“Thanks, brother. So do you.”
I grab a beer and cider and return to my woman, her pretty hazel eyes sparkling as she sees me coming. God, I’m scared to blink some days. She’s so beautiful.
“You look good here, relaxed.”
“Much different than how you found me at that gala?”
I think back to that night, seeing her in the arms of another man, and how uncomfortable and pained she looked, how my only thought was fixing it for her. I’ve always been hers, but that night, she chose me.
“Yeah, baby, you’re glowing, looking so at ease.”
The music turns on, the floorboards vibrating from the base. Alcohol flows from the bar and keg, as the scent of weed floats through the air. Bristol’s wearing a pair of tight denim jeans that cling to each of her mouthwatering curves, a white V-neck T-shirt, and my property jacket. She wasn’t too keen on the idea of the word ‘property,’ but after I explained the deep meaning behind it, she felt honored.
“Why doyou look like you’re about to drop more bad news, Rhys?” She’s sitting in the chair in our bedroom, wearing her scrubs, having not changed since we got back from the shelter a few hours ago. I drop down to my haunches at her feet, my hands curling around her calves.
“It’s not bad news, love, I promise. I’ve gotta ask you something, but first, I need to explain it so you understand.”
She runs her fingers through my beard, and I easily sink into her touch. “Ask me.”
“In our world, patches carry a deep meaning. They aren’t just a symbol of affiliation; they’re a statement of our relationship and our commitment to each other. A declaration. They’re deeply important to every single one of us.”
“I understand that, I know how much all of this means to you. That it’s a complete way of life for you.” We’ve been having long talks about the dynamics of the club lately, trying to get her caught up with everything and adjusted. I know I’m throwing this at her and should probably hold off, but I’ve already waited a lifetime, and I can’t wait any longer. But she always has the choice; she can always say not right now, and it wouldn’t change a thing between us. Hell, I’d respect the hell out of her for it.
“The property patch is given to women who become a biker’s old lady. I know you’re gonna hate that word, but I promise you, it’s not about control. It’s not about being my property in the normal sense. It’s about respect and trust. It signifies a bond that is deeper than surface level. It tells everyone that we belong to each other, that we’re stronger together. In the club, we value family, respect, loyalty, and strength above all else, and the property patch is given tosomeone who’s not just a partner, but our equal in everything, someone who accepts our values and our own rules of this life. Our queens.” I say the last word with a bit of a laugh. Can’t say I’ve heard of another club calling their old ladies queens, but it seems to fit with our women.
“My vow to you, my love, is to always stand by you through the highs and lows, to support you in whatever you need, to always give you choices, to trust you, to honor you, to be loyal to you, for the rest of my life. And if my life ends before I’m ready for it to, you will have these same things from the club. They will never turn their backs on you, and they will always be your family. This isn’t given lightly, sweetheart, and if you say yes, it means that you’ve accepted me and this life, and I want you to wear it with pride. I want you to know that to me, to a biker, it’s almost more meaningful than a wedding ring.”
“Yes.”
Zero hesitation. Zero questions. Just trust and acceptance. God, I fucking love her.
The vote went easy enough,and I asked her the same night. Not a day has gone by that she hasn’t worn it. In fact, looking at her right now, it’s making me fucking feral. My eyes rake over her sexy body, stopping to admire the way her full breasts peek out of the top of her T-shirt. Fuck, I love her tits. I pull my bottom lip between my teeth, using my palm to press down on my rapidly hardening length behind my jeans. Bristol tracks the movement, standing up from her place on the couch and erasing the space between us. Her eyes are heavily lidded, clouded with lust. She looks just as wrecked as I feel.
“You ready to get out of here?”
She read my mind.
“Fuck yes I am, sweetheart. Lead the way.”
Chapter Forty
RHYS
Bristol lies completely naked in front of me on the bed, looking like a goddess. I don’t deserve her. No one does. Her body is a fucking work of art, but her heart? For some reason, the stars aligned, and she gave it to a heathen like me. I’m going to accept both and cherish them until the devil himself returns to bring me home.
I strip out of my clothes, discarding everything into a pile on the floor. Then I prowl up the bed on all fours, her legs spreading open for me. The past week, she’s been more and more open with me, guiding me in what she wants and what feels best. It’s so fucking sexy. She loves having her pussy kissed. I don’t need to ask to know she’s been neglected in that way, and it’s a job I’m happy to step into.
I squeeze between her thighs, dropping down onto my stomach to line my face up with her glistening center.
“Look at you already dripping for me,” I whisper against her wet flesh as I dip my tongue into her core, just enough to swipethrough her cum. Another thing I love: she gets so fucking wet. I’m obsessed with how her body responds to me.
I spread open her puffy lips, giving myself complete access to her pink center, then I’m diving into my favorite meal. I lap at her first, teasing, and slow. Her hips lift up, hands threading through my hair as she greedily tries to get what she needs.
“Fuck, I love your pussy, baby. Your scent, your taste, how soft and velvety you feel, how fucking wet you get for me. You’ve made me an addict, Bristol. I’ll never stop craving you.”
Using the tip of my tongue, I flick at her clit, quick strokes that have her back bowing under me. Fuck, I love her like this.
“Rhys, that feels so good, aah! God, yes, don’t stop!”
