Ripped was just a man, but Battle wastheman. The only one that mattered. But I was letting him go because that was what love was: letting go of what you loved so it could survive.
Ripped gripped me under my ass and lifted my body up to meet his, and with his come still dripping out of me, he plunged back inside of me, filling me up with his thick cock and slamming all the way in until I was gasping with a mixture of pleasure, pain and sadness.
Ripped fucked me hard, each brutal stroke of his cock slamming against my cervix a brand upon my body. He fucked his promises to leave the people I loved alone, into me and I took every stroke of his cock as his word and his bond, my muscles tightening around him in a silent pact to be with him and not Battle.
Ripped held my face in his large hands, his eyes burning into mine with ferocity while his hips surged and his cock doused my insides with his cum. There was nothing gentle about his lovemaking; it was brutal and almost violent as he drove into me over and over and I cried out in grief and pain, taking every thrust he gave me. I was his forever now, but at least Battle was safe.
~ 20 ~
Battle
Three months later.
“You sure you can ride this thing still?” Fighter laughed from next to me.
I turned and glared and he laughed harder, holding his hands up in defense.
“All right, all right, brother. I’m just saying…it’s been a while.”
He smiled, but it fell as we both remembered why it had been so long since I’d been able to ride my bike.
Ripped and the Burning Eights had happened.
Quinn had happened.
A whole world of hurt and broken hearts had happened.
But that was over now.
After I’d gone to speak to Ripped, he’d set his men on me. It was ten to one and I stood no chance, but I’d given them hell before they overpowered me. The worst part was that Hardy hadn’t done shit about it. I guess I couldn’t blame him since it was a shitstorm I’d caused, but it still hurt to see him stand by and let that shit happen. Fighter had tried to help me though, brother had gotten beaten to hell and back until I’d held up my hands in surrender to save his life. They’d dragged him out of there barely conscious and then Hardy had left.
The last thing I remembered was searing pain through both of my arms as they held me down and set to work on me again. I was sure I was going to die, but it would be a worthy death because I’d fought for my woman.
Not sure when they’d stopped, or why though, but I’d woken up with two broken arms, a fractured skull, and in a whole world of hurt.
I started the engine of my Harley, enjoying the roar of her voice calling out through the clubhouse yard. Fucking loved my bike, and it had been way too long since I’d been able to ride her.
“You read—”
I peeled away, cutting off Fighter’s last words as I headed out of the clubhouse grounds and onto the road outside. Wanted to get some space from that place where I’d been cooped up for the past three months. I wanted the open road and the wind in my face. I wanted my lungs burning with exhilaration and my muscles aching. But mostly, I wanted the roar of my engine to drown out the sound of Quinn’s voice from my head.
After everything, she’d chosen him.
Still couldn’t quite wrap my mind around that.
But I’d watched him leave with her on the back of his bike and her arms wrapped tight around him, so there was no doubt. After everything, she’d chosen him.
Fighter caught up to me and we raced through the streets and out onto the highway. I gave him the middle finger and broke away from him again, adding distance between us again. Fuck, it felt good. Like my body was being hit with lightning and I was waking up from a long fucking dream.
The road blurred beneath me, the clouds overhead shifting until day was easing into night and my arms were aching from riding so long. Fighter pulled up alongside me as I slowed. He pointed up ahead and I nodded, and we pulled off at the next exit.
We rode along in silence until Fighter pulled ahead, taking a sharp right. I frowned and followed him, wondering where he was going. There was an old farmhouse up ahead with another two bikes outside, and I checked over my shoulder to see if anyone else was behind us.
Fighter pulled to a stop and I did the same, taking my helmet off and looking across at him.
“What’s this?” I asked bluntly.
I trusted Fighter with my life, especially since he’d risked his for me by taking a beating from the Burning Eights when all the shit with Quinn went down, but I was still suspicious.
