Hands now free, I signed. This is what happens to a brother who turns coat. No brother works undercover for the Feds or another club… and no brother fucks with another brother’s property…
Rider’s eyes widened, but he stayed still—he got my meaning. I signaled for Flame to pass me another knife, and I stabbed it into Pit’s left shoulder. The brother stopped moving, just the sound of erratic wheezes slipping from his lips.
I retrieved my knife, my treasured German blade. I stepped four paces in front of Pit and, on the turn, launched the five-inch blade arcing through six yards of clear air. The knife flew true and drove in where intended, right between Pit’s fuckin’ rat eyes.
Pit, the rat, went to the boatman with no dimes on his eyes.
The brothers watched me leave, mouths gaping as I stormed out of the shed. No one dared follow. My stomach was churning with the betrayal by Pit. I felt sick at the thought of a rat slipping under the radar for nearly a fuckin’ year. He’d infiltrated MY club and shared intel on OUR business.
I smashed through the door of my room and made a beeline for the bed. I froze. Mae was fast asleep, naked. Her back-length straight black hair fanned around the pillow.
Fuckin’ stunning. And she was all mine. That calmed me the fuck down.
Mae shifted in her sleep and a long, slim leg kicked over the sheet… her tight pussy now on show. I slipped off my jeans and crawled over her relaxed body. Skirting down her thigh, I pushed her legs open. Still unconscious, she moaned quietly.
Smirking at the thought of what I was about to do, I laid a row of kisses from her knee to her thigh, passing the scars that once had me running for the hills. Mae’s hands suddenly threaded through my hair; as she looked down, those hooded wolf eyes were fixed on my pussy-hungry lips.
“Styx…” she moaned in a sleepy voice.
I didn’t waste any time and took a long lick along her slit. Mae’s long groan told me how much she liked it. My hands gripped her thighs and I dived in, relentlessly sucking at her clit, my finger plunging in her pussy. Her hands became frantic in my hair with every lick, every suck, every kiss, every thrust.
My woman fuckin’ loved it.
Mae’s breath shortened in labored gasps and her thighs tensed around my head. Momentarily, she stilled; then a scream ripped from her throat. My tongue slowed into lazy circles and I wound her down. Drawing back, I smiled at her flushed-out body.
“Styx… what was…?” She trailed off, squeezing her thighs together and rolling her eyes in pleasure. “Lord…”
My hands crawled beside her head on the mattress until my whole body hovered over her. “You l-liked it, babe? L-liked me eating y-your wet pussy?”
“Yes! Styx… yes! But…” Her gaze dropped as her hands covered her scars.
I pressed a kiss to her lips, pulled back, and declared, “Th-the scars d-don’t mean sh-shit.”
Tears filled her eyes and she pulled me beside her onto the bed, then launched into my arms. We stayed silent for a long while.
“Did you get your… business sorted?” she tentatively enquired.
“D-done,” I answered curtly.
Mae leaned on her elbows and stared up at me. “Can I ask what the business was?”
I shook my head, signaling an emphatic “no.”
Mae sighed loudly, indicating her disappointment.
“Way c-club life is, b-babe. Old ladies d-don’t get involved in club sh-shit. Same for y-you too.”
She slumped down, now dejected. “Okay.”
I ran my hand up and down her spine, staring unseeing at the brown ceiling, just thinking shit through, when Mae said, “Play me a song, Styx. Sing to me.”
I smiled and, kicking my leg off the mattress, fetched my Fender. I held it out for my woman to take. Her brow furrowed and her nose twitched. Stifling a groan, I placed the guitar in her hands. “P-play.”
“Will you continue to teach me?” she asked with a knockout fuckin’ smile.
I sat down on the mattress beside Mae and nodded.
I will teach her how to play.
Chapter Twenty
Mae
One Month later…
“One more box, honey,” Beauty said as she carried a large brown box of men’s biker leathers toward me.
“Sure, no problem,” I replied. Beauty stood beside me in her tight red leathers and black Hangmen tank. She wore her fitted Property of Tank cut too. In fact, she rarely took it off.
Four weeks had passed. Four weeks of being with Styx, exploring each other’s bodies, riding on the back of his bike, tasting the heady rush of freedom. And four weeks of him teaching me how to play the guitar. I truly loved it. Music had become my passion. My obsession. Each set of chords moved something within me; when I played music, I felt like I had truly found myself, found the person I was always meant to be. Sharing that love with Styx only made my passion more intense.
Styx had even begun schooling me in ASL. I hated not being able to communicate with him when we were in the company of other people, so I reminded Styx to teach me sign at every opportunity. Beauty had helped me too.
I also had a job. I persuaded Styx to let me work for Beauty now that Pit had been… disposed of… and the threat to the club was gone. I tried very hard not to dwell on that side of things. I could not bear to imagine Styx that way; so aggressive, so brutal. I knew I was being na?ve, but I wanted everything to be positive and settled for a while. And Styx was nothing but beautiful with me.
Styx had been reluctant to let me work, Beauty’s store being away from him and the compound. He worried the outside world would be too much for me, but ultimately, he allowed it and I adored him for it. He understood I needed to experience life beyond him… beyond the club. Beauty had taken me under her wing and I had been working in her store, Ride, for two weeks. Every single day, Styx would drive me to work on the back of his Harley and pick me up at the end of the day to take me home.