She nods, biting her bottom lip. Her eyes are glazed, pupils blown wide. I slide one hand up her body and pinch her nipple just to hear the needy sound she makes. My control? Gone. Absolutely dust. I bend and take that nipple into my mouth, sucking hard. Her head tips back, a sharp gasp tearing from her throat. Her fingers clutch my hair, holding me there. And I love it.
“Good girl,” I mumble against her skin. “Take me. Come on my cock.”
Her whole body tightens and her back arches off the counter. She cries out, trembling as she comes. That tight, wet pussy pulses around me, dragging me right to the brink. I grab her hips and drive into her harder, chasing the peak. My vision goes fuzzy at the edges as pleasure rips through me. I come with a deep, rough groan, buried inside her, filling her up completely.
For a moment, we just breathe, tangled and shaking, her legs still wrapped around me like she doesn’t want to let go. I brush a kiss against her lips, chest heaving.
Bri smiles up at me, all satisfied and glowy. “Well,” she murmurs, teasing, “that escalated quickly.”
I laugh under my breath, still trying to catch my damn oxygen levels. “You started it.”
I help her off the counter and she grins up at me all smug like she didn’t just pull my brain out through my dick. She wraps herself around me for a second, soft and warm, and I take a breath, trying like hell to calm down. Nights like this? This is the shit I wish we got more of. No drama. No club business blowing up my phone. Just her. Us. Normal. But normal ain’t my life.
A minute later my burner buzzes against the counter like a pissed-off hornet. I don’t even have to check the damn thing to know it’s trouble. It’s never a good thing when Pres calls after dark.
Bri notices the shift in my shoulders immediately. “Club?” she asks, towel tucked tight around her, eyes narrowing like she’s waiting for me to lie.
“Yeah.” I force my jaw to relax, dry off enough to shove into clean jeans. “Something going on in Jackson. We gotta take a look.”
She watches me gear up like she hates every step it takes to turn me back into Tail Gunner instead of the guy who just had her moaning on a bathroom counter.
“We were gonna eat,” she says quietly. “Movie and everything.”
“I know.” And fuck do I hate bailing on her again. “We’ll still do all that. When I get back.”
Her eyes don’t quite buy it, but she nods anyway. Loyal as hell even when she’s pissed.
I step in closer, hooking my fingers under her chin. “Keep the doors locked. Don’t open up for shit. You hear something weird, call me. I’ll come back.”
She wants to argue. I see it flicker in her eyes like a lit fuse. She knows the drill, but she also doesn’t want to be treated like a damn kid who can’t handle herself. And maybe one day I’ll learn how to ask instead of order. But tonight? I just need to know she’s safe.
“Blade…” she tries one more time.
“Bri. Please.” The word tastes weird in my mouth. I don’t beg. But I’m begging her.
Her lips press flat. She gives a stiff nod. “Fine. Go. I’ll be here.”
That should make me feel better but it doesn’t. I grab my cut, shrug it on. The weight settles over my shoulders like armor. Rings. Knife. Boots. I become the man who deals with threats so she never has to.
She pads after me to the front door, legs bare and hair damp. She looks like home. And I’m walking out into the kind of shit that kills homes.
I take one last look at her, fingers brushing her jaw. “Lock it behind me.”
She nods, eyes softer now. “Don’t be stupid.”
I huff a laugh. “No promises.”
I step outside, cold air knifing through the heat she left on my skin. Door shuts behind me. Locks click. I tell myself that means she’s safe.
I swing onto my bike and fire her up. The engine rattles the quiet street, a reminder that the Reapers are always watching, always ready. I should be focused on what Mason needs. The intel. The ops tonight. Rev and Lucky waiting at the clubhouse, probably bitching about why I’m late. But all I can think about is the look on Bri’s face when I told her to stay put.
She agreed. But that hesitation? Yeah. I clocked it. My girl doesn’t like being told what to do.
I peel out toward the clubhouse, dread settling in low and mean beneath my ribs. Something in the air feels off. Too quiet lately. Feels like the calm before a storm that’s already decided who it wants to drown.
TWENTY
BRI
