“Then take me.” She hooked her legs around my hips, gripping my ass and tugging me into her.
I bit her swollen flesh, licking the slight salt from her skin. Her hands skated up my back to capture my head, holding me against her chest. Her breathing stuttered as I sucked her nipple and the words I would never grew tired of spilled from her lips. “I love you, Art. So damn much.”
Her fervent declaration slammed into my soul. My eyes stung. My hands fumbled. And my heart cracked open all over again.
Climbing her body, I shoved my hands into her thick hair and held her still. “As you wish, Buttercup.”
I love you.
Her face collapsed and fresh adoring tears glassed her eyes.
Her favorite quote from her childhood movie echoed around us, binding us closer.
I cradled her jaw, stroking her lower lip as a single tear escaped her.
My heart lurched. “Don’t,” I breathed. “It fucking shreds me when you cry.”
She reached up and kissed me. “It’s too much.” Her gorgeous emerald eyes captured mine. “How I feel about you. What you do for me. Finally being together. It’s all …”
“More,” I murmured, brushing my lips against hers.
I slid my hand reverently along her bare arm. I’d killed for her. I’d cried for her. And now I hoped I deserved her.
Lowering my hands, I fumbled with her shorts and pulled them free.
She squirmed as my fingers trailed between her legs.
“Fuck. You’re not wearing underwear.”
Her grip tightened around my shoulders. “I hoped something like this would happen.” Her cheeks flushed. “It’s been a long few weeks.”
Her hands slid down my front, blazing a hot trail across my skin. “Get naked, Arthur. You’re wearing far too many clothes.”
I chuckled, suffering heart palpitations with the need in her voice. Rolling off her a little, I shrugged out of my cut and tugged on my neckline, tearing the T-shirt over my head.
“Much better.” Cleo caught the waistband of my jeans and unbuckled them in record speed. Arching my hips, I helped her discard every item of clothing I wore.
Reaching behind her, I unclasped her bra and smothered her. Naked to naked. Skin to skin.
“I’ll never get sick of this.” I kissed her.
“You never have to.”
Our lips met again and the urgency of before came back with every needy demand. Her fingers tightened around my cock, stroking me hard.
I growled, burying my face into her neck, biting her throat. “I have to know that you’re prepared for what will happen now. That you’re ready to do what needs to be done.”
She wriggled beneath me, rubbing her breasts against my chest.
I groaned as her fingers worked harder. “I’m prepared to face anything as long as it’s with you.”
I stroked her inner thigh, tracing her warm skin toward her pussy. She went rigid beneath me, vibrating for my touch. Her body was a seductive piece of art with tattoos and scars. I’d never met anyone so complex or unique.
She kissed me again, her teeth catching on my bottom lip and biting gently. She moaned; the sound of her pleasure slid over me like a caress. “Touch me,” she demanded. “Please …”
As I cupped her core, she bowed off the bed. My heart clenched as she grabbed my wrist, forcing me to touch her harder.
I thrust my cock shamelessly into her palm. “Goddammit, Buttercup.”
Her fingers curled tighter and I pressed two of my own inside her.
She gasped. “Yes …”
“Fuck, you make me insane.” I couldn’t hide the effect she had on me. I would never be able to pretend that I was the one in control. She was my master. My ruler. I was just her prisoner—content to do whatever she wanted me to if it meant I got to spend the rest of my life with her in my arms.
My chest tightened. I was the only one privileged enough to see her this way: hungry, wild, a firecracker just waiting to explode.
Spreading her legs, Cleo guided me with the hold she had on my cock. I groaned as I settled firmly in the V of her thighs and removed my fingers from her pussy. The wetness spread over her naked hip as I clutched her.
Her nipples kissed my chest; sensation rushed through my system.
I couldn’t stand it any longer.
Nudging against her pussy, the tip of me entered her searing heat.
We froze.
My erection throbbed; her core quivered. We paused in the delicious anticipation of joining.
Her nails raked down my back. “Do it. Please … take me.”
“As you wish.”
I slammed inside her.
She cried out, arching in my rough possession, a feral growl echoing in her chest. Her head threw back in erotic abandon. “Again,” she cried. Her face flushed and tight with desire.
Surging upward, I obeyed. I sank my teeth into her shoulder and thrust inside the woman I fucking loved with all my heart.
Cleo hissed, taking my every rock. I couldn’t contain the ferocious swell of emotion—the thankfulness, the fear, the happiness, the primal urge to make her mine forever.
I wanted to punish her as well as pleasure.
I wanted her to cry and also laugh.
I wanted to fucking marry her.
We lost sense of time as we thrust and grinded.
Her breath was a velvet lash against my overheated flesh. Her teeth across my pectoral were tiny sinful blades and her pussy was warm and inviting … home.
She clutched at my hair, swept away with lust and far from gentle. Her legs wrapped around me, gluing herself to me forever. She had me under a fucking siege, seducing me with her smell, body, and heart.
Grabbing the pillow behind her head, I drove deeper. I grunted with every stroke, teaching her a lesson in ownership.
“You’re mine, Cleo.”
Her spine bowed. “Yours. All yours.”
Something overflowed inside me with ravenous greed. My skin shone with perspiration as I claimed her elegant body.
“Mine,” I said harshly, pushing up and pulling out—driving into her.
I stole her mouth in a lust-drunken kiss, attacking her tongue, stealing her breath.
Our flesh slid against each other. Her body strained against mine, meeting my every thrust. No matter how hard I took her, I couldn’t slake my thirst.
“God, Arthur … don’t stop.”
I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. I was utterly consumed by her. The moans and begs spilling from her lips caressed my skin. Her body sucked me deep, taking me to the hilt and gathering a catastrophic orgasm.
God, she was a sexual deviant. So responsive. So pure.
Her legs stiffened as her mouth parted.
I drove harder, knowing she was on the cusp.
“Take it.” I thrust again. “Take me.” I fucked harder. “Give me your pleasure.”
She screamed, gripping my shoulders like an anchor as she snipped from gravity, detonating around my cock. Her neck strained, her mouth hung wide and waves upon waves of her release hurtled me toward my own.
Deep inside her, I penetrated her heart not just her body and when I came, I gave her everything I had left.
“Fuck!” I orgasmed in thick ribbons of bliss, shooting deep inside her heat. The blistering pleasure-pain made me desperate for air.
My hands fisted the pillows as I rode out the final waves of the most intense orgasm I’d ever had.
Our heartbeats whirred to the same psychotic beat, relearning one another and reaffirming the vows we made as children that we would always be together.
There was no more amnesia to fight.
No more sadness to ignore.
We were together and we were one.
Nothing could be better than that.
“Arthur?”
My attention changed from pulling on my cut and slipping into my boots. We’d been missing from Wallstreet’s welcome back party for over an hour. It was ti
me to be sociable.
Spinning to face Cleo, I scowled at the worried look on her face.
She said, “I know you trust Wallstreet implicitly, but what if—”
Unlocking the door, I held out my hand for her to take. “What if?”
It amused me that so many people thought Wallstreet had an ulterior motive. A hidden agenda that would hurt me and everything we’d worked so hard to build. He’d been nothing but transparent … working toward the same goal as me.
Why couldn’t Cleo see that?
She wrapped her fingers around mine, and we headed from the sex-laced room and down the corridor toward the raucous of intoxicated people having fun.
“Well … I’ve always maintained that I think he’s up to something. That he’s always had another agenda.”
I smiled. “That’s because you’re smart. And because he does.”
Cleo frowned. “What is he going to do?”
My mind skipped back to Florida State—to that very first lesson where he explained everything in black and white. He’d been brutally honest. Told me what he expected from me. What he would do for me. What would happen if everything went to plan. He’d also bowed to my own conditions without too much fuss.
He’d accepted mine like I’d accepted his. And in return he’d given me something no one else had the power to do.
He gave me my life back—a better life.
“He’s about to change what our future entails.”
“What does that mean?”
Dragging Cleo into the common room, I inhaled the reek of alcohol. “You’re about to find out.”
And I was right.
The moment we appeared, Wallstreet spotted me. His voice boomed over everyone’s. “Ah, there you are!”
Cleo stiffened, refusing to let me untangle my fingers from hers. Laughing under my breath, I said, “Let me go, Buttercup. This has to happen.”
Her eyes widened. “What has to happen?”
I freed myself, then ran a thumb over her cheek. “What must.”
Leaving her wide-eyed and wary, I made my way across the floor and stood beside the man who had done more for me than any other father would do for his son. Rubix had ruined that title but Wallstreet had redeemed it.
His papery, dry hand squeezed my shoulder. “Stand right there, Kill. We have an announcement to make.”
This is it.
I grinned. “Sure thing.”
Someone passed me a beer and I waited as Grasshopper was summoned to the front and made to stand on the other side of Wallstreet. His eyes met mine. He shook his head once.
I toasted him. Every heartbeat I felt lighter … as if this was my true freedom. The day I’d checked out of jail, I’d left behind lessons for an apprenticeship, but tonight was my graduation.
I wasn’t sad.
I was fucking joyous.
Once we were in place, Wallstreet addressed his Club.
“As you all know, I enlisted the help of Kill to lead you guys away from temptation and into the light.”
Some men snickered.
Cleo crept closer to the front.
“Killian has done everything I ever asked of him with absolute precision and loyalty. I couldn’t have asked for a better acting president and will always be indebted to him.”
A few beers were raised; agreement passed around the room.
Signaling for quiet, Wallstreet continued. “We all agree that without Kill the peace and wealth enjoyed by our members wouldn’t have been possible. We can also agree that Kill is more than just your acting president; he’s been fundamental in saving others outside our brotherhood. He’s taken on my quest and excelled at it.”
“Here, here!”
“Damn right!”
Brothers laughed and applauded.
“Long live Pure Corruption!”
I held up my hand. “Enough. I have a big enough ego as it is.”
Wallstreet chuckled. “You never had an ego.” Turning his attention to Grasshopper, he eyed the crowd. “All of that you know. I don’t need to tell you what a great man Kill is. However, what you might not know is Hopper is my biological son.”
The room suddenly lost its party vibe, screeching to a stop. Men poised with bottles on their lips; women froze.
Despite all our talks in prison, Wallstreet had never mentioned in exact detail how he would get his Club to approve another chain of command. Placing me in his stead hadn’t been easy. There’d been scuffles and in-house battles—men had been killed over loyalties to unworthy leaders. But Grasshopper was one of us. He’d been there with every reform and was loved by everyone.
The exact sequence of handing over leadership hadn’t been planned because a future could change so fast. So many variables could’ve gone wrong. I might’ve been killed trying to tame the Club—he might never have gotten an early pardon.
Life had an uncanny way of changing carefully laid plans.
But it was an unwritten rule: even though Pure Corruption had been mine—it had always been borrowed not permanent. Ultimately it was Wallstreet’s conception and would always be his.
I glanced in Cleo’s direction. Her jaw was tight, eyes locked on the man who gave me the skills I needed to not only survive but also to extract the perfect revenge.
An ending that’d given me the peace.
Wallstreet continued. “It’s true. Back in my youth, I met a woman who turned out to be the love of my fucking life. Unfortunately, I was too stupid to know it at the time and only found out after her death that I had a son.” He smiled proudly at Hopper. “Jared has proven himself just as trustworthy and hardworking. He’s gone above and beyond and ruled beneath Kill with grace befitting any VP. They truly are brothers, in every sense of the word, and I’m so happy to say that I’ve been graced with two incredible sons.”
Shit.
My heart squeezed.
Wallstreet flung an arm over my shoulders. “I don’t care that you’re not blood, Kill. I don’t care that there’s no law abiding document saying you belong to me. As far as I’m concerned, I’m your father and Hopper is your brother.” Slinging his arm around Grasshopper, he grinned. “You’re my family. I couldn’t have picked worthier men.”
His blue eyes glowed with sudden intensity. “I’ll never discount what you did for me or forget your allegiance, Kill. I know I speak for everyone that you’ll be one of us for fucking ever.”
I was a grown man—a fucking president of a Club. I’d killed and tortured and lied. But hearing such praise from a man who I’d looked up to for so long squeezed my lungs with pride.
Grasshopper laughed, punching his father lightly in the gut. “All right, old timer. Enough scotch for you. You’ve gone fucking sentimental.”
The Club continued to watch, not interrupting our strange, fantastical family moment.
Family.
Shit, I had a new family.
A family who got me—who understood my drive and cherished the gifts I’d been born with.
Cleo glided closer. Her body wasn’t as fluid as normal, her feet hesitant and unsure. Her suspicions and concerns about Wallstreet were unfounded but I couldn’t deny her instincts had proven to be right.
All along he’d had ulterior motives—motives she might not like—but once she understood why, she would grudgingly admit that it made sense.
Everyone would admit that in order for us to move forward, this was how it had to be.
Wallstreet locked eyes with Cleo. He nodded respectfully. “And while I’m mentioning people, I can’t forget you, Ms. Price.”
She froze.
“Killian did an incredible job, but you were fundamental in making him become the man he is. So I extend my gratitude.”
Cleo pursed her lips. “It was nothing.”
Taking a pull on my beverage, I fortified myself with things to come.
Wallstreet was never one to bounce around a topic. He’d been that way since I met him and I doubted he would ever change.
&n
bsp; Sure enough, he dismissed Cleo and looked around the room with purpose. “Along with running my MC, Kill was tasked with another mission. As you all know, our goals far exceed turf wars and controlling trading routes. Through Kill’s undying fealty, Pure Corruption has extended to chapters not just in the States but all around the world. We have allies in other Clubs, staunch supporters in other presidents, and that’s just the beginning. We’ve made friends with governors, become bedfellows with journalists and people in media power. We’re exactly where we need to be to deliver our final strike of justice.”
The Club grew serious. Beers were forgotten; excitement laced the air.
My skin prickled as I waited with the rest of the men for Wallstreet’s next speech.
“I’m so proud of what you’ve achieved. So impressed to see a blended mix of old rules and new—not to mention the wealth accumulated while I’ve been gone. This is the finest fucking Club I’ve seen and it’s all a testament to Kill.”
Members toasted in my honor.
Cleo smiled lovingly, blowing me a kiss.
My cock twitched, wanting a rerun of what’d just happened.
“However,” Wallstreet said, halting the happy thread buzzing around the room.
The bikers and their women tensed, sensing a change in direction.
“I have to do something that pains me today.”
Grasshopper dropped his eyes, shadows darkening his face.
Cleo gasped, her gaze accusing.
Wallstreet cleared his throat. “No matter how much I value Kill’s efforts and appreciate all he’s done for this Club, he can no longer be your president.”
The Club sucked in a collected breath. “What?”
“No … that’s …”
The words didn’t hurt nearly as much as I’d imagined.
This was my family. But I wasn’t being cast out—in fact, it was the exact opposite.
“No! We don’t want him—”
“We want a vote!”
I held up my hand. “I appreciate your loyalty but there’s nothing to discuss.”
Besides, even if I didn’t want this, Wallstreet’s word was law. There was no board to contradict him. No voting required. Wallstreet was the board with the majority vote.
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