by Violet Blaze
“Of course,” Janae says. “I'll call you over the loud speaker if I hear back from him. All of the public areas are marked. There's even a small park around the corner from the auto shop for customers waiting on their vehicle. There's plenty of signage outside to help you find it if you want to take a look.” I nod and leave the office with a murmured thanks. Stupid Royal, and his stupid club with their perfect books and their paid taxes and their park.
I should be surprised that a bunch of burly dudes in leather with motorcycle fetishes have their own park, but I'm not, not really. I'm sure they use all of this as a facade for whatever illegal activity that it is they're involved in. I mean, come on. They have an auto body and service shop, a motorcycle repair business, and a showroom full of gleaming bikes, all located on the same piece of property as their clubhouse. They fix minivans for soccer mom and sports cars for trophy wives, and then turn around and sell their husbands ridiculously expensive motorcycles that they barely know how to drive. It's all legit and perfect and clean and welcoming.
I don't buy it for a second.
I wander around both service centers and then take Janae's advice and head towards the park. It's small, tucked behind the brick buildings and set against the backdrop of the coast, the only thing separating it from the sea a few hundred feet and a wooden fence with mesh inserts and warning signs. Further back from the cliff's edge, there's a playground surrounded by a red metal fence and decorated with wooden cutouts of fish and sharks and whales, all painted fantastical colors.
There are a few kids here, sliding down the yellow slide and dangling from the green monkey bars, their mothers chatting over a cup of coffee from the small café inside.
But there's no Royal.
I head back around the building, towards the clubhouse and Royal's red truck that I parked right out front. I don't know what the rules are for going inside, but I guess I'll find out. I mean, they let me in the other day, right?
I pause at the bottom of the steps, staring at the velvet rope that's strung across the top. Private—Do Not Enter. Hmm. I ignore it and head up anyway, ducking underneath the rope and moving inside the already open front door.
“Hello?” I call, glancing around for someone in a leather jacket that I can talk to about Royal. When I don't find anyone, I head down the main hall towards the common room where I had drinks just a few nights before.
Luckily, I manage to actually find someone in there.
“Lyric, right?” Fauna asks as I move up to the counter and lay my fingers against the marble top. Her blonde hair is streaked with blue today, but her outfit is fairly conservative—just a pair of blue denim jeans, a black tank and some silver bracelets on her right wrist. “Feel free to take a seat, and I'll pour you some more Johnnie Walker.” She winks at me and I feel a slight flush color my cheeks. Right. That just happened, didn't it? These past few days have felt like a lifetime. “I'm just doing inventory, but if you want to chat, I'm here.”
“Have you seen Royal?” I ask, cutting straight to the chase. Fauna pauses, looking me over like she's just realized what I'm wearing. “We were supposed to have a meeting today?” I don't bother telling her that I slept right through it—in the president's bed no less.
“He's at church,” Fauna says and whatever she sees on my face makes her laugh. “Not that kind of church, sweetheart.” She jerks her chin in the direction of the back door. “It's a meeting hall for the guys. A real boy's club. Anybody with a vagina's pretty much banned from going inside.”
I feel both my brows go up.
“Not allowed inside?” I try not to sound judgmental, but … I think it comes out like that anyway. Fauna shrugs, like it's something she doesn't quite care for but that she's learned to live with.
“When he comes out, he'll more than likely come straight through here. If you want, you can keep me company and wait him out.”
With a sigh I climb onto the barstool and settle in for a long wait. My laptop, iPad, and all my work papers are in the truck. I swung by my place on the way here, but didn't bother to change, thinking that if I rushed out here that Royal would at least have the courtesy of giving me a few minutes of his time.
You look so fucking hot in my jacket, babe.
I groan and bury my face in my hands. Now that I'm sitting here, in a place with rules as foreign as any distant country, what happened last night is really starting to sink in. I spent the night with an outlaw. The thought gives me the chills, but not in the way it used to, when I would've been repulsed by the idea. Now, I'm just … turned on.
I adjust myself on the stool, the leather of my pants creaking against the seat.
“You sure you don't want a drink?” Fauna asks, putting her hands on her hips and giving me a look that says she thinks I could use one.
“It's not even four o'clock,” I say and Fauna sighs, grabbing me a beer and opening the top on the edge of the counter.
“Don't be so uptight, Deputy Mayor. Your job is to woo us all, right? Make us see the wisdom in partnering up with you? When in Rome …” She gestures at the bottle and I pick it up, the cool glass comforting against my sweaty palms. Am I nervous about seeing Royal? No. No, that's not it at all. Why would I be nervous? Last night was as much of a business transaction as today. Everything is perfectly normal.
Yeah right.
I lift the bottle to my mouth and take a swig.
I'm on my fourth one by the time the back door opens and a group of men filter through at different paces, all of them wearing leather vests or jackets covered in patches, none of them Royal. One of the guys, an older man with a thick black beard and a headful of hair that's just starting to go gray, pauses at the edge of the bar and exchanges a quick kiss and a smile with Fauna.
“My husband, Jack,” she says, gesturing with her chin as he leaves the common area with the rest of them. “He's the club treasurer,” she tells me proudly, wiping a glass down with a clean, white cloth. “Patched in right out of high school, one of the youngest members in Alpha Wolves history.”
“That's impressive,” I say with a smile, even though I pretty much have zero idea what she's talking about. My eyes wander to the back door again as I continue nursing my beer. I feel a little better now, a little looser. Of course I do, drinking in the middle of the afternoon. I stare down at the brown bottle and wrinkle my nose. Fuck it.
I tip back my drink and slam it on the counter with a sigh.
Fauna grins back at me.
“That's the spirit, Deputy Mayor. Relax. Live a little.”
She puts the glass away and then pats down her pockets until she comes up with a cigarette. Fauna lights up and then checks her watch.
“I'm gonna step into the little girl's room for a minute. You okay by yourself out here?”
“I'm fine,” I say, even though I've been waiting for Royal for over two hours now. I make myself smile as an idea comes to me. “Take your time. I'm just going to finish this up and take another look around outside.”
“Sounds good, cupcake,” she says, letting herself out from behind the bar and giving my shoulder a gentle squeeze. “It was good to see you again.”
“You, too,” I say, keeping my smile in place until Fauna disappears into the bathroom, the heavy wood door swinging shut behind her.
“Women aren't allowed in the clubhouse,” I snort, pushing my beer away and hopping off the bar stool. “What happens? Do we burst into flames?” Once upon a time, women weren't allowed in politics either, but somebody made it happen, now didn't they?
I take one last look around and let myself out the back door.
There's a gorgeous garden behind the clubhouse, like something out of a magazine. Somebody with a hell of a lot knowledge, time, and care has put this place in order. There are red brick flower beds filled to bursting, even though it's still winter, as well as an emerald green lawn, a small pond and several benches. In the back, I spot a white gazebo covered in the same red and purple flowers that are hanging above m
e, creating a tunnel between this building and the one in the back. Two big, healthy rhododendron bushes frame the doorway and the windowed sun porch.
“This is the chapel?” I ask aloud, cringing and then glancing around to make sure there's nobody around. I almost expect a big, bearded biker to jump out and say boo! But nothing happens and I don't hear any footsteps or voices.
I take a deep breath and walk along the cement path under the pergola, pulling open the door to the porch and finding a sea of potted plants and a set of wood doors with wolf heads carved into them. Hmm.
“Hello?” I ask tentatively, stepping inside and letting the porch door swing shut behind me. When nobody answers, I grab the handle on the next door and open it wide to find a long black lacquered table, a set of mismatched chairs and Royal McBride sitting at the far end, bent over like he's in pain, his head clutched in his beautiful hands.
I stand there for a long moment, studying him, before I speak.
“Royal?” I ask, letting the door swing shut behind me.
His head snaps up, brown eyes going wide as he notices me standing there.
“Holy fucking hell,” he says, standing up and pushing his chair out with the motion. It's a high-backed beast of black and red and leather. I wonder if he put it there or if it's a leftover relic from the previous president? “Pint-Size, how did you get back here?” he asks, moving around the table with long strides, coming up close to me, too close for comfort really.
“I guess I don't look threatening enough for anyone to pay much attention to me,” I suggest as Royal stares at me like a fox in the henhouse … or maybe it's a hen in the fox den? That sounds a little more accurate. His eyes are dark and hooded with emotion, a fact that he seems almost desperate to hide from me. “I've been waiting for you for hours. We had a meeting today.”
Royal glances up and over my shoulder, like he's checking to make sure no one's on their way in here.
“You're going to bloody hate this, but—”
“Women aren't allowed in the clubhouse?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest. “Why? What are you going to do to me for coming in here?”
“Look, love, I don't have a problem with women.” Royal lets his mouth curve into a smile. “I'd rather have a table full of pussy than a sausage fest, you know what I mean? But some of the old boys are gonna have to die off before that can happen. Resistant to change and all that.”
“Sure,” I say, standing my ground. “Do what you want. I'm not here to change your culture. I just want the meeting time that I was promised.”
“You were late, sweets,” Royal says, looking down at me like he still wishes it was last night on the porch swing, my body arching over his, our hips locked, his fingers trailing down my throat. I shiver. “So I had to cancel.”
He steps closer to me, the toes of our boots touching.
“If you wanted to make it up to me, I might try overlooking your lack of punctuality.”
Royal curls his hand behind my head, leaning down and running his tongue along my lower lip. This is not supposed to be happening today, my logical mind chirps, but she's quickly buried in a rush of hormones as Royal steps back and reaches down to the zipper of his jeans.
My heart begins to pound and I risk a quick glance over my shoulder to see if there's anyone coming. Oh my God, what am I doing? What am I doing? What I am doing?
I look back at Royal, at his mouth as it curves up into a satisfied smirk.
“I'll keep watch, babe. No worries.” I glance down as he frees his already hard cock from his pants and grins at me, like he expects me to just agree to this.
When I don't make any move to oblige him, his fingers come out and snatch my wrist, pulling me closer, forcibly wrapping my hand around his cock. The thick, solid length of him pushes all sorts of buttons for me, making me wet my lips and clench my thighs together as desire rides hard and heavy over me.
“Someone's bound to come in here at some point or another,” he says, his voice strained and laced with lust. “Come on, love. Do it. Suck me off and show me how much you want that meeting.”
“This better be a joke,” I say, but I don't take my hand off his dick.
Royal reaches out and tugs me to him, sandwiching his erection between our warm bodies, his fingers curled tightly in my hair. When he speaks, he puts his lips close to my ear and grinds the words out in a way that makes my entire body shudder with need.
“Of course it's a fucking joke, Pint-Size. But if any of the boys catch you in here, it's gonna be me that catches shit for it. Either stick my dick in your mouth or let's get the hell out of here and I'll look at your damn papers.”
He lets go of me abruptly and I can barely keep my feet, adrenaline and excitement rushing through my veins. Trust me when I say I've never done anything like this before. Never sucked a stranger's cock, never done anything even remotely sexual in a public place, never looked risk and danger in the eye and smiled.
I get down on my knees and slide my nails up under Royal's shirt and over his belly, making his stomach muscles clench and his hips buck towards my face. Up close and personal, his shaft is almost daunting. He's long and curved, the circumcised head of his cock just a scant few millimeters from my lips. I flush a little as I try to guess the length. Seven and a half? Eight inches, maybe?
“Don't just study it, Pint-Size, put your mouth around it.”
I glare up at him and grab the base of his shaft in tight fingers until he groans, sliding his fingers through my hair until he gets a good grip. This is so wrong, I think frantically as he guides my face to the tip of his cock and pushes it against my gently parted lips. But I like it.
Being with Royal is like driving a sports car down the freeway at a hundred and twenty miles an hour, taking hairpin turns and throttling the accelerator at every straight stretch. It's fast and crazy and fun, spiking the blood with adrenaline and making everything else outside the windows seem meaningless.
Do it enough times, though, and you're going to crash. It's almost inevitable.
Somehow, whenever Royal's around, I can't seem to make myself care.
This moment, it's no different.
I open my lips wider and take as much of him as I can into my mouth, groaning at the sensation of his thick, full cock resting against my tongue. The sound makes Royal curl his fingers tighter in my hair, fingertips brushing against my scalp as I push him in as deep as I can. I graze my teeth lightly against his skin as I pull back, just enough to tease but not enough to hurt.
“Harder,” he grunts, pushing me back down, making me swallow him whole as my fingertips curl around the waistband of his jeans. “Don't hold back on me, sweetheart. We aren't making love here. Just get the job done.”
I bite a little harder, still afraid of hurting him when his grip tightens on my scalp.
“More. I like it raw and dirty, babe,” he tells me, pushing himself deeper when I try to pull back. I have to breathe through my nose, bringing my left hand up to grab the base of his shaft so I can cover him completely, sheathe the entire length of him with my body.
I press down with my teeth until he grunts and bucks his hips again, sliding back and drawing a deep, guttural groan from his throat, like a wolf's low, rumbling growl. Right now, here, down on my knees like this, I feel like he's the alpha and I'm his mate, that I'm claiming him at the same time he's claiming me.
The thought's embarrassing as hell, but at least I'm the only one that knows about it, that knows how much it's getting me off.
I slide forward again, hitting my fist with my lips, scraping my teeth along the sensitive skin of his shaft while he groans and thrusts, hitting the back of my throat with each violent movement. When he comes, he comes hard, and he doesn't hold back, pinning my face to him as he finishes inside my mouth.
I slide back, swallowing hard, my breath coming in short, sharp bursts.
“We should get the fuck out of here,” he says, but he pulls me to my feet and shoves me over the table instea
d. “But I'm not going until I get some of this.”
I gasp as Royal reaches around and unzips me, yanking my leather pants down my hips before I can even get the breath back to protest.
Not that I'd want to.
I want this more than anything I've ever wanted in my entire life.
I want him. Inside of me. Right now.
Royal's moist cock probes my opening, sliding straight into me with a single thrust, bringing a gasp and a cry to my lips that echoes around the empty room. True to his word, he doesn't hold back, slamming into my ass again and again, his balls slapping my bare flesh as he grunts and groans, dragging a small scream from me that I couldn't keep back if I tried.
My hands splay out against the black of the tabletop, my cheek pressed firmly against the wood. My entire body is liquid right now, fluid and immovable. All I can feel is the hard warmth of Royal's bare body inside of mine, opening me up, stretching me wide. I'm definitely sore from last night, but the pain only adds to the violent heat and frenzy of the moment, the raw brutality of a fuck that's just a fuck. I don't know what the hell happened to us last night, but it wasn't this, this wild mating frenzy that's fucking my mind almost as hard as Royal's fucking my body.
When he starts tensing behind me, his hands hard and unyielding against my hips, I realize that he's about to come inside of me, no barrier, nothing. I need to ask him to stop, but the words refuse to come to my lips, my body too desperate for him to let go.
“Royal.” I manage to moan his name, but it only comes out as a groan, a plea for more. “Royal.” Again.
“Say my fucking name, Lyric,” he growls, shoving his body into me over and over. “Say it.”
“Oh God, Royal,” I cry as he manages to come again, even harder than before, filling me up and bringing tears of pleasure to my eyes as he leans over and finds my clit, rubbing it hard with a few final thrusts, making me come around him in a violent spasm.
