“Probably,” Briggs agrees. He sounds resigned to his fate.
Good. That’s for the best.
When I look at him, he’s trying to hide a smile. Jensen is as well; his eyes locked on Tallulah.
“We got lucky,” I remind my friend.
“I know.”
She turns toward me, her eyes studying me. “You’re happy?” Her voice drops to a whisper, her tone earnest like she needs me to feel the depth of her question, “With the cut? With the ring? With the family?”
It’s not an accusation. It’s not a judgement. It’s the need for affirmation.
“Blissfully,” I admit.
“Okay.” She blinks rapidly, fighting the tears. I’m not doing much better, honestly. “If it ever changes, you let me know and I’m here,” her voice drops to something sinister, “and he better watch out.”
We start giggling and then there are two bikers looming over our table. Scythe gently takes the drink from Tal’s hand before throwing her over his shoulder and stalking away. “I’m taking advantage of Jop sleeping to snuggle with my woman,” he grumbles.
I giggle, but the sound fades as I notice just how intent Briggs’s focus is. And all of it is at me.
“You walkin’ or am I carrying you,” he challenges me.
I stand up slowly, putting my drink down before gliding past him, almost touching, but not quite. “I’m perfectly capable of walking.”
I don’t get two more steps before I’m up and being cradled in the strong arms of my biker. My laughter fills the room as I wrap my arms around his neck, and he starts to stalk toward our room. Yes, ours. We’ll talk about the house on the compound, and the vacation one, later.
When I look up, Scythe has stopped and Tallulah is looking at me with her head tilted slightly. She nods and then whisperssomething to her husband who resumes his path to their room, one of the guest suites. Yeah, my friend gets it.
That doesn’t mean I don’t understand what she was saying. I would love to be close to her, but our paths won’t allow it right now. We’ll figure it out and who knows what the future will bring.
As our door is kicked shut behind us, I find myself suddenly air born. Then I’m bouncing on our bed, the whole thing happens so quickly I don’t have the chance to let out the shriek lodged in my throat.
Briggs is there, kneeling at the side of the bed when I sit up, his hands reaching for me and tugging at my clothes. He treats my cut with the same reverence as his own.
Watching it does something to me, alters something, helps me feel it too. What he’s treating with such gravity isn’t the cut, not really, not the leather it’s made out of or even the shape of it. It’s really this feeling of belonging, of acceptance, of support through the hard times, of celebration during the best times.
He’s offered it to me without hesitation.
“I’ll never take for granted what you’re offering me, what you’ve given me so easily,” the words feel like the start of a covenant. “I love you, Briggs.”
“I love you, my Addyson.”
As we undress, our hands are steady and quick, but not frantic. By the time we’re naked, I’m dripping for him and pre-cum is coating the angry looking crown of his cock. His body covering mine and pressing me into the mattress is everything.
He pushes inside of me slowly and there is something so grounding in the way he fills me. When his head falls back on hisshoulders, his hips pushing his cock just a little bit deeper as if he can’t help himself, I can’t help but gasp. It’s sexy as fuck.
“You stretch around me so fucking perfectly,” he grinds the words out through his clenched teeth. “Wet and perfect.”
Everyone should experience a big biker praising them with softness, like words are feathers, at least once in their life. Not my biker, but a biker.
Mine is taken.
He moves above me, his body begging me to meet, to climb together, to find a rhythm that pushes and pulls in a way that is tantalizing. My hands slide up the back of his head until I can grip his hair. His mouth finds mine when I pull him down to me.
“Yes,” I moan before he swallows down the sound.
I tilt my hips and he’s able to go just a little bit deeper. The drag of his cock along my walls is delicious. I fall into the sensation with my arms wide open. His shoulders are tight with tension from the control he’s holding onto.
