Chapter 8 - Evelyn
"Please move," I whisper, digging my nails into his broad shoulders.
And he does. God, he does.
Is this a dream? Am I still captive somewhere, having conjured this elaborate fantasy of rescue and salvation? A real man—one worthy of my time and body—willing to protect me from everything bad in the world after just meeting me?
But this can't be a dream. His hands… So big they span my waist completely are touching every inch of my curvy body, and his thick cock is pulsing inside me. I feel every inch, every thrust, every grunt that rumbles from his chest and vibrates against mine.
I want to close my eyes, to focus solely on the sensations flooding through me, but I can't. I need to see this, to memorize it. Whatever happens tomorrow or the next day, I'll always have this moment with Reaper. No—Jackson. He asked me to call him Jackson when we're like this.
I love his name. Love how it feels on my tongue when I moan it.
"Jackson," I gasp as he hits a spot deep inside me that makes my vision blur. I want him to know I'm focused entirely on him, on what he's making me feel, because it feels fucking fantastic.
He's filling me completely. His cock is the perfect thickness, stretching me in ways that make embarrassing sounds happen each time he pulls back. A queef escapes, and my face burns with embarrassment.
"I'm sorry," I mumble, trying to move my hips.
"Don't be," he growls, his eyes dark with desire. "I love it. Love hearing how our bodies fit together perfectly. Nothing to be embarrassed about, Evelyn."
I run my hands down his muscular forearms and arms, feeling them flex with each powerful thrust. He doesn't stop, doesn't slow, doesn't even seem winded.
How strong is this man? The Vultures MC are nothing compared to him.
What has he endured to become this powerful, this unyielding?
I want to know everything, to explore the depths of this man even if I lose myself in the process.
Is he good? Is he bad? I still don't know for certain, but I'm willing to give him a chance. Willing to trust him, which is something I haven't done in... God, I can't even remember the last time.
He suddenly pauses, his brow furrowing with concern. "You okay? You seem like you spaced out. We can stop if—"
A smile spreads across my face—a genuine smile that I didn't know I was still capable of.
This burly, dangerous man noticed I was distracted and cared enough to check on me.
When has anyone ever done that? He's a gentleman beneath all that violence.
Dangerous, yes, but for reasons I'm beginning to understand.
"I'm sorry," I say, touching his bearded cheek. "I've just never been treated so kindly. Especially during sex."
He turns his face to kiss my palm. "From now on, you'll be treated with nothing but respect."
"I appreciate that," I tell him, arching slightly beneath him. "But during sex? You don't need to be so gentle. I won't break."
A wicked smirk crosses his face. "Glad to hear it, because I was planning to pick up the pace."
"Actually," I say, surprising myself with my boldness, "I'd like to ride you first. I want to feel in control... at least once."
He chuckles. "I'd never deny a lady her wishes."
I punch his shoulder lightly. "You're an idiot."
"So I've been told."
He rolls onto his back, bringing me with him in a seamless motion that leaves me straddling his hips, his cock still buried inside me. On top of him, I feel tiny. I barely cover half his body.
I trace my fingers over the intricate tattoos decorating his chest and arms—beautiful, thoughtful designs, not the crude jailhouse scrawls I would have expected.
I lift myself up, his cock sliding partially out of me, then grasp the base to guide him back as I sink down. He grunts, his hands finding my hips as I begin to bounce slowly, feeling like I'm being impaled in the most delicious way.
Once I adjust to the new angle, I increase my pace, rolling my hips in circles that make us both gasp.
Sweat trickles down the curve of my breasts as I ride him harder, his massive hands on my ass helping guide my movements.
My thighs start to burn with the effort, but I don't want to stop.
I don't want this to end, even though I know everything does eventually.
As my movements begin to falter, he notices immediately. "Let me take over."
He pulls me down to his chest, my breasts flattened against him and wraps one arm around my waist. Then he begins to thrust upward, powerful strokes that make me feel like a rag doll manipulated by invisible strings.
"Jackson," I whimper, feeling the tension building, coiling tighter and tighter. "I'm close."
"Let go," he commands, his voice rough with exertion. "Come for me, Evelyn."
My orgasm crashes over me like a tidal wave, making me arch and cry out. My body writhes, but his hand on my hip holds me firmly in place, ensuring I take every thrust as he continues his relentless pace.
It doesn't take long before his steady rhythm changes.
He sits up suddenly, lifting me with him like I weigh nothing, and thrusts deep one final time.
I feel him pulse inside me, filling me with his warmth in three distinct spurts.
His cock throbs against my inner walls, and I feel his release trickling down between us.
I'm exhausted, spent, yet I feel cherished in a way I never have before. He doesn't immediately pull out, and I don't move from my position on his lap. We stay connected, staring into each other's eyes, both of us breathing hard.
"Stay," he says suddenly, his voice gruff but sincere. "Here. With me. I'll take care of you."
The offer makes my heart skip a beat. "Stay?"
"There's a future for you here." His hand comes up to brush a strand of hair from my sweaty forehead. "If you want it."
"Future." I test the word, finding it strange on my tongue. "I don't think I've ever felt like I had one of those."
"You do now," he promises, his gray eyes intense. "One we can build together."
"Are you sure?" I ask, suddenly aware of the absurdity of this situation. "We just met. I'm younger than you. You don't even know me."
"This is insane to me too," he admits with a small laugh.
"But if there's one thing I've learned, in the military and in the MC, it's that life is too fucking short.
When you know, you know." His thumb traces my cheekbone.
"And yeah, you're younger, but you've suffered too much. You've lived two lifetimes already."
I wrap my arms around him, unable to fully encircle his massive frame. Emotion wells in my throat. Not just lust or gratitude, but something dangerously close to hope. I lean in to kiss him, to seal this crazy promise with action rather than words.
But a sharp knock on the door interrupts us.
Jackson sighs, pressing a quick kiss to my cheek before easing me off his lap. "Sorry," he murmurs, pulling on his jeans while I wrap myself in the sheet.
He crosses to the door, opening it just enough to reveal Ghost standing in the hallway, his expression grim.
"We've got company," Ghost says without preamble. "Vultures MC. At least fifteen of them approaching the compound. Heavily armed."
Fear spikes through me, sharp and cold. They've come for me. They'll hurt everyone here and then take me back to punish me for escaping. I begin to shake, the sheet clutched to my chest like flimsy armor.
Jackson turns to look at me, and to my shock, he's smirking.
"Don't worry," he says, the confidence in his voice absolute. "This is like training for us. We've been hoping someone would be stupid enough to test us."
Ghost nods in agreement. "Perimeter security's already engaged. Blade's distributing weapons. We're ready whenever you are, Prez."
"Two minutes," Jackson replies. Ghost nods and disappears down the hallway.
Jackson turns back to me, his expression softening slightly. "Get dressed. Something comfortable you can move in. You'll stay in the safe room with Wilder until this is over."
"I don't want to hide," I protest, even as I reach for the clothes scattered on the floor. "I can help."
"Not a negotiation," he says firmly, pulling a fresh t-shirt over his head. "I need to focus on eliminating the threat, not worrying about your safety."
The way he says "eliminating the threat"—so casual, so confident—reminds me of who he truly is. This isn't just a man who made love to me with surprising tenderness. This is Reaper, President of the Outlaw Order MC, a man feared for good reason.
And right now, I'm fucking grateful for it.
I dress quickly in the clothes he tossed me yesterday. Jeans that are too big and a t-shirt that swallows me whole. He opens a cabinet I hadn't noticed before, revealing an impressive arsenal of weapons. He selects a handgun similar to the one he showed me earlier.
"Here," he says, handing it to me. "Safety's on. Only use it if absolutely necessary. Remember what I showed you?"
I nod, taking the weapon. "Point and shoot. Safety off first."
"Good girl." He grabs a larger gun—some kind of assault rifle—and slings it over his shoulder before grabbing extra magazines.
Another knock at the door, more urgent this time.
"They've breached the outer gate," Blade calls through the door. "Two minutes tops."
"On my way," Jackson responds. He turns to me, his expression deadly serious. "Wilder will take you to the safe room. Stay there until I come for you. No matter what you hear, do not leave that room. Understand?"
"Yes."
He cups my face in his massive hand, his touch gentle given the circumstances. "This will be over quickly. Then we finish our conversation about your future."
"Promise?" I hate how small my voice sounds, how needy.
"Promise." He kisses me hard, a swift clash of lips and teeth that leaves me breathless. "Now go."
Wilder is waiting in the hallway, a shotgun cradled in his massive arms. He nods at me, then at Jackson. "Ready when you are, boss."
Jackson gives my shoulder one last squeeze before his entire demeanor shifts. His posture straightens, his eyes go cold, his jaw sets in a hard line. In an instant, he transforms from Jackson back into Reaper, the man enemies fear.
"Take care of her," he orders Wilder. "No one gets past you."
"Understood," Wilder replies.
I follow Wilder down a hallway I haven't seen before, away from the main area of the clubhouse.
Behind us, I hear Jackson—no, Reaper now—barking orders to his men.
The sounds of preparation echo through the building: weapons being loaded, furniture being moved to create barricades, communications being established.
"In here," Wilder says, opening a heavy metal door that looks like it belongs in a bank vault. "Panic room. Reinforced steel, separate ventilation, communications, supplies for days if needed."
I step inside, surprised by the relatively comfortable space. There's a small couch, a desk with monitors showing security camera feeds, a mini-fridge, and what looks like a bathroom through another door.
"You'll be safe here," Wilder assures me, his voice gentler than I would have expected from a man his size. "Reaper knows what he's doing. These Vultures MC aren't the first to try us, and they won't be the last."
I nod, clutching the gun Jackson gave me. "Will you stay?"
"Guarding this door," he confirms. "No one gets through me."
The conviction in his voice is oddly comforting coming from a man that’s clearly years younger than Jackson. He steps back, preparing to close the heavy door.
"Wilder," I say quickly. "Keep him safe. Please."
"Always do. Always will."
The door closes with a definitive thunk, locks engaging automatically. I'm alone in the silence, with only the muted visual feeds of the security cameras to show me what's happening outside.
I watch as Reaper positions his men strategically throughout the compound. Their movements are coordinated, professional, like they've done this a hundred times before. Maybe they have.
On one screen, I see vehicles approaching. Vultures MC, coming to reclaim their "property." Coming for me. Coming to take what was taken from them.
I should be terrified. A part of me is. But another part—a newer, stronger part—feels something else entirely. These men picked the wrong MC to fuck with. They picked the wrong woman to try to reclaim.
For the first time in my life, someone is fighting for me. And not just anyone, a man who promised me a future just minutes ago.
I settle onto the couch, gun ready in my lap, eyes fixed on the monitors as the first shots are fired. Whatever happens in the next few minutes, I know one thing for certain:
I believe him. I believe in the future he promised.
And God help anyone who tries to take it from me.