Page 66 of Bear

“I can accept dat. I already spoke to deir new leader. We gonna move operations to Jackson, bypass Georgia altogether.” Voodoo turns his attention to Hawk and nods. He moves to the driver’s side and climbs in.

“Laissez les bons temps rouler,” Voodoo says with a grin. “Let the good times roll.”

The cocky asshole climbs in the van and I have half a mind to shoot anyway, but we don’t need the rest of the Bayou Bastards MC coming for us. We’ve seen enough war to last a lifetime. Instead, we watch their tires kick up dust as they drive out of town for good.

I glance at Chaos, whose eyes are glued to the empty stretch of road. “You all good, Prez?”

“Yeah. I don’t think they’ll be back.”

“You know ...” Anvil claps a hand on my shoulder. “I think Georgia looks good on you.”

“Or maybe it’s just that sweet Georgia peach he’s got stashed back at the clubhouse,” Glass, my former VP, says. “I might have to stick around too.”

“No!” the Uprising charter say all at once.

I laugh and throw my leg over my bike in an awful hurry to get back. I know Tink can hold her own, and she’s got Leah, Tyra, and Kami, plus that girl who keeps hanging around Crow, but I also know how catty club whores can be when they’re given free rein of a clubhouse. Bambi’s okay, but Asia’s turned next-level stalker on my ass.

***

OUTSIDE THE CLUBHOUSE, Cambri opens the door for us, and one by one, we stride in. Jupiter’s sitting on the end of the couch, talking to Crow’s sidepiece. Baby blues meet mine, and she tucks her lilac hair behind her ear as she tries to play it cool. I’ve got her fuckin’ number though. I stand stock-still in the middle of the clubhouse, a cocky grin on my face. She climbs to her feet and walks towards me. “Hey.”

“Hey your-fucking-self.”

She throws her arms around me. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, baby girl.” I bury my face in her neck and breathe in her sweet scent. “Everything is perfect now.”

“I hate this feeling,” she whispers. “I hate being so scared for you.”

I pull away and frown down at her, then I lead her to a quieter part of the clubhouse, a small recess in the hallway near the bedrooms. “I can’t promise I’ll always be safe, but you need to know I’m always gonna do everything in my power to come home to you.”

“So you’re staying then?”

“I’m not going anywhere, babe. Club or not. I’d hand in my colors before I ever willingly left you.”

A soft smile tugs at the corners of her lips, and I lean down and kiss her, my tongue driving into her mouth to slide against her own. She moans, and I snake my hand under her dress and slip inside her panties. I rub her clit as her hands tug furiously at the fly of my jeans. “Fly on up here, Tink. I need your tight little pussy bouncing up and down on my dick.”

“God, I love it when you talk chauvinistic asshole to me.”

“Hell yeah, you do.” I lift her so she’s wrapping her legs around my hips and I slam her back into the wall. She gasps, but those blue eyes turn electric, so I slide her panties aside and push into her in one hard thrust.

She gasps. “Oh, fuck!”

“You like being impaled on my cock, honey?” I drive in faster, fucking her with sweet abandon.

“Y-yes.” Her breath catches in her throat with every upward stroke.

“Then you gotta shut that pretty mouth of yours, because as much as I love taking you in the middle of this clubhouse, I don’t want those perverted old fuckers to get any ideas.”

She squeals and wraps her legs tighter around me when I pull her away from the wall and grab her hips, using her own body as leverage to let me fuck her deeper, harder, faster. She moans again—albeit quieter—and I shake my head at her, because she just can’t help herself. Truth is, neither can I. I couldn’t help myself when I first rolled into town, and I can’t help it now, because I’ve fallen head over boots for this little man-hating fairy, and I don’t want to ever let her go. A deep, guttural moan leaves my mouth as I spill inside her, and she rides the high into her own orgasm, clenching so tight around my dick that my own release seems to go on and on.

Someone clears their throat behind us, and I slam my palm against the wall to steady us because I’m about to lose my shit.

“Sorry, brother,” Mako says. “Prez is calling for you.”

“Yeah, I’m coming.”

“Or you just did,” Crow supplies.

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