34. Myla
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
“Thank fuck.” He crouches slightly and lifts me up. My legs go around his waist, and he slams me up against the closest wall as his lips hungrily devour every inch of skin he can reach. He bites and sucks his way up my throat until he finds my lips.
I’ve missed this so much. He brings out a reckless abandon in me that I’ve never experienced before. When he kisses me, the world ceases to exist, but that’s not even the remarkable part. When Judge is around, I don’t feel like I have to keep my guard up. I can just be here with him because I know he has my back.
One of his hands slips between us, roughly palming my breast and squeezing hard. My pussy clenches, and I grind against him, wishing there weren’t so many layers between us. He releases me, only to snake his hand up my shirt, and I gasp when he tugs down the silk cup of my bra to pinch my nipple. A rush of arousal soaks my panties, and though I know there’s something else I’m supposed to tell him, I can’t think about anything other than how badly I need him.
“What’s behind that door?” He nods to the right.
“Just an office.”
“Perfect.” His hand leaves my breast to support me as he carries me into the room that’s bare except for a large desk.
After kicking the door closed, he lowers me to my feet and sinks to his knees. I weave my hands into his hair as he undoes my jeans and roughly yanks them down to past my thighs before turning me to face the desk. I’m cemented to this spot by the constricting fabric of my pants, and I wonder how he’s going to make this work.
The question is quickly answered when he pushes me forward onto the old wooden desk, which puts me at the perfect height to take him. Pushing up onto my elbows, I crane my neck to watch Judge work to free his erection from his pants and underwear. He takes his big, beautiful cock in hand and gives it one firm stroke. A bead of pre-cum glistens from his tip, and I lick my lips, wanting his flavor on my tongue.
“You can swallow my cock later. Right now, I need to fuck you and paint your insides with my cum.” He palms my ass, massaging it before spreading my cheeks wide. “Mmm, so wet, so pink, and so mine.”
A hand leaves my ass to guide his cock to my entrance, and in one forward movement, he buries himself to the hilt. We both groan at how good it feels. With my legs together like this, it’s an even tighter fit than normal, and I know it won’t take either of us long to find bliss.
“Hands above your head and hold on,” he says.
I lower my chest and reach above my head, holding onto the lip of the desk and turning my head to rest my cheek on the cool surface. My shoulder smarts, but without pain, there’d be no pleasure. He grips onto my hips and pulls all the way out before pushing back in. I should be embarrassed by the wet sound it makes, but it only serves to turn me on more.
“Fuck, I wish you could see what I see.” His voice is rich and thick with arousal.
“Describe it to me.”
“Your heart-shaped ass is perfectly on display, and when I part your cheeks, I get a view of your cute little asshole as my cock disappears into your wet cunt, and each time I pull out, my cock is coated in your juices.”
“Judge,” I gasp when he drags his cock up my crack to my back hole.
“Don’t worry. Not today, but you’ve had mine, so it’s only fair.”
“Fuck,” I curse, squeezing my eyes shut as he slams into me without warning. “Again. Please.”
“Hold on.” It’s the only warning I get before he pounds into me. The sound of the desk’s weak joints grinding and the drop drawer pulls swinging up and crashing back down echoes in the empty room. This thing better hold up until I come.
I open my eyes and cringe when I spot the Jesus painting hanging on the wall. In it, he’s descending from clouds with his arms open, and I swear to, well, him, that he’s looking directly at me. It hits me that I’m getting railed in a church. This is sacrilegious and taboo, and I should be ashamed of myself, but instead, I orgasm. Intense waves of pleasure start from deep inside and spread throughout my body as I cry out, begging Judge not to stop.
“Shit. Myla. Fuck, you’re squeezing me so good.” His hold on me moves from my hips to my ass, where he squeezes handfuls. Goddamn, I love the sting of him my stretching my skin and the too-deep pounding of his cock that feels like it might puncture something, and I fucking love the rush of warmth as Judge grunts loud and primal, holding himself deep inside me as he comes.
His grip on my ass relaxes into a caress as he languidly moves in and out, coming down from his high. If our sex continues to blow my mind each time, I’m putting a ring on it because no other man has made me feel a fraction as good as Judge does.
“Do you think he’s judging us?” I ask.
He follows my line of sight and bursts out laughing. His softening cock slips out of me, making me wish I hadn’t said anything. “Some man of God I am, huh?”
“I don’t know. If he didn’t want us to enjoy sex, why’d he make it feel good?” I push my way up to standing, wincing at the pain in my arm. Holding my shirt open, I notice there’s a smidge of blood on the bandage. I probably set my healing back a week, but it was so worth it.
Judge tucks himself back in and buttons his jeans. “Did I hurt you?”
“You fucked me on a desk while squeezing my ass so hard, I’m surprised you didn’t pull a chunk off.”
He gives me an annoyed look. “Not like that. You can handle that pain. I mean your wound.”
“No, I’m good.” I pull my panties and jeans up, cringing at how wet everything down there is.
“Let me look,” he says, trying to pull my shirt off my shoulder.
“I said I’m fine. Now, my underwear? Those are not fine. I need to find a bathroom.”
“Not a chance.” He cups my face and kisses me sweetly. “If you can feel my cum dripping out of you, maybe you’ll remember who you belong to and won’t run away again.”
I frown. “Judge?—”
“Too soon for jokes?”
“I just don’t want you to think it was because I didn’t want you because that never changed. I just couldn’t see how we could make it work. I thought our ending was inevitable and didn’t want to prolong the pain.”
“I know, but let that be a lesson to both of us. There’s always an answer that’ll keep us together. We might just have to get creative sometimes.”
“Agreed.”
He pulls me into his chest, and I wrap my arms around him, so fucking happy to smell that cheap-ass, fake pine scent. “Are you ever going to explain why we’re in this church? I’m assuming the cops would’ve shown by now if we were breaking and entering?”
“Oh my god.” I take his hand and drag him out of the room. “I’m going to be in so much trouble.”
“Why?”
“I don’t have time to give you the long, practiced speech I had prepared, so here’s the short version. You can’t be a spiritual leader for the club. I think we can both agree about that.” We stop in front of the second set of double doors.
“Agreed.”
“The murdering and torturing and other morally corrupt behavior was too much, but I don’t think regular people’s sins would be, do you?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know, like adultery, cheating, stealing, that kind of thing. You could handle that, right?”
“I guess, but I don’t understand why you’re asking.”
“Maybe it’s better if I show you.” I pull the doors open and secure them with door stoppers. “Come on.”
Judge stops short when he finds the faces of everyone he loves in the chapel. It’s dead silent as the whole club grins wide, waiting for his reaction, but I think he’s still confused. I don’t blame him. We’re in a church filled with big, scary badasses from one of Northern Nevada’s most notorious MCs, and no one has been struck dead yet.
“I don’t understand,” he says.
I wrap an arm around his middle. “Well, I mean, the chapel isn’t anything fancy, but there are pews, a pulpit, and some stained glass. What else do you need?”
“What else do I need?” His eyes are wide as he tries to wrap his head around what I’m trying to convey.
“Yeah. This is your church. Your opinion matters.”
“My church?”
Cy approaches him, holding out a hand. Judge goes to shake it, but he pulls him in for a back-slapping hug that would’ve sent him spiraling before, but now that his secret is out, he doesn’t seem to mind.
“Proud of you, son. This’ll be good.” Cy stands at Judge’s side, folding his arms and taking in the chapel as the club members line up down the aisle to take their turn giving their brother a hug.
“I still don’t understand what this is.”
“Duhhh, the club bought you a church,” Lucky says, taking his turn to pull Judge in for a man-hug.
“You don’t have to use it as intended. We can just do what we’ve been doing every morning at the clubhouse if you want. It’s up to you.” Tinleigh is the next to approach, but it’s not Judge she hugs—it’s me.
“I love you, sis.”
“Love you too.”
I owe a lot to Tinleigh. She was the one who helped me pull this off, along with Bexley March, the Royal Bastards’ attorney. She doesn’t do real estate law, but at least she understood the contracts, which was more than any of us could say. Because Judge would get suspicious if we tried to stop him from leaving when he planned, there wasn’t enough time for the property to close, but we were able to get the owner to agree to rent us the church until the closing in three weeks.
“You guys bought me a church?” Judge deadpans.
“Technically, the club bought property with a building on it. Whether it becomes a church is up to you. Just don’t expect to see me showing up for Sunday service. Churches give me the creeps,” Rigger says, knocking elbows with Judge.
“I just got the best idea.” Navy tucks herself into Rigger’s side. “We could get married here! Judge could officiate.”
“Is it even legal to marry your step-sister?” Lucky asks, knowing it’s still a sore spot for Rigger.
“She’s not my step-sister anymore, asshole. My dad is dead.”
“I’d love to marry you two,” Judge says, stopping the argument.
Navy flashes Judge a beaming smile. “We’re so glad you’re staying.”
And so it continues. Everyone—except Riot, who isn’t even here, but no surprises there—takes their turn wishing Judge the best with his new church. Once the congratulations are over, we take a tour as a group, everyone throwing out ideas about what Judge could make it into and improvements he could make to the property. Judge keeps my hand clasped tight in his the whole time, as if I’m the only thing tethering him to the ground.
Once the tour is over, everyone slowly trickles out until it’s just Bones, Judge, and me. I’ve spent a good amount of time with Bones over the last few weeks—having two concussions so close together is apparently bad—but I think he was just being a good friend and keeping an eye on me for Judge. I didn’t mind. Bones is hilarious, and I have to agree with Tinleigh. He might not be the priest of the club, but he does look a whole lot like the dude in the paintings hanging on the walls in here.
“I better head out too,” he says, bringing Judge in for a hug, but it’s not one of those back-slapping, secret handshake ones; it’s a real one between best buddies. “I’m real glad you’re staying, bro. Don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“I’m glad too.”
“And we owe it all to this tiny little forest sprite.” Bones hugs me then, and I nearly get a contact high off the weed fumes that have permeated his clothes, hair, and even his skin. Walking backward up the aisle, he smirks. “I’d tell you to christen the place, but from what we all heard earlier, you already did.”
“We so did,” I say. “He shoved my pants down, bent me over the desk, and—” Judge’s hand slaps over my mouth as he steps behind me, pinning me to his front.
“Good for you, Judge. I knew you had it in you.”
“Fuck off.”
Bones kicks the door jambs out, and the doors close silently, leaving us alone. Judge takes my hand and leads us down the aisle, where we take a seat on the raised platform that the pulpit sits on. With the wonderment of a dreamer, Judge studies every inch of the space.
I remain silent, giving him all the time he needs, but while his eyes are on the arched, vaulted ceilings with cedar beams, making it seem like a cozy cabin, and the outdated light fixtures I already have plans to change out, my eyes are on him.
His beard is shorter, but his hair is longer, sexier. His hooded eyes are just as intense and knowing; however, there are dark circles underneath them, telling me he hasn’t been sleeping well. I hope that’ll change now that I’m back in his life and he has the church. The freckles across the bridge of his nose and his cheeks are more prominent, making me think he’s been taking a lot of rides in the sun. When he meets my gaze, I get a good look at my second favorite part of his anatomy, that damned Adam’s apple. God, this man is beautiful.
“I still can’t believe it.” He shakes his head, clasping my hand and resting it on his muscled thigh. “I never even considered running a church.”
“You had your stroke of genius to make me a prospect, and I had mine with this place.”
“Apparently, we can’t solve our own problems, but we can solve each other’s.”
“It’s been like that from the very beginning. If we’ve proven anything, it’s that neither one of us has even an ounce of self-preservation.”
He sighs. “You’re not wrong.”
“Will you stay nomad?”
“No. Now that I have this place, I have a purpose, though I still don’t know what I’m supposed to do with it.”
“You’ll figure it out.” I rest my head on his shoulder, soaking in how perfect everything feels.
“Yeah.” Blowing out a breath, he hops off the platform and steps between my legs, resting his hands on my thighs. “You and I have some stuff to figure out too.”
“I know, but just for today can we pretend like it’s weeks from now and the dust has settled and we have all the answers?” I wrap my arms around his neck. “I’ve done enough problem solving the last couple days.”
“Just for today,” he agrees, gripping me gently at the base of my throat and pulling me in for a heart-stopping kiss, leaving me dazed when he pulls away. “Let’s go. If we’re going to pretend everything is right in our world, then I want to do it where there’s a bed handy.”
“Yes, please.”
“Hop on.” He turns and reaches back to grip my thighs.
“Yay! A piggyback ride.” I hang onto him like a spider monkey, giggling like the girl I once was, feeling more like her than I have in a long time, and it’s all because of this perfectly imperfect man.
“Your place or mine?”
“Definitely yours.”
“Really?” He sets me down next to his bike. “I thought you’d want to get home to Ryder.”
“It’s cool. I’ll just have my roommate feed him.” I tighten my helmet and throw a leg over the bitch seat, hoping he didn’t hear that last part.
“Roommate?” He pulls my helmet off and pins me with a look. “Since when did you get a roommate?”
“Since last week. Come on. Let’s go,” I say, taking the dome from him and plopping it back on my head.
“Who is it, Myla?” he growls.
“Well, it’s a funny story. Tigger’s parents kicked him out of their basement, and Rigger already said he’ll give him his old cabin once Tig gets patched in, but until then, he has nowhere to go. He’ll be my club brother someday, so I couldn’t just let him live on the streets.”
“Tigger is your roommate?” he deadpans.
“Just until he patches in.” Honestly, it wasn’t much of a change since he’s been hanging out, “protecting me” for weeks now, and my spare room was empty. Plus, if he didn’t live with me, it’d be harder to watch all our reality shows together.
Judge shakes his head that’s tilted up to the sky. “Fuck me.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do, but you’re standing here yammering on and on.” I lean over and smack his ass. “Let’s do as they say and ‘save a Harley, ride a biker.’”
He rolls his eyes, putting on his own helmet. “That’s stupid.”
“I saw it on a T-shirt. I thought it was cute.”
“You don’t think anything is cute,” he deadpans.
“I’ve changed,” I argue. “Now when I flip someone off, I smile while I’m doing it.”
“Quite the improvement.” He throws his leg over the bike and kicks up the side stand. “Ready, sweetheart?”
“Always.”
The engine springs to life with a deafening roar, and I hold tight to my biker, knowing that even though the road before us is full of twists and turns we can’t predict, we’ll make it through together.