ONE MORE RIDE

by Sophia Gray

  She sank to one knee, the world around her briefly fading into shades of gray. As 88 raised the baton again, she saw that Bull had managed to wrestle his way on top of Hank. His weight gave him the advantage, and Hank grunted as he tried to keep Bull's thumbs away from his eye sockets.

  We're not going to make it, Beth thought blearily as she waited for another crack from the baton. We got so close, so fucking close, but it's going to end right here in this hallway. I'm sorry, Hank. I did my best.

  Suddenly, Beth heard Bull let out a shriek of agony. She looked over and saw him flop over onto his side, bleeding from a half-dozen puncture wounds in his upper back. His eyes were rolling up in his head, and saliva was foaming at the corners of his mouth.

  Speed Bump stood over him, holding a bloody shiv.

  “You get Hank outta here,” he said. “I got this. If y'all get a chance to see Bib, tell 'im I'm sorry I let the Warriors down.”

  As Beth pulled Hank off the floor and dragged him along behind her, she saw Speed Bump run toward 88 with his shiv. 88 ducked down, reaching for one of the discarded blades. He retrieved it just in time to drive it deep into Speed Bump's jugular, even as Speed Bump stabbed him in the chest and stomach over and over. They collapsed to the floor together, both sticky and slippery with blood, their bodies locked together in the spasms of death.

  Beth's hand was shaking so hard she could barely get her key card into the slot that unlocked the side door. She and Hank held onto each other until they made it to her car.

  Then they drove off and never looked back as the riot at Bluebonnet raged behind them.

  Epilogue

  Beth

  A year later, most of the major TV networks in the Southwest covered the anniversary of the riot at Bluebonnet. They showed the same footage from the prison security cameras, over and over. They recited the same dreary statistics: Twenty-seven inmates killed, along with six guards. They speculated endlessly about what had happened to the two people who were determined to be missing in the wake of the riot—convict Henry “Hank” Hall, and corrections officer Beth D'Amato, which was now known to be the alias of Bethany Callaghan, niece of the alleged president of the Carnage Warriors motorcycle club.

  But in a small house in Nashville—the home of Henry and Elizabeth Huston, an auto mechanic and a stay-at-home mom, respectively—no one watched this story on the news. No one cared. After all, both of the parents had seen it for themselves, and their four-month-old baby didn't seem interested, either.

  And besides, Henry and Elizabeth—“Hank” and “Beth” to each other, when they were alone—were keeping busy in plenty of other ways.

  For example, at the moment, Hank was occupying himself by kissing the scar on Beth's cheek. She loved it when he did that. When she was out in public, most people—especially men—glanced at it and then looked away self-consciously, with a mixture of pity and revulsion in their eyes. But Hank had told her that he found it sexy. He said it was a constant reminder of how much she loved him, and the fact that they were strong enough to get through anything together.

  To Beth, the strongest reminder of this was the way their crooked noses looked when they nuzzled them together affectionately. Both of the noses had been broken in Bluebonnet, and they lent additional character to the faces they were on.

  Hank and Beth wrapped themselves around each other in the bed they shared. The scars on their naked bodies seeming to fit together perfectly, like corresponding pieces in a puzzle. The contours of their muscles were highlighted by the golden sunbeams that spilled in through the window, and a light breeze tickled their bodies playfully. Beth had left the window open on purpose—she knew how the smell of fresh air turned Hank on.

  Their lips were locked together as they shared each other's breath, exchanging it from one mouth to the other slowly and sensually. Their chests were pressed together too, and if Beth really concentrated, she was sure she could feel their pulses beating in a single rhythm. Two hearts that had finally found perfect harmony in each other.

  Hank cupped one hand behind Beth's head as the other slid between her smooth thighs. His forefinger rubbed against her clit, and Beth gasped sharply, smiling. No matter how many times he touched her, it felt like the first time.

  No. Better. Because this was so much more than some sweaty, confused encounter in a dirty public bathroom. This was the promise of forever, of basking in the glow of another person's love from now until the sun went cold.

  This was everything she'd ever wanted, and it was finally hers.

  Hank continued to touch her, delicately stroking the lips of her pussy and enjoying the way her body twitched with pleasure.

  “I love the way you touch me,” she whispered in his ear.

  “I love touching you,” he replied. “When I was cuffed to the bed in the infirmary, this was just one of the things I thought about doing to you.”

  Beth laughed. “I don't know—it was kind of nice having you handcuffed and unable to move while I had my way with you.”

  “I guess I know what to get you for Christmas now,” he chuckled, kissing her behind her ear.

  “Shhh. Just keep touching me.”

  Hank's fingers were slick with juices as he slipped the first two inside her. She let out a long moan, loving the fact that they could take their time with each other now—that they didn't have to worry about being caught and punished for their love.

  He re-positioned himself, sliding his body down over the covers until his head was between her legs. He continued to push his fingertips inside of her as his mouth settled over her clit. It throbbed as his sandpapery tongue flicked against it insistently. The feeling of his breath against her was soft and tantalizing, and she felt her thighs close reflexively on the sides of Hank's head.

  She ran her hands through his hair, tugging it gently. Her breath was coming in sharp hisses now, and she wasn't sure how much more she could take.

  “Please,” she pleaded. “I need you inside me. Now.”

  Hank scooted up between her legs again, her scent still clinging to his lips as his cock pressed against her gently. He was inside of her a moment later, his mouth caressing the side of her neck while he buried himself deep within her. She felt something light up in the pit of her stomach, a tiny flame that quickly spread through her until her entire body felt consumed by wildfire.

  Beth clung to his body as tightly as she could, holding his torso against hers as her legs wrapped around his hips. Her nails dug into his back and he inhaled sharply, playfully nipping at her neck and shoulder with his teeth. The sounds they made seemed to intertwine into a single passionate voice, crying out over and over.

  When they finally came together, it felt like the entire universe beginning and ending, only to begin again in a blinding cosmic blast of form and energy.

  Beth heard the baby crying in the next room. She and Hank looked at each other, then laughed. Of course their sounds had awakened her from her nap—it wasn't the first time, and it wouldn't be the last. In a minute or two, one of them would rise from the bed, walk into the baby's room, and walk back and forth with her until she went back to sleep.

  But for now, they would lie in bed in a tangle of arms and legs, holding each other like two people who'd woken up from the same nightmare—relieved that it was all over, and that the reality of waking could be so sweet in contrast.

  THE END

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  ONE MORE NIGHT: Jungle’s Thorns MC

  By Sophia Gray

  I MISSED HER TASTE. SO I TOOK HER FOR ONE MORE NIGHT.

  Some things aren’t meant to be repeated.

  But I missed how it felt to bury myself inside her.

  I had to feel it again.

  So I did it �
� I put everything on the line in exchange for one. More. Night.

  ISAAC

  It was a mistake from the start.

  Drink after drink, and a girl who should have stayed firmly in my past.

  I should have seen through her deception.

  But I f**ked up.

  And now, it’s going to cost me everything.

  She knew my weaknesses and she exploited them ruthlessly.

  I couldn’t blame her, really.

  She learned how to be dirty from the best:

  Me.

  But I’ve got a few tricks left up my sleeve.

  I’m going to get her back under my control.

  And then I’m gonna make her pay for stabbing me in the back.

  It will be long.

  It will be painful.

  But by the end of it, she’ll recognize that she’ll always belong to me.

  STEPHANIE

  I didn’t want it to come to this.

  But Isaac’s men did something that should never have been done.

  Vengeance is required.

  And I know how to strike a wound that will never heal.

  I know Isaac.

  Or rather, I knew him.

  But that was a lifetime ago.

  He means nothing to me now.

  He’s a monster.

  A pawn.

  And he deserves to be punished.

  At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.

  But deep down, there’s a little voice saying something completely different.

  It wants me to submit to his touch again.

  To beg. To moan. To whimper.

  It’s wrong – too wrong.

  That can’t happen.

  It won’t.

  It shouldn’t.

  But God, I’d give everything to have one more night with him.

  Chapter One

  Two Weeks Ago

  Stephanie

  I ran a hand through my dark hair and looked around the room. This night, the thirteenth of October, was something special. This was the anniversary of the day my motorcycle club became a real, legit business. And tonight, my girls and I were going to celebrate like we owned the place.

  “This is incredible,” Val said. She sidled up next to me and took a long sip of tequila from a glass clutched in her hand. “Can you believe it, Steph?”

  I shook my head but I couldn’t help grinning. “I know,” I replied. “It’s fucking amazing, and I couldn’t have done it without you.”

  Val grinned back. She was my oldest friend among the girls, the person I trusted the most in the world. Years ago, when everything had really started going downhill for me, Val was the one who’d picked me back up and made things okay again. I owed my life to her, and only her. I hadn't trusted her at first – she'd always had a bad reputation around town. But after I got to know her, I realized that her critics were just jealous. Either that or they couldn't stand the idea of a woman biker. Val was the strongest fighter of the group, someone who really deserved the patches she wore.

  “You should be proud,” Val said. She pulled me closer and bumped her hip against mine. We both exploded into giggles like a couple of college girls.

  “I am,” I admitted. “But I want to grow the club, you know? I really want to make things happen for us.” I sighed. “A few years ago, we were just another MC trying to carve out our place in the world. But now, Val, we can take over the whole fuckin’ city.” I grinned. The windows were open and the cool fall Los Angeles air was streaming in. I loved the city; it was anonymous, it was dark, and most of all, it was powerful. And tonight, it felt like we owned the damn place.

  Looking around at my girls, I was filled with a sense of pride. This was a real club, a real sisterhood. None of that backstabbing shit that went along with being in an MC. These girls were likely family, and it was my duty to protect every single one of them. I loved being president, and I’d defend my role with my life. It wasn’t enough to keep my girls alive and well-moneyed—I wanted to make a real mark. I wanted to show all those goddamn men out there that I was just as tough as they were.

  “Boss,” Val said, leaning down close. “Look, Jessica just got here.”

  I watched as Jessica, one of the newest members, slunk into the room. Her shiny brown hair was loose and draped over one shoulder. Jessica was still new; her eyes bugged out every time she saw a gun, and she had porcelain skin that hadn’t yet acquired the perma-tan from riding out on the road. But she was tough, feisty, and smart—a combination I liked in all of my girls. Jessica was good, she wouldn’t fuck up. She wouldn’t get us into trouble.

  “Hey,” I said as Jessica strolled over and thrust a bottle of aged bourbon into my waiting hands. “How’re things?”

  Jessica sighed. She looked nervous all of a sudden, shifting her weight from one foot to the other and glancing around the room. “I don’t know,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “I know this sounds kinds of weird, but I think someone may have followed me here.”

  Val laughed—a deep, rumbling sound. “Ain’t no one getting in our clubhouse,” she said defensively, sucking her big front teeth. “Want me to go outside and take a look?”

  I thought about it. Sure, Jessica was a scaredy-cat. But Val knew what she was doing, and I realized that other clubs probably knew tonight was our anniversary. Our guard was down, we were partying hard. It wouldn’t be the worst time to strike an offensive.

  “Yeah,” I said after a beat. “Go check it out. Want someone to go with you?”

  Val grinned at me and reached down, patting the gun she kept at her waist at all times. “I already got someone, boss,” she said, nodding towards the gun. “Don’t you worry about me.”

  I watched Val swagger out of the room with the confidence of a hundred women. Someday, Val would be the leader of this MC. That was what she wanted; with her fierce expressions, fiery eyes, and attitude that wouldn’t take no for an answer. I was okay with that, but I was glad that she kept me in my place for now. I loved being the president. Someday, I’d retire. Val was younger than me and hadn’t been around for as long. We’d met a long time ago, but I hadn’t trusted her until she’d come to aid after my parents were first killed. But what she lacked in experience, she made up for in worldliness. I hadn’t ever had a second-in-command as dedicated or as tough, and that was in all my years of biking.

  “So,” Jessica said softly. She stepped closer. “You know, there was actually something I was hoping to talk to you about.”

  I held up my hand. “Later,” I said. My senses were tingling and I was on high alert. Until Val came back and declared the outside a safe place, I wasn’t sure that I’d be able to have any conversation.

  Jessica was…interesting. She was the daughter of a former MC kingpin, and although she’d grown up around bikers her entire life, she hadn’t exactly learned their tactics. It was still obviously foreign territory for Jessica—a girl, not yet a woman. She was only twenty, and she looked it.

  “No,” Jessica said. It was the most urgent tone she’d ever used with me. “This is important, Stephanie.”

  “Call me Stephy,” I said absentmindedly. “No one in the MC uses my full name.”

  Jessica smiled. “I think it’s pretty,” she replied.

  I sighed again. “So what did you want to talk about?”

  Just then, Val burst back through the doors. She held her arms up in the air and sauntered over with a satisfied grin on her face. “Bunch of peeping Toms,” she said dismissively. “I showed ’em!”

  "I bet," I said dryly. "They take off?"

  Val scowled. “Like I’d let those assholes hang around here,” she muttered under her breath. “Seriously, Stephy, you know that.”

  I bit my lip. Something inside didn’t feel right; I couldn’t put a finger on it, but it was like there was something wrong. Turning to Jessica, I said, “What was it that you wanted to ask me again?”

  Jessica bit her lip. “Nothing,” she said. “We can talk l
ater.”

  Val watched Jessica walk away. “She’s an odd one,” Val said quietly. “Why did we take her in again?”

  I sighed. “Because her father was the leader of a big MC in San Diego, and she knows the ropes,” I said. “And we need some younger members.”

  Val looked around. “I think we had a good group,” she said defensively, puffing her cheeks out and blowing out a steady stream of air.

  Some of the girls on the other side of the room started cheering. They were pulling open cartons of alcohol and putting everything up on the bar. I loved the new clubhouse; we’d bought it a little over six months ago, and it was finally shaping up to be amazing. We had a recreation area with a bar and then a meeting room, with some small bedrooms in the back. I had a rule about driving drunk. The cops were always on the local MCs, and since we did our share of illegal business, I had no intention of letting them anywhere close to my girls.