Chapter 9 - Brick
She screams my name and I lose whatever fragile control I was holding onto.
This is a disaster. This is absolutely a fucking disaster in the making.
I'm balls deep inside a woman we pulled from a Viper warehouse six hours ago.
A woman who's traumatized, vulnerable and should be resting, not getting fucked into my mattress while she screams loud enough for the entire clubhouse to hear.
Phoenix is going to kill me.
Judge is going to have opinions.
Saint is going to say "I told you so" about fifty fucking times.
But I can't stop.
Can't stop fucking her because she feels so goddamn right. So wet and perfect around my cock. Every thrust makes her moan, makes her push back against me, makes her body respond in ways that tell me this is exactly what she needs even if it's terrible timing.
She needed this. Needed to feel something good. Needed to take control of her body again after having it under control for a week. Needed to choose this, choose me, choose pleasure instead of pain.
And I needed—
Fuck, I don't even know what I needed. But the moment she put her hand on my cock, the moment she looked at me with those docile eyes and said she was doing what she wanted, something in me snapped.
The control I've spent years building, the discipline that keeps me from becoming my brothers, the walls I've constructed to make sure feelings never make me weak, all of it crumbled.
Because Rosie Lane with her brunette hair and blunt bangs makes me want to forget every rule I've ever made for myself.
I fuck her harder. Grip her hair tighter. Pull her back onto my cock with enough force that I know she'll feel this tomorrow. Good. I want her to feel it. Want her to remember this when she's deciding whether to stay or go. Want her marked by me in ways that matter.
My other hand moves from her hip to between her legs. I find her clit and start circling it with my thumb. She gasps, her whole body jerking.
"Brick! I can't… I already—"
"You can," I tell her, voice rough. "You're gonna come again. Gonna come on my cock."
She whimpers. Actually whimpers. The sound goes straight to my balls.
I can feel my orgasm building. That tightening in my spine, the heat pooling low in my belly, the way my balls draw up. I'm close. So fucking close. But I need her to come first. Need to feel her pussy clench around me one more time before I lose it completely.
I thrust harder, faster, working her clit in time with each stroke. She's making sounds I've never heard before—half moans, half sobs, completely desperate. Her fingers claw at the sheets. Her back arches. Her whole body tenses.
"That's it," I grunt. "Come for me, Rosie. Let me feel it."
She detonates.
Her pussy clamps down on my cock so hard I nearly black out. She's screaming my name again, trembling, completely coming apart. I fuck her through it, drawing it out, making it last as long as possible.
But I can't hold back anymore.
"Where do you want it?" I force the words out. Last thread of control. Last attempt at doing the right thing. "Where do you want me to come?"
"Inside," she gasps without hesitation. "Come inside me."
All hell breaks loose.
I bury myself as deep as I can and let go completely. I come so hard I nearly blackout. Filling her. Marking her. Making her mine in the most primal way possible.
I roar through it, my hands gripping her hips hard enough to bruise. My cock pulses inside her, pumping her full. She takes all of it. Takes everything I give her and moans like she loves it.
When I finally stop coming, I'm shaking. Actually shaking. My muscles are trembling from the force of it, from the intensity, from whatever the fuck just happened between us.
I stay inside her for a moment. Both of us breathing hard. Both of us processing.
Then I slowly pull out. She whimpers at the loss. I watch my cum leak out of her and something possessive and dark inside me purrs with satisfaction.
Mine.
The thought comes unbidden and unwelcome. She's not mine. Can't be mine. She's a woman under our protection who just went through hell and I'm the enforcer who's supposed to keep her safe, not fuck her senseless in my bed.
But watching my cum drip down her thighs, seeing her collapsed on my mattress looking thoroughly fucked and satisfied, I can't help but think it anyway.
Mine.
I grab a shirt from my dresser and gently clean her up. She lets me, too exhausted to argue. When I'm done, I pull her against my chest and roll us both to our sides. She fits perfectly in the curve of my body. Like she was made to be there.
We lie there in silence for a long moment. The rain has slowed to a gentle patter against the window. The storm moved through fast, the way they do here. Violent and intense and over before you're ready for the calm.
Kind of like what just happened.
"We should probably talk about this," Rosie says eventually. Her voice is quiet but steady.
"Yeah. Probably."
She shifts in my arms, turning to face me. Her eyes search mine. "I don't regret it. I need you to know that first. I don't regret what just happened."
"Good. Neither do I."
"But—" She pauses, choosing her words. "This is complicated. I'm complicated. I just got out of a warehouse six hours ago. I'm supposed to hate all men. I'm supposed to be traumatized and broken and incapable of making good decisions."
"I told you… You’re not broken."
"I'm definitely not making good decisions." She touches my chest, her fingers tracing the lines of a tattoo. "Sleeping with you was probably the worst decision I could make right now. Objectively speaking."
"Probably."
"But it didn't feel wrong. It felt—" She searches for the word. "Right. It felt right. And I don't know what to do with that."
I brush her hair back from her face. "What do you want to do with it?"
"That's the problem. I don't know." Her hand stills on my chest. "Part of me wants to leave tomorrow. Call my family, go home, pretend the last week never happened. Start over somewhere safe and familiar."
Something in my chest tightens. "And the other part?"
"The other part wants to stay. Wants to see where this goes. Wants to figure out if what I'm feeling is real or just trauma bonding or… I don't even know." She looks up at me. "What are you feeling?"
I take a breath. This is where I should lie. Should tell her it was just sex, just physical release, nothing more. Should protect both of us from the complications that come with feelings.
But I can't.
"I'm feeling things I swore I'd never feel," I tell her honestly. "Things that make me want to break every rule I've made for myself. Things that scare the shit out of me because feelings make you weak and I can't afford to be weak."
"What kind of things?"
"Possessive things. Protective things that go beyond club duty. Things that make me want to keep you here, keep you safe, keep you—" I stop myself. "Keep you."
She's quiet for a moment. "I scared the shit out of myself tonight too.
I grabbed your dick and didn't think twice about it.
Let you fuck me when I should have been sleeping, processing or literally anything else.
And now I'm lying here wanting to do it again, wanting more, wanting—" She mirrors my words. "Wanting to keep you too."
"This is insane," I say.
"Completely insane."
"Terrible timing."
"The worst timing."
"You're under our protection. I'm the enforcer assigned to keep you safe. There are a thousand reasons why this is a bad idea."
"I know."
We stare at each other.
"But I don't care," she says finally. "I know I should. I know I should be smarter about this. But I don't care. I want to see where this goes."
"Even though you might be leaving tomorrow?"
"I still haven’t fully decided" The words come out tentative. Like she's testing them, seeing how they sound. "What if I stay for a while? Call my family, let them know I'm alive and safe, but stay here. Figure out what happens next from a place that feels secure."
"The Vipers are looking for you. For all of you. Staying here means staying in the middle of a war."
"I know. But leaving means being alone. Being vulnerable. And I—" She swallows hard. "I don't think I can be alone right now. I need… I need this. Whatever this is. I need time to figure it out."
I pull her closer. "You can stay as long as you want. You know that. Protection isn't conditional. It doesn't come with a time limit."
"Even if I'm sleeping with the enforcer?"
"That's going to be a conversation," I admit. "Phoenix is going to have opinions, and Judge is going to lecture me about power dynamics and taking advantage."
"Will they make you stop?"
"They can't make me do anything. I'm a grown man. But they can make it clear they think I'm making a mistake."
"Are you? Making a mistake?"
I consider the question seriously. Look at her, this woman who threw a cup at my head and told me she didn't need help, who wore my cut like armor, who chose to take her body back by letting me fuck her into my mattress. Who's strong, beautiful and everything in-between.
"No," I say finally. "I don't think I am. I think this might be the first right thing I've done in a long time."
She smiles. "Same."
"But we need to take this slow," I tell her. "You need time to process what happened to you. Time to heal. Time to figure out who you are after everything. I don't want to rush you. Don't want to push for more than you're ready for."
"What if I'm ready for more right now?"
"You're not. Trust me. Right now, you're running on adrenaline, endorphins and the relief of being safe. In a few days, when reality sets in, you're going to crash. And when you do, I need you to know I'm still here. That this wasn't just about sex."
Her eyes get suspiciously bright. "You're really fucking good at this."
"At what?"
"Saying the right things. Being honest. Making me feel like I matter."
"You do matter."
"See? Like that. Stop it."
"Not gonna happen."
She laughs wetly. "I'm going to stay. For a while. See where this goes. Figure out everything."
"Okay."
"But I need you to understand something." Her voice goes serious. "I'm damaged. Really damaged. I'm going to have bad days. Probably a lot of them. I'm going to freak out over stupid things. I'm going to be angry and irrational."
"I know."
"And you're still okay with this?"
"Rosie. I'm a man who likes violence. Who thrives on breaking things. Who has two brothers in prison and a family history of destruction. I'm not exactly a prize myself. We can be damaged together."
"That's either really romantic or really fucked up."
"Can't it be both?"
She kisses me. When she pulls back, her smile is genuine. "Yeah. It can be both."
I hold her close, feeling her heartbeat against my chest. "Tomorrow's going to be complicated."
"I know."
"Phoenix is going to want to talk to you. Eden's going to want to do a full medical assessment. The other women are going to have questions. And your family—"
"One thing at a time," she says, using my words from earlier. "Tonight, I'm here. Tomorrow, we'll deal with tomorrow."
"Stay the night," I say. "In my bed. With me."
"Is that allowed?"
"I don't give a fuck if it's allowed. Stay anyway."
"Okay," she whispers. "I'll stay."
We lie there together, both of us knowing this is probably a mistake but neither of us willing to walk away. The rain continues its soft pattern against the window. The clubhouse is quiet around us.
And for the first time since I pulled her out of that warehouse, I let myself think about the future. About what it might look like with her in it. About whether two damaged people can build something good together.
I don't have answers.
But I have her, here, now. And for tonight, that's enough.
"Brick?" she says quietly.
"Yeah?"
"Thank you. For everything. For saving me. For this. For being you."
I kiss the top of her head. "You're welcome."
She falls asleep first. I stay awake longer, watching her breathe, feeling the weight of her against me. Already knowing that letting her go is going to be impossible.
Saint was right.
I'm completely fucked.
But for once, I don't mind.