Page 49 of Desert Loyalties
There’s a long pause between us, a silence filled with everything I didn’t say then and everything I’ve regretted since.
“What did you do to him?” she asks, my woman knows me well.
I meet her eyes. “I tracked him down, Chains. Beat the ever-living crap out of him. Told him if he ever came near her or the club again, I’d bury him.”
She blinks, a slow realization dawning. “Wait…”
“He went and joined the army two days later. Got the hell out of town.”
Now she’s staring at me. “But… that’s—”
“Against club bylaws,” I finish for her. “A patched member can’t remove a prospect. Only officers can. Or their sponsor. I wasn’t either. I crossed a line that could cost me my patch.”
Skye goes still. Processing. “You did it for your sister, because despite everything you lover her.” After a beat she asks, “Did she ever speak to you again?”
“Na,” I answer, “She moved to California I think, still won’t take my calls.” I let her go, the only thing I ever did was let her down.
She reaches across the table grabbing my hand. “You are an amazing man, one day when you’re ready, how about we go visit her, together?”
“I’d really like that darlin’, besides our kids are gonna need their aunt.”
“Our kids… and how many are we having exactly?” she asks, blushing.
“As many as you want, as long as they look like you.” I’d have an entire football team if she let me, but she’s the one who gotta push them out.
She looks up at me through her lashes, smirking like sin. “Think this place has a bathroom?”
I stare for a second. She’s got a wicked look, danger and heat all wrapped in one. I push back my chair, toss a few bills on the table, and follow her without a word.
The hallway’s narrow, the hum of the diner fading behind us. She disappears into the single-occupant bathroom, leaving the door cracked open. An invitation. I step inside, locking it behind me.
She’s already pressing her back to the sink, breathing shallow. "You’ve been eye-fuckin’ me since we sat down," she says, voice husky. “You think I didn’t notice?”
I grab her hips and crash my mouth onto hers, all teeth and tongue. She moans into me, biting my lower lip, grinding against the hardness straining my jeans.
“I need you,” she breathes.
I spin her, palms flat against the mirror as I press up behind her, my hand already dragging up her shirt, exposing skin I’ve memorized but will never get tired of. Her breath hitches as I tug her panties down, let them fall to her boots. My fingers slide through slick heat and she’s already soaked.
“You were waiting for this,” I growl, teasing her folds.
“For me.”
“Always,” she gasps.
I undo my belt, shove my jeans down just enough, and line up behind her. One hand grips her hip tight while the other covers her mouth as I thrust in hard.
She cries out muffled and needy arching back into me.
The room fills with the wet sound of skin on skin, her whimpers, my groan when her walls clench around me. Sweat drips down my neck, palms slipping against the mirror. I pin her there, fuckin’ her fast, deep, like I can’t get enough, because I can’t.
“Mine,” I grit out.
She nods frantically. “Yours. Always.”
When she comes, she trembles, nearly collapsing against the sink. I follow seconds later, growling her name into the curve of her neck.
It takes a while to catch our breath. I kiss her shoulder, still buried inside her. Then she smirks in the mirror. “Best bathroom visit ever.”
