Reign

by Jessica Gadziala

  My back arched, my hands going to his shoulders, dragging my nails in. “Harder,” I demanded, trying to grind my hips into his.

  “Nope,” he said, looking down at me, continuing his torturous pace.

  “Reign, please,” I tried. Yeah. I begged. Shamelessly.

  “I'll fuck you as hard as you want,” he started and I felt my hope raise, “when you admit that you'll miss me.”

  What? No. Hell to the no.

  I would. Oh, my god. I was going to miss him.

  But I was trying to convince myself that I wouldn't. So I couldn't exactly go and admit it to him, could I?

  “Stubborn,” he said, shaking his head, rocking his hips into mine. His lips lowered to mine, soft and sweet, lots of tongue and lip nibbling. “I'm gonna miss this sweet pussy,” he admitted and my belly fluttered. “You're gonna miss my cock,” he informed me.

  “Yes,” I admitted, breathlessly, feeling my orgasm building slowly.

  His tongue went to my neck. “And you're gonna miss my tongue licking and my lips sucking on that sweet clit of yours.”

  Oh, god yes.

  But I was beyond words. I was at the throaty whimpers stage.

  “And when I get back,” he said, his mouth by my ear, his voice getting strained, “I am gonna claim your ass. Bury deep in their until you are screaming my name.”

  Ohmygod.

  “Reign...” I moaned, pushing my hips against him faster, feeling my orgasm budding.

  “Just like that,” he crooned, pushing in deep.

  And I crashed.

  Down.

  Hard.

  My sex clenched hard around him, my legs shaking with the sensation, as I started gasping, my fingers digging into his shoulders.

  Reign followed me a moment later, my name on his lips, as he buried in me, his face in my neck.

  I drew a shaky breath, my hand moving up into his hair. “I'll miss you,” I admitted quietly.

  He pushed up to look down at me, a slow, lazy grin on his face. “Yeah you will.”

  --

  “Open up, Cherry,” Cash demanded.

  He had a key. I knew he had a key. But he didn't use it. No matter that I hadn't stepped out of Reign's room in two days and he was worried, he still didn't open it on me.

  “Leave me alone,” I said, rolling over in bed.

  “I have a present for you.”

  Well.

  He certainly knew how to get a girl's attention.

  “What kind of present?” I asked, already sitting up.

  “Open the door and see.”

  Augh.

  The things a girl would do to get a surprise.

  I climbed off the bed, unlocking the door, and drawing it open.

  And there was Cash, charming smile on his face, looking fresh as a daisy at seven (yes... SEVEN) in the morning. “Nice bed head,” he said, grinning harder.

  “Shut up and give me my present,” I said, lowering my eyes at him which only served to make him chuckle.

  He moved into the room, leaving me to follow behind, eyeing the bag in his hand. He sat down at the foot of the bed. “This present comes with a condition.”

  Of course it did.

  “What condition?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.

  “You come out and eat something,” he said simply.

  At the mention of food, my belly did a small grumble. Cash refused to bring food up to my room and I refused to go out. We were at a standoff.

  “Reign is pretty pissed you aren't eating.”

  “You talked to him?” I asked, cringing at the neediness in my voice.

  “Yeah, sweetheart. I talk to him every day he's on a run. He checks in on things around here.”

  “Right,” I said, sighing. “Fine. I'll go down. Just for breakfast,” I clarified.

  “Alright, I'll take it,” he said, putting the bag down and reaching inside. “As much as you like those hideous flats you've been wearing around,” he said, nodding toward the pair of black ballet flats he had brought me on my second day at the compound, “Henchmen bitches wear these,” he informed me, pulling out a pair of badass leather combat boots.

  Alright. I had always been a girly girl. I had a closet full of pricey heels. And I mean... heels. Ankle breakingly high and thin. I wore them like I was born to. Day and night.

  But the boots in his hands filled me with a surge of something I could only describe as excitement. I held out 'gimme' hands and he smiled, handing them to me. I reached down, slipping into them, tying them loosely, and admiring them. “What do you think?”

  “Some black jeans and a nice cut and you'd fit right in, baby,” he agreed, nodding.

  I'd fit right in.

  I felt a thrill.

  Because, I realized with blinding clarity, I wanted to fit in with them. With Reign's men and women. I wanted to be a part of their life.

  Fuck.

  I wanted to be a part of Reign's life.

  In a sort of permanent way.

  Which was crazy.

  “Uh oh,” Cash said, watching me. “Your happy scale went from an eleven to a zero pretty fast. What's up?”

  “Nothing,” I said, shrugging it off.

  “Nuh uh. Ain't getting' off that easy. What's up?”

  I let out a loud sigh, sitting down at the foot of the bed with him. “I miss Reign,” I admitted.

  “I can tell. Not many women take to their bed in nineteen-fifties dramatics over guys they don't miss.”

  “I'm that obvious, huh?”

  “Yep,” he agreed, not bothering to stroke my pride. I liked that about him.

  “Why don't you run a brush through that hair and we'll go get you some coffee and food?” he suggested, nodding his head toward the bathroom.

  I got up, nodding, making my way inside and locking it.

  He was right. I was being obvious. Painfully so.

  And it was pathetic.

  And it was beneath me.

  If I wanted to fit in, if I wanted Reign to maybe, just maybe, accept me as one of his people, I needed to start acting like it. Not like some silly heartsick girl. I needed to go out there and get to know some of his men, incorporate myself into their lifestyle.

  Maybe he wouldn't disappear me.

  Maybe when things blew over with V... maybe I could stay.

  I ran a brush through my hair, pulling it into a ponytail, brushed my teeth, and went to my pile of folded clothes. Courtesy of one of the “club bitches” who showed up to strip the bed and take any laundry down and do it. Like... it was her job or something.

  I slipped into a fresh pair of black yoga pants and the black tee. I reached for the sweater, unraveling it.

  And there was the gun.

  I don't know what made me do it, but I grabbed it, making sure the safety was on, and slipped it into my boot. After I loosened the laces, there was plenty of room.

  I trusted Cash. I knew he was capable of protecting me, but a part of me was getting a little sick of relying on others to take care of me. At least if I had the gun, I would feel like I could handle myself. No matter what.

  “Alright,” I said, moving into the bedroom. “Feed me.”

  –

  I was sitting in the lounge area of the compound, watching some god-awful action movie on the television. Lots of explosions and blood and cursing. On the couch beside me was Vin who had taken it upon himself to be my personal Henchmen guide for the past three days.

  That made a total of five days.

  Five days.

  He had been gone five days.

  I still hadn't heard from him

  Cash did.

  When I asked what was going on, I got a oddly guarded face and, “Shit happens,” as an answer.

  Lets just say that didn't inspire the warm and tinglies in me.

  I was worried freaking sick.

  “Hey, Summer,” Flee, on of the probates (Vin taught me that meant they were perspective members, but weren't 'patched-in' yet and ther
efore had the menial jobs. Like walking the grounds) came in the back door, tall with stringy blonde haired, on the ugly side, but he had a nice, smooth voice.

  “What's up?” I asked, looking away from the movie.

  “Want some fresh air? It's nice out.” I felt my lips twitch, watching him shuffle his feet. Like he was nervous. Like maybe... he had a little crush on me.

  I gave Vin a smile and he patted my knee in a fatherly way and I got up to follow Flee outside.

  “Where are we going?” I asked, falling into step beside him.

  “Over by the picnic tables,” he said, shrugging.

  I didn't even get a chance to scream.

  Twenty-one

  Summer

  One minute I was walking, hearing the sounds of crickets, feeling the rustle of the wind moving my hair around.

  The next minute, I was flying onto the ground face forward, knocking the wind out of me for a chockingly long moment. Then there was a weight on my back, a hand over my face.

  My heart was slamming alarmingly hard in my chest as I flashed back to memories of my apartment. As my mind flew through each and every terrifying moment in V's clutches in the matter of five seconds.

  Before I finally remembered to fight.

  I bucked hard, twisting and flinging an arm behind me, wiggling forward.

  “You're making this harder on yourself. Stop fighting,” someone growled in my ear, then there was duct tape over my mouth to replace his hands. His hands that he needed because they pulled my struggling ones and cuffed them at the small of my back.

  The weight lifted and I was hauled back onto my feet.

  I watched as Flee eyed me, then ran out through a hole in the bottom of the fence.

  Fucking traitor.

  “Walk,” my captor commanded from behind my shoulder.

  “Summer?” a voice reached me. My head snapped around to find another of the probates standing there, hands clenched at his sides for a second. He was the one with the scar down his face. Reign liked him.

  Repo.

  His name was Repo.

  My captor followed my line of vision.

  One second he was behind me, the next he was pummeling into Repo. And while Repo was young and strong and wiry, the man was huge and hulking, reminding me of Wolf in terms of size.

  I should have run.

  I should have run into the compound and found Cash or Vin or... anyone.

  That would have been the smart move.

  But all I could focus on was the blood starting to pool out of Repo's face. His body struggling to help me. Trying to save me. Then a fist landed hard in the side of his face and his body went limp.

  And I fucking flew at the other guy.

  I threw my whole body weight into him from the side. Caught off guard, his body flew off of Repo. I scrambled onto my side, pushing myself up as fast as possible, and took my boots to the man's side hard. Unrelenting.

  I felt my blood in my ears.

  I felt rage that put my outburst with Deke in the shed to shame.

  I felt a surge of pleasure when I felt a crack and heard a muffled curse.

  It was short lived as he grabbed my legs and I flew onto my back hard. Hard enough that I couldn't draw a breath.

  Then he was standing, hauling me up, tucking me under his arm and running.

  It was a short lived victory, but I made the fucker hurt.

  I twisted my neck as we reached the fence, looking at Repo's prone body. Watching as hard as I could. Waiting. Praying for a sign of life. Then, just a second before I was thrown through the fence and into Flee's traitorous arms, I saw his chest rise and fall.

  I felt a wave of relief even as I was hauled through a field and shuffled into the backseat of a SUV, thrown down on the floor. Flee was in the passenger seat. The other guy in the driver's. And then we were moving.

  I fought through the hysteria.

  I needed to get out. I needed to get free.

  I couldn't fucking go back.

  I twisted, looking down at my boots, feeling the gun pressed comfortingly against my sock. If I could just get to it...

  But that was useless with my hands cuffed behind my back. Even if I got to the gun, I would never be able to shoot anyone.

  I had to wait. Oh, god. I had to wait.

  I breathed hard out of my nose, trying to calm myself down. I would get a chance. To get to my gun. To get away again. I would get a chance. They never patted me down. They would never think I had a weapon on me. Least of all a gun. Hidden in my boot.

  I would take whatever I had to take. Whatever beating. Whatever torture. I would endure. I would wait for my opening. And then I would get the gun and I would get myself free.

  I wasn't a god damn victim anymore.

  And, in Reign's words, they were gonna' fucking pay.

  –

  The drive felt endless with nothing but Flee's and the other guy's sporadic comments about what direction to turn in to keep me from going crazy.

  Then the car pulled over and the driver turned to Flee. “Get out.”

  “What? No man. I need to see him. He needs to know I did my part.”

  “You need to get your fucking ass back to the compound and take care of business. Make sure no one knows shit.”

  “Repo didn't see me, man.”

  “Did anyone see you with her?”

  Vin. Vin saw me with him.

  At Flee's silence, the man cursed. “Shit. Fuck. Can you not handle the simplest fucking instructions? Get out. Now I have to make it look good.”

  I got a pit in my stomach at those words.

  The doors slammed and not ten seconds later, I heard Flee grunting, yelling, groaning.

  Apparently, 'making it look good' meant making it seem like Flee wasn't involved.

  Shit.

  Fuck.

  He would go back to the compound. He would continue spying on them. Who the hell even knew what the plan was. To kill them all? For getting involved?

  Thank god Reign wasn't there.

  But, fuck, Cash was still there.

  Cash was there and he was clueless.

  And so was Vin.

  I needed to get away.

  I needed to get in touch with them and warn them.

  “No. Fuck. Lee... let me g...”

  Silence.

  But I had a name.

  Lee.

  Not a minute later, Lee got into the truck, slamming it into reverse, and we were off again.

  Lee reached for a cell, shooting off a quick text with one hand and keeping a one hand feel on the steering wheel.

  But the car only drove for maybe another five minutes before we paused. I heard beeps, like a code being pushed into a gate, then the sound of said gate opening. A short stint up a driveway. Then we parked. Lee got out. Then the door by my feet opened and I was being pulled backward.

  I slammed down on my feet. Lee got behind me, holding the chain between my cuffs and slamming my head forward so all I could see was my own two feet as he pushed me forward. Into a garage. Through the garage into some other room, tile floor. Through to a hardwood floor.

  And it was familiar.

  But it wasn't V's house.

  Holy fucking shit.

  “Baby girl,” a voice said and the hand on the back of my head released.

  My head snapped up, my eyes going wide.

  And there was my father.

  Richard Lyon.

  Smiling at me like I just got off a plane after a long vacation.

  What the hell was going on?

  “Lee,” he said, shaking his head. “I think the duct tape can be taken off now, don't you?”

  Lee made a grunting noise then reached for the tape and pulled it off roughly.

  I sucked in air, turning to look at my captor.

  I was right, he was built like Wolf. But he was older. Buzzcut. Hard black eyes. Everything about him, the way his shoulders were pulled back, the way his feet were spread, his hair... it screamed
of ex-military.

  “I'm going to fucking kill you,” I spat at him and was rewarded by a slow, amused smirk.

  “Summer,” my father's voice reached me, sounding shocked. “You should be thanking Lee.”

  My gaze went to my father. “Thank him? Thank him? For what? For knocking me onto the ground? Twice? For beating an innocent kid half to death? What, exactly, should I be thanking him for?”

  His head tilted to the side, watching me. “Baby... he saved you.”

  Saved me.

  He... saved me?

  The truth hit me like a kick to the gut.

  He thought the Henchmen were holding me against my will. He sent someone in to get me out.

  Shit.

  That changed... everything.

  “Baby, are you feeling alright? You look positively ghostly.”

  I felt positively ghostly.

  “I'm...” I started, shaking my head. “Daddy... I need to sit down.”

  “Of course. Of course,” he said, jerking his head at Lee. “I think you can take those cuffs off now,” he told him. Lee reached into his pocket for a key and released my hands which I pulled toward my front and rubbed at my wrists. While I was doing so, my father slowly approached me. His gaze went to my wrists and he paled. “Oh, Summer...”

  “It's fine. I'm fine. I survived. I got out.”

  “Trading one prison for another,” he went on, his tone sad. “Come on, let's get you up to your room so you can clean up. Looks like you got a little gash on your cheek,” he said, giving Lee a hard look over his shoulder.

  I took a deep breath, not entirely sure how to handle the situation. I couldn't exactly tell my father that I was willingly staying with an outlaw biker gang. He had been worried sick about me. He sent some big, macho ex-military guy in to get me out and home safely.

  “Daddy...” I started as we made our way up the staircase.

  “It's okay, baby. You don't have to say anything. I'm just glad to have you home,” he said gently, putting an arm around my waist and giving me a small squeeze. “Here we go,” he said, leading me to my childhood bedroom door and opening it. His hand moved to my lower back. “I'll leave you to freshen up. Then maybe you can come down and have some coffee with me? Tell me your story?”