Chapter 20
CHAPTER
TWENTY
SHAWN
I roll onto my side and push myself up, throwing my legs over the side of the bed. Pushing thoughts of what happened last night out of my head, I stand and shuffle toward the bathroom, where I take care of business, then wash my hands, and that’s when I lift my eyes to the mirror.
My reflection stares back at me.
I don’t know this woman. I’ve never seen her before in my life. She looks almost… happy.
There is a noise behind me, and I turn my head, looking to watch as Elvis makes his way toward me. His arms wrap around my waist, his chin rests on my shoulder, and his eyes find mine in the mirror.
“Morning, beautiful,” he murmurs.
“I should go in to work today, but I don’t really feel like it.”
He hums but doesn’t say anything immediately. One of his hands slides up my body, stopping at the center of my chest just below my throat. The other hand slips around my hips and presses against my lower belly.
“You need to take some time off to deal with whatever the fuck your mother and brother tried to pull. Then you do that.”
It’s sweet that he thinks this is an emotional thing. Letting out a sigh, I shake my head slightly. “It’s not that,” I say. “It’s the fact that I’m not making it. My mother and brother just put the icing on the sad sack of a cake.”
Elvis hums, his fingers at my belly slipping between my legs.
I’m tender there, but as soon as his fingers glide through my folds, I’m instantly ready for his touch.
Spreading my thighs a bit wider, I push my ass against his hard length.
I can feel it between the crevice of my ass and whimper, my head falling back against his shoulder.
“Fuck, you’re already wet for me,” he growls.
“Always,” I whimper.
His fingers continue to move as my eyes roll backward. Turning my head, I touch my lips to the underside of his bearded jaw. He grunts at the move, his fingers moving faster, swirling my clit, then sliding through my folds—over and over.
I lift my hand behind him and grip the hair at the back of his neck. My hips buck, shifting and moving with each stroke of his fingers, and I come. It’s not huge or earth shattering. It rolls through me, and I am panting by the time I come down from the sensation.
“Open your eyes. Look at me,” he demands, his voice rough and almost harsh.
I didn’t realize I’d closed my eyes. I turn my head, straighten, and open my eyes to my reflection, then I glide them up to meet Elvis’s. His blue eyes are dark as he watches me, but he doesn’t speak immediately.
“Elvis?” I ask.
“I’m going to bend you over and fuck you like I don’t give a shit about you, sweetness,” he begins.
My breath hitches, my eyes widen, but I don’t say a single word. He’s still cupping my center, his other hand still pressed against the middle of my chest as he stares at me. His jaw is clenched, his eyes dark, but he’s not wearing an expression of anger.
“But I give a shit, Shawn. I fucking care.”
I’ve never been one to say much of anything, and this bedroom talk is like absolutely nothing I’ve ever experienced before.
But there’s just something in the way he said it.
That he’s going to fuck me like he doesn’t give a shit about me, then adding he does give a shit about me.
I’m not sure why, but butterflies flutter in my belly and a sense of bravery washes over me.
Keeping my eyes on his, I give him a small smile. “Fuck me, Elvis.”
That’s all he needs.
And I want to give him exactly what he needs.
His hand leaves my chest, then my center and I whimper at the way my body misses his warmth between my thighs. His fingers press against my spine, and he pushes me forward. Gripping the edge of the vanity, I lean as far as I can, my ass pushing backward.
I feel his fingers grab hold of my ass cheeks, and he spreads them apart. I gasp, unsure of what he’s doing, then he lets out a chuckle. “You got the prettiest asshole and pussy I think I’ve ever seen.”
“Elvis,” I whisper.
He hums, straightening, and I feel the head of his length against my center from behind.
I haven’t taken my eyes off his reflection, and he thrusts inside of me with one swift move.
Then his hand slides up the rest of my spine, tangling in my hair before he holds my head at an awkward angle so that I’m forced to stare right into the mirror.
“Watch yourself when I fuck you. See how fucking beautiful you are. You belong to me.”
Without another word, he pulls out of me almost completely, then slams back inside. My hips are pushed against the counter, and I’ll probably have bruising of some kind, but I don’t care. Elvis does exactly as he promises.
He fucks me.
Hard.
It’s without an ounce of tenderness or care. And I love every second of it. His hips slam against mine, and the sound of our skin slapping together fills the bathroom, echoing and bouncing off the walls all around us.
His fingers grip my hair tighter, and his thrusts become ever harder. I feel like he might actually rip me in half, and if he did, I might thank him for it. Because even with the aches that I know I’ll be feeling later, even with the pain I am feeling right now, it’s phenomenal.
“Goddamn,” he growls. “God. Fucking. Damn.”
He doesn’t stop. I don’t know how much more my body can take. I’m exhausted and worn out as he pistons in and out of me, taking and taking. My entire body goes limp, being held up by just his hand in my hair and my hips being slammed against the edge.
I’m not sure how it happens, but in this position, in this state of exhaustion, in this moment of just being able to feel and nothing else… an orgasm bursts through my body. It’s hard and fast. It sends tingles throughout my entire being, and I gasp, my breath hitching.
Elvis doesn’t stop.
My thighs tremble, they quake, and just when I feel like the sensitivity is too much, he buries himself inside of me one last time and a roar rumbles from his lips. It’s so loud that it hurts my ears. Goose bumps slide down my spine as a whimper escapes my own throat.
Elvis wraps his arm around the front of my chest, releasing my hair but holding me so that he’s still buried inside of me. He lowers his chest down against my back and I feel his lips at my ear. He lets out a low growl before he speaks.
“Fuck, sweetness,” he murmurs. “Everything I could have dreamed of and more.”
KING
“Stay here. She won’t fuck with you again,” I murmur, kissing the side of Shawn’s head.
“I’m not worried about it,” she says.
My lips curve up into a grin. “I fucking bet you aren’t. Heard she’s got a black eye,” I say with a laugh.
Shawn shrugs, but I can tell it upsets her that things got that heated. I never asked anyone to fight over me, even if it is a bit of an ego boost. But there was no fight to be had because Poison is not even close to the same level as Shawn.
“How long will you be?” she asks.
Looking down at her, I can tell she’s uncomfortable. Though I’m not sure if it’s because of the fight, being in the club bar without me, or because she’s physically uncomfortable sitting on that hard wooden chair.
“Not too long. It’s a meeting, so who knows. But I can’t imagine it lasting longer than lunch. We’ll go get some food and get you some more clothes.”
She frowns, then flicks her gaze down to the table before she slowly lifts it up to meet mine. “Okay.”
Her voice is soft, and I want to ask her what’s up, what’s wrong, but I decide against it. Instead, I give her a wink before I turn my back to her and make my way toward the meeting room. Zombie holds out the basket where our phones are collected every time we hold church.
Shoving my hand into my pocket, I grab my phone and toss it into the basket, then shift past him and toward my chair. My seat is to the right of the president’s at the head. I’m his right-hand man, literally.
Sinking down in my chair, I lean back and let my head fall back as I let out a sigh and stare at the ceiling. My lips curve up into a smile. Fuck. This girl has me all tied up in goddamn knots. I’ve never felt this way before, not in all my thirty-eight years.
“You are pussy struck,” a voice barks with added laughter.
I lift my head and see it’s Brew sitting across from me, his shit-eating grin playing on his lips as he watches me for a reaction. Shrugging my shoulder, I give him my own grin.
“It’s a good pussy to get struck about,” I admit.
He shakes his head, laughing. But it’s Gnaw who clears his throat. “That bitch can hold her fucking own. She sure showed Poison what the fuck was up. She is straight-up old-lady material. If you don’t wife her, someone else in this club will for sure.”
My initial reaction is to stand up and beat the absolute fuck out of him for saying that someone in the club would dare to even look at Shawn, let alone make her their old lady. I don’t do that, though. I know he’s half joking, but I also know that if the opportunity arose, he isn’t wrong.
Shawn is, without a doubt, hands-down old-lady material.
“Well,” I begin, shifting my gaze around the room to make sure the whole club is here, and they are.
Standing room only, lined up against the walls, sitting in the chairs around the tables.
We are all here. “Shawn Cotton is officially my old lady. So, hands and eyes to your goddamn selves when it comes to my woman.”
After a moment of shocked silence, the room erupts into not only applause but also hoots and hollers. That is until Atomic calls the meeting to attention. He glances over to me, jerking his chin as he begins.
“We’re all very happy for King. Shawn seems like a nice girl, and her cupcakes are the shit, so there’s that.”
The room erupts into applause again at the mention of Shawn’s cupcakes, and I can’t help but chuckle.
But now it’s time for the meeting to begin.
This is an important one, too. This is new business, something we haven’t had a lot of lately. We’ve been running business as usual for a good long while. It’s been nice not having had any changes, but it’s also stagnant, and so is the money.
Atomic explains exactly what he wants to do.
Being the middleman, to begin with, transportation only, and then possibly being more involved if we like the situation.
He also tells them that several guys will have to get their commercial driver’s licenses, and as a club, we’ll have to get a trucking LLC.
There are a few questions, but not many. These men know that this transport, it means money, bigger money than we’re getting right now. Then Atomic clears his throat and says the last part, the catch, but I’m not sure it is a catch, more like a change.
“I’d like to make sure that when we do this, we have a bigger network of clubs at our backs.”
“What are you saying?” Fate, the enforcer, asks.
“I’m saying we start patching clubs over, allowing some of these affiliates to be actual Dark Horse MCs. Then allow some more affiliates that we wouldn’t normally approve.”
“Why?” Fate asks.
Atomic opens his mouth to speak, but I decide to take this one on. Standing, I place my palms on the hard wood of the table. I can feel the warmth of the wood beneath my fingers, and it makes me think of my father. He sat right here, placed his hand right here, and it fills me with pride.
In that moment, thinking about my father, thinking about what this club means to me, I speak.
“This club is a legacy that needs to continue, but more than that, it needs to grow.”