Chapter 10
Savannah leans against me, swaying to some sad country song Butch put on the jukebox. Her eyes keep closing, then snapping open like she's afraid she might miss somethin'.
"You're falling asleep standing up," I tell her, my hand at the small of her back.
"M'not," she mumbles, but her head drops against my chest.
I look around the room. Most of the patched members have filtered in over the last few hours.
Roach is at the bar arguing with Ledger over something to do with supply lines.
Havoc plays cards with Butch and two prospects in the corner.
Diesel's passed out on the leather couch, his feet still planted on the floor.
Chains is drawing on the arm of some hangaround who's too drunk to notice.
Brick sits alone at a table near the door, nursing the same whiskey he's had for two hours. Watching. Always watching.
I don't trust leaving the room. Not with the vote comin’. But Savannah's dead on her feet, and I need her rested before whatever comes next.
"Let's get you upstairs," I say, pulling her closer as we sway. Not because I like dancing—I fucking hate it—but because she needs the support to stay upright.
"We should stay," she says, but there's no fight in it. "What if they vote while we're gone?"
"Church isn't till dawn. Women don't get a vote anyway. You won't have anything to do with this vote." I rest my chin on top of her head. "You need sleep."
She doesn't argue. Just nods against my chest, her fingers curled into my cut.
I guide her toward the stairs, one arm around her waist. A few heads turn to watch us go, but no one says anything. That's good. Silence means acceptance—or at least tolerance.
The bunkhouse is down a narrow hallway above the main floor. Ten rooms, most empty tonight since everyone's downstairs waitin’ for church. I take her to my room, lead her inside, then close and lock the door behind us. Not that it would stop anyone who really wanted in, but it's a sign.
Savannah stands in the middle of the room, swayin’ slightly.
I strip off the borrowed clothes—my clothes—and take a moment to admire Chains' work across her tits.
PROPERTY OF DEMON. The letters are perfect, flowing with the curve of her body.
Not just scrawled words, but art. He's got that tattoo style down, even with a Sharpie.
Demon. My club name sits strange in my mouth, even now. When a man is named Legion at birth and joins an outlaw club, you'd think it would be enough. But everyone gets a name to keep up the pretenses that the world still offers privacy.
Savannah got named tonight too. Not Mine. Brick's way of marking her as off-limits to everyone but me. She knows what it means.
She didn't speak to a single person tonight other than me. Didn't try to charm her way in. She just let me claim her, claimed me back, and somehow that was enough.
I'm pretty sure the vote will go our way.
Pretty sure. But nothing's guaranteed in club life.
I lead her to the small bathroom attached to the room.
I feel like that shower we took at the trailer wasn’t enough.
Especially after a long night standing in smoke and whiskey fumes.
This shower's barely big enough for one, but we make it work.
Hot water hits us both, washing away a little bit more of the evil we just went through.
Savannah wakes up a little under the spray, blinkin’ up at me through wet lashes.
She looks down at her chest, at the letters that will not wash off—not today, at least. "I like it," she says. Smiling as her hand slips between my legs, finding me already half-hard just from having her naked and wet against me.
Her fingers curl around my cock, stroking slow and deliberate.
"Again?" I ask, surprised she's got the energy.
"Again," she confirms, her thumb circling the head.
I lean back against the tiled wall, letting her work me as she kisses her way down my chest and ends up on her knees.
Savannah has had my cock in her mouth many times over the years. But never like tonight. We've actually never spent this much time together. Not all at once.
I fist her hair, moving my hips forward a little so I can feel the muscles of her throat tighten around me, mimicking the way her pussy does it, as I think about earlier.
Her on her knees in front of me, with the whole club watching as she took me in her mouth.
Her on my lap, riding me slow and deep, her submission invading the silence as she rode me, telling them all who she belongs to.
As far as claimings go, I figure mine went pretty perfect.
One day, hopefully today, I'll get a chance to ask her about how she felt about that. What she liked about it, what she didn't. What she might want to do again.
I slip my cock out of Savannah's mouth, her lips making a soft pop. She looks up at me with a hunger I've never seen before.
Good. Let her starve for me. Let me fill her up.
I grab her arm, gentle but firm, and help her to her feet. Her skin is slick under my palm, water beading down the curves of her body. I turn her around, pressin’ her front against the tile wall. The water hits my back now, running hot down my spine, steam rising around us.
I lean in, my chest against her back, and kiss the nape of her neck. She shivers. My cock slides between her ass cheeks, not entering her yet, just letting her feel what's coming.
"Spread your legs open for me," I whisper into her mouth as I turn her head to kiss her.
She does, moaning a little into my kiss. As her legs part, I grab her hips and pull her towards me, forcing her to bend a little at the waist and press her hands and cheek against the tiled wall.
I reach down between us, slide a finger against the entrance of her pussy, and find her already wet. And not just from the shower. My fingertips slide around her folds, circling her clit once, twice, before pushing inside her. She gasps, her eyes closed, mouth open in a moan.
"That's it," I murmur, working my fingers in and out of her. "Get nice and ready for me."
She pushes back against my hand, wanting more. I've always loved that about her—how fuckin’ greedy she gets when we're alone. How she'll beg without words, just the movement of her body telling me everything I need to know.
I withdraw my fingers and position my cock at her entrance. With one slow thrust, I push inside her, feeling her stretch around me. We both groan. I pause once I'm fully seated, letting her adjust to the fullness.
"You feel so fuckin’ good," I tell her, my voice rough against her ear. "So tight around me."
"Legion," she breathes, her forehead pressed against the tile. "Please."
I start to move, slow at first, then pick up the pace.
My hands grip her hips, fingers digging into her flesh hard enough to leave marks.
Good. I want her marked. Want her to look in the mirror tomorrow and see evidence of me on her body—the Sharpie across her tits, the bruises on her hips, the beard burn between her thighs.
The shower keeps runnin’, hot water cascading down our bodies as I fuck her from behind. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes in the small space, mixing with our heavy breathing and Savannah's little whimpers every time I hit that spot deep inside her.
"Touch yourself," I command, one hand sliding up to grip her throat lightly. "Make yourself come on my cock."
She reaches down between her legs, her fingers finding her clit as I continue to thrust into her. I can feel her getting tighter around me as she works herself.
"That's it, baby," I encourage, my lips against her ear. "Show me how much you want it."
Her breathing gets faster, her movements more desperate. The hand on her throat applies pressure. Just a little. Just a bit. Not enough to hurt, just enough to remind her who's in control.
"You gonna come for me?" I ask, my pace relentless now. "Gonna come all over my cock like a good girl?"
"Yes," she gasps, her body tensing. "Yes, Legion, please—"
"Do it," I growl. "Come for me. Now."
She shatters, her pussy clenching around me in waves as she cries out my name. I keep fucking her through it, drawing out her pleasure until she's trembling and gasping for breath.
Only then do I allow myself to chase my own release, my thrusts becoming harder, more erratic. The pressure builds at the base of my spine, heat coiling tight in my gut.
"Where do you want it?" I manage to ask, my voice strained with the effort of holding back.
"Inside," she says without hesitation. "I want to feel you."
That's all it takes. I bury myself deep and let go, groaning as I fill her with my release. My forehead drops to her shoulder, teeth sinking into her flesh as I pulse inside her, my breathing ragged.
For a moment, we stay like that, connected, the water washing over us. I'm still inside her, softening now but not wanting to break the connection. My arms wrap around her waist, holdin’ her against me.
This is mine.
She is mine.
And I'll kill anyone who tries to take her from me again.
I finally slip out of her, turning her around to face me. Water streams down her face, washing away the exhaustion and fear that's been there since I found her tied to that bed. For a moment, she looks like the girl I used to meet at the silo—young and wild and full of life.
I kiss her, softer now, tasting whiskey and somethin’ uniquely her on her tongue. When I pull back, her eyes are heavy-lidded, barely staying open.
"Let's clean you up and get you to bed," I murmur, reaching behind her for the soap. Then I lather her body up. I clean Savannah Ashby like it's a religious experience.
Then I wrap her in a towel and lead her to my bed. She curls up next to me, both of us still wet, still naked. And immediately falls asleep.
But I don’t.
I lie next to Savannah, watching her chest rise and fall. The drugs Marcus pumped into her are still workin’ their way out, making her sleep heavy like death. Every few breaths, I touch my fingers to her neck, just to be sure. Just to feel that pulse.