Chapter Sixteen
Bella
I stare at myself in the floor length mirror hanging on the back of Clay’s bathroom door.
I smooth down the silk dress, my hands clammy from nerves.
I shouldn’t be nervous, this was a shotgun wedding, a means to an end, and of course, I had feelings for Clay.
He had become my saviour in such a short period of time.
He’d held my hand when everyone else had written me off.
He’d given me a reason to live, and I was so grateful for that, so why was I so worried?
He didn’t need to save me, he didn’t need to still be helping me, but he was. He really was my Knight.
The gown clings to me, the delicate white fabric skimming across my skin.
I smooth my palms over my stomach, the proof of my boys still etched there in soft folds and scars.
The satin hugs every curve and flaw, and self-consciousness prickles beneath my skin.
There hadn’t been much choice, not with how fast everything was happening.
Drifter had booked us a priest within days.
Misty had pulled strings to get us a court date.
It’s all moving so quickly, too quickly, but I know why I’m doing this.
I need to walk into that courtroom looking like stability. Like home. Like a woman who can keep her boys safe.
Red walks in, stopping in her tracks as I turn to face her. “Wow, you look beautiful.”
I let out a nervous breath and turn back to the mirror. “I’m doing the right thing, aren’t I?”
She steps behind me, and I watch her reflection in the mirror. “Yes, you are. Trust the process,” she smiles, grabbing a hair pin off the drawers.
“It all just feels too much, too soon.”
“Are you in love with Clay?” I swallow hard, I haven’t openly admitted my feelings for Clay, not even to him. “I can see it in your eyes,” she says, taking a small strand of my hair and pinning it into place.
“Ugh, I’m not sure. Of course, I have feelings for him. He’s invested more in my life than anyone ever has.” I grab the small locket that I’m wearing, holding it in between my fingers.
“Okay . . .” She grabs the hairspray and sprays the section into place. “Compare what you feel for Clay to how you felt about Liam.”
I pause for a moment, staring at my reflection.
He would be disgusted with my body right now, he would find my jelly belly grotesque, and he wouldn’t be ashamed to tell me either.
I close my eyes remembering all the times he took great satisfaction in making me feel less of a woman, less of a mum.
Clay had never once made me think any less of myself.
If anything, he’d made me feel like a queen, he’d made me fall in love with me again.
He’d given me space to find myself. I open my eyes and smile at myself.
“You’re right, I’m ready.”
“Way to go, girl,” she says, giving me a small peck on the cheek and leading me to the door. I slide on my white pumps with small diamontes.
Red pauses at the top of the stairs, straightening some tendrils to my hair.
“You’ve got this,” she says, letting go of my hand, allowing me to descend the stairs. She follows close behind, like my guardian angel. It’s crazy how not so long ago, these people were complete strangers, and yet now, I consider them family.
I reach the bottom of the stairs, pausing at the door before pushing on the entrance.
Everyone turns to face me, the room falling silent.
There’s nothing fancy, just a priest waiting for us, with a few chairs and a few of the bikers mulling around.
I blow out a breath, reminding myself that this didn’t have to be some extravagant wedding, it was a means to an end.
This was nothing like the show Liam had put on for our wedding day, he had spent a small fortune, but it was only to make a show for everyone else.
Today felt different, there was no facade, no one to impress, just me, Clay, and a few witnesses.
It’s then my eyes land on Clay, standing next to the priest. His kutte firmly in place, he wears a black shirt underneath, turned up at his elbows and his cap.
I smile warmly, longing to feel his arms wrapped around me like a protective shield.
His mouth hangs open as I approach him. I lean in to give him a tender kiss on the lips.
“You’re catching flies,” I whisper.
“You look fucking incredible.” He grins, grabbing hold of my hand and leading me to a table where the priest has the paperwork set up.
“I don’t feel it. This dress is clinging in all the wrong places.”
“It’s perfection, just like every inch of you,” he says, letting go of my hand and placing his in the small of my back. The smallest of touches from him, giving me all the feels. “Let’s get this show on the road, brother Vex.”
The priest stands in his own leathers, and I laugh at how crazy this all must look from the outside. His patch has Priest written in white embroidered letters underneath, like Clay’s ‘Vice President’ patch.
“You sure this is all legal,” I snigger.
“I’ll have you know ma’am I am a fully fledged priest.” He has a very strong London accent, which sets off a fit of giggles.
“God,” I say, which sets off another round of giggles, and I bring my hand to cover my mouth. “Shit, I’m so sorry.” I feel my cheeks redden.
“Not to worry, ma’am. I get it a lot. I am not your traditional priest.” He winks, and the embarrassment from moments ago subsides.
“Relax, beaut,” Clay whispers. “Ready to become Mrs. Stryker?”
The ceremony was fast, the relief after the paperwork was signed and all attention was off me was just what I needed.
The club quickly went back to normality, and we all sat in the bar drinking.
Clay brings a round of drinks over to us, setting the tray on the table.
Rochelle and Drifter sit snuggled up on the bench beside us, and Red is perched on Rock’s knee.
Mumma bear has put their daughter to bed, giving them a well-deserved night off to celebrate.
Clay sits on the stool next to me resting his hand on my thigh, the jukebox plays ‘young and beautiful’ softly in the background, and I watch as the couples talk between themselves.
Clay rubs circles on the inside of my thigh, a simple touch but one that almost burns.
There’s this overwhelming need to be held by him.
“You okay, beaut?” he asks quietly.
I nod. “Mmhmm.”
“You sure? You’re very quiet.”
“Just taking it all in.” He squeezes my leg, as if encouraging me to continue. “It’s a lot, isn’t it?”
“I suppose it is, but I want you to know this is it for me, me claiming you as my ol’ lady, that was it, that was bigger than today.
You were already mine. It’s just today you're mine in the eyes of the law, too.” His possessiveness should be a major red flag, but for some reason, it doesn’t scare me.
If anything, I feel safe. Liam was supposed to be the rest of my life, but he ground me down, not physically, but mentally.
He reduced me to a shell of my former self.
With Clay, it’s different. When the ol’ ladies spoke about it before, I thought they were crazy, but now, I get it.
He would protect me with his life, and that for me, is empowering.
“Clay,” I whisper. He looks at me, his eyes full of worry as if I’m about to bolt. “Thank you for everything. For the bridge. For this. For holding me when nobody else would.”
He grabs my hand, lifting me from my seat and placing me on his knee. “You don’t need to thank me, Mrs. Stryker."
“I love you, Mr. Stryker,” I whisper, and his eyes light up.
He kisses me roughly, his tongue darting out and dancing with my own.
I clench my legs together as I feel my arousal from just his kiss as his hand slides up my leg under my dress, briskly gliding over my thong.
His cock strains against my leg, the urge overwhelming to straddle him here.
“Get a fucking room, guys,” Rock snorts as he throws a beer mat at us. We break apart, my lips swollen from his kiss. I rest in the crook of his neck, embarrassed by our little display.
“I think I need to get my ol’ lady to bed,” Clay growls as he lifts me in his arms, I kick my legs, letting out a little shriek.
“Night, Bella,” Red and Rochelle chime.
I don’t lift my head from his shoulder to look, still feeling flushed with embarrassment, but I give them a little wave.
Clay
I carry her in my arms over the threshold of my room. I might not have been able to give her the wedding of her dreams, but I’m going to give her the night of her life.
“Taking this very seriously,” she giggles, wiggling her eyebrows.
“I’ll show you how serious I am,” I say, carrying her over to the bed and laying her down. She pulls to sit up, and I push her down roughly. Her tongue darts out, wetting her lips in anticipation. The hunger’s clearly evident in her eyes.
“I think I like this serious side.”
I lift her foot, sliding off her shoes one at a time and throwing them to the floor behind me. I run my hand up her bare legs, grabbing her thong and releasing her already glistening pussy.
“Already wet for me, beaut?” I arch a brow, and her cheeks flush, that look of innocence that has me craving more.
I hunch back on my heels, pulling her towards the edge of the bed, and inhale deeply.
She smells fucking divine, her pussy glistening, waiting for me, pleading with me.
My tongue darts out and I hum my approval as I take my first taste.
She squirms beneath me as I circle my tongue around her clit, placing my hand on her abdomen to keep her in place.
“Clay,” she pants, as her hands fist the sheets, arching her back off the bed. I place my hand under her arse, guiding her sweet pussy closer and flick my tongue over her clit. I know she’s close by the way she tenses her legs.
“Clay,” her heavy breaths fill the room as my name rolls off her tongue.
I quicken my pace, taking my finger and gliding it into her cunt, her walls instantly clench around me, I slide in a second.
“Fuck,” she screams, and I roll my tongue delicately, tipping her over the edge.
I suck on her clit as she rides out her release.
Her legs shake, and her pussy clenches my fingers, her juices dripping onto the bed.
I take my fingers and slide them through her folds.
Popping one in my mouth and sucking it clean, she tastes fucking immense.
She looks down, watching me, and I smirk as I repeat it.
She covers her face with her hands embarrassed, so I pull them away.
“Never hide from me,” I whisper.
“That was fucking incredible. I’ve never—” She shuts up abruptly, almost ashamed.
“You’ve never had a man go down on you?” I question, surprised she’s never experienced that before. She shakes her head.
“No, you’re the first.”
“Fuck, now, that makes it even more special. You coming all over my face was the hottest fucking thing ever.” I wonder how many more firsts I can give her. “And I’m only just getting started.”
She nestles into my chest, her fingers lightly tracing the intricate tattoo running the length of my torso. I run my hand up and down her arm, the sheets wrapped loosely around us both.
“What does this mean?” she asks, her voice groggy from her screaming my name. I take her hand gently, holding it close to the tattoo and my heart. This tattoo was the only one with meaning, the only one etched onto my skin to remind me of the horror I caused.
“I got this one after my brother passed,” I say, gently kissing her head. She looks up at me, her eyes filled with sadness.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, placing a chaste kiss on my lips.
“Don’t be, you weren’t responsible for his death, that responsibility lies solely with me.”
She sits up slowly beside me, pulling the sheet up with her to cover her naked body. I grab her hand again, tracing her finger over each section of the tattoo.
“This here, the white lily that’s wilting, has his date of death etched in the stem so I never forget.
” I trace her finger along the stem. She watches as I trace the design up to the stopwatch peaking from behind the flower.
“This here is the exact time of his death. He was in the Marines with me. We were fanatics at beating each other’s times on the assault course.
” I smile to myself at our competitiveness to always outdo each other.
Behind the stopwatch is a paper burning at the edges.
I continue to move her finger over the burning paper.
“This is the letter I wrote to my parents, apologising for taking their son from them because I couldn’t witness the disappointment in their eyes.
The burning edges signify my deceit to my brother.
” I drop my head and hold her palm close to the tattoo.
She uses her other hand to lift my face to look at her, tears threaten to fall, but this was my doing, nobody else was to blame.
“What happened?” she whispers, barely audible.
“I slept with the woman my brother was seeing,” I say as I look away, not wanting to see the regret on her face at discovering who I am.
“Look at me, Clay.” Her voice is stern but soft. I swallow hard as I stare at the wall, continuing. She needs to know it all.
“He wasn’t supposed to be on patrol that day, but he picked up the extra one because he couldn’t bear to look at us. He died that day on the field knowing what a shit I had been. He died thinking that it was just me outdoing him again.” I sigh. “If you hate me, I completely understand.”
“Clay,” she croaks and I turn to face her. Tears roll down her cheeks, and her face is plagued with sympathy. “You’ve lived with this for too long. You can’t go on regretting the mistakes you’ve made, you fucked up, but his death isn’t on your hands.”
“I was the reason he was out there that day. I should’ve kept it in my fucking trousers.
I swore to myself I would never love again.
Then you stood on that bridge all alone, and my heart leapt into action.
You may not have fallen from the bridge that night, but shit, my broken heart mended a little.
That night, you slept next to me and kept my nightmares at bay.
I knew I was a goner." I exhale loudly, the feeling of relief flooding me that she now knows.
She places her hands on each cheek, kissing me, then she pulls away slowly.
“You don’t have to fight the demons of your past alone. We’ll fight them together, unified.”
“I love you,” I whisper, suddenly overcome with emotion I hadn’t felt in a long time. I would die for this woman.
“And I love you more than you’ll ever truly know,” she replies. I do know, because there is no way she’s ever going to leave me. This is it. Us against the world.