by Nikki Groom
Chapter 23
After having a shower, I throw on one of Ramsey’s t-shirts and pad around his room, gathering my belongings as quietly as I can manage while he sleeps. After a restless night and an agitated day, he was exhausted and has finally managed to rest.
I see his fatigue even though he pretends it’s not there. He puts on a brave face, and a big, bad bravado, but I see the weariness in his eyes.
I slide my laptop out of my bag and curl into the armchair, cross-legged, to do some work. The last couple of days have slipped away in a haze of Ramsey Dalton and everything that goes along with our crazy lives when you mix them together. As a result, I have hours of web building to complete and not so many hours of time to do it in. If the work doesn’t get completed, I don’t get paid. Even though I’m not about to be made homeless if I don’t make rent, I refuse to rely on anyone else to provide what I need. It’s been a bone of contention between Vaughn and me. He wants to provide for me like he did when I was a child, as any father figure would want to. But whether he likes it or not, he’s not my father, and I refuse to be held in his, or anyone else’s debt.
I tap and click, losing myself in coding, images, text, and the simplicity of designing a website. Well, it’s not simple, unless you know how, but it’s something I not only find easy, but the coding and logicality of it soothes my brain, and I find it kind of therapeutic.
“What’cha doin’?” Ramsey groans, his voice thick with sleep and even deeper than usual.
“Work.” I smile, pausing to look up at him over the screen of the laptop for just a second.
“Why?” He props himself up on his elbows, looking at me more intently now. It’s crazy how this guy can go from flat-out asleep to wide awake and fully engaged in a blink.
“Because it’s my job,” I answer simply. He frowns, shakes his head, then hops up off the bed. He comes around to the back of the chair, sliding his large, warm hands over my shoulders and under the neck of his tee that I’m wearing, securing his grip around both of my breasts.
“What is your job?” he asks curiously, leaning down so his warm breath tickles my ear.
“I design websites. Well, I can design pretty much anything, but I like doing websites.” My concentration wanes as he rubs his thumbs back and forth over my nipples.
“Never had you down for a computer geek,” he chuckles.
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” I tease.
“Oh yeah?” he whispers, sliding his tongue softly along the shell of my ear as his hands knead my breasts, whipping my body into a heated frenzy.
“Yeah,” I whisper back, my voice breaking as he takes my earlobe between his teeth.
“Well, I plan on uncovering everything about you, Sadie girl.” He tweaks both of my nipples, then slides his hands from my body. “Right after I’ve showered.”
I drop my head back with a groan and rub at my bare forearms to calm the hairs that are standing on end.
“That’s unfair,” I grumble playfully.
“Life’s unfair, sweet cheeks.” He whips a towel off the back of a chair and slings it over his shoulder, giving me a wink and disappearing into the en-suite.
It’s a weird set up here. A disused warehouse is done up as a clubhouse but with individual rooms lining the basement. The rooms are nice though, and all en-suite, which makes me wonder about everyone’s lives. Some of them are married, but they seem to spend all their time here. Sometimes not going home to their wives or children for days on end. Is their dedication to the club more so than to their wives? As far as I can gather from limited conversations with Lia, JJ is the only one that goes home to the actual house that he owns separately from the Souls HQ most nights, and if he does stay here, so does Lia. They’re tight. It’s sweet to see, especially as JJ is so hard to read. He has a dangerous quietness about him—a silent observer. I see him watching, always watching what’s going on around him, but the second he looks at Lia or even talks about her, everything about him softens. Everyone has their Achilles heel, I guess, and she is definitely his.
I click a playlist on my laptop, using music to distract my thoughts from JJ and the club. I even try and distract myself from the fact that I know Ramsey is in the shower, naked…wet…
I have work to do, I tell myself.
But work doesn’t come easy when there’s so much bouncing around in your head. I stare at the screen, listening to one song slip into another, and being swept away to a place where I try and put everything in order in my head. Compartmentalize, I tell myself. But in my head, there are only two compartments. Stuff I want to remember, and shit I want to forget, and at the moment there’s a whole lot just bouncing around in the middle, and I can’t seem to push it either way.
“Doesn’t look like you’re getting much done, other than chewing your fingernail down to the skin.” I glance around as Ram comes toward me, a towel wrapped around his waist, his hair still wet and messy, droplets of water clinging to his chest. My tongue sneaks out and wets my lips, and Ramsey’s eyes blaze down at me. He takes my laptop from my hands, snapping it shut and grinning while he waits for me to berate him. I don’t. Instead, I push myself up out of the chair, straightening slowly while I hold his heated gaze, pressing my hips into his. I drag my gaze from the V that disappears under the towel, up past his navel, between his rock hard pecs where a little gathering of water drops are screaming to be licked, and stretch my neck to continue past his shoulders, finally locking eyes with him. Neither of us makes a move to touch each other just yet, but I feel his erection pushing through the towel and begging to be touched, stroked, licked, sucked …
He sweeps his thumb over my lower lip as I let my jaw drop open. He pushes it between my teeth, and I close my mouth around it, sucking gently while twirling my tongue around the tip.
“Fuck, Sadie, you’re gonna be the death of me.” He groans low in the back of his throat and wraps his hand around my waist, jamming my body hard against his. I release his thumb with a pop, and he grabs the hair at the back of my head, tightens his grip and holds me in place looking up at him. “Do you have any idea what you do to me? What you’ve done?” he asks, his gaze burning into mine, and I panic for a second. His eyes scream lust and passion and fire, but his words, they’re harsh and angry.
“Y-yes,” I stutter.
“Yes, what?” he growls, tugging my head back just a fraction. He’s not hurting me, and I’m not scared. I know what he’s doing. He’s battling the need within him. Fighting for control of something he has no control over.
“Yes, I know what I do to you,” I say, more confidently this time, pushing my breasts against him and pressing my palm into his erection through the towel. He hisses in a breath as his lip curls with desire. “You do the same to me, Ramsey. Let it happen.” I tilt my head, dropping my jaw open slightly, and staring into his eyes. Even now, he’s fighting it, while not being able to control himself or the situation. Angry at me for making him feel a weakness he’s been fighting all his life. Then he snaps. His lips take mine, challenging my words, fighting as long and as hard as he can, but he knows there’s no use and his assault softens as he admits defeat and gives in to whatever this is between us—whatever the future may hold. His kiss becomes less urgent, more exploratory, and full of passion. His grip on my hair grows even tighter as I slide my hand underneath the towel, taking him in hand and moving in time with his hips as they push slowly back and forth. He takes my bottom lip between his teeth and tugs gently, grunts and groans coming from deep within his chest as we writhe against each other to the beat of Tennessee Whiskey by “Chris Stapleton”. Ramsey’s hold slips from my hair to explore the rest of my body, and when he pushes his hand between my legs and runs his index finger along my wet entrance, my body jolts at the intensity of the contact. He works in rhythmic circles, slowly at first, then picking up speed as he claims my body and the orgasm that follows. He watches me closely as I come, his name on my lips and his gaze burning into mine.
He removes his hand, and sucks his fingers, all the while staring into my eyes. I gasp and try to steady my shaking legs by holding onto his arms. “I haven’t finished with you yet. Bend over.”
I turn willingly in his hold, my legs weakening at his order. He places my hands on the arms of the chair and presses his palm between my shoulder blades to push me down so my ass is offered to him in all its glory. “What a fucking sight,” he muses, taking a step back and rubbing his palm gently over my ass cheek. I’m highly aware that the music has stopped in the background, and the only sounds I can hear are both of us breathing. My breaths are heavier and faster than his, but they punctuate the silence in the room, almost as separate entities, as my body starts to feel mildly detached from my mind.
Silence and anticipation prickle the hairs all over my skin. Heightened awareness makes me nervously excited, so when he brings his hand down sharply on my ass, and the resounding crack hits the walls and bounces around the room, I yelp with shock. It doesn’t hurt—until the sensation travels to my brain and the burn starts to spread all over my ass cheek. But I don’t have time to think about it, because he thrusts into me, deep and hard and all-consuming. He doesn’t hold back for a second, pounding into me relentlessly. I hold on tightly to the chair, my fingernails piercing the leather, bracing myself and pushing back with each stroke, meeting him thrust for thrust.
“Fuck,” he growls in between strokes. Slowing only to lay his body over mine where he grinds his hips instead, and kisses across my shoulder blades. “Your ass is pink under my hand. I like you wearing my mark.”
He slides his hand around my neck, his fingers framing my chin and holding me securely where he wants me while he sucks hard on the back of my neck. He picks up the pace, applying gentle pressure with his fingertips, so I arch my body, allowing him to thrust deeper and harder into me. Our grunts and whimpers fill the air as he pumps faster and faster, losing control of the rhythm of his body’s desire. I push hard against him, meeting him with a slap of skin and bringing him closer to his release.
“This is real, Sadie.” He thrusts hard, punctuating his statement, and I cry out.
“Yes,” I pant breathlessly, matching his rhythm but starting to lose myself to the sensation of raw emotion between us. I squeeze my pussy hard around his cock, drawing him in deeper. “This is real,” I reassure him, sensing his need to hear it.
“Ain’t gonna hold out much longer, babe, you’re squeezing me so fucking tight,” he grits out.
“Just fuck me, Ram. Do it hard. Do it fast. Fuck me like you really want me,” I tell him, reckless with lust. He twists my hair to the side and seeks out my mouth, demanding that my lips seal with his, and as his hips move faster, he thrusts and grinds, an action that has me losing control of my legs and my voice. Screams of pleasure fill the room as he catapults me to an overwhelming, intense climax that makes my legs shake and my head spin as he reaches the peak of his own pleasure and comes inside me.
As he withdraws, I feel empty. But he scoops me up in his arms, carrying me to the bed and laying me down carefully, curling in behind me. He kisses my neck softly as I wrap my arms around his. “If I didn’t have to go to the fight, I’d stay here and make you scream my name all night long. Sexiest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever heard, Raven,” he groans, fanning my skin with the heat of his breath and his words.
“So, let’s stay,” I whisper, turning in his arms.
“Can’t. Wish I could.”
“We’ll make up for it when we get back,” I grin and push his shoulder down so he’s lying on his back as I straddle his hips with a wiggle of my pelvis.
“You’re making it almost impossible…”
“I know,” I smirk, running my tongue over my top lip.
“You can keep my t-shirt on and be ready for when I get back to you. I’ll make it up to you in orgasms and screams of pleasure.”
“Uh, hang on…” I straighten my back. “You’re leaving me here? While you go and watch a fight. What the fuck am I supposed to do locked up in this room?” I swing my leg off him and stand with my hands on my hips next to the bed.
He props himself up on his elbows and rolls his eyes, which makes me want to slap his fucking face.
“I’m not taking you with me,” he says simply. “And you won’t be locked up.”
“Am I just one of your whores now?” I screech, deeply offended and feeling cheap. “Novelty worn off already? I suppose you expect me to do as I’m told like a good old lady, huh?” I start to throw my belongings into my rucksack, but he comes up behind me and grabs my wrist, tightening his grip just enough for me to drop the bag.
“Look at me.”
“Fuck you,” I spit. “I—”
“Look at me!” he roars, spinning me around to face him and grabbing me hard by my shoulders.
“I can’t take you. It’s too dangerous. None of the girls are going. Lia said she would like to spend a few hours with you and the other girls. So I thought, instead of putting your life at risk, and my fucking sanity on the line, which is wavering right on the edge already, I thought I could trust you to do as you’re fucking told for once in your life.”
I shrug my arms out of his hold. So fucking pissed at him I can hardly trust myself to speak right now. He wanted me here. He convinced me to pack a bag and come and stay for a few days under his watch, and then he’s going to fuck off with the boys and leave me here with a bunch of women I hardly know. Despite Lia being really lovely, being left with her wasn’t what I had in mind when he told me to come and stay here with him.
“Fine,” I tell him through tight lips and clenched teeth.
“Good.” He lowers his face to mine, seeking out my eyes and forcing me to look at him. “I will be back as soon as the fight is over.” He holds my face in his hands and kisses my lips so tenderly my knees go weak. Despite trying to keep up my annoyance, nothing else matters when his mouth is pressed against mine.
Chapter 24
I never thought I would consider staying locked in my room with a chick instead of watching Dev torture some poor, unsuspecting soul and win me a bucketload of cash, but I was seriously contemplating it now. It isn’t just her hot little body that fires me up every damn time I look at her, it’s the way she’s so fierce on the outside, determined and driven, to the detriment of her own happiness from what I can see. But when I touch her, it’s like I crack the armor. She isn’t just some cheap whore that wants to get laid by a dirty biker. She didn’t hang around to get screwed by any of the guys around here in the hopes of becoming someone’s girl or old lady. No, she didn’t care about all that shit. She didn’t care if I was a VP or a prospect—those titles mean shit to her. She just wants me. Me, as I am. The thought alone is a rainbow-shitting unicorn to me, but the more time I spend with her, the more I realize it might just be true.
We pull up outside the warehouse and line our bikes up. There’s a huge show of Souls tonight. Every man from our club and many others have come as a show of support to Dev, not that he usually needs anyone in his corner. Fucking animal doesn’t need praise or moral support. The thought of beating a man to near death is enough for him to perform without nerves or worry.
Dev’s already in there, driven here earlier by Tex, and warming up in one of the back rooms before the fight kicks off. This is a big one. It’s been brewing for months, rumors doing the rounds that the opposing dude is going to knock Dev’s unbeaten crown off his head.
The thought makes me smile. Not a fucking chance.
“I give him nine seconds before Dev knocks the guy on his ass and he plays dead so he doesn’t have to get back up on his feet and face Dev’s iron fists again.” Ruck kicks the stand on his bike and hooks his helmet over the handlebars.
“You know it, bro.” I whistle in a breath. “Gotta be stupid or insane to go up against Dev. Dude don’t have a fucking clue what he’s let himself in for.”
“Maybe he does. Maybe he just gotta death wish.”
“Ramse
y,” JJ calls, jerking his head to the side entrance. I nod, and Ruck slaps me on the shoulder before we follow JJ’s lead.
We head up The Steel Souls division. JJ, me, Ruck up front, and nearly twenty leather-clad guys behind. Big, bold, and very fucking scary. We filter through into the dimly-lit building. There is low lighting around the perimeter, but the main spotlight is on the makeshift ring in the middle of the warehouse floor, lined with knee-high wooden boards to define the ring. JJ sends prospects to man every entrance and exit. Even though there’s always an element of risk with underground fights like this, the recent events with The Wolves make us slightly more on edge.
“Ruck,” I yell over the noise of the crowd. “You good?” I signal a gun with two fingers, making sure he’s carrying, and he nods back at me before taking his usual observatory walk around the place. He’s always done this. Likes to see who’s here, who shouldn’t be here, and if there’s anyone that we might be looking for or wanting to talk to. The chance to place a bet and the potential to earn good money very quickly always drives the scum out from the gutters. I scan around, my eyes landing on Tex, who’s eyeing the crowds from a doorway in the corner.