6. Sunni

CHAPTER 6

Sunni

I ’m still swimming in my good fortune, when Raker rolls up on his motorcycle and tells me to come with him down the street. These past few weeks have been the best ones of my life. And every day I fall reluctantly more and more in love with him. I’m not trying to. But how can I resist all that tall dark power, the way he gives me more than I’ve ever had, the way he calls me his favorite, his baby, his special girl?

I’m trying to keep my head and not let my imagination run wild, but I can’t help wondering every day: what if he’s falling in love with me, too?

The Saints tattoo shop was big and luxurious, gleaming wood and steel on the outside and an efficient whir of activity inside.

Although the official territory law enforcement usually left the MCs alone, they still needed a front for what I assumed was some kind of illegal activities. But this wasn’t just any slapdash front, but a carefully and skillfully maintain shop.

Raker drew me unhesitatingly back to a chair behind all the others.

I was dressed in some of my new clothes, tight soft black shorts and a frilly little off-the-shoulder white blouse. The other girls had been right. Raker had just casually handed me more money than I’d ever seen my life and told me to spend it on whatever I wanted. Amira and Bridget had taken me shopping. For new clothes even, not the last ones in the Elders’ charity shops.

It was a dream come true

“What are you going to tattoo on me?” I asked in awe.

He was getting his equipment together and he turned and looked at me. Even though I was sitting on the tall chair, Raker still loomed over me, the muscles moving in his massive arms.

“I thought your body was mine to put what I liked on you,” he said, his dark brows drawing together.

My heart began to pound.

The way Raker always looked at me. . .

It was positively indecent , sinful really.

“It is,” I said, clenching my thighs together to stop the pulse of heat between them.

His harsh lips twisted up.

“I’m putting my mark on you. The Saints MC mark. So everyone will see who you belong to.”

The breath caught in my throat. I hadn’t seen any other club girls with any kind of marking.

This was another thing that seemed to be just for me, and I trembled in anticipation.

The first thing he did was sit down and sketch out a rough outline of what he wanted to do, and I didn’t dare ask any other questions in case he changed his mind.

Because of course I would let him tattoo anything he wanted on me.

I only watched him from under my lashes, his jet-black hair lit up in the circle of light over his chair.

When he came back next to me, I caught a glimpse of darkness, swirls and flames, and he pushed my shorts up until they were tight around my hips, spreading out my whole thigh as a canvas to work on.

I focused on my breathing.

In and out

His big hand was doing unimaginable things to my insides, was twisting me around like a pretzel, my breath coming in little pants so shallow and quick I felt dizzy.

He pressed the needle to my flesh and I bit down on my lip at the painful sting, but to see Raker with his hand spread over my skin was still to feel that rush of lust, that prickling awareness of his body.

His brow was furrowed in concentration, and he wasn’t looking at me, which meant I could look at him, as much as I wanted, without feeling embarrassed.

He was such a brutal, beautiful man. The way his dark, pitch-black hair was swept back from his forehead. The way those dark eyes narrowed as he concentrated on his work. The savage lines of his face, and hard obstinate cast of his chin and jaw.

I looked down at my thigh. Even though he hadn’t said what he was making, I thought I could tell now. Dark licks of fire, bold serpentine marks.

The combination of sharp, even slices of pain and Raker’s firm hands on me began to have a hypnotic effect, and I felt my cunt clench at the way he had me at the brink without even touching me there.

People began to leave for lunch as Raker worked, so it was a shock to hear the door opened brusquely and then the sharp, no-nonsense tap of heels on the floor.

I looked up to see a woman with a copy of the Elders’ Holy Words in her arms and a prim look on her face.

“Mr. d’Sanguine,” her very proper voice said. “I thought we could spend some time together. Maybe do a daily devotional. Did you forget about our lunch date?”

I jerked up, but he had such a firm grasp on my thigh that my body barely moved.

“Ah, Elizabeth,” Raker said, twisting halfway around. “I don’t remember making a lunch date. As you can see, I’m busy today.”

Although his massive shoulders were still bent over my body, of course I couldn’t resist, and I looked curiously at her. I saw a very beautiful woman with that copy of the Holy Words. She had lovely thick chestnut hair, wound up in an elegant bun, cool gray eyes, and a perfectly symmetrical face with a tall, elegant figure.

Unlike me, who was dressed in a skintight top and no bra, and tight mini shorts, she was dressed very modestly, in a long skirt and blouse despite the heat.

Although she was beautiful, she had an unpleasant curl to her lip and she looked at me like she thought I was gross, something filthy under her shoe.

“I see that you are busy, but I would like to go out to lunch to discuss our upcoming marriage.”

Marriage?

My stomach plummeted and jealousy roiled inside me. She must be from one of the Founding Families or someone very important.

“Marriage negotiations are with your father, not you,” Raker said.

“I can still refuse,” Elizabeth replied, and then Raker did turn around.

“I doubt very much that you would, however,” he said dryly.

She hesitated, then gave him a bright smile that looked artificial to my eyes.

“I want to marry you,” she amended. “After hearing how highly-favored you are of the Elders. I just want to meet to discuss how we can advance our mutual causes.”

There was a beat of silence.

“All right,” Raker said after a moment, “But you’ll have to wait over there on those chairs until I’m done her tattoo.”

His phone buzzed then, and he put the needle down to take the call in the other room.

I felt a bit sick that he hadn’t introduced us, and some foolish instinct made me say, “I’m Sunni.”

She flicked her gray eyes at me, her face transforming from that fake pious smile to one of cold contempt.

“I don’t need to know a whore’s name.”

I said nothing.

The shop seemed uncomfortably silent. Elizabeth looked off into the distance and tapped her foot impatiently.

I didn’t know how I was supposed to behave.

This was Raker’s fiancée .

I felt sick to my stomach.

Of course I knew he couldn’t marry me .

She was from one of the elite families in Resurrected Territory, one of the other MCs. I wondered which one.

The minutes Raker was gone stretched on, and finally I heard his harsh, low tones moving from one room in the back to another.

“What is taking him so long?” she snapped.

Ugh, her whole holier-than-thou persona was nothing but a fake!

My throat felt dry, my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth.

“I think he’s still on the phone,” I said.

Elizabeth looked over at me, giving me another quick, contemptuous look up and down.

“I didn’t ask your opinion, little slut,” she snapped.

I said nothing, my palms feeling slick against the seat.

It was true. MC wives in Resurrected were always pure and holy virgins. And club girls were just someone to use and leave.

Elizabeth stood up impatiently, stalking past me and staring back where Raker had gone, then glaring down at me again.

“What’s he carving on you?” Elizabeth hissed, standing at the end of the chair, where my legs were still stretched out. I felt a flicker of fear. There was something in her eyes I didn’t like, a deep, cruel streak of fanaticism.

“Did you know the Holy Words say even in the afterlife a whore is still a whore? She is still below all the wives. No matter how pretty she is. Did you know that? Or do you even know how to read?”

“I know how to read,” I said.

Suddenly, she reached her hand out for me.

Her long nails scraped down my leg, forcing my thigh wide.

My heart pounded and I bit my lip as she dug her nails in so hard there were deep white marks on my skin.

“Ah, a snake and some flames. You’re quite red as a baboon’s ass, aren’t you? Looks painful. But then, he can do whatever he wants to you , can’t he? It’s only me he has to be gentle with.”

I wanted to look away, but she had me pinned with her eyes. She had long, thick lashes lined with dark mascara.

I wondered if she’d ever known thirst, felt hunger. She looked healthy and well-fed, every limb glowing with health and strength.

“That’s the whole point of you MC whores, isn’t it? Sate his nasty disgusting feral urges so when he comes to me after we’re married he takes his time and is nice and gentle.”

Her smile was bright and white, her teeth big and perfectly even.

My teeth were small, a chip on one, a slightly crooked front tooth.

“You have nothing to say to that?” she asked.

“What do you want me to say?” I replied, feeling dull and stupid.

“That’s right,” she added with satisfaction, adding another hard pinch to my leg before getting up. “As long as you stay in your place, we won’t have a problem.”

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