Renewed Rider: A Lost Saxons Novel #4

by Ames, Jessica

  “What’s up with Jem?”

  Logan twists slightly to get a look at his little brother. “I don’t know.”

  “He hasn’t said anything?”

  He snorts. “Love, you girls might gossip about every little detail in your lives, but we don’t. I have no idea what’s going on with Jem. He hasn’t mentioned anything. And even if something was going on, he wouldn’t tell me.”

  This is a lie. Logan is close to his brothers. He practically raised his siblings after his father died. They would come to him if they were in trouble, and I don’t know if Jem is in difficulty, but clearly something is bothering him. Is it something to do with Slade and the Club?

  “Do you think you should ask him?”

  “No. I think I should concentrate on my beautiful wife.”

  “Hmm, I like how that sounds.” My attention is diverted from Jem back to Logan.

  “I like it, too.”

  I really do. Logan’s wife. I love being his wife. I love him being my husband.

  “I have a job for you, Mr Harlow?”

  His hands move from my hips to my bum, giving it a squeeze, and a fission of pleasure works through my pelvis, gathering between my legs.

  “Oh? And what might that be?”

  I move to his ear, grateful for the extra height my heels give me and whisper, “I need my husband to fuck me.”

  When I pull back his eyes are molten. “You do, do you?”

  “Yes.” My bottom lip goes between my teeth and his gaze tracks the movement. “Consider it your first marital duty, in fact.”

  He snorts. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re bossy?”

  This makes my brow arch and I forget I’m flirting for a moment. “Are you kidding? You’re the bossiest person on the planet, not to mention a complete control freak.”

  His smirk makes my stomach dip. He has the most delectable mouth. I want to kiss it. “I wondered how long that would last.” He leans forward and nibbles the shell of my ear.

  I moan as he does, shivers working down my spine, my nipples hardening.

  Fuck.

  “How long… what would last?” I ask, my voice husky as I cling to him.

  Thoughts fail for a moment as he scrapes his fingers over my left breast and I’m glad for the low lighting hiding his wandering hands from the eyes in the marquee.

  “The submissive act.”

  “I can be submissive.”

  “No, love, you can’t. You need control as much as I do.”

  “I give into you all the time,” I argue.

  “You give into me half of it.”

  This is probably true. “Are you going to take me upstairs and fuck me, Lo?”

  Patience is not my strong suit and I’m turned on, my underwear starting to get damp. I want him inside me, taking away this achy need between my legs, feasting on me.

  He rubs his fingers over my breast again, bringing a moan from me. “Impatient.”

  “I’m horny. All this talk of love and shit, and you standing there all day looking edible... I’ve waited as long as I can.”

  “Then I better see to you.”

  He pulls back from me and grabs my hand.

  “I need to find Dad and Grandad and say goodnight first.”

  We find them on the far side of the marquee near the makeshift bar area that was set up for this evening.

  Grandad looks tired, but he’s nursing a pint with Dad, Derek and Dax, the Manchester Devil’s President. He’s a big guy, nearly as big as low, but he’s leaner, and his hair, which reaches his shoulders, is held back by a bandana with little skulls on it.

  “We’re heading to bed,” I say to Grandad as we approach. “Thank you for coming.”

  “I wouldn’t have missed seeing my favourite grandkid getting hitched,” he rumbles out. He does have other grandchildren, but my cousins are… well, they’re arseholes, and that’s putting it nicely.

  I hug Dad next.

  “You looked beautiful today, Beth.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I was so proud, kiddo.”

  Logan turns to Dax. “Thanks for riding up, brother.”

  “Wouldn’t have missed it. You know us; we love a good knees-up.”

  I’ve yet to meet a biker that doesn’t love a party.

  “Next time you and your old man are in Manchester,” Dax says to me, “make sure you drop in. Me and Ella would love to see you both again.”

  I’ve never met Ella, what with being in London for the past ten years, but I return the pleasantries and tell him he should bring his old lady the next time they’re up this end of the country. The Devil’s is a bigger club, more organised, more nationalised than the Saxons. They ride this way a lot to visit their northern chapters, so I have no doubt I’ll meet her at some point. Besides, the Saxons are good friends with them and have been for years.

  Logan and Dax clasp forearms in that handshake men do. Then Logan drops his arm around my shoulders and we head towards the exit.

  In the doorway of the tent, I pause and glance back.

  Logan tips my chin up. “Love, are you okay?”

  I glance around the marquee. Everyone is dancing or joking or having a good time.

  Did we do it? Did we manage to bring back together our family?

  “Everyone’s happy.”

  “Well, weddings are happy occasions.”

  “I wanted to bring the Club back together, Logan. Did we do that? Did we manage to heal that rift?”

  He pulls me tight against his side and kisses my head. “I sure as hell hope so, because this right here tonight is what the Club is about for all of us.”

  And he’s right it is. This is what the Club is; it’s not betrayal or hurt or pain. It’s bonds of brotherhood and sisterhood. It’s knowing there are people out there who will bleed for you; who will die for you.

  I love every single person in this tent and I hope this day has reminded them all of the importance of those bonds. Tap’s betrayal cut us all wide open, because it showed us how vulnerable we can be by opening ourselves to others. But clamming up, shutting down, isn’t the way to deal with that. It’s not. The way to deal with that is to stick a big old middle finger up.

  We were bent by Tap’s actions, not broken. We’re stronger for it and nothing will break us.

  If Dylan wants to come at us again, he’ll find the same thing. We’ll stand against him, too. The same with this P.I. If William Brosen thinks he can come at the Club, if he thinks he can chip away at us, then he’s sorely mistaken. We can’t be broken down. We won’t be. If he thinks the women in the Lost Saxons are the weak links, then he’s an idiot because we’re just as powerful as our men. Me and Liv, we’ve weathered the worst we can face and we came out the other side tougher for it. Brosen doesn’t understand that.

  I do know one thing, though; the Club is stronger when we stand together than when we’re divided, so we have to stay that way. Whatever is coming for us, whatever we have to face in the future, we have to do it together. Stand strong as a pack or we’ll fall alone. This is the only truth I know. Brosen isn’t going to shy away. He’s not done digging around for his answers. He’ll be back at some point, and since he seems to be fixated on me and Liv, I’m sure we’ll be seeing him again.

  And I’m fully expecting Dylan will emerge out of the woodwork. He’ll have no choice. The boys are hunting him, and he can’t hide forever.

  Mary said I need to be strong to weather the coming storm. I think that’s true. I think we all need to be strong, but with Logan by my side, I can face anything.

  But tonight, none of that matters. Tonight, all I need to think about is my new husband.

  I snake my arm around Logan’s waist to grip his hip.

  “Take me to bed.”

  He kisses me, long, wet and hard.

  “Your wish is my command, darlin’.”

  Epilogue

  Waking up in Logan’s arms always feels good, but it feels like a new chapter the day af
ter the wedding. He’s wrapped around me, his arms flung over my waist, his nose stuck in the back of my neck, lightly snoring. Contentedness washes through me, an ease I’ve never felt before settles around my shoulders. I’ve loved Logan since I was a teenager.

  Did I hope this moment would come?

  Yeah.

  Did I think it would?

  Hell no.

  I stare at my ring finger, my wedding band snuggled against my engagement ring and smile to myself. He’s mine now, and I’m not letting him go this time. I let him walk away ten years ago, and that was a mistake. I hate the time we wasted, the time we could have shared together building memories and a life together. That won’t happen again. I’m never letting him go.

  Our wedding was everything I hoped it would be and more. I joined with my best friend and soulmate, although the ring and vows wouldn’t have changed that. He was mine from the moment I came back into town. In truth, he’s owned me body, soul and heart from the moment I knew what love was.

  Now, lying in his bed in the clubhouse in a room decked out in white sheets, bunting across the walls with ‘just married’ and little motorcycles hanging between them, I can’t help but wonder what the future holds for us. I’m not naïve enough to believe the Club danger is done. William Brosen is still hanging around, Dylan is on the lam, and things between the boys, Slade and Derek are tense, but I think our wedding did at least enough to paper over some of the cracks.

  Logan’s breathing changes and his arms tighten around me, his nose nuzzles into my neck. “Why’re you awake?”

  “It’s nearly lunchtime.”

  He kisses the spot behind my ear, the one that makes me go liquid in his arms. “It’s early.”

  I rub my hands up his biceps, feeling his hardness press against my bum as he pulls me tight against him.

  “Is your head hurting?” I ask him.

  He didn’t drink excessively last night, but he did imbibe enough to warrant a hangover.

  “No. Is yours?”

  “Not really.”

  One of his hands moves between my legs and I open up to him, giving him access to swipe his fingers through my folds to find my clit, while his other collars my throat briefly before moving down to latch around my breast.

  He works me over with expert precision, knowing exactly where to touch to make me beg for more. His fingers move inside me as his other hand pinches my nipple, and the dual sensation is a dizzying mix that has me seeing double. I press my bum back against him, feeling his hardness nestle against me. I want him inside me, but he doesn’t oblige. Instead, he keeps up his unrelentless finger-fucking until I’m seeing stars and can barely draw air.

  “Logan…” I moan. “I’m going to…”

  “What, darlin’?” he growls in my ear, his breath warm against the shell.

  “Come… I’m going to…”

  I gasp out my release, my pussy clamping around his fingers as pulses rack my body. My thighs quiver as he continues to slowly move in and out of me until the orgasm starts to die down.

  Stretching lazily, I glance over my shoulder to him, and say, “My turn.”

  Before he can say another word, I extradite myself from his hold and push him onto his back. I crawl down his body, my fingers trailing over his chest. His stomach ripples and I grin up at him, loving the half-lidded gaze he’s giving me.

  I take his cock in my hand and swipe my thumb over the end. His pelvis twitches. “Babe…”

  “Quiet. I’m busy loving on my husband.”

  Like Logan, I know exactly how to please my man, and I get to work. I play with his balls, gently massaging them as I run my tongue up the length of his shaft. I hear his groan as I hit the head of his cock and swirl my tongue there, tasting his pre-cum. Lifting my head, and brushing my hair out of the way, I glance up at him, making sure he’s enjoying what I’m doing. The wild look in his eyes suggests absolutely, so I continue to work him, using my hand as well to bring him pleasure.

  Logan is a pussy man. He would eat me out without me working him over, but I love his cock just as much, so I feast on him like a love-starved woman. I can feel the thick veins beneath my tongue bulging as he draws closer to his climax, hear the sharp intakes of breath as I draw the skin up and down with my hand, and I feel the thrill, knowing I’m exciting him.

  “Okay, enough,” he growls, pulling me up his body. Chest to chest, my breasts pressed tightly to his pecs, his hands tangle in my hair. “I want to be in you when I spunk, darlin’.”

  “You say the most romantic things to me,” I joke as I wrap my legs around his back, my hands going to his shoulders to steady me. “Is this the honeymoon period over?”

  “That’s never ending.” His rock-hard cock probes at my pussy, desperately seeking entrance. “Let me inside you, Beth,” he begs.

  I lift slightly, so he can and he surges into me. A gasp escapes me at the intrusion, and I widen my legs to give him more room. He starts to move immediately, pulling back and pushing even deeper inside. The noise that comes out of me is a guttural groan that sounds entirely inhuman.

  The force of him pushes me back onto the mattress, his huge body enveloping mine as he moves inside me, riding me hard. His hands alternate between holding my hips to keep me in place, playing with my clit and fondling my tits. I keep my fingers fisted into the headboard, trying not to lift off the bed. My pussy feels deliciously bruised as my second climax hits.

  He doesn’t let up, flipping me onto my stomach and pulling my bum into the air to take me from behind—my favourite position. His hand fists my hair, tugging just hard enough to sting, as he pounds into me from behind. I feel his fingers skim over my spine before my pussy pulses a final time and I come as he does.

  Collapsing face first onto the bed, I think I scream his name, but I’m not sure if I manage to articulate the syllables fully.

  I lie there, face in the blankets, arse still in the air, breathing heavily, trying to make my vision still again. I feel Logan’s hand swipe down my spine before he pulls out of me.

  “Are you okay?”

  “No.”

  “Beth?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I love making love to you.”

  I pull my head out of the mass of covers and pillows and peer up at him.

  “I love it, too. I think you broke my pussy, though.”

  He grins. “Let’s get showered and get some food.”

  We head down to the dining room a little while later, dressed, clean and thoroughly sated. Mary said last night she and some of the women would be around to put food on for everyone, and judging from the smells coming from that direction, they’re still doing this.

  Logan pauses at the doors to the dining room and turns me to him.

  “Yesterday was perfect,” he tells me.

  “It was,” I agree. “And I think it did a lot of good for the Club.”

  He strokes a hand over my face. “You’re a hell of a woman, Beth Harlow.”

  I love how that sounds coming from his mouth.

  “Yeah, I’ll remind you of this fact next time we’re fighting.”

  He grunts. “We don’t fight. We discuss things with intensity.”

  “That’s a new one on me.”

  “Let’s get you fed before you start getting bitchy.”

  “I do not get bitchy.”

  “You do when you’re hungry.”

  He pushes the doors open to the dining room and we’re met with a roar of catcalls and whoops. I duck my head, my hands covering my face as heat rises in my cheeks, but I’m secretly pleased by the show of support from my friends and family. Logan’s hand squeezes mine before it moves to my neck. When he presses a kiss to my hair, I uncover my face and glance up at him, laughing and grinning. These people are crazy. He shrugs and mirrors my grin, and I want to drag him back upstairs to fuck him again. The man is so delectable.

  “If you keep looking at me like that, we’re going to give everyone a show.”

  I di
p my tongue out to wet my bottom lip and he growls under his breath, “Food, first.”

  I laugh and let him drag me over to the bench where most of the girls are sitting. Only Liv and Dean seem to be missing this morning. I imagine he made her go home and sleep in her own bed last night.

  One hand on the back of my chair, the other on the table, Logan dips low to me and asks, “Do you want everything on your plate bar mushrooms and black pudding?”

  This makes me smile, knowing that he is aware of what I’ll eat.

  “Yeah, honey, but you don’t have to wait on me.”

  “I want to.”

  “Girl, let him wait on you while he’s willing,” Sofia tells me from across the table. “This phase won’t last.”

  Logan rolls his eyes. “I looked after your ungrateful arse for the best part of two decades and I’m still doing it.”

  “Cute.” Sofia fires back, giving him the middle finger.

  I watch his bum moving in his jeans, appreciating the tightness of the denim, as he heads for the kitchen. I’m completely enthralled by it until Sofia leans across the table and smacks me.

  “Ow, what was that for?”

  “Ogling. I’m trying to eat.”

  “I am married to your brother. I ogle him frequently.”

  Mackenzie snickers at the side of her. “You two are adorable together,” she signs.

  “Married bliss certainly does suit you,” Clara agrees as she stabs her fork into a sausage.

  Slade is sitting with her, his arm draped over her shoulders as he sips a cup of coffee. I try not to act weird, but I can’t help but avert my gaze. I hate knowing what I know about him.

  My eyes run up the length of the hall, noticing Axel and his old lady, Harper, are still here, with some of the other Devil’s, but not all. They’re probably still in bed. The club will all leave together when it’s time. Adam and Jem are sitting with them, but Jem, who would usually be the life of the party, bantering and laughing, is glued to his phone and his jaw looks tight.

  I have to admit, I’m worried about my brother-in-law. I’ve never seen him this… stressed before. I think back over the past few weeks. He’s been up and down. One-minute Mr Happy-go-lucky, the next like a bear with a sore head. I understand the latter now, knowing what Slade has done, but the former? And who is he texting that has him so mad?