Page 112 of Bullet
This isn’t going to end well.
“What are we going to do?” I ask in the silence that follows the clip.
“We be diligent. Give the police no reason to stop us. If they do, have nothing on you that will get you arrested. The scrutiny is on us now, and we can’t simply eliminate William anymore. We need to bring him down in the public eye before he finds his end,” Reaper growls out.
“We need someone on the inside. Someone who can infiltrate and be his weapon,” Wrath says.
“No way. He would see that coming. We need to play the political game with him. We need our own candidate running for mayor,” Colt says.
“Who?” Wrath asks.
Colt gives Reaper a look.
Reaper groans. “Fine. I’ll call him.”
“Call who? Why do I feel like I missed something?” Wrath asks.
“Because you did. Get the club together to give them the new marching orders. I’m even suspending the rule to always wear your cut. You be safe out there. Go on.”
Everyone leaves except me and Reaper. I stand to move, but I look back at him.
“Who are you going to call?” I ask, curiosity getting the best of me.
He rubs his hand on my face. “The devil himself.”
Eight Weeks Later
Things have been tense around the clubhouse. With everything going on with the mayoral race, it doesn’t seem like it will settle anytime soon.
Still, Bullet insisted on throwing an old lady party for me. We never got to do it up right, but now things are calm enough that we can.
I’m putting on eyeliner when I feel him. He doesn’t say anything. He just watches as I get ready for the party.
“You’re staring.”
Bullet pushes off the doorframe and walks toward me. He wraps his hands around my hips and presses me into the countertop. Through the mirror I watch as he begins to lay kisses along my neck.
“Bullet…you haven’t been cleared,” I warn, even though I tilt my head to the side, giving him more access.
Eight weeks. Eight weeks of pure torture. I feel like ever since Bullet woke up, he’s been teasing me for what’s to come.
“I was cleared this morning,” he says as he pulls me into him, and his hands move to the button on my jeans.
My breath catches.
Cleared. He’s finally been cleared to have sex.
“We shouldn’t. Everyone is out there waiting for us,” I say as I arch into him.
“They can wait.”
He slowly slides my jeans down my legs but doesn’t take them off. Instead, he stands before bending me over the sink.
“You look so beautiful with my name on your back. I haven’t properly been able to fuck you like you are mine, but we are going to change that right now.” His tone is all raspy as if this is what he has been thinking about all day.
“Don’t hurt yourself. I have plans for you later since you are cleared and all.”
So we haven’t been nuns. He has eaten me out and fingered me to keep me going for the past several weeks, but he wouldn’t even allow me to touch him. He claimed he didn’t want to derail his recovery. That’s done now.
