Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
NOAH
We arrive at the clubhouse and the parking lot is full of motorcycles and a few cars and trucks. I park up in one of the few vacant spaces and turn to Chase, who is looking up at the club like he is about to be slaughtered. He’s nervous.
"Stay close to me and don't speak unless I tell you to. And if anyone looks at you wrong, you tell me immediately. Don’t be nervous, you have the worst person next to you in there."
"Ahhh how comforting."
I frown at him, is he being sarcastic?
“Are you being sarcastic, baby?”
“Of course not, you know I love your romantic side,” he says, grinning at me. Little shit.
We enter through the main door and the place looks completely different at night, full of people and noise. I don’t pay any attention to anyone as I search for Marcus, who I see is waiting near the bar. He nods as we approach.
"Noah. Good to see you again." His gaze shifts to Chase. "And you brought your husband."
"Chase," I say. "This is Marcus. He’s the Prez of the club."
Chase extends his hand and Marcus shakes it, his grip firm but not aggressive.
"Welcome," Marcus says. "Come. The others are waiting."
He leads us through the main room to a private room in the rear. Inside are a few men seated around a large impressive table. This room is a lot grander than the main clubhouse. I’m impressed to see that they stand as we enter.
"This is Blade, my VP," Marcus says. "Dante is our sergeant-at-arms and Nathan our treasurer.”
I nod to each of them, cataloging details.
Blade is younger than Marcus with a scar on the side of his face, from a knife from what I can tell.
He has military cut hair that’s black as night and bright green eyes, tall and muscular with absolutely no hint of warmth on his face.
I like that. Dante is small but more muscular with a bald head and shaggy brown beard, probably mid thirties, but has an aggressive energy barely contained.
Nathan is tall and lithe, like a swimmer.
He appears more quiet, watchful. He has thick, curly, mousey brown hair, and one ear is covered in an array of skull and cross earrings.
He is covered in tattoos, like me, all the way up to his neck.
I notice his right hand is badly scarred from a burn. These guys have paid their dues.
"Sit," Marcus says.
Chase and I take seats across from them and I keep my hand on Chase's thigh under the table.
"I’ve briefed the club on who you are, Noah, but the people in this room are the most important. We’ll be the ones you deal with if there are issues, or if you need to arrange anything,” he says, emphasizing the “arrange” word. Meaning the bloody stuff.
"So, what's the arrangement?" I ask.
"You fund the club. In return, you have access to our resources whenever you need them. Safe houses, manpower, weapons. Whatever you require for your personal operations."
Blade nods in agreement. "With your financial backing, it will allow us to expand and also keep under the radar."
"You'll also have the option to participate in any operations you find interesting, from what Marcus said you have a particular taste," Dante adds with a knowing smirk, slightly unhinged. "I’m interested to watch those, Noah.”
“Thats because you’re a sick fuck,” Marcus teases and laughs with the others.
"As long as it’s clear I operate independently," I say.
"I don't report to anyone. I don't coordinate with your operations.
I fund you because it benefits me to have access to your resources, that's the extent of our arrangement. I want nobody calling me with problems, and if you get busted by the police or government, you don’t know my name. "
"Understood," Marcus says. "You're a patron, not a member, and have complete autonomy."
"And him?" Blade asks, nodding toward Chase. "What's his role?"
Suddenly, you could cut the atmosphere with a knife. I don't move, but everyone feels the shift.
"He has no role," I say quietly. "He's my husband and is off-limits. And I mean OFF limits, no one speaks to him, approaches him, or acknowledges his existence without my explicit permission."
Nathan bristles slightly. "We're just supposed to pretend he doesn't exist?"
"Yes."
"Wow, thats fucking crazy," Dante says, leaning back into his chair, his eyes switching between me and Chase, like he is trying to gauge our relationship.
"Non-negotiable," I say. "If that's a problem, I walk. Right now."
Marcus raises a hand, silencing Dante from speaking further. "It's not a problem, we’ll make sure everyone knows."
I can feel Chase's tension beside me, but he doesn't speak. He knows better than to interfere when I'm establishing boundaries and the monster inside me loves how he has followed my rules of not speaking before we arrived. So malleable and good for me.
"Then we have an arrangement," I say.
Marcus extends his hand across the table. I shake it firmly but briefly.
"Welcome to the family," he says. "We're glad to have you as a patron. Care to share a drink to celebrate?”
“I don’t drink, but thanks anyway.”
“You are an odd one, Noah, but I gotta admit, I’m dying to see you in action,” Dante says with a wide ass grin and I get flashbacks of Ivan. I just know this guy is gonna try and be my friend. Maybe I should start killing anyone who is nice to me.
We spend the next hour discussing the financial structure. Nathan walks us through current operations, introduces us to more members who filter in and out of the room, shows us the layout of the clubhouse and the secure areas where sensitive discussions happen.
Chase stays close to me the entire time, silent and observant. I can feel the weight of his attention, the way he's making mental notes of everything for his journal. Several men and women try to make eye contact with him, but I intercept every attempt with a look that makes them turn away.
By the time we leave, the message is clear. Chase is mine, and anyone who forgets that will regret it.
We drive back to our hotel in silence, and when we walk through the lobby, Chase's hand finds mine.
"I'm proud of you," he says.
It's an odd thing to say. Proud of me for what? For being a psychopath? For funding a criminal organization?
But I understand what he means. He's proud that I'm embracing what I am without shame or hesitation. I think.
"Thanks," I say.
Inside our suite, Chase immediately goes to his journal and I watch him write for a few minutes, his hand moving quickly across the page.
Then I cross to him, turning his chair to face me. I’d promised a night of fucking, and a night of fucking he is gonna get.
"Enough writing, I promised you a sore ass, and it’s time to pay up.”
I grab his throat, pulling him to his feet, and moving him over to the windows. "Turn around."
He obliges without question, facing the windows. Manhattan spreads out below us with millions of lights, thousands of people who have no idea what happens in rooms like this.
I press against him from behind, letting him feel how hard I am.
"I'm going to fuck you right here against these windows.
Remember how much you enjoyed that last time?
Who knows, this time someone may see you.
" I slide my hand down to palm his erection through his pants.
"You want this don’t you? You want everyone to know you belong to me. "
“Yess," he pants.
I unbuckle his belt with one hand, keeping my other hand on his throat. His pants drop to the floor, followed by his underwear. He's completely exposed now, pressed against the glass, his cock hard and leaking.
"Spread your legs," I say.
He does, and braces his hands against the window. The glass is cold against his palms, his breath fogging it slightly, then I drop to my knees behind him.
"I’m so close already."
"Silence." I grip his ass, spreading him open. "I'm gonna to taste you first, I want you begging on my tongue.”
I lean in and slide my tongue across his hole in slow and firm strokes. He whimpers as his entire body tenses.
"I love it when you eat my ass," he says, and it spurs me on.
I do it again, this time pressing deeper, using my tongue to open him, his channel is too tight and warm as it hugs my tongue. I work him ruthlessly, alternating by licking, sucking, and thrusting my tongue inside to mimic my cock while he trembles against the glass.
“I need you inside me, Noah. Now,” he begs as he fucks himself on my mouth.
"Not yet," I say, enjoying the taste of him too much.
I return to my work, using my tongue to fuck him wide open while my hands grip his ass hard enough to leave marks.
The sounds he makes are out of a porno, loud and needy and I groan at his response to me.
I reach around and wrap my hand around his cock, feeling the wetness of where he is leaking and the pulsing of his shaft, eager to cum.
"You're going to cum like this," I tell him, my voice muffled against his ass. "With my tongue inside you and my hand on your cock, and then I'm going to fuck you properly."
"Do it," he mewls, handing himself over to me.
I increase the pressure, tongue-fucking him while stroking his cock in rhythm. He's a mess now, his breath coming in gasps, his hands sliding slightly on the fogged glass as he loses his grip.
“Oh fuck!” he wails as his entire body goes rigid as he spills over my hand, his ass clenching around my tongue.
I work him through it, not stopping until he's completely spent. Then I stand, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand looking at the puddle of orgasmic heaven in front of me. If he thinks this is over, he’s mistaken.
"Bedroom," I say. "Now."
He turns, his legs unsteady, and his face flushed and sweaty. "I can barely walk."
"I don't care. Move."
He does, stumbling slightly as he heads toward the bedroom. I follow, already unbuttoning my shirt, followed by the rest of my clothes. By the time we reach the bed, I'm completely naked. My cock is so hard I fear it will snap off if I don’t fuck him right now.
"On your hands and knees," I tell him. "Face down, ass up."
He climbs onto the bed and positions himself into perfect submission, offering me his ass on a platter.
I grab the lube from the nightstand and coat my fingers and then I push two inside him with no warning or tenderness.
He's still open from my tongue, still slick with spit, but I want to feel him inside with my fingers too.
“Ahhh,” he pants.
"You can take it." I add a third finger, stretching him wider.
"You were made for this, for my cock to please you.” I withdraw my fingers and position myself behind him.
My cock is thick and ready for action, and I don't give him time to adjust as I take what I need. He cries out as I push inside, his hands fisting in the sheets above his head as he buries his face into the covers, he’s clenching so tight around me that my eyes roll into the back of my head as I try to control myself.
"Too much?" I ask, not moving.
“Never, just move,” he begs.
I pull back and slam in again, setting a punishing rhythm. The sound of skin against skin fills the room, mixed with his desperate sounds and my controlled breathing.
"This is what you are," I tell him, gripping his plump ass hard enough so he can’t move. "Mine to fuck when I want.”
“Yes.”
I reach around and wrap my hand around his cock again. He's already getting hard again, his body responding to the invasion, but he flinches as he is still sensitive from before.
"You're going to cum again," I tell him. "With my cock buried inside you as I remind you exactly who you belong to."
"Give it to me," he whines.
This ass is fucking perfection.