Chapter five #2
“My wife.” His words ring out over the den.
Cheers roar around us as he meets the eyes of everyone present.
Letting them know, cartel bosses and MC presidents alike, that his claim on his wife is true, and she is to be given the respect due to her.
The crowd of el Diablos, other biker crews, their presidents and cartel leaders hoot and holler.
The whole club is stomping and clapping.
I see a movement and, damn if I don’t see Saban standing to the side of the bar with Ellie. I don’t even think as I step off the back of the dais, allowing Padre to take my position, as we’ve been trained never to leave our president unguarded.
“ángel de la Muerte, the conqueror of the Rudy, nosotros saludamos” Rocco says with his glass raised.
I barely notice how the crowd makes barely a whisper as I make my way over the woman who I was so sure would not be here tonight while he recounts the story of how Angel came upon Rudy and his crew, called our riders and the melee that ensued.
“You’re here.” Staring down at her much shorter form, I will her to look up at me.
For a moment, I think she won’t or she can’t — maybe scared of what those expressive eyes of hers will give away.
She’s wearing a pleated mini-skirt, a rarity because she mostly jeans and Henley kind of girl as much as she like being a princess she wears what most practical around here to work and remain under the radar of the men who frequent this place.
I guess she got the memo because Easy is wearing a white one, and so are the twins.
“Always for Easy. I-if she hadn’t encouraged me like she did, I don’t know how I would have made it through.
” Tipping her head up, she meets my gaze for all of a hot second before shrugging like it doesn’t matter after all.
“Anyway, I have to tell Lourdes all the gossip since she’s definitely banned from ever popping up here. ”
“Hmm, just don’t stay too long.” My words sound harsh. I can’t help it. The need to protect her is a vicious thing in my chest.
“Sure thing, Primo.” Her flippant answer almost makes me want to throw her over my shoulder and march out of here.
“I have a lot on me tonight.” Is as close to an apology as I can come as I scan the crowd for any possible threat.
“Umhm, I bet.” Ignoring the snide implication, I don’t bother denying what she believes about me. What I’ve allowed her to believe.
“Aight, be safe.” I’m about to move away before we either end up fighting or in a worse, far more physical tangle when Angel raises his hand.
Inwardly I groan, already knowing this crazy-ass motherfucker is going to do exactly what I advised him not to do — a public worship of his queen.
I can tell from the look on his face and the look he slides her as she settles her on the throne it has more to do with something between them than the MC and the cartel bosses assembled.
Rooted in my spot,I feel Saban taking a step back. Already knowing her mind is going back to the couple’s first time together and what happened. I don’t move when I feel her hot, curvy little body pressed up against mine.
My dick is already hard as fuck when I get a whiff of the vanilla-rose and the soft brush of her of locs that barely come to rest just shy of my chest. Every fucking second I inhale is a recipe for my destruction.
“Damn,” I mutter, seeing Angel fold his body between Easy’s spread legs.
Saban twists her eyes, locking with mine.
Nothing, and I mean not one fucking thing, can drag my gaze from the lock of those caramel orbs.
The liquid heat in them is so compelling my fist to unclench enough for my arm to band around her lush midsection, drawing her tighter against me.
I tear my eyes away from her, nodding to the stage. Her supple little belly trembles as she watches the show our friends are putting on for us on the stage.
Dick throbbing as it’s pressed into the small of her back, I let myself have this — have her, for this brief moment.
My fingers on her bare stomach are just shy of the waistband of the pleated mini skirt she has on.
She sucks her tummy in, making my hand dip lower.
Of its own accord, my hand travels lower.
Knowing I should stop, I draw back. A small hand captures mine, holding it in place.
Pressing it lower, she slowly drags it down until I’m touching the soft down of her pussy.
“Fuck, baby girl.” The plea tears from me when I find her drenched for me. This little motherfucker is so hot. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I’m chuffed that it’s for me.
Knowing I can’t leave her in this state, I spear my fingers between her two plump lips.
Opening her to me, I slide my fingers along her softness.
Her pussy weeps for me. My chest tightens.
She opens her pretty legs, allowing me better access.
Slowly, keeping my touch light as a butterfly’s wings, I play with her hard little clit.
“Is this what you do when you think of me, little torment?” Growling down into her ear, I rock my hard as fuck dick against her to let her know what she’s doing to me and to ease some of the ache in my balls.
She nods her head where it’s resting on my chest. Seemingly robbed of words, too busy to work her hot little snatch against my fingers, she grips my arm as if she’s afraid I’m going to be a bitch and leave her hanging.
“I got you, querida,” bending low, I promise in her ear, tugging and sucking her lobe in my mouth.
“Come for me, baby.” Speeding up my fingers, I deepen my touch until I feel her gasping shudder as her essence spills over my fingers.
Easing my fingers free, watching as she watches me, I hold her slitted gaze as I bring the glistening digits to my mouth, licking them clean.
She tastes like honey, spice and everything mine. Her pussy’s taste is sweet as ambrosia was rumored to be.
Knowing I fucked up does not a regret make. In fact, I feel like she has me wide open right now, and I don’t care who knows it. The claim I just made on her makes it clear to all present who she belongs to. No different from the work I put in on her behalf to Rudy and his worthless crew.
Several gazes war with the show on the dais versus what they see transpiring between Saban and me.
Angel stands, pulling Easy into his arms. The crowd spreads again, giving him the room he needs as he takes his wife to their loft.
The crowd is a live wire ready to explode into activity.
Knowing the crowd of el Diablo riders present along with our invited guests as I do, I wouldn’t be surprised if there aren’t a couple of murders taking place tonight and definitely a lot of fucking in the corner and out in the open, a direct violation of the rule which I won’t allow.
“First round of drinks is on el Presidente of el Diablo in honor of his wife.” Ellie calls out, already pouring shots to the people lining the bar.
Pulling Saban into my arms, I walk her behind the bar into the hallway leading to Angel’s office.
“Aye, go hang out in Angel’s office until I come for you.” Nodding in the direction I want her to go, stopping when I see the raw vulnerability in her eyes.
“Hey, hey, hey.” Stopping her bobblehead nodding by cupping her chin, I lean down.
“Are we good, beautiful?” Caramel eyes reach mine, and I want to cut my heart out for the uncertainty I see there. Hating myself for putting it there — she deserves better, and I promise myself right then I will be better. There is no more running from this.
“Yeah.” She says it like it’s a question.
“Fuck yeah.” Tugging her into my arms, I give her a gentle squeeze. “G’head. We have a lot to talk about later.”
“Okay.” Her voice sounds small, but she looks at me with all the hope of a pokey little puppy.
I watch until she disappears behind the doors before heading out to maintain order.
It’s not that I don’t want her around, but tonight of all nights, Saban is a distraction I can’t allow right now when I have ten of the most ruthless cartel bosses and another dozen MC presidents and their top guys present.
“Aye, your old lady is fine as fuck. I was gone holla at her until I saw you stalk over there and swoop her lil thick ass up.” Obsidian Kane eyes me like he’s deciding if he wants to dead me over my woman.
“Trust me. You don’t want that trouble. I lay a motherfucker down at least every other month over that one.” I say, not bothering to correct him about Saban’s status.
“Deadass?” He barks out a laugh. Shaking his head when I don’t break a smile.
“Aye, I appreciate you respecting the situation for tonight.” It won’t hurt anything to acknowledge the restraint the Panthers Outcasts are showing toward the Ghost Riders.
“We respect y’all, and business is good between our crews, but if we see them up our way or even in the state come this time tomorrow, we are going to dead their asses.” Taking a sip of his Pappy Van Winkle, he winks and flashes a grin, flashing a fanged grill.
Nodding, I pat his shoulder. We can’t ask for anything more. Amnesty can only go so far.
After I make several rounds of the room, ensuring everyone is behaving as they should. I head back to get Saban.
Just as I’m nearing the door, I hear a muffled scream. Cold dread has me bursting through the door.
The lights are low, but I can make out two figures writhing on the patchwork suede sofa.
“N-n-” is enough for me to lunge forward, dragging the bigger body off the smaller one. I take a minute to make sense of what I’m seeing.
In the darkness, Saban’s shirt is half off. She’s tugging her skirt down.
Shame etched across her face.
“What the fuck?” Looking between her and the man I’ve dragged off her confusion slowly gives way to realization.
“What the fuck are you doing in here?” I snarl at Marco, shoving him away from me.
“Hey,” Throwing his arms up all innocent.
“I asked one of your riders where he got his tat from, and he said. Some chick named Saban. I asked around, and they said she was hanging out back here. So I came back here to check her out. I guess you can say things got a little heated.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal.
“Um… I-I fell asleep, and when I w-woke up…It was dark.” Her gaze searches around the room looking for something to hold on to.
Finally, she finds my face in the dimness, and her anguished gaze meets mine in the darkness.
Words seem to escape her. She shakes her head in denial.
Her lips are bruised. There’s a slight discoloration low on her neck, just above her clavicle.
“Did he hurt you?” The question is moot, but I ask it anyway.
“Hey, don’t worry about it, man. It was a mistake. It was dark.”
“But you already knew she was mine.” I pause, watching his reaction, which basically confirms my suspicion. “Anyone here would tell you — she’s fucking mine.”
Unsheathing my hook Bowie knives, I keep strapped to my chest, I stalk toward the piece of shit.
“Unlike the Ghost Riders, el Diablo doesn’t force women. But I’m sure dealing with Rudy may have confused you on the matter.”
“Hey, tonight is supposed to be under amnesty.” Waving his hand frantically, he double-times back on his heels, making his boots scrape the hardwood of the office floor.
“You lost that the moment you dared to touch what was mine.” He’s maybe five-eight. I have nearly a foot on him and twice the arm span. Slashing with one hand, I relieve him of the fingers he dared touch Saban with. With my other I nearly separate his head from his body.
Blood arcing in a wide spray catches my arm and parts of my chest, getting on my cut.
“Dammit.” Looking down, I ignore the slide of his body to the floor.
“Hey, take this and rinse it before it stains.” Looking over my shoulder, I regard Saban. Hands clutching her throat, eyes wide, she looks from Marco to me and back again.
Shaking her head, she takes a step back again and again. Shuddering, she stops before she bolts out of the door. This is not the first time she’s seen me lay someone down. We’ve been tied in blood since that moment in the jungle.
The only thing that’s changed is I’ve claimed her, as unofficial as it seems. Yet there won’t be any mistaking my intention after the work I put in with Marco.
I keep my hand out, waiting for her to take my cut. Feet dragging, she comes over to me, standing as far away from me as she can, taking my cut out of my hands.
Watching her disappear, I pull my phone out.
“Wassup, Primo?” Rocco says over the den of voices from the club beyond.
“Get Padre and a couple other guys. Marco requested a cleaning service.” I say in a bored voice. Not that I feel anything other than irritation at not being able to take Saban home and find my home in her.