She came first, clenching around me, crying out my name as her pussy fluttered and squeezed. I didn’t stop. I fucked her through it, grinding against her clit until she was shaking and begging.
I flipped her onto her stomach, pulled her hips up, and sank back in from behind. The angle let me go even deeper. I reached around and rubbed her clit in tight circles while I drove into her.
“Come again,” I growled against her ear. “Want to feel you fall apart on my cock while I fill you up.”
She did—harder this time, sobbing my name into the pillow. I followed right after, burying myself to the hilt and coming with a low groan. Thick, hot pulses of my seed flooded her, spilling deep, leaking out around my cock as I kept rocking through it.
We stayed locked together for a long minute, breathing hard, my chest to her back.
Later, after I’d cleaned her up and pulled her into my arms under the blankets, we lay on our backs and looked up through the skylight at the stars.
Bandit scratched at the door sometime after midnight. I let him in; he jumped onto the foot of the bed, circled twice, and curled up like he’d always belonged here.
Sienna’s head rested on my chest, her fingers tracing the ink over my heart.
“I don’t know your favorite food yet,” she whispered. “Or your favorite color. But I know you’re mine. And you’re my soulmate, Mason. We skipped the dating, the small steps, and went right into the big one. But it fits. It works. It’s us.”
I kissed the top of her head and held her tighter.
“Yeah, baby. It’s us.”
Outside, the desert wind whispered through the string lights. Inside, my wife slept safe in my arms, my cum still warm between her thighs, my ring on her finger, and my patch on her back the second we got the cut made for her.
The feds could keep digging.
The Oakleys could keep bleeding money.
The cartel could keep looking over their shoulders.
None of it mattered.
I had her.
And the desert finally felt like home.
The run up north had been long and dusty, the kind that clears your head and reminds you why you ride. I’d needed it after three weeks of feds breathing down our necks and Sienna still jumping at every shadow. I killed the engine outside the little coffee shack on the edge of town, the one with the good pour-over and the iced longnecks she liked. Figured I’d grab her a latte and something sweet before I headed back to the yurt.
The bell over the door jingled when I stepped inside. The place was mostly empty. I was already pulling cash from my wallet when I felt it—eyes on me, the kind that used to make my chest tight in all the wrong ways.
Rylee.
She was sitting at the corner table by the window, legs crossed, that same polished smile on her face like the last six years and the way she’d walked out on me had never happened. Her husband’s face had been all over the news the last few days—Oakley family, chemical dumping, federal indictments. The dentist smile was gone. She looked… desperate.
“Mason.” She stood up fast, heels clicking across the tile. Before I could even order, she was in my space, blood-red nails sliding up my chest and pressing right over the Royal Bastards patch like she still had any claim to it. “God, you look good. All that desert sun on you…”
Her other hand drifted lower, fingertips brushing the buckle of my belt, trying to slide under the hem of my shirt like the past had been erased. She rose up on her toes, aiming those glossy lips at my jaw like she could just pick up where we left off.
I caught her wrist before she could touch skin that didn’t belong to her anymore.
“Back off, Rylee.”
She blinked, surprised, but didn’t pull away. “Come on, baby. I know what you heard about Derek. It’s all bullshit. He got mixed up with the wrong people. But you and me… we were real. I made a mistake. I see that now. I never stopped loving you.”
Her nails dug into my pec like she could claw her way back in. The smell of her perfume—too sweet, too expensive—hit me and did nothing but turn my stomach.
I stepped back, forcing her hand off me. “You stopped loving me the day you walked out for a six-figure car and country-club life. Don’t rewrite history just because your husband’s about togo down for poisoning half the county. I had the ring in my closet for six months, Rylee. Six months of overtime and extra runs so I could ask you to marry me. You didn’t even wait for the question.”
Her eyes flicked down to my left hand. The thick platinum band Sienna now matched on her own finger caught the light. Rylee’s face went pale, then flushed an ugly red.
