Chapter 38
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Grave Goodbye
S lade felt the rush in his cock and hissed like a snake about to attack. Nelle clawed at Slade’s back. “Yes, Slade. Fuck me. Come in me. Fill me, Slade.”
He growled and dropped his mouth down to her left tit. He engulfed her. He sucked hard. He pulled away. He kissed up her chest. To her neck. Then to her mouth. Nelle’s tongue met Slade’s and she groaned into his mouth.
She wanted his cum clinging to her insides badly. And Slade was right there . He thrust just two more times, then felt himself release. Nelle arched her back and cried out as she felt Slade’s hot cum filling her.
Slade kissed her neck, growling, grunting, and repeating… “I love you, sweetheart.”
Nelle smiled, clawed at his back again and screamed, “I love you!”
It was like that now. Every morning. Every afternoon. Every night. And sometimes in the middle of the night… Two in the morning and someone moves a little? Clothes are off and Slade is slamming his cock into Nelle. Or Nelle climbs on him and sits on his face, letting him eat her as a really late night snack.
That… is outlaw love…
Slade stood while Nelle crouched down and placed flowers at the grave. When she stood and turned, Slade hugged her. Nelle had finally found the ability to cry. The good kind of crying. She could feel grief and pain and say goodbye. And she didn’t have to run from it all.
She was home in Slade’s arms. That’s all that mattered to her. Slade put an arm around the woman he loved and they walked to his motorcycle. He put his helmet on her head and softly kissed her lips. Then he kissed her stitches.
When they arrived back at the clubhouse, Slade cruised through the open gates. He then looked back and did a double take. Nobody was at the gates. And the gates were open.
He parked his ride and saw that all the other motorcycles were lined up. As he stepped off his motorcycle and took his helmet from Nelle there was a siren way off in the distance. But it almost felt like someone had punched Slade in the stomach. The clubhouse door suddenly swung open and out ran Cyrus and Linc.
“Stay here,” Slade told Nelle.
He dropped his helmet and took off running. From the corner of his right eye he saw Bram with a towel against the left side of his face. Blood. Everywhere.
Oh, fuck, what now? Slade thought.
He caught up with Cyrus and Linc as they stopped running at one of the storage garages. Cyrus pulled at the heavy door, lifting it up to open it. That’s where Cyrus had ordered Priest to take Fitz. To chain up the rat and keep an eye on him.
Priest recruited Bram as an extra set of eyes and to give the prospect a front row seat to see what happened if you turned rat on the club. Except now Bram was bloody. The chains dangled from the ceiling.
“Fitz is gone,” Linc said.
There was also another really big problem. Cyrus grabbed for Slade.
Priest was face down on the floor in a pool of blood.