by A. M. Myers
I’m hypnotized, entranced, and completely his.
He glances down to watch his cock sink into me again and his teeth sink into his lip as his grip tightens. Leaning over me, he presses a kiss to my shoulder before biting me in the same spot and I cry out, turning to the wall as I close my eyes and revel in the feeling of his push and pull.
“God, Rowan,” he whispers, pressing his forehead between my shoulder blades as he keeps the same pace but it’s not quite enough. I need more but he doesn’t care. Releasing my hip, he moves his hand up to my breasts and grabs it as he drives into me with a little more force and I moan, hoping it encourages him to give me more. It doesn’t. Instead, he pulls me upright until our bodies are almost one and reaches down between my legs to toy with my clit as he continues casually thrusting into me.
“Travis,” I beg, tears of desperation stinging my eyes and I reach over my head and thread my fingers through his hair. He groans in my ear, kissing my neck before he grabs my leg and lifts it up until my foot settles on the bench next to us. Gripping my hips again, he picks up the pace and the sound of slapping fills the bathroom as pleasure explodes through my body. I lean over and press my hands to the wall again as his ragged breath rushes over my skin, sending a shiver down my spine.
God, I love hearing how turned on he is and I absolutely love knowing that he’s just as desperate for me as I am for him. I love the fire in his eyes when he looks at me and the way he grabs me like he owns me but most of all, I love that I can let go with him. When we’re together, there is nothing else on my mind and I don’t worry about a single goddamn thing because I know, with more certainty than I’ve ever felt before, that Travis has got me.
“Where did you go, baby?” he asks, leaning over me and wrapping his fingers around my throat again. I shake my head as my eyes roll back into my head.
“Nowhere.”
He uses the hand around my throat to pull me back onto his cock as he surges forward and his other hand slips into my hair as he bites the top of my shoulder. “You going to come for me?”
“Yes,” I whisper, my pussy clenching at the thought and he groans again.
“Reach down between your legs, Princess,” he orders, his voice full of gravel as he releases a ragged breath in my ear. “I want to watch you play with your pretty little clit when you come.”
My skin aches everywhere, every inch of me begging to be touched as the delicious, frustrating pressure continues to build in my body. My legs shake and I do as I’m told, slipping my hand between my legs and pressing my fingers to my clit and he groans in my ear again.
“Hard?” he asks and I can’t nod “yes” fast enough. His dark chuckle is the only warning I get before he sets a merciless pace, pounding into me harder than ever before as I scream, struggling to stay on my feet. The hand around my throat disappears before clamping over my mouth and he nips at my ear lobe but doesn’t slow down or back off.
“Travis,” I cry into his hand as my body jerks with each thrust of his hips and just when I think I can’t take anymore, that I’m going to die from the pain and pleasure of it all, my body lets go. Spiraling into the abyss of my orgasm, my knees give out but Travis doesn’t let me fall as he wraps his arms around my body and holds me up as he continues driving into me until he stills and releases a loud, rumbling groan. He pours himself into me and I close my eyes, leaning back into his hold as I struggle to catch my breath. My entire body tingles with the aftermath of my release and I’m almost certain that there is no way I’ll be able to walk out of this shower.
“Baby,” he whispers into my hair, his chest heaving with heavy breaths as he nuzzles into me and warmth rushes through my chest at the gesture.
“I don’t think I can walk.”
He laughs. “Don’t worry. I got you.”
“I know you do,” I whisper, my thoughts from a moment ago rushing back to me as he sets me on my feet. He keeps his arm wrapped around me and lets me lean back against his body as he turns off the shower before guiding me out onto the mat. Grabbing a towel off of the rack, he wraps it around my body before turning me to face him.
“Still can’t walk?”
I shrug, peeking up at him with a smile. “I guess I can manage now.”
“Good,” he answers, pulling me into his arms. “Because I really do have a present for you but it’s in the bedroom.”
“You mean to tell me that wasn’t my present?” I ask with a laugh, pointing to the shower and he grins, wrapping his arms around me.
“You think my cock is a gift?”
I roll my eyes. “I didn’t say that.”
“Mmm, I think you did but no, that is not what I was talking about,” he answers and I pull back, narrowing my eyes at him.
“You got me a Christmas present?”
“Maybe. Guess you’ll have to get your ass in the room to find out,” he shoots back and before I can protest, he spins me toward the door and smacks my ass, urging me forward. My head spins as we walk back into the room and I throw my hair up in the towel before pulling one of his t-shirts over my head and plopping down on the bed. Once he has a pair of mesh shorts on, he walks over to me with a little red box in his hand and sits down next to me. I eye the gift in his hand.
“I didn’t know we were… I didn’t get you anything,” I tell him, my cheeks heating as I mentally kick myself for not picking up a little something for him. He shakes his head, his eyes melting me as he stares at me with something I can’t quite name. It makes my belly do a little flip. “You don’t need to get me anything.”
“I really should…”
“Here. Open it,” he says, interrupting me as he drops his gaze from mine and thrusts the box into my hand before I can protest any further.
Sucking in a breath, I nod and lift the lid off of the box, gasping. The necklace inside has a delicate chain and the most unique star pendant I’ve ever seen in my entire life. The main star has four points and the entire thing has what look like diamonds embedded in it while the second star in the back is pure metal and shifted to the left so it’s four points fill in the gaps left by the other star. It’s absolutely gorgeous and makes me think of the time my dad took us all camping and taught us about the North Star and how to use it to find our way home. Tears sting my eyes and I look up Travis.
“You like it?” he asks, chewing on his bottom lip. “It popped up in an ad when I was online and it just made me think of you…”
I flash him a wide smile despite my tears and lean forward, pressing my hand to his cheek as I seal my lips to his. His hand half slips into my hair and relief pours off of him as the kiss grows into something more. When he pulls away, my heart is racing and butterflies flutter around in my belly as he flashes me a silly grin.
“Thank you, Travis. This is…” I look down at the necklace and attempt to swallow the lump in my throat. “You have no idea how much this means to me and I’m so sorry I didn’t get you anything.”
He brushes his thumb over my cheek and his eyes hold me captive once again. “Believe me, Rowan. You’ve already given me so much.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Travis
Running my hands through my hair, I blow out a breath before grabbing my beer off of the picnic table I’m sitting on and taking a sip as I watch the sun sink toward the horizon. I spent most of the day digging into anything Warren related I could think of but every lead I found only took me to another dead end, as usual, and now my head aches and I desperately want to put my fist through something… or someone. My chest feels tight as I shake my head and tell myself to calm down but it’s easier said than done when I have this asshole taunting me every minute of every day. I swear, it’s like I’m eighteen all over again, diving into a world I don’t really want to be a part of and hunting down a monster. The only difference is that this time, it doesn’t hit quite so close to home.
Fuck.
Ever since the day Warren followed the girls and Blaze through the mall, I’ve been singl
e-minded in my determination to find him and end all of this. I spend my days with Rowan and then I stay up all night, searching even the deepest, darkest corners of the internet but none of it does me any good because he already planned for every move I would make. Somehow, he knows me and he knows how I think. He’s put every contingency in place to make sure I don’t figure out who he is before he completes his mission and rips this club apart. Scrubbing my hand down my face, I take another sip of my beer as I remember the way my heart stopped when Tate called Kodiak from the mall and told us what was going down. During the entire drive to them, all I could think about was the threats Warren had made against her and the images I’ve been fighting so hard to keep buried pushed their way into my mind in an instant. Thankfully, we got there in time but I’ll never fucking forget that feeling.
It’s been a week since the incident at the mall but I still hate letting Rowan out of my sight for long and I can’t even imagine how much of a goddamn nutcase I would be if she left the clubhouse without me. I can’t stop thinking about what could happen to her if I’m not there to protect her and it’s part of the reason I’m not sleeping much. Rowan has enough nightmares for the both of us and I don’t want to burden her with all of my shit. My jaw aches as I grit my teeth, thoughts of my darkness tainting her making my stomach turn. She is perfect, just as she is, and the only thing that brings me any kind of peace these days so I’ll do whatever it takes to preserve that, even if it means never sleeping again.
“You pouting?”
I glance over my shoulder as Storm walks out of the clubhouse with a beer in his hand and I shake my head, sliding down the picnic table to give him room to sit. “Nope. You?”
“Naw,” he answers, rolling his eyes. “I just had to get out of there. The girls are all taking photos of Mags in her new dresses.”
I laugh, taking a sip of my beer as I turn to watch the sunset again. I guess all the guys went a little crazy or got super bored leading up to Christmas and bought Storm’s daughter, Magnolia, a shit ton of frilly dresses and toys. In fact, all of the kids made out pretty well this year so they’ve definitely been more entertained for the last two days.
“I noticed Rowan sporting some new jewelry. You get that for her?”
I arch a brow as I turn to look at him. “You noticed that, huh?”
“No,” he scoffs, laughing before he takes another sip of beer. “Ali did and mentioned it to me and then Tate pointed it out to Kodiak when I was there.”
Shaking my head, I glance back at the clubhouse door. “I don’t know whether that woman is trying to help me or get me killed.”
“When it comes to Tate, it’s probably a good bet to just assume both. Plus, with pregnancy hormones, it could change every hour.”
“Don’t let her hear you say that,” I warn him and he shoots me a look that calls me a moron in eight different languages before shaking his head.
“Yeah, no shit,” he fires back before sighing. “How are things going with Warren?”
I scoff. “They’re not.”
“Blaze mentioned that you found something about that video,” he prompts and I nod, breaking down the whole deep fake thing for him just like I did for Blaze and he stares off into the distance, quiet for a moment before whispering a curse.
“So, I’m really fucked then?”
I shake my head. “Naw, man. I’m not giving up and I’ll find answers for you, okay? You can’t think like that.”
“I can’t seem to stop thinking like that,” he replies, scrubbing his jaw. “Ever since the raid, all of my thoughts revolve around what Ali and Mags are going to do when I get sent to prison.”
I clap my hand on his shoulder and he glances over at me. “None of us are going to let that happen, man. I don’t care what I have to do…”
“Appreciate it,” he murmurs, nodding, before he stares off into the distance again and silence falls over us. We sip our beers, both of us lost in our thoughts and I run through all the information I’ve looked up on deep fakes, trying to find a way to prove that the man in the video isn’t Storm but like I said to Blaze, whoever made it is really fucking good. I’ve even considered making a replica of the video using the real Storm to show the subtle differences I noticed but it’s a slippery slope and I don’t want to make the problem any worse.
Storm nudges me, pulling me out of my thoughts as he points to a big white van pulling up outside of the fence. “What the fuck is that?”
“Your guess is as good as mine,” I tell him, cocking my head to the side as a well dressed woman steps out of the passenger side and fluffs her hair as she looks around. The side door opens and three men step out and one of them turns back to the van to pull out a giant camera as one of the others points to the clubhouse. “What the fuck?”
“What do you say we go see what’s going on?” Storm asks and I nod as we both stand up and set our beers down on the table.
“Sounds good.”
We start off across the parking lot and when they notice us walking over to them, they all start rushing around to set up the camera and start rolling, The woman pastes a professional smile on her face that looks as fake as her tits before bringing a microphone to her mouth as the cameraman points to her. She launches into her intro and Storm nudges me with his shoulder.
“Be charming.”
I scoff. “I’m always charming.”
“Then be extra charming today,” he growls under his breath as we reach the fence and we overhear snippets of her report. She’s here to investigate the video of Storm and why the club wants to hurt the city of Baton Rouge and my stomach drops.
“Can we help you?” Storm calls when we reach the fence and she ushers the cameraman to follow her as she struts over to us and flashes us that smile. It’s honestly a little terrifying.
“I’m Christina Hill with Channel Eight news and I’m here to investigate the video that was posted to the internet two weeks ago. You’re Logan Chambers, aren’t you?”
He nods, his body tense and his hands fidgeting at his sides before he shoves them in his pockets. “I am.”
“Care to tell the people of Baton Rouge what your club has against them and why you’re threatening to hurt people?”
“We’re not,” he answers. “That video isn’t real.”
She frowns, glancing back at the camera with a worried expression before facing us again. “I see… and what about the other videos? Are you saying they’re all fake?”
“What videos?” Storm asks, glancing over at me but I have no fucking clue what he’s talking about. Her gaze flicks between the two of us as she takes a fraction of a step back. It’s a subtle tell but one we both notice.
That’s it.
Our fates are sealed.
“There are eight other videos that were posted to the Bayou Devils website. Do you really expect people to believe that you don’t know what I’m talking about?” she asks and Storm nudges me before tilting his head to the clubhouse and I nod as he turns back to Christina Hill.
“Ma’am, the Bayou Devils don’t have a website so yes, we have no idea what you’re talking about.”
I turn and start walking back to the clubhouse as she asks him another question and when I’m far enough away from them to not draw a ton of attention to myself, I pick up the pace, running across the pavement as my mind races. Storm is right. The club doesn’t have a website or any social media and though I’ve thought about making one in the past, we all decided as a group that it was best if we did our work through word of mouth instead. Most of the time, it allows us the privacy we need to protect the people we rescue as well as ourselves.
When I get inside, I run over to the stairs and race up them, drawing looks from Kodiak, Chance, and Blaze as they sit around on the couches talking, but I don’t have time to stop to explain what is going on. Once I’m in my room, I sink into my chair and wiggle the mouse to wake up my computer. The screen springs to life and I fire up the internet before navigating to the sear
ch engine and typing the club’s name into the search bar. As soon as I hit enter, a page of results pop up and the first website claims to be the official site for the Bayou Devils MC. I click on it and hold my breath as the page loads.
The home screen doesn’t have much on it, except the video of Storm and my heart hammers in my chest when I see the little arrow on the side of the screen. I click it. Another video slides into the same place, this one of Chance and I press play as my stomach rolls.
“For far too long, the city of Baton Rouge has looked down on us, casting us as villains without any proof and we’ve taken it. We live with it every day despite the work we do to protect our neighbors. I’ve been glared at, mothers have moved across the street with their children when they see me coming, and I’ve even been spit on. For what? The way I look? The tattoos on my arms? The cut I wear? We’ve had enough…”
I pause the video and shove away from the desk as I lean back in my chair and run my hand through my hair as I struggle to form a single thought. Time seems to slow as I stare at the screen and every cell in my body aches to take action, do something about this but I can’t come up with anything. Shaking my head, I roll forward and click the arrow again, revealing a video of Moose but I can’t stand to watch it yet so I keep clicking through video after video until I get back to Storm’s. There is one for each of us and no doubt, each one promises pain, violence, and bloodshed to the citizens of Baton Rouge - our home, our city.
Ringing echoes around the room and I blink at the screen a few times, unable to process what it is, before it finally registers. Sucking in a breath, I dig my phone out of my pocket. “Hello?”
“Hi, Travis,” Warren says, his voice sickeningly cheerful and I turn away from the computer as I grit my teeth and glare out of my window where Christina is still interviewing Storm. Blaze has joined him but I’m not sure that will help anything. It seems like she has already found us guilty and with the evidence she has, I can’t blame her.
