Chapter 5 - Amanda
I follow Rookie into the clubhouse, my pussy already throbbing again from what just happened outside. From the way he caged me against my car, his hard cock pressing against his jeans, his breath hot on my ear when he said he wanted to fuck me.
*Makes me want to fuck you against this car in front of my entire club.*
Jesus Christ. My panties are soaked again. Completely drenched. And there's sweat trickling down between my breasts, down my chest, my body responding to him in ways I've never experienced before.
I did feel it. His bulge, thick and hard, straining against his zipper.
Right there. Right fucking there. So close I could've reached down and touched it, could've felt exactly what my curves do to him.
I want him to kiss me. Want those bruised knuckles on my skin.
Want to know what hate-fucking feels like, because if this tension between us is any indication, it would be fucking explosive.
The clubhouse is exactly what I expected: dark wood, leather furniture, a bar along one wall, motorcycles visible through an open garage door. It smells like motor oil, leather, and whiskey. Masculine and rough, just like the man leading me deeper inside.
A few men look up as we pass. One is massive. Easily six and a half feet tall, heavily muscled, with brown hair and the kind of presence that makes you step back instinctively. Another is leaner, with tattoos covering his arms and cold gray eyes that assess me without expression.
The gray-eyed man approaches us, moving silently. This must be Shadow—the one Rookie was talking to when they rode away from the police station earlier.
"King's in his office," Shadow says, his voice low. "Tank's with him. They're waiting."
"Thanks." Rookie nods toward him, then gestures to a chair near the bar. "Sit."
"I can stand."
"Sit," he repeats, harder this time. "King doesn't like people hovering in his clubhouse. Especially cops."
I sit, mostly because my legs are shaky and my pussy is clenching with every breath. The chair is worn leather, comfortable despite its age. Rookie leans against the bar across from me, arms crossed over his chest, his eyes never leaving my face.
He's so fucking handsome it hurts. Dark hair that's perpetually messy, blue eyes that see too much, a strong jaw with just enough stubble to be sexy.
The bruises on his knuckles are fresh, probably from punching Hayes, and I want to kiss them.
Want to run my tongue over each one and thank him for protecting me.
"Stop looking at me like that," he says suddenly.
"Like what?"
"Like you want to fuck me." His voice is rough. "Because you don't. You hate what I am."
"I don't hate what you are." The words come out before I can stop them. "I don't even know what you are."
"A criminal." He pushes off the bar, moving closer. "Someone who lives outside your precious law. Someone who'd rather punch a cop than trust the system."
The bitterness in his voice is palpable. Whatever his history with law enforcement, it runs deep. But I don't ask. Can't ask. Because we're not here to share our pasts. We're here so I can beg him to give a statement that might save my career.
"I need your help," I say. "That's all I'm asking for."
"Yeah?" His hand comes up, cupping my jaw. The touch is gentle despite the roughness of his skin. "And what do I get in return, officer?"
My pussy clenches at the word. At the way he makes it sound dirty. "What do you want?"
"Dangerous question." His thumb brushes my lower lip. "Because what I want and what you're willing to give are probably very different things."
"Try me." My voice is breathless.
His eyes darken. "I want to know what you taste like. Want to hear you scream my name. Want to fuck that virgin pussy until you forget you ever wore a badge."
Heat floods through me. "How did you—"
"I can tell." His thumb presses against my lip, parting it slightly. "The way you look at me. The way you respond. You've never been fucked, have you?"
"No," I whisper.
"Good." His hand slides into my hair, gripping gently. "Because when I fuck you, and I will fuck you, I want to be the first. Want to ruin you for anyone else."
"Bring her in." A commanding voice comes from the hallway.
Rookie pulls back, his hand dropping from my hair. Shadow gestures toward the hallway. "King's ready."
I stand on shaky legs and follow Rookie down the corridor. Shadow trails behind us, silent as a ghost. We stop at a door, and Rookie knocks once before pushing it open.
The office is surprisingly organized: desk covered with papers, filing cabinets along one wall, a leather couch against another. A tall man sits behind the desk—six-three, muscular build, dark hair with silver streaks, cold blue eyes that warm slightly when they assess me.
This is King. The president Rookie already told about what happened this morning.
"Officer Collins." King's voice is level but carries authority. "Rookie says you need help."
"Yes, sir." I step forward, trying to project confidence even though my legs are shaky and my pussy is still throbbing. "My partner Officer Hayes sexually harassed me this morning during patrol. Rookie witnessed it and intervened. Now my chief is demanding Rookie's statement or I lose my job."
"We already discussed this," King says, his eyes moving to Rookie. "I told you bringing cops into our business was a bad idea."
"She came here," Rookie says. "What was I supposed to do? Throw her out?"
"Yes." King's tone is flat. But then he looks back at me. "Though I admire her balls for tracking you down."
Tank grunts. "Walking into a biker clubhouse alone. Either stupid or desperate."
"Both," I admit.
That gets a surprised laugh from Tank. "Honest, too."
King doesn't smile. "You understand that if Rookie gives a statement, it puts a target on his back? On all of us? Cops don't like it when bikers get involved in their business."
"I understand." I swallow hard. "But Officer Hayes is a predator. He'll do this again if he's not stopped. And the only way to stop him is with a witness who saw what he did."
"Why should we care?" King leans back in his chair. "Your partner, your problem."
"Because Rookie already made it your problem when he punched Hayes." I lift my chin. "I could file charges against him. Press for his arrest. Make this much bigger than it needs to be."
The temperature in the room drops. Tank straightens, Shadow shifts near the door, and King's eyes go ice cold.
"Are you threatening us?" King's voice is deadly quiet.
My heart hammers, but I hold his gaze. "I'm stating facts. I don't want to cause trouble for your club. I just want the truth to be on record. Rookie gives a statement, I keep my job, everyone moves on."
"And if his statement doesn't help you?"
"Then at least I tried." My voice wavers slightly. "Look, I know you don't trust cops. But I'm trying to do my job. And right now, I need someone to help me do it."
King stares at me for a long moment, then glances at Tank. Some silent communication passes between them.
"She's got more spine than most cops I've met," Tank says.
"Doesn't mean we should help her." But King's tone has softened slightly. He looks at Rookie. "You sure about this?"
"Yeah." Rookie's voice is firm. "Hayes was going to assault her. I stopped it. She deserves someone to back up her story."
King drums his fingers on the desk, considering.
"Alright," King finally says. "Rookie will give a statement. But on our terms. He goes to the station tomorrow morning, tells the truth about what he saw, then leaves. No follow-up questions. No additional statements. One and done."
Relief floods through me so intensely my knees nearly buckle. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet." King's eyes are hard. "If this blows back on us, if it brings heat to the club, you're going to owe us. Big time."
"I understand."
"Do you?" King stands, coming around the desk. "Because owing the Savage Riders isn't like owing the cops. We collect our debts. All of them."
A shiver runs down my spine. "What kind of debt?"
"We'll figure that out if it comes to it." King turns to Rookie. "Tomorrow morning. Nine AM. You go in, give your statement, get out. Clear?"
"Clear." Rookie's eyes find mine. "I'll be there, officer."
The way he says officer makes my pussy clench. Like it's dirty. Like I'm dirty for wanting him.
"Thank you," I say again, looking between King and Rookie. "Really. Thank you."
"Thank Rookie." King gestures toward the door. "He's the one sticking his neck out for you. Make sure you're worth it."
Tank and Shadow file out first. I follow, with Rookie behind me. When we reach the main room, the others disappear down different hallways, leaving us alone.
"You should go," Rookie says quietly. "Before I do something we'll both regret."
"Like what?" I ask, even though I know.
"Like kissing you." His eyes are dark with hunger. "Like bending you over that bar and making you scream my name. Like showing you exactly what happens when a cop walks into a biker clubhouse begging for favors."
My breath catches. Every word sends heat straight to my core, makes my pussy throb, makes me want to beg him to do exactly that.
"Would that be so bad?" The question escapes before I can stop it.
"Yes." But he's moving closer, stalking me like prey. "Because once I start, I won't stop. And you're not ready for what I want to do to you."
"How do you know what I'm ready for?" My back hits the bar.
"Because you're a good girl playing cop." He cages me against the wood, his hands on either side of my hips. "And I'm a bad man who wants to corrupt you. Wants to make you beg. Wants to fuck that tight virgin cunt until you're addicted to my cock."
A whimper escapes my throat. I'm so wet I can feel it soaking through my jeans, so turned on I can barely think straight.
"Tomorrow," he says, his lips brushing my ear. "Nine AM. I'll give your precious statement. But after that?" His hand slides up my thigh, stopping just short of where I'm aching for him. "After that, you're going to owe me. And I always collect my debts, officer."
Then he releases me and steps back, leaving me trembling and desperate against the bar.
"See yourself out." He turns and walks toward the hallway. "And Collins? Wear something other than jeans tomorrow. I want to see those curves in a skirt."
He's gone before I can respond, leaving me alone in the clubhouse with my pussy throbbing and my mind spinning.
This was a terrible idea.
And I can't wait to see him again tomorrow.