The fire pit's in the center of the yard, logs stacked tall, heat rolling off it in waves. Mason's in a folding chair closest to the flames, beer in hand, looking more relaxed than I've ever seen him with Carlie in his lap. Dagger's next to him, knife flipping open and closed out of habit, but even he's smiling, watching his old lady walking toward him. Ghost stands a little back, arms crossed, watching everything like always. Riot and Anya are there too, she’s still a shell of a woman. Riot watches her with an intensity I’ve never seen before. And all of these men are possessive assholes.
Bella spots me first. She's perched on a picnic table with Brooke and Bri, all three of them glowing from the firelight. Sophie is already dancing on a stack of crates, hips rolling, Tank watching her like she's the only thing in the world.
"Sav!" Bella yells over the music. "Get your cute ass over here before these nonpregnant bitches drink all the good shit and you’re left with nothing!"
I laugh and drag Lucky that way. He lets me go long enough for me to hug the girls, but his eyes never leave me.
Bella pulls me down beside her on the table. "You look hot as hell. That ring catching the firelight? Killer."
I hold my hand up. The diamond throws tiny sparks. "Still feels surreal."
Brooke leans in, elbows on her knees. "Lucky tell you what tonight's really about?"
I glance at him. He's a few feet away now, talking low with Mason, but he looks over like he feels my eyes. "He said the club finally closed out some old business. That's all I got."
Bri snorts softly. "Old business. Cute."
Bella nudges me. "They don't tell us the details unless we need to know. Safer that way. But look around. Everyone's breathing easier tonight. No more looking over their shoulders. No more late-night church calls. Whatever they did... it's done."
I watch the fire for a second. The flames are roaring, logs cracking, and every brother I see has that loose, relieved posture. Like weights just dropped off their backs.
Brooke nods slowly. "They all did what they had to. But they're here. We're here. That's what matters."
Sophie jumps down from the crates and drops next to us, sweaty and grinning. "Enough heavy shit. We're celebrating. Drink."
She shoves a cup into my hand. Something dark and sweet burns going down. I take another pull, feel it hit my stomach like liquid fire.
Lucky walks over then, eyes locked on me. He stops right in front, holds out his hand. "Come on, Firecracker, let’s dance."
I take his hand and he pulls me up, spins me once so my hair flies, then yanks me against his chest. His hands slide straight to my ass, squeeze hard.
"Been watching you," he mutters against my ear. "Laughing with the girls. Ring shining. Jeans hugging that ass. Makes me crazy."
I grind against him slowly, feel him harden through his jeans. "Good crazy?"
"The best kind." We move together, our bodies pressed tight, his thigh between mine, my arms around his neck. The fire's heat mixes with his, with the alcohol, with the way his hands roam down my body like he can't get enough.
I tip my head back to look into his eyes. "Take me somewhere."
He doesn't hesitate. Grabs my hand, pulls me away from the fire toward the dark side of the compound. We pass couples already tangled in shadows, someone moaning low against a bike. Nobody cares. He finds a spot behind the garage, far enough away that the music muffles, close enough we can still hear the party. He backs me against the rough wood wall, hands braced on either side of my head. "Gonna fuck you right here," he says.
I reach for his belt, pop the button. "Then shut up and do it, biker boy."
He kisses me all hard and filthy, his tongue shoving in deep, teeth scraping my bottom lip hard enough to sting. I taste copper and him. My hands are already on his belt, fumbling it open, shoving his jeans and boxers down just far enough his cock springs free, thick and leaking against my stomach.
He growls into my mouth, breaks the kiss only long enough to spin me around. My palms slap the wall. He yanks my jeans and panties down to my knees in one rough tug, the denim trapping my legs together. His boot kicks mine wider as much as they’ll go. He grabs my hips, fingers digging in hard, pulls my ass back and up until I’m arched, back bowed, chest pressed to the rough wood.
"Stay just like that," he mutters against my ear, voice wrecked. One hand slides between my thighs, spreads me open. The head of his cock notches at my entrance, rubs through the slick once, twice, then he thrusts in hard.
I bite my own arm to muffle the gasp. The stretch burns so good my eyes roll back. He’s deep—deeper than this angle should allow—and every inch feels like it’s splitting me open in the best way.
He clamps one hand over my mouth from behind, palm hot and rough, the other arm banding around my waist to keep me pinned exactly where he wants me.
"Quiet, baby," he rasps, hips snapping forward. "Don’t want the whole fucking club hearing how soaked this pussy is for me."
He fucks me fast and brutal from behind, each thrust slamming my hips into the wall, scraping my palms raw. My jeans at my knees force my legs close, making every slide tighter, every drag more intense. His balls slap against me with every stroke. His grip on my waist is iron, holding me up so I don’t collapse.
I push back into him, meeting every thrust, clenching hard around him. He curses low, teeth grazing the back of my neck.
