Page 85 of Havoc
She peeks over her shoulder with a sated gaze, and those sparks that set me off every time ignite. I grip her arms to tug her body to me.
“Levi,” she cries out as I fuck her.
I’ve spent so many years being called Havoc—causing it—that I almost forgot who I really am, but Aimee reminds me. Of the good and the bad. My soul might be beyond forgiveness, but if I get to have her before I wind up in hell, then I’ll take it.
My spine tingles. It shoots from my toes through my legs. Her pussy squeezes as she comes again on a deep thrust, and I’m about to lose all composure and follow her. But before she can tease my release out of me, I pull out and set her back on the bench to do as promised.
I want to paint her.
I want to make art.
I stroke my cock with one hand while using the other to grab her jaw. My thumb hooks over her teeth as I peel her mouth open to feel her every gasp. There’s something stunning about how she trusts me so completely.
With every stroke, I stare into her eyes. Until my cum shoots across her stomach and drips down between her legs. I paint her perfect body and appreciate the utter beauty of it. Her tits heave as my cum slides down her, dripping onto the cement.
When I finally relax, I swipe my thumb across her inner thigh and lift it to her lips, painting them next, before shoving it over her tongue.
“Fuck, I missed you.” I grab the back of her head and pull her in for a kiss.
Hard and quick. Desperate because that’s what she makes me.
Her fingers fist my cut as our lips break apart, and she looks up at me. “I missed you too.”
28
Aimee
It takes me longerthan usual to get out of bed. With Levi at the clubhouse the past few days, I’ve been able to sleep, finally catching up on what is lost when he’s not here. I might have grown comfortable around the Twisted Kings, but the bed still feels too empty when he’s away.
Stretching out, I find the other side of the bed cold.
Levi likely woke up hours ago and couldn’t stop his mind from running in circles. He doesn’t like leaving things unfinished, so he probably crawled out of bed to check in with his club about the looming countdown from Titan.
I can tell it’s weighing on him, making him more anxious and protective by the day. He might let me come and go from the compound as I please, but I’m never actually alone. If there isn’t a ranked member with me, then Venom is the one to take me into town.
Levi trusts him as if he’s wearing a ranked patch, and it makes me wonder if it’s only a matter of time before they find a way to expand his role with the club. Venom is a newer member, but he operates like a lifelong Twisted King. He keeps an eye on his surroundings and doesn’t make a move without it being calculated. He hasn’t told me much about where he comes from or his family history, but it’s clear he’s found where he belongs.
At least if anyone is going to drive me around, it’s Venom. We get along, and he doesn’t mind sitting in silence when I’m lost in thought.
I don’t know how Venom feels about being on babysitting duty, especially since he’s forced to drive me around in a truck after Levi issued some unspoken threat to anyone who offers to put me on the back of their bike. But if it bothers him, he doesn’t say anything about it.
Finally, I climb out of bed, get dressed, and shower. The clubhouse is quiet as I walk down the hallway. But when I near the main den, I begin to hear Christmas music.
I turn the corner into a winter wonderland of sorts. The Twisted Kings managed to take the holiday and put their stamp on it. The snowmen decorating the shelves behind the bar are wearing cuts, and there’s a Santa on a motorcycle in the corner. Even the tree is decorated in a collection of mismatched ornaments that pay homage to different brands of liquor more than the holiday itself.
“This is one way to be festive.” I stop at Soul’s side, where he’s leaning against the bar, watching the patch bunnies and prospects decorate.
He grins, taking a sip of his beer first thing in the morning. “It’s nice, right?”
“It’s something.”
Chaos chuckles, crossing the room. “You actually wore that fucking shirt.”
“Told you I would.” Soul shrugs, peeling his cut to the side to show off a white T-shirt with mistletoe and the words Pucker Upon it.
Except that the mistletoe is very low in the front, hanging almost at his belt.
“It’s so they know where I want their lips.”
