Page 94 of Making the King

I’m close, so fucking close I can practically taste it. I cry out his name over and over, until I come again, and my pussy squeezes him.

“That’s it, Killer,” he growls. “Cara… so… oh fuck.”

My legs turn to jelly and I can barely stay in place as he comes deep inside me. Rocco turns my head to the side, and I eagerly kiss him when our lips are only a breath apart. Unlike our fucking, the kiss is soft, his tongue caressing mine with lazy strokes.

Without breaking the kiss, he lifts me up and cradles me against his chest as he takes us into the bathroom. I cling to him as he begins to fill the tub.

“I love getting dirty with you before we clean up,” I giggle, feeling so happy I don’t know how I’m containing it.

Rocco chuckles and puts me down. “And I love seeing you punish people, which you’ll miss out on if we don’t hurry up.”

“Can’t wait,” I say enthusiastically.

“Mi castigadora,” Rocco rasps, and I raise my brows in surprise at him using Spanish words I haven’t taught him.

Especially that one since it means ‘my punisher’.

“Tu castigadora,” I agree.

Your punisher.

Rocco

1.5 years later

My palms are clammy as I grip the handlebars of my bike. My second love. She’s a fucking beauty. Tough as all hell, and fuck, I think the thing I like about her the most is how Cara looks at me when I pull up on it. I hope that look never dies from her eyes.

As me and the guys ride, my heart thrashes in my chest for what I’m about to do.

I glance to my left to see Gray on his bike, and a little behind him is Gunner. The first thing those two did when they had the money was buy a bike, and for now, it works as a chick magnet, but they know that once the club is officially formed, that shit needs to end. In fact, they have both shown great dedication in helping me, and I know having them in the club will be a huge benefit.

Aside from their mad killing skills, which Cain and Dante have allowed since Gray and Gunner turned eighteen, they are like family to me. And to Cara.

Behind them, is Tex, with an excited Cain snuggled up behind him, singing in his ear something about motorbikes and dicks getting the chicks.

Yet another Cain special, conjured up by his unique brain.

Behind Tex are the Long twins. They are our newest additions, joining our fold about six months ago. Nearly identical in looks, the only thing that isn’t is the eye patch Slayer wears, like a scary fucking pirate. They both resemble angels of death if you ask me, with their longish black hair, black beards and well, you guessed it, fucking black clothes as well.

Just like you should never judge a book by its cover, their hard exterior, and first impression is a contradiction to their teddy bear demeanor once they are comfortable around you. Of course, they are lethal fucking killers, so approaching with caution is always advised.

Lastly, following in a van, are Stretch and Munroe. I can always rely on them, and they too have shown great dedication in creating a new MC for the Santa Cruz area.

And where are the Reapers? The ones that got away?

Well, they are still around, making themselves known in a tornado of chaos whenever they pass through as they slowly rebuild their club.

They haven’t come at us in retaliation yet, but they will. It’s only a matter of time.

“Are you ready for this?” Gray yells over the roar of our bikes as we approach the Santa Cruz Wharf, and I fucking grin, mostly reading his lips than hearing his words.

“Am I ever.”

Grayson’s chuckle fades into the rumbles of our bikes as we slow and make our way up the wharf, the setting sun starting to cast an orange glow across the sky. Any peace and serenity locals just had has vanished as our bikes idle up the strip, and they turn their sights on us to see what we are doing.

We go for daily rides, weaning the community onto our presence. We may not wear a patch or colors yet, but they know who we are.

The wharf is long, but I can see the bend in it up ahead, and I know what lies beyond it, waiting for me.

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