by Cat Mason
Chapter Twenty-Five
Roanne
“Oh God,” I moan breathlessly.
Hanging onto the headboard, I undulate my hips and seek more of Jensen’s mouth. His grip tightens on my thigh, pulling me down onto his face as his tongue teases my clit. “Mmm,” he growls, sending vibrations throughout my entire body.
Waking up from a nap with Jensen’s mouth and hands running along my naked body is an incredible thing that I have yet to get used to. Everything about what he does to my body is an earth-shattering experience. I love how he isn’t afraid to take me hard and fast, that he isn’t afraid to break me. But, this soft and slow version he is giving me right now, is pretty fucking great too.
This man has a way of leaving me breathless with so little effort.
Jensen’s other hand slides up the front of my body, kneading my breast and toying with my nipple. My body is on fire, desperate for the building release. My heart races, the blood roaring in my ears as every delicious movement of his mouth commands my body as if it were an extension of his own.
“Jensen!” I gasp for breath as my body erupts. Slowing the movement of my hips, I attempt to milk the euphoria for as long as I can.
Grabbing my hips with both hands, Jensen rolls us, pinning my back to the mattress. Staring down at me, a wicked grin spreads across his face. Leaning back, he fists his cock, his eyes locked on mine as he rubs my clit with the head. “You want me, Ro?”
“Yes,” I breathe, licking my lips.
“You need me?” Tilting my hips, he slowly pushes the tip of his cock inside me.
“So fucking much,” I reply on a long moan.
“Still taste you on my tongue, Baby,” he says, wickedly skimming his bottom lip. “Need you on my cock.”
“Please,” I groan, ready to beg. I need this as much as he does.
His hips surge forward, my toes curling as he fills me. Crying out his name, I fist the sheets to keep me grounded. But it doesn’t work. I have no control at this point. Leaning down, he fists my hair in his hands, driving into me so hard that my body jolts with every thrust. Capturing my lips, his tongue plunges into my mouth, mirroring the way he fucks me. Hard. Hot. Demanding. All-consuming.
I moan into his mouth, desperate for more. My body throbbing, aching, needing. “Jensen,” I pant, rocking my hips in time with his.
“You feel so good, Baby.” His voice is rough, laced with need of his own. Bringing one of his hands down to my thigh, he hooks it up over his hip. “Love how your sweet pussy grips my cock.” Moving his hand around to my ass, he shifts my body. Pulling me up so that I am almost sitting on his lap, he drives into me harder, deeper. Frantic for release, I grip his shoulders, digging in my nails as the bites of pain and pleasure spark through my body, mixing together in the most indescribable way. “Come for me, Ro. Give me every bit of that fuckin’ sweetness.”
My heart hammers in my chest as every cell in my body is possessed by him. Throwing my head back, I let Jensen consume me. The orgasm I so desperately need takes hold of me by the throat and shakes me like a rag doll. His name comes out like a strangled cry. Clinging to him like a lifeline, I splinter, shatter, and completely combust; my body thrashing against his, completely overtaken.
Settling me back on the mattress, Jensen hovers above me, baring his weight on his forearm. Taking my mouth with his, he growls, the sound sending shivers down my spine. His body slams into mine as he drives toward his own release. His lips trail down my neck, the heat of his mouth almost unbearable. “Fuck!” he shouts, his grip tightening on me as he sinks his teeth into my shoulder. His body stills, hovering above mine, his chest heaving as he attempts to catch his breath. Greedily, my hands roam his body, feeling every hard inch of him as we both come down from our orgasms. Skimming his lips over my collarbone, he blows out a breath.
“Mmm,” I sigh, feeling completely sated. “Love you.”
He pulls back, meeting my eyes. Licking his bottom lip, he flashes me a sexy smile. “Love you too, Duchess.”
Knocking on the door ends our moment. “Yeah?” Jensen shouts, rolling his eyes in irritation. The knocking becomes more persistent and the door knob begins to jiggle.
“What the fuck is this shit? Stone!” Schrader’s unmistakable voice booms through the door. “You know how I feel about locked doors in this house!”
“Fucking idiot,” he mutters under his breath. “Hold the fuck on.” Climbing off me, Jensen stands to his feet and scoops up his jeans from the floor. “Time to get dressed,” he says, slapping me on the ass playfully.
Yelping, I scramble from the bed and grab some things from the dresser before moving toward the bathroom. I close the bathroom door behind me just as Jensen unlocks the door that Schrader is still beating on and swings it open. Hitting the lock on the knob, I clean myself up quickly and get dressed while Schrader rants to Jensen about how locked doors hinder the building of trust.
“You’re an idiot,” Jensen mumbles.
“Say what you want, Prez.” The bathroom door knob jiggles. “I’ll be damned. She’s locked you out of the bathroom. Roanne clearly has trust issues.”
“Or maybe she doesn’t want you seeing her naked,” Jensen deadpans, making me laugh.
“Now you’re just being an asshole.”
Twisting the knob, I open the door and step out of the bathroom. Schrader’s eyes cut to me, a huge smile spreading across his face. “Hey, Beautiful. How you feelin’?”
Smiling at him, I shake my head. “I should be asking you that. You’re the one with the bullet in your ass.”
Scoffing, he waves me off. “Nah. Torch’s sister pulled that fucker out. Even let me keep it,” he says proudly. “I’m thinking I’ll frame it and hang it upstairs by the pool table. Or maybe make it into a keychain.”
“Seriously?” I ask in disbelief.
“Fuck yes,” he replies, shifting on his crutch to face me. “I’ve shot people before, but this is the first time I’ve took a hit. Hurt like a bitch, ain’t even gonna lie about that shit. The pain meds, along with every single piece of hang around pussy trippin’ over themselves to do shit for me, sure as shit eases the pain.”
“Did you hobble your ass all the way down here to tell us the perks of being shot in the ass?” Jensen says, dropping into the chair. “Because, if so—”
“No,” he huffs. “Jinks needs you upstairs.”
Jensen’s expression changes immediately. Gone is the carefree smile, replaced by a look of purpose and resolve. “Right.” Grabbing his phone from the dresser, he shoves it into his pocket. “Let’s get everyone to the table.”
“What’s going on, Jensen?” I ask, brushing my hand over his arm. “Is it about Ivy?”
Jensen tenses. “The club is taking care of it. Nothing for you to—”
“In other words,” I interrupt, shoving around them. “I don’t have to tell you shit, Roanne, because you don’t have a penis.” Scooping up my shoes, I fling open the door. “Last I checked, Jensen, you don’t have to be a dick just because you have one.”
Storming up the hall, I ball my fists at my sides, wanting nothing more than to turn around and punch Jensen right in his sexy fucking face. Unfortunately, that won’t solve a damn thing. More than likely, it would have Jensen locking me up in his room.
And I refuse to be locked up, again.
Or kept in the dark.
By anyone.
Especially by the man I love.
I can hear Jensen yelling for me, along with Schrader giving him hell, but I don’t slow down. When I step into the main room, Shy’s head pops up from behind the bar, her eyes widening when they land on me. “Oh boy,” she says, standing to her full height and tossing a dish towel to the bar. “Who’s pissed in your beer?”
“How do you do it?” I ask, climbing up onto a bar stool. “How do you put up with the mood swings and all the secrets they keep from you and not spend every waking second wanting to kick their balls up into their eardrums?”
“Goddammit, Roanne,” Jensen barks, storming my way. “I was talking to you.”
“No, you were talking at me and expecting me to fall in line without question,” I snap, not bothering to look his way, though I can feel the heat from his body. “There’s a big difference.”
“Woman—”
“Hey, Stone,” Shy interrupts, holding up her hand and waving her fingers. “I was just askin’ Ro if she wanted to have a beer with Henley and me. Want me to grab you one, too?” she asks, arching a brow. “You sure look like you could use one.”
Looking up at Jensen, I fight the smile that threatens when I see the look on his face. He looks frustrated as hell and completely confused all at the same time. Yanking a hand through his hair, he exhales harshly and shakes his head. “No. Thanks Shy.” Stepping closer, he kisses my hair. “This conversation isn’t over, Duchess.”
I snort. “You can bet your sweet ass it isn’t.”
Grabbing a couple beers from the cooler, Shy hands me one, her eyes locked on Jensen as he makes his way over to Schrader. When the double doors close, her gaze moves to me. “You’ll be quick to learn you’ve gotta pick your battles around here, girl.” Twisting the cap off her bottle, she tosses it to the bar and takes a long pull.
“That’s exactly what I’m doing,” I inform her. “I want to face the woman who killed my father.”
“Ivy.” Shy blinks slowly, the smile fading from her face. “Another thing you’ll have to learn, Roanne, is that there are times when a woman has to do what she has to do.” Setting her bottle down on the bar, she nods her head thoughtfully. “Let’s go.”
“Wait,” I stammer, dropping to my feet. “We can’t do that. I can’t ask you to do that.”
“Ever since Schrader told me about her, about Troy, I have been debating on this very thing.” Resolution fills her face, a tear slipping down her cheek. “That venomous bitch walked around here like she owned this place and took whatever the fuck she wanted. She poisoned my husband without a second thought of what it would do to him, me, or this club.” Swiping at her tears, she squares her shoulders. “You didn’t ask me to do any-fucking-thing, Ro. And you sure as shit aren’t bendin’ my arm. It may make me seem bitter and vengeful. So what? I don’t give a fuck. The way I see it, I’ve got the right to want a piece of that bitch for myself and no one is takin’ that away from me. Especially not the guys. Now, are you with me, or not? Because I’d prefer not to go into a situation without backup.”
“This is fucking insane,” I admit. “We don’t know where she is. Or what we’d be walking into. Hell, she may have a goddamn army protecting her.”
“Grab your beer and come with me,” she says with a smile. “While the guys are busy planning their attack at the table, I’m about to show you that my brother isn’t the only tech whiz in the family.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Stone
“What did you find out?” I ask, eyeing Jinks across the table.
Leaning back in his chair, Jinks cracks his knuckles. “Mercury’s crew is doin’ the drop. Says, for thirty large, he’d deliver us in the back of that cargo van, instead of the supplies.”
“Trojan horse style?” Huck laughs nervously. “How the fuck do we know Mercury won’t take the money and drive us straight into a waiting ambush? We’ve got two members down. Can’t afford anymore. I don’t know about you, but I’m sure as hell not payin’ that kinda coin to eat a bullet. It’s too goddamn risky.”
“We don’t,” I reply honestly. “But, Vic and Mercury go way back. Twisted Mayhem has always been good with the Road Warriors MC. I have no reason to believe that Merc would double cross us.” Bracing my elbows on the table, I look around at my brothers. “Ivy Vaughn is a threat. Not only to me, or my woman, but to this club. She has been hangin’ around here a long time. There’s no doubt in my mind she’s heard shit that could expose past or present sins. She swayed a brother, then according to Ro, killed him in cold blood. I get that not everyone will want to take that risk. But every minute that bitch is breathin’, we’re all at risk.”
Colt grunts, holding his shoulder as he shifts in his chair. “You bet your ass I’d be in that fuckin’ truck, Brother. It’s time we end this shit. Let’s vote this shit.”
“All in favor of makin’ this deal with Merc and takin’ down Ivy and Hywood?” I ask, scanning the room.
“Give me a gun,” Schrader says, slapping the table. “I’m with you, Prez. You’ve got a yay from me.”
“Yay,” Huck says, nodding his head. “You’re right, Brother. We protect the club.”
“We get justice for Roanne and Cheyenne,” Doc says, slamming his fist on the table. “Yay.”
“Hell yes,” Torch shouts, pumping his fist.
I nod my head. “Is anyone opposed?” Nodding again, when no one says anything, I slam down the gavel. “Jinks, pull the cash. I’ll reach out to Merc and set it up.”
Once we have gotten the vote settled, we begin putting other pieces of the plan into place. Schrader refuses to stay behind because of his injury. He is damned convinced that Ivy was the one who shot him in the ass and demands he be the one to put her down. That has Colt staying with the women, holding down the fort alone. Since this doesn’t sit well with me, I decide to put in a call to McKelvy to see if he can help out at the clubhouse. The son of a bitch may be old, and a pain in my goddamn ass, but he can split hairs from five-hundred yards.
Once everything is settled, we head out to grab beers from the bar. Schrader laughs when we step out and find the girls gone. “Looks like you’re in the dog house, Brother.” Shifting his weight, he props his crutches up against the wall before leaning against the bar. “Ro’s pissed.”
“She’ll get over it,” I bite out, grabbing a bottle of tequila and a shot glass.
“Famous last words,” Doc grunts, dropping down onto one of the leather sofas by the pool table.
Clutching his stomach with both hands, Huck laughs long and hard. “Brother, rule one of lovin’ a woman. Never hold your breath waitin’ for her to ‘get over’ anythin’. The goddamn statistics show they outlive us. You better bet your ass a female won’t break before you do.”
“Damn right,” Doc says, tipping the mason jaw of clear liquor at me before taking a sip. “We need that soft and sweet way goddamn more than they need our sorry asses. Any man that gets that for any length of time is lucky as fuck.”
“That’s why I won’t involve her in this,” I argue. “It’s my job to protect her. We end this. I want her clear of it.”
“Well, that may be out of your hands at this point,” Torch says, headed our way, dragging a very upset Henley by the arm.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I ask, dread settling in my gut.
Torch says to Henley, narrowing his eyes at her. “Tell him,” he barks.
Elbowing him in the ribs, she yanks her arm free. “Fuck you, Donnie. Just because you’re bigger than me, doesn’t mean I won’t kick your ass for manhandling me.”
“Brother, you need to walk away and cool the fuck off,” Colt growls, putting himself between Henley and Torch. “Now.”
Holding up his hands in surrender, Torch takes a step back. “Okay. Shit.”
Colt’s eyes move to Henley, softening. “What’s up?”
“Nothing,” she replies. Glancing over at Torch, she rolls her eyes. “Donovan the Dumbass, over here, got all pissed off because I told him that Shy and Roanne left.”
“They what?” Doc, Jinks, and I shout in unison. Grabbing his phone, Doc starts dialing. “Goddammit, Cheyenne!” he screams, throwing the phone down onto the pool table. His eyes meet mine, worry etched all over his face. “Straight to voicemail.”
“Fuck.” Jinks bolts around the bar, heading for the ki
tchen while Doc heads down the hall toward Shy’s room.
“I don’t understand what the problem is,” Henley shrugs. “Is that not allowed or something?”
“No,” I ground out, completely furious. “And they fuckin’ well know it.”
“Jesus,” Torch mutters. “Generally, no one leaves the compound when we’re under a lockdown, Henley. That’s kinda the fuckin’ point.”
“Where did they go?” I ask, heading for the stairs. “You’re positive they left?”
“Of course,” she replies. “I gave them my keys.”
“You gave them the keys to your car?” Torch asks in disbelief. “What the fuck were you thinking?”
“They mentioned going into town to grab some snacks and stop for milkshakes. Shy was blocked in by the van and Ro’s car isn’t here. I was being helpful, dammit,” she argues, propping her hand on her hip. “It’s not like anyone told me those two weren’t allowed to leave. Seriously, what kind of trouble can they get into? Hell, I was gonna go with them, but they left me behind while I was in the bathroom changing.”
“Shy logged into my computer,” Jinks heaves, gasping for breath. “They’ve got the Gladeville Ridge address.
“They’re not getting milkshakes, are they, Colt?” Henley asks, her face falling.
“’Fraid not, Sweetheart,” he replies, patting her arm.
“Stupid women,” Doc seethes, storming into the room. “Her gun safe’s empty.”
“What the fuck are they thinking?” Huck mumbles.
“They’re not,” I reply, grabbing my phone from the table beside the double doors that lead into the chapel. “That’s what scares me.”
Dialing Roanne’s phone, my blood runs cold when her voicemail picks up. Shit. “She’s not answering either. Bet she doesn’t even have the damn thing on her,” I mutter, knowing that Ro has rarely used her cell, unless it’s been to handle something at Frazier Stone.
