The Arachnid Conclave: A Suspense Romance Novel (MC Saga Book 2)

by Brogan Riley

  Dante

  I kiss her sweet gasps and crystal tears. “I love you, baby girl.”

  “You’d better,” she rasps. “It hurts.”

  “I know.”

  Her pussy is clamped around me, so velvety and warm. So tight that I almost lose control. I’m not a person. I’m a subconscious need that grows in greed.

  I push her folded legs wide open and go deeper. She stiffens beneath me, her walls clenching around me, sucking me in even deeper. I’m on the brink.

  I’m intoxicated.

  Nothing matters to me in this moment but her tight virgin cunt.

  I pull out and slam back into her heat. She arches beneath me, her face angelic and tormented, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.

  I ease my weight onto my elbow and grip her hip. “Breathe.”

  She chuckles. “Easier said than done.” Pain laces her raspy voice.

  My head drops as I push into her. My balls tighten as tingles radiate from my lower back. I slide in and out. I’m higher and higher with each thrust. I’m a rageful impatience that pumps its way toward my peak. An explosion of bright whiteness fills my head before a wave of liberating heat goes down to my toes. I cum with a moan. I wrench in my pleasure with two more thrusts and pull out. We lie on our sides. My eyes travel to my cock. It’s covered in her virginal blood.

  “Enjoyed?” She chuckles, but the sound is hoarse, tired.

  “Yes.”

  “Me too.”

  “Like hell.” I lower my head and plant a kiss on the corner of her mouth. “I’m gonna make it up to you.”

  “When?”

  “In an hour or two.”

  A thought hits me hard. We don’t have an hour or two. She should go.

  My inner beast rages. No fucking way.

  Chapter 9

  Chantal

  His mouth moves down my neck, his fierce tongue leaving a wet path, as his fingers roll my nipple. Tension starts building in my tummy once again. I roll over on my back and fold my legs. I spread them wide apart. I’m a shameless need. Dante spreads my folds and pinches my clit. He draws my breast fully into his mouth and keeps stroking my swollen nub. His expert touch carries me towards my peak. I’m rising, tensing, shivering. I’m so impatient for my release. Dante bites down on my nipple. The pain is so arousing I shudder. His skilled fingers keep assaulting my pussy. Everything inside me and around me swells, bubbles, and pulsates with heat.

  “Oh God,” I gasp as a violent orgasm rolls over me.

  Dante wraps his arms around me and tumbles us under the comforter. I’m sprawled on his chest, floating in my post orgasmic languor.

  “More?” he asks with amusement.

  “Later.”

  I feel like a tank has hit me.

  We’re lying in a hot silence scented with our sweat and sex.

  “You serious, Dante?”

  “About what?”

  “About that love of yours.”

  “Very serious, baby girl.”

  “Maybe I could love you too.”

  “You already love me.”

  “You just don’t need to know about it yet.”

  He kisses the top of my head. “I’m gonna speak to your dad.”

  I raise my head as ice fills my veins. “Don’t. Please, don’t. It doesn’t work like this here.”

  Fuck no.

  My dad will kill him.

  I can’t let that happen.

  “Dante, listen to me.”

  He chuckles in response. What’s so funny about dying?

  Dante

  I’m not afraid to face her father. I just took her virginity. It’s the right thing to do. I want to ask him for her hand in marriage. Even if it meant my end. My honour is everything I possess here.

  “Have a nap, Chantal.”

  “Don’t do anything stupid, okay?”

  “Sleep.”

  She moves on my chest, her breasts so beautifully pressed against my pecs. Her fingers touch the tip of my nose and she trails the tiny scar on my cheek. “I could love you,” she whispers.

  Her gleaming eyes disappear behind the curtain of her eyelashes for a moment. My baby girl is exhausted. She’s clearly trying to fight off the upcoming oblivion.

  I slap her ass lightly. “You could.” I shake her off and turn her over so she lies on her side. I roll over and press my chest against her back. “Sleep.”

  “I have to go.”

  “After the fifth session of our lovemaking.”

  “We’re not making love. We’re fucking like animals.”

  “I wanted to be romantic.”

  “Alright. We can call it lovemaking.”

  Fuck. She shouldn’t be in here, but I have no strength to let go of her.

  Never.

  She belongs in my arms. She belongs with me.

  My eyelids grow heavy. I draw in a deep breath. My body feels heavy. I allow myself to teeter between sleep and awareness. Time stops for a moment. There’s only me and her. The divine scent of her soft body.

  A bang causes me to steel myself and jump out of the bed. Chantal growls as three bodies lunge at me and knock me out. I see darkness. Then everything goes blank.

  Chantal

  “I love him,” I yell for the fifth time.

  My dad grits his teeth. “Go back to the lighthouse.”

  “Or what?” I roll my fingers into fists.

  Santi chuckles, but my dad’s eyes pierce him and he drops his head.

  “You can’t forbid me to love him,” I yell.

  My dad’s jaw muscles twitch. “I can’t. But I have the right to protect you. I don’t know him. I need more time to check him out, you understand? He can make fools of us all, you hear me? He could bring in the police and put us all in jail.”

  “Dante would never do this,” I hiss. “He loves me.”

  The bar is almost unoccupied. There are only me, Santi, Cade, and my dad. The club girls left it discreetly half an hour ago. Yeah, they always know what to do. We don’t keep stupid meat. They know where they live and what to do in the moments like this one.

  “Men say such things,” my dad growls.

  I growl even louder as my fingers straighten and roll back into fists. “You don’t understand. I want him to be my husband. I want to have a family with him.”

  “No,” my dad says. “Go back to the house.”

  “If you hurt him, I’ll never forgive you,” I hiss. “Never. You hear me? I’ll never speak to you again if you leave another bruise on his face.”

  Santi and I exchange glances as he gives me a discreet thumbs-up.

  Cade drops his head to hide his grin.

  My dad looks like a furious hurricane.

  Dante

  Priest examines my skull with his rough fingers. “You’re gonna be fine.”

  “No concussion?” I ask.

  “A small concussion,” he says in a matter-of-fact tone as though I am already a corpse.

  I’m sitting on the floor, a copper pipe stretched above my head. A cold drop of water splashes against my forehead. The coldness penetrates my skull and goosebumps pop up all over my skin.

  “My new quarters?” I ask. My muscles shiver from the cold slithering over the dirty uneven floor. “Or my coffin?”

  Priest grins at me. “You really pissed him off, son. She’s his little princess.”

  My fingers and toes feel numb. “She’s worth it.”

  They’d allowed me to put a pair of jeans on before they threw me into this room. It’s situated in the basement. It smells of the deaths that have taken place in here.

  I can’t blame them. They don’t know me. They want to protect their families.

  The metal door creaks open and Jackson walks in. No, he’s not Jackson. He’s the bloodthirsty Liberator.

  He strides over to me, leans over me, and grabs my throat as I sweep my arm, punching nothing. He squeezes me to the point where I see blackness in front of my eyes and then he releases me. My head bangs
against the wall. Jackson pulls his gun out and holds it trained on my forehead.

  “You love her?” he growls.

  “None of your business,” I say.

  “Answer me, motherfucker, or your brain will splash against the wall.”

  Yep, Liberator really is pissed off and ready to pull the trigger. I don’t blame him though. She’s his little girl.

  “Does it matter?” I ask.

  “It matters to me,” Jackson says.

  His eyes gleam and I see an inkling of something, someone.

  Someone he’d been before his dangerous life forged him.

  He was a really nice guy, the one you want to be your best mate.

  “I’d kill and die for her,” I say with my fist slamming on my heart area.

  I would.

  I guess, love makes a crazy individual out of you.

  A tiny form sneaks into the room, her sobs travelling in the air. She kneels in front of me and slithers into my arms.

  “Chantal,” I say.

  I don’t fucking understand.

  “Six months,” Jackson says. “After six months I will either take off the bracelet or kill you.”

  “Fair enough,” I say.

  “She is my princess,” Jackson says and grunts. “She can’t cook; she can’t clean. She makes a lot of mess and steals like a magpie.”

  “I don’t understand,” I say as Chantal buries her face in my neck, her scorching breath like a lick of fire.

  Jackson grins. “Now she’s your responsibility. I expect you to feed her properly and entertain her.”

  “I’ll learn to cook,” Chantal says. She kisses me on the cheek. “Guess what? We’re going to live in a caravan. Happy?”

  “You and me?” I must look like an idiot because she chuckles.

  She nods. “You and me.”

  I’m lifted with my girl plastered to me. I’m lifted by Priest and Santi.

  Jackson puts his gun under the waistband of his jeans. “So, it’s sorted, but fucking hell, if I allow my daughter to marry a prospect.”

  Santi tears my girl away from me. Priest lays his rough hand on my shoulder. I jerk my body forward, but his hand stops me. Chantal waves her hand to say goodbye and walks off. Jackson thrusts his chin out.

  “Move,” he says.

  He is the first to walk out of the room. I follow him and Priest is the last to exit the room.

  We cross the basement and I feel like I’m on the deck of a ship smacked by the fury of a bad storm. We climb the stairs that lead to the office. My numb feet start registering the pain from the scratches caused by the uneven steps. We enter the office. It’s full. All cold eyes turn to me.

  A cut hovers toward me. I grab it and spread the back.

  “You’re gonna make me feel proud of you, Copper,” Jackson says.

  My eyes flick over the logo that reads The Furious Daggers MC. “Aye, Prez.”

  Chantal

  The caravan is ancient, at least twenty years old. It once belonged to Sonja’s husband, Tommy also known as Doctor. That was before the club had to flee the country.

  Yeah, my dad loves trouble. He was put in jail and my grandpa helped him escape. We lived abroad for almost seventeen years until it was safe enough for us to reclaim our turf.

  Anyway, the caravan is rusty and ugly on the outside, but very tidy on the inside. The furniture is modest, but Nadia has just changed the bedding and stuffed our fridge with food so we’ll have a very comfortable beginning of our life together.

  My brand stings like hell, but I’m so proud of it. It’s a piece of art. Yes, Theo is a very talented tattoo artist.

  I’m Dante’s old lady. My old man is a member of the club.

  I don’t know what has come over my dad. Is it his sixth sense? Yes, he has a gift. He can find the right people for the club. He’s never made a mistake.

  Dante is sitting on the corner sofa. It has flowery upholstery.

  I can’t read from his face whether he’s happy or pissed off.

  Uneasiness sits on my chest. “Are you hungry?”

  He nods as one corner of his lips quirks up.

  “I can make you a sandwich,” I say.

  “Alright.”

  I walk over to the kitchen and try to prepare a sandwich—a slice of bread and some strawberry jam.

  “Fucking hell,” Dante says behind me, “we’re going to starve if you’re responsible for cooking.”

  A flame of embarrassment burns in my chest as I turn to face him. “I’ve never been in a relationship.”

  “Alright. But you must eat something in life, right?”

  “My mom has always been very overprotective. We’re her helpless little ducklings. That’s not my fault, you know.”

  He smirks at me.

  I don’t know. Something is wrong. I feel my throat tighten. “Maybe I could add some ham?”

  “A sandwich with jam and ham. A very interesting mix.” He puts his hand on his abs and shakes as his head drops.

  The bastard is laughing.

  “Dante!”

  He raises his head, a wide grin crossing his face. “What do you do apart from stealing glittery items, you little princess?”

  “I help my mom with writing her songs.”

  “She sings?”

  “No, she writes songs. Have you heard about a rock band called ‘Hope and Hell’? She writes songs for them and for a few others. I help her sometimes. I help May clean the bar. I steal… a lot.”

  He laughs even louder until he winces. He grabs his head in both his hands.

  “Dante, please, sit down. I can manage.”

  “That’s nothing, baby girl.” He waves his hand at me. “Come here.”

  I move forward and cling to him. He kisses me on the top of my head. I shiver as his hot breath puffs into my neck. “You can you cook for us when you’re well enough,” I say.

  “I can. I will.”

  “Love you.”

  “Love you too.”

  I feel his hands slip under my t-shirt and his fingers unclasp my bra. “Maybe you should have some rest?”

  “No way in hell.” He palms my breasts, squeezing them, as a low growl leaves his mouth. “If you serve that sandwich with your pretty tits on display, I’ll pretend it’s a meal from a very expensive restaurant.”

  I nod as I pull away. I remove my t-shirt and shake off my bra. His hungry eyes devour my breasts as he grabs the sandwich and wolfs it down.

  “More sandwiches?” I ask.

  “A cup of coffee would be nice, but I want you to serve it without your jeans on.”

  “Sure.” I shake off my jeans and kick them towards the doorway. I put the kettle on, wiggling my ass. “Any milk? Sugar?”

  “Just one black coffee.” His hands massage my ass. “Maybe with a few sweet kisses.”

  I brew his coffee as he holds my breast and rubs his erection up and down my ass.

  I turn to face him. We kiss like we’re somewhere else, like we’re in a dreamy reality.

  “The brand looks perfect,” he murmurs.

  “Thanks.”

  My hand travels to the front of his jeans and I stroke his erection through the fabric. He growls into my ear.

  The front door screeches open and someone walks in.

  “Fuck,” Dante growls.

  “Fuck,” I repeat like an echo.

  “I knocked,” my mom says.

  Chapter 10

  Dante

  Poppy stops in the doorway; she tilts her head, and stares at us. Her lips quirk into a smile, but her gaze is unnerving. The wicker basket in her hand swings.

  “Some food,” she says in a matter-of-fact tone.

  Chantal clings to my back as I shelter her from her mom’s eyes in the space between my body and the side of the fridge. The fucking tent in my jeans doesn’t want to disappear.

  “Thank you,” I say.

  Poppy’s eyes bore into me. “Promise me you’ll keep her alive no matter what.”

&n
bsp; “I give you my word,” I say.

  This is a vow. This is me becoming a part of the club, a part of the family.

  Poppy bows her head. “Have fun, kids.”

  I wink at her. “I’m probably older than you.”

  She spreads her hands, rolling her eyes. “What can I say?” She shoves one hand into the pocket of her red biker jacket. “Dinner tomorrow at three. At my place.”

  “Sure,” I say.

  She flashes me a mysterious smile and walks off. Chantal bursts into laughter behind my back.

  “Fucking hell,” I mutter. “I feel like my mother has caught me with my hand in my pants.”

  Fuck.

  Chantal stiffens against me. “You said you were an orphan.”

  I reach back with my hand, grip her wrist, and pull her into my arms. “I said what I said. No lies from now on.”

  “So you have just admitted you’re a liar, right?” Her voice is cold.

  Women. They always produce a fire while there’s only a tiny spark.

  I tuck a wisp of hair behind her ear. “I was a liar when I was an agent. Now, I’m a club member.”

  “My dad wants to trust you.”

  “I know.”

  “I want to trust you.”

  “You can trust me, Chantal.”

  She pulls away and picks up her clothes. She puts them on and storms out of the kitchen. Right, she hates liars.

  “Chantal.” I follow her. “I am a cop.” Fuck. Wrong.

  “You were a cop.” She rolls her fingers into fists. “I thought you wanted this…” Her hand sweeps through the air like she’s smoothing it over an invisible piece of fabric. “I thought you wanted me.” Hurt coats her voice.

  “I want you, baby girl.” I wink at her. “I want to be an outlaw under your dad’s command.”

  “Like hell.”

  “I like this lifestyle, you know.”

  “You are a damn good agent, Dante.”

  “This lifestyle offers me a helluva basket of benefits.”

  “Of course, a lot of club whores ready to suck you off.”

  “Chantal.”

  “What?”

  “You’ll see, baby. I’m not gonna talk to you more. I will show you.”

  Now, I understand. She’s been in crazy turmoil. She’s been scared about me for so long. She can’t articulate her true feelings so we’re arguing about other things. It’s like a rebound.