. She felt like victory for that reaction. He fisted a hand around her ponytail, anchoring her head back and demanded her gaze up to his.
“Tad… I…”
She what? Needed him? Wanted him? Loved him?
She couldn’t voice anything other than her little pants.
“You’ve no idea how hard I’m gonna make you come, until you forget your own name and then we’re gonna talk, you got it?”
Hot. Wet. Invigorating.
Her stomach leaped, making her shake all over.
“Do it,” she demanded, fingering through his hair not so gently and he grunted, liking it. “Do it,” she issued again, pleading this time, needing him so fucking badly.
To make the ache finally stop.
“Tad…please.”
“You remember how long it used to take me to work my way into you? Made you all soft and wet, didn’t I, baby?”
She was breathless. Mindlessly nodding as he got into position.
His thick cock testing her wetness, going a little further each time.
The feeling was indescribable. Bliss pouring out from the point of contact.
He tested her with unhurried thrusts, his gaze riveted to her sex, watching how she took him in.
It wasn’t until she clenched around him on a push that he cursed the air.
“Fuck. Like that, baby.”
“Do it,” she pleaded in a tiny begging voice. “Tad, do it.”
He did.
One grunt and he impaled down to her soul. She cried out as happiness poured through her limbs.
For hours and hours, Tad made her cry and sob and come as hard as she ever had. He eviscerated her need with his own body yet boiled it to a point she knew … she fucking knew she would never be able to rid him from her mind. Her heart and soul tied itself to a biker forbidden to her by the bylaws of her MC culture.
She couldn’t have the man in any way other than this.
In the dark of night.
He fucked her stupid. Possessively.
As though he loved her as deeply.
Just as stupidly.
His kisses spirited her heart into orbit. His mouth had always held the power to make her speechless.
God, the sounds he made.
The harsh groans and low grunts. The filthy words dripping out of his mouth.
There was hardly a reason to share any words, other than for Tad to let her know how good she felt on his dick, how much he needed her taste in his mouth.
But all good things always come to an end.
Even before the sun came up, she left him passed out in his bed.
Taking a glance back, after she’d pressed her lips softly to his.
She wanted nothing more than to curl up against his hard body and sleep the day away.
In her life, there was more to consider than being a woman who wanted a man.
In her own way she was protecting him too.
The whole truth was, she punked out on seeing him in the light of day to find out what he wanted to talk about. It was bad enough she had all the dirty sweet things he’d told her floating around her head, without being hit with their reality.
A relationship was impossible.
She headed to a drive-thru and bought bad coffee and then went home to shower and forget she was hung up on an impossible man.
With her love for Tad, her dad going loco and Reno pursuing her like a rottweiler with a bone, her life was turning into one giant soap opera.
But the kind where everyone was set on fire and no one was happy.
Cinderella got the guy and a goat. All Roux got was a crappy cup of takeout coffee.
The orgasms last night made up for it though.
Yeah, they’d been more than alright.
The weird turns her life was taking, god knows what would happen on next week’s episode.
EIGHT
“Spiraling.” – Arson
Arson was late to the church table. Again.
Everyone noticed.
Rider especially. But seeing as their Prez was in a good mood these past few months, what with having a new son, Zane. And finally getting a ring on his girl, plus getting rid of the Russian mafia, not much made him blow up.
Butcher noted the tick in Rider’s jaw as he watched Arson slink deep into his chair.
Butcher smelled the booze on him.
“Now all the princesses have arrived, we can get this meeting underway,” announced Rider from the head of the table.
What made this different to another church was Preacher holding his sleeping son, Tanner. Hawk, as always, had his baby girl over his shoulder. She was a nosy little peanut and liked to look around the room at everyone, throwing out gummy smiles. She was the complete opposite of her daddy, but the pair were inseparable. If Hawk could have his girls with him, he did, but Gia was working today.
The Renegade Souls MC had evolved over the past few years. With old ladies and kids. Though the club environment was as much as it always was, it now included their families. Butcher liked having the new editions around. Gia and Winter were funny, Paige was their peace keeper. Zara was bossy in a tiny sweet package and Luxe was good to banter with because
she had a fiery temper that could blow at any second. This amused Grinder no end.
Thinking of the old ladies, he needed to book with Ruby to give him some new ink.
“Juicy is heading home today from Texas. After spending a week with Rex, the kid is gonna need some down time.”
“Booze and dicks.” Preacher chuckled and everyone joined in.
“Not it to supply the dick,” said Tag, then turned his cerulean colored eyes toward Snake with a sly smirk. “Though talk is around these parts, our Juicy has his eyes on someone very close to Snake.”
This caused a riot of stares hitting Tag from across the table. It was too easy to fuck with the joker. “That asshole is not getting near Bale, end of fucking story.”
Every man around the table had their limits. That place they could approach, not cross, and stay sane. Keep within a murderous perimeter, but cross it? And it was game on, fucker. Snake was protective as hell over his brothers, god help Juicy if he really had taken a fancy to the younger West boy.
Butcher’s limit was now and always the woman who’d stolen out of his bed this morning. He couldn’t think about Roux yet, not unless he wanted to grind his teeth to dust.
She’d pissed him off by sneaking out as easily as she’d sneaked in.
She’d been raspy and airy underneath him all night, demanding things from his dick he was more than happy to supply.
Seeing her on the street, feeling her climb into his bed, slipping her naked body over his, there was no decision to make if he was going to fuck a taken woman.
For Roux, those kinds of morals didn’t apply. They never would.
Arson was the man who slipped into any woman’s bed, whether she was married or not. Butcher never liked that flavor even before he met Roux, but now? He had no qualms because they both knew who she belonged to. No other ring would convince him otherwise.
But the way she left him like that stuck in his craw.
He’d had shit to say.
Got dicked and left, made him more than mad to hunt her little ass down and punish her in the way she’d love.
“So, we agreed?” He caught Rider saying and Butcher blinked, seeing the boys nodding. Fuck, he’d missed it.
He’d lost his head last night, no question about it.
Roux did that to him.
She was worse than any heroin directly to the vein, she fucked with every part of his body.
“Snake and Preacher are gonna head to Arizona this weekend. With the latest raids, Esme-Jo is getting antsy about this month’s supply.” Butcher had never met the drug cartel queen face to face, but he’d heard how formidable she was. No one would guess by looking at her that she ran the Midwest drug scene. She was exclusive to the RSMC nowadays for green. They didn’t buy the hard shit and never would.
“Grinder, you still got that guy in your sights?”
“Yeah, Prez.” Answered the club tracker. “He flew under the radar for a while, but I got word he’s in Vegas.”
Debts owed to the Souls were always collected. One way or another and no one could hide from Grinder for long.
“Gonna take Luxe with me, make a weekend of it,” he smirked.
“What’s the little wifey gonna steal while she’s there?” Chimed Hawk as his big paw patted his baby girl’s back gently. She let out a massive burp.
Grinder smirked at the VP. His wife was a notorious thief and hadn’t changed her ways since hooking up to G. Nor would the guy want her to. He often helped her hock cars. “Whatever the fuck she wants to, VP. Stealing gets her juiced, ya dig? I’m not gonna pass up on that shit.”
Jobs didn’t need to be assigned unless it’s for the prospects, but it’s good to know where someone was gonna be. Especially now they were down the enforcer.
His mind drifting to Roux again. He tasted her still, feeling her hot pussy—greedy as ever, clasping his dick.
He was so pissed she’d taken off after all that fucking bliss.
He knew he was going to track her down, sit her little butt somewhere she couldn’t easily escape.
If she were hooked to someone else, if she’d accepted their ring, why the fuck was she breaking into his house to molest him? Didn’t the new guy’s dick work?
Holy fuck. The moment the question was in his head, he could have smashed the whole sacred church apart with his bare hands. The thought was so abhorrent to him picturing her with anyone but him, that he wanted to commit murder.
“Whoa, the Butcher is growling, I guess he doesn’t want to count numbers.” Laughed Tag. Butcher blinked. “What?”
“Rider was asking who wanted to do this month’s tally.”
“Not it.” he answered.
He didn’t mind dealing with the injuries the boys came home with. Sometimes something minor, a cut from working in the shop, a sprained ankle. Sometimes worse things, but he would rather sand his nuts than have to deal with numbers.
That would be Texas’ job until Rider assigned the treasurer patch to someone else. It was Capone, the unluckiest of them all who spoke. “Presidente, you know we’re all thinking it, sí? It’s been a year and more, and we still don’t have a new treasurer.”
Rousing grumbles traveled around the table.
No one liked dealing with the numbers but they all loved getting their cut of the massive Souls profits. Office shit had become too much for Zara. The prez also hated it which in turn made him a moody fuck.
Texas took a bullet meant for Rider, keeping their prez alive long enough to get him operated on. When he’d stupidly taken on Grigori, opinions on Texas had started to shift. It would always be a sore point how he’d fed info to his cop brother instead of sharing his plan with the club. But the reasons behind it were never malicious. One after the other, the boys started to question whether their voting him out had been the best decision.
Butcher included.
They all missed him, and the once hostility was no longer there, not after he all but gave his life for a brother. The Souls advanced enough to know mistakes happened and to make them right. They were all at Texas’ wedding and he held a perma-invite to the parties. The old ladies, far as Butcher could tell, had claimed Poppy too.
“Me and Hawk will discuss it,” Rider said. “And we’ll put it to a vote.”
“My vote is already yes.” Grinder said. And was quickly followed by a few others.
“Well, fuck me. Looks like we don’t need a talk, Hawk.”
“Suits me.” Gruffed the VP who was letting Sunny chew on his thumb knuckle.
An important decision came from the church meeting that day. It didn’t stop Butcher’s head being miles away, mentally punishing a woman with a peach ass, salty tongue, and a body he wanted to die inside of.
With plans to do that, he ambled out of church and nearly collided with Arson in his haste to leave too.
Bloodshot eyes met Butcher’s and he frowned. “You good, brother?” He could see Arson was far from good, but the guy smiled as he always did. “Yeah, man, right as fucking rain. Catch ya later, places to go, honey’s to service.”
Worry for his brother weighed heavy, knowing sooner or later he’d press the self-destruct from something he couldn’t come back from. Either in the bottom of a bottle or fucking the wrong person and being made to eat a gun—as much as that weighed on Butcher’s mind, making a point to touch base with Rider, to see if he’d noted the change in their boy, he was still hooked around the memories of Roux.
She had him conditioned like Pavlov’s dog.
Locked and loaded for any given moment.
It didn’t matter that months went by since they fucked last. He hungered for that woman every single minute of the day.
He wanted her body, sure. She was stunning. But he craved her touch, her light fingers drifting through his hair. He craved the taste of her laugh on his tongue and the demand of her words.
They’d never been given a real chance to forge a relationship, to see if they could stand the test of time. He didn’t even k
now how she liked her breakfast food, for fucks sake.
A man should know this about his woman.
And mark his words, she would always be his woman.
She could be on marriage seven with one hundred babies and she’d still belong to Butcher. That much he was certain of and he’d reached a point he was so sick of denying himself that chance.
The more he thought about it, as he fixed coffee and seeded bagels Paige dropped off to the club every morning, the more he became messed up about not knowing all those small details a man should know.
He bet Reaper knew that shit about Paige. Bet Preacher did too. Even Hawk who always gave an air of not giving a fuck about anything, he’d know every detail down to the letter about Gia.
Butcher crunched angrily and swallowed too hot coffee. Stewing in the misery he toted like a woman’s overstuffed purse.
He stewed until he popped up off the stool and left his dishes for someone else to deal with.
He was too busy swinging into his leather jacket, striding to his bike and climbing on before starting it up.
Too tired of everything.
Not least of all giving up on something he fucking wanted.
Might he get dead because of it? Sure.
But living a life without her was pure fucking torture.
He wanted a chance to see if they had legs to grow into something worth having.
Possibilities came with their own risks.
Butcher roared out of the compound, knowing he was willing to risk it all.
Fuck him.
And fuck Axel Tucker.
He was done sitting on the side lines.
NINE
“This chick doesn’t know how fucking hard she’s making my life.” - Reno
“Swear to Christ, you’re riding my last nerve, Roux.”
Hands on his denim covered hips. Hair the same dark color as hers touching his shoulders and a pissed off stare aimed her way. She loved her dad, she had to keep repeating that. Or she’d fly off the handle and destroy what he loved best after her and it was a crime to kill his vintage Harley.
The entire clubhouse was watching this shit.
