Chapter Twenty #2
When I felt his cock hardening against my ass, thick and insistent, I pressed back against him, silently inviting him to take me again. My body was sore, tender from hours of lovemaking, but the ache only made me want him more.
I’m insatiable, I realized with a mixture of wonder and embarrassment. I can’t get enough of him.
He groaned, half-asleep, and slid inside me from behind. The angle was different, deeper, more intimate, and I gasped at the sensation. He filled me completely, stretching me in ways that made my toes curl.
“Can you feel me?” he murmured against my shoulder, his voice rough with sleep and desire. “Feel how deep I am?”
I did. God, I did. I could feel every inch of him, could feel the way my body stretched to accommodate him, and it made me impossibly wet despite the soreness.
He moved with languid strokes, in no hurry, just savoring the feel of being inside me.
His hand came around to rest on my lower belly and pressed down gently.
The pressure made me feel him even more intensely.
I whimpered, overwhelmed by the sensation, and he kissed my shoulder, my neck, the sensitive spot behind my ear.
“That’s it, baby,” he murmured. “Feel me. Feel what you do to me.”
The lazy rhythm was hypnotic, pleasure building slowly like a tide coming in.
I felt myself drifting in the sensation, caught between sleep and waking, between exhaustion and desperate need.
His breath was hot against my neck, his body warm and solid behind me, and I felt safe in a way I had never experienced before.
This is what it means to be cherished, I thought as pleasure spiraled through me.
This is what it means to be loved. When I came, it was gentle.
A slow wave that rolled through me, making me clench around him.
He groaned, his hips jerking against mine, and then he followed me over the edge, his release hot inside me.
We stayed like that, connected, his softening cock still inside me, his arm wrapped around my waist. I felt his heartbeat against my back, felt the rise and fall of his chest, and I knew I would remember this moment for the rest of my life.
No matter what happens tomorrow, I thought. No matter what Shadow does or what the club demands, I will always have this. I will always have tonight.
The fourth time was slow again. Tender. The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting everything in soft gray tones, when he rolled me onto my back and settled between my thighs.
His eyes locked on mine as he pushed inside, and I saw everything in his expression.
His love, his desire, his possession, and something that looked like desperation.
As though he was trying to memorize me, to imprint this moment on his soul before it was ripped away.
He knows, I realized. He knows this is borrowed time.
That morning will destroy everything. But he didn’t look away.
Didn’t close his eyes or bury his face in my neck.
He held my gaze as he moved inside me, his cock sliding in and out with a wet sound that should have embarrassed me but only made me hotter.
I was so swollen, so sensitive from hours of lovemaking, that every stroke felt almost too intense.
The pleasure bordered on pain. My body pushed to its limits, but I didn’t want him to stop.
Didn’t want this moment to end. “Look at me,” he commanded softly when my eyes started to flutter closed, overwhelmed by sensation.
I obeyed, holding his gaze as he made love to me.
I could see everything in his eyes. The way he saw me, wanted me, needed me.
Not as a replacement for Julie. Not as a way to ease his grief.
But as Hope. As myself. As the woman he chose to love.
His thumb found my clit, rubbing gentle circles, and the combination of his cock filling me and his fingers working me was too much.
The orgasm built slowly, inexorably, and when it finally crashed over me, I came with tears streaming down my face.
Not from pain. Not from fear. But from the overwhelming intensity of what I felt for him.
My body clenched around him, milking him, and he groaned as he followed me over the edge. I felt the hot pulse of his release, felt the way his body shuddered against mine, and the tears came faster.
He kissed them away, his lips gentle against my cheeks, and whispered promises I wanted desperately to believe.
I’ll protect you. I’ll keep you safe. You’re mine, Hope. Always.
But I knew, even then, that some promises couldn’t be kept. That the world outside this motel room wouldn’t care about what we felt for each other. That my brother’s rage and the club’s rules would tear us apart no matter how much we loved each other.
But we have right now, I told myself fiercely. We have this moment. And I am going to take everything he’s willing to give me.
The sun had risen over the horizon when he pulled me on top of him. I was exhausted, my body aching in places I didn’t know could ache, my muscles trembling with fatigue. But when his hands gripped my hips and guided me over his cock, I went willingly.
One more time, I thought. Just one more time before the world ends.
I straddled him, my thighs trembling as I sank down onto his thick cock. He filled me completely, stretching me in a way that made me gasp. I could feel how swollen I was, how sensitive, and the slight burn only added to the pleasure.
I’m going to feel this for days, I realized. I’m going to feel him inside me long after he’s gone.
I braced my hands on his chest and moved, finding a rhythm that made us both moan.
From this angle, I could feel him so deep, could feel the head of his cock hitting that spot inside me that made my toes curl and my vision blur.
His hands slid up my sides, cupping my breasts, his thumbs brushing over my nipples.
I arched into his touch, my head falling back, my hair cascading down my back.
The movement changed the angle slightly, and I gasped at the sensation.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he breathed, his voice rough with desire. “So fucking beautiful. Look at you, taking my cock so well.”
His words sent heat flooding through me, and I moved faster, chasing the pleasure building low in my belly.
I could feel the wetness between my legs, could hear the obscene sounds our bodies made as I rode him.
The wet slide of his cock inside me, the slap of my ass against his thighs, my breathless moans mixing with his groans.
I’m doing this to him, I realized with a surge of power. I’m making him feel this way. I’m driving him as wild as he drives me.
His hands returned to my hips, guiding me, helping me find the angle that made stars burst behind my eyelids. I felt powerful and vulnerable all at once. Powerful because I could see the effect I had on him, vulnerable because I was completely exposed, completely his.
“Chapman,” I gasped, as my nails dug into his chest hard enough to leave marks. “I’m—I’m close.”
“I know. I can feel you. Feel how tight your pussy is squeezing my cock. Come for me, Hope. Let me feel you.” His thumb found my clit and circled it with just the right amount of pressure, that I shattered.
My orgasm crashed over me like a wave, pulling me under, drowning me in sensation.
I cried out his name, my body convulsing around him, my vision going white.
I could feel him throbbing inside me, could feel the hot pulse as he came with me, and it prolonged my own pleasure until I was sobbing with it.
This is what it means to be his, I thought through the haze of ecstasy. This is what it means to be claimed, possessed, loved.
I collapsed forward onto his chest, my body trembling, as tears streamed down my face. He wrapped his arms around me and held me close, and I felt his heart pounding against my cheek.
“I love you,” I whispered against his skin. “God help me, I love you.”
“I love you too,” he murmured into my hair.
I was lost in it. Lost in him. Lost in the ecstasy that consumed every thought, every breath, when the door crashed open.
The sound was so sudden, so violent, that for a moment, I couldn’t process it.
My body was still trembling, still riding the aftershocks of my climax, my mind floating in that hazy space between pleasure and consciousness, when my eyes finally focused and I saw him.
Zeke.
Standing in the doorway, his face twisted with rage, his eyes blazing with a fury I had never seen before.
“What the fuck—”
Reality crashed over me like ice water. The pleasure that was coursing through my veins turned to ice, freezing me in place. I was still straddling Chapman, his cock still firm inside me, our bodies still joined, when the shame barreled into me.
Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.
Several Diamondback brothers rushed in behind Zeke, their guns drawn and pointed directly at Chapman.
I recognized Whisper, Widow, and Monk. Men I had known for years, men who had eaten at our family table, men who were now seeing me naked and exposed and completely vulnerable. The humiliation was crushing.
I scrambled off Chapman, my hands shaking as I grabbed the bed sheet and wrapped it around myself. My legs nearly gave out, my body still weak from what we had just done, and I stumbled backward until my back hit the wall.
This is it, I thought desperately. This is how it ends.
Chapman didn’t move. He just lay there, his chest heaving, his eyes locked on Zeke. There was no shame in his expression. No regret. Just a quiet acceptance of what was coming.
He’s not going to hide what we did, I realized. He’s not going to pretend this didn’t happen.
“Get up,” Zeke snarled, his voice low and dangerous.
Chapman sat up slowly, his movements deliberate, and swung his legs over the side of the bed.
He didn’t bother covering himself. Didn’t bother to reach for his jeans.
He just stood there, naked and defiant, facing my brother head-on.
The sight was both terrifying and beautiful.
Chapman, standing there with his body still marked by our lovemaking.
Scratches on his shoulders from my nails, love bites on his neck, his cock still glistening with my arousal, refusing to be ashamed of what we had done.
He’s claiming me, I realized. Even now, even with guns pointing at him, he’s claiming me.
Zeke crossed the room in three strides and punched him.
The sound of his fist connecting with Chapman’s face was sickening.
A wet, brutal crack that made my stomach churn.
Chapman’s head snapped to the side, blood spraying from his already broken nose, but he stood firm as his head slowly turned back to face Zeke.
“Zeke!” I screamed, my voice breaking. “Stop!”
But he didn’t look at me. Didn’t acknowledge me. His eyes were fixed on Chapman, his fists clenched at his sides, his whole body vibrating with barely controlled rage.
“Get. Dressed,” he said through gritted teeth, his voice shaking.
Chapman spat blood at Zeke’s feet before wiping the remnant from his mouth with the back of his hand.
Still, he said nothing. Just reached for his jeans and pulled them on, his movements slow and deliberate.
Even now, even facing my brother’s wrath, he moved with a quiet dignity that made my chest ache.
He isn’t afraid, I realized. He’s not afraid of what’s coming because he knows I’m worth it.
“Hope,” Zeke said, his voice sharp. “Get dressed. Now.”
I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. My hands clutched the bedsheet tighter, my knuckles white, and I stared at Chapman. He looked at me then, his eyes meeting mine, and I saw everything in that gaze.
Regret—not for loving me, but for the pain this would cause.
Sorrow—for the consequences we both knew were coming.
Love—fierce and undeniable and completely unashamed.
And resignation—the acceptance that this was the price we would have to pay.
“Hope,” Zeke repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Get your clothes and get in the fucking bathroom. Now.”
I forced my legs to move. Forced myself to bend down and grab my clothes from the floor where they had been discarded hours ago.
My hands shook so badly I could barely hold on to them.
As I passed Chapman, our eyes met one last time.
And in that moment, I saw the promise there.
This isn’t over, his eyes said. No matter what happens, this isn’t over.
I stumbled toward the bathroom, my vision blurring with tears, and shut the door behind me.
The sound of it clicking shut felt like a death knell as I leaned against the sink, my legs finally giving out, and sank to the floor.
The tile was cold against my bare skin, and I clutched my clothes to my chest as sobs wracked my body.
I could still feel him inside me. Could still feel the ache between my thighs, the tenderness of my breasts, the scratch of his stubble on my neck. My body had been marked by him in ways that would never fade.
He claimed me, I thought through my tears. And I claimed him right back.
Through the door, I heard Zeke’s voice, low and deadly.
“Get dressed, asshole. Someone is waiting to speak with you at the clubhouse.”
I pressed my hand over my mouth to stifle the sound of my crying.
This was it. The reckoning we both knew was coming, and I had no idea how we were going to survive it. But as I sat there on that cold bathroom floor, my body still trembling from Chapman’s touch, one thing was absolutely clear: I didn’t regret it.
Not a single moment. Not a single touch. Not a single whispered promise in the dark.
He was mine.
And I was his, and whatever came next, we would face it together.