Chapter 20
Tori
I hear the bikes before I see them, the sound like thunder rolling up the driveway, vibrating straight through my chest. Relief loosens the tight knot of worry, and I’m already moving before the engines cut.
“They’re back,” I say to Shelly as I rush outside into the rain.
Shelly’s been as anxious as I’ve been. We were both too distracted to focus on work earlier, making silly mistakes, the kind of things you expect from someone on their first day.
We finished hours ago, leaving the night staff to manage, but we both remained at the bar, both too wired to consider waiting at home alone.
We didn’t speak much, lost in our worry for our men, but we kept each other distracted as much as we could while we nervously waited for them to come home.
I think I’d have gone mad with worry without her.
I can hear her close on my heels, rushing outside to search for Hank as I do the same for my men.
When the Ghost Riders pull in, headlights slice through the darkness, catching dust motes like sparks. I scan the crowd for my men, noting with a frown that some are injured, others missing.
My frantic gaze finally lands on my men, and I let out a sigh of relief. All three of them are here. Disheveled but alive.
Shelly’s howl tells me she’s not been as lucky. Red holds her close, comforting her. “It’s alright, Shell, really, Hank and Screw are gonna be just fine. It’s nothing major, I’ll take you to the hospital now, and you can see for yourself.”
I tear my gaze away from my men and to my friend. “Hank’s hurt, he got shot, Screw too,” she tells me numbly.
I squeeze her shoulder comfortingly. “Hank will be alright. You heard Red. Do you want me to come to the hospital with you?”
Shelly shakes her head. “No, you stay, I’ll keep you updated. If the guys were severely injured, the others wouldn’t have left them in the first place.” She squares her shoulders, steeling herself, and I admire her bravery.
“I’ll look after her. We’ll keep you updated,” Red assures me as Shelly climbs onto his bike and they tear away.
The rest of the Ghost Riders have gone inside, no doubt ready for drinks after their ordeal. They’ve earned it. My eyes find my men again as they dismount and head over to me.
Flint scans the perimeter out of habit, gray eyes sharp, already calculating what comes next.
His jaw is set firmly, the stress and worry clear on his handsome face.
He relaxes slightly when he sees me. He looks at me like I’m an oasis in the desert.
Hunter peels off his helmet with a grin that’s all danger and hunger, blue eyes bright as broken glass, he’s gloriously alive with the restless energy that never leaves him.
Cyrus lingers half a step behind, steady and calm, hazel eyes finding mine immediately.
He smiles softly, his eyes telling me I don’t have to be afraid anymore, like he knows exactly how fast my heart is beating, how worried I was.
I cross the space between us, and suddenly I’m wrapped in leather and warmth.
Flint’s arms go around me first, solid and real.
His knuckles are torn and bloodied, caked in dried blood; I don’t know if it belongs to him or someone else.
A sob rises in my throat. I’m so relieved they came back to me in one piece.
“We’re okay. We did it, we saved them, all of them. Thanks to you,” Flint murmurs into my hair, breathing me in, answering the question I haven’t asked out loud.
My breath shudders out of me. “I know,” I say, but my hands are shaking anyway.
Hunter’s laugh is low and pleased. “You were worried about us,” he says, as if that’s a victory.
“Of course, I was worried,” I snip, my fear making my tone harsher than intended.
Hunter chuckles, happy as always to get a rise from me. His thumb hooks under my chin, tipping my face up. “You know we're too tough and too stubborn to let the Raging Bulls win. Miss us?”
“Yes,” I whisper. The one word is insufficient to convey the aching, yawning chasm of fear I felt at the prospect of one or all of them not coming back, of the sheer terror I felt that I might lose them, and the overwhelming relief that now floods my senses.
Cyrus’s presence settles behind me, calm and patient, a lighthouse in a storm. He doesn’t touch at first. He never rushes me. When his hands finally land on my hips, it’s like gravity deciding where I belong. “We’ll always come back to you,” he says quietly, his words a soothing balm for my soul.
My three men surround me, holding me close, and I allow myself the moment of sheer, giddy bliss. I want to ask them what happened, and if the men who didn’t make it back will be okay. But right now, I want to savor having my men home.
“Inside,” Flint says quietly, and we all move at once.
The door barely closes before their jackets hit the floor. Flint groans, wincing as he does so. He’s hurt worse than he’s letting on. Hunter chuckles with relief to be home in one piece. Cyrus exhales deeply, finally able to relax.
We don’t even make it halfway down the hall before the sheer relief turns into hunger to touch, to feel each other, to confirm this is real. We’re all here.
My back meets the wall, cool plaster against my shoulders, and I’m suddenly surrounded by them, their hands everywhere, not grabbing so much as claiming.
Cyrus’s mouth finds mine, slow and reverent, kissing me like I’m something precious, as if it’s me who survived the night and they were worried about.
Flint’s fingers trace my jaw, steadying me as he grips my wrists, holding my arms above my head to stop me from tearing at their clothes, controlling the pace without a word.
Hunter crowds in last, all heat and impatience as he pops open the buttons of my blouse, his mouth finding my throat, trailing down to my nipples and biting them, grazing his teeth against the hard pebbles.
“You’re shaking,” he says, pulling back, brow knotting with concern.
“I was so scared,” I admit, and my voice wobbles. “I know why you went, but I was so worried you wouldn’t come back. That something terrible would happen.”
Cyrus rests his forehead against mine. “We come back,” he says softly. “Every time.”
Flint’s grip tightens just enough to make me feel the nails digging into my flesh. “We’d go through hell to get back to you.”
“We know just how sweet a reward is waiting for us at home,” Hunter purrs, a dark promise murmured against my skin.
The words unravel me. I tilt my head back, closing my eyes, savoring being held in the center of them.
The tension bleeds out of my muscles as their attention sharpens, focuses.
Hunter’s mouth is everywhere, relentless but never careless.
He pulls my shirt off, deftly undoing my bra with one hand.
The material flutters to the floor, forgotten in our haste.
Flint grabs my hands again, once more pinning them above my head while Cyrus pulls down my pants.
Cyrus drops to his knees, kissing me through the lace of my panties, his breath warm.
He hooks one of my legs over his shoulder, his fingers teasing me with just a thin piece of lace separating me from his caress.
I’m soaking wet already when he slips a finger in, pushing my panties aside to taste me, his tongue circling my clit and making me cry out with pleasure.
Flint kisses me passionately, his tongue delving into mine in tandem with Cyrus’s tongue on my clit and Hunter’s on my nipples.
The kiss is deliberate, grounding, keeping me present when the sensations threaten to overwhelm me.
We’re hungry for release, to connect on this deeper, primal level.
Hunter’s hand snakes around behind me, and he inserts a finger inside me from the back.
I let out a gasp of surprise and arousal at the sensation of both Hunter and Cyrus’s fingers inside me.
“Does that feel good, baby? Both of us fucking you at once? Would you like it to be our cocks?” Hunter growls.
I whimper as Flint kisses my neck, biting and sucking enough that I know he’s going to leave a mark. His free hand caresses one breast while Hunter’s spare hand does the same to the other.
Holy heck. They’re working in perfect sync that it’s hard to keep track of who’s touching me where, but I don’t care, I want more.
“Fuck me,” I beg, not caring who, but needing one of them inside me now.
Flint unbuckles his belt, removing it with a snap, finally releasing me. My arms drop, and I immediately seek out my men, wanting to touch them. “Hold her,” Flint barks.
Hunter and Cyrus immediately move aside, taking hold of one arm each, holding them up, pinning me against the wall.
Flint drops his pants, revealing his massive, throbbing erection.
He lifts me, wrapping my legs around his waist and thrusting into me in one swift motion.
It’s a little painful, rougher than usual, but I want it. God, do I want it.
“Fuck, yes!” I scream as he fucks me hard and fast against the wall while the others pin me down, their eyes thick with desire.
Without letting me go, Hunter and Cyrus lick and suck a nipple each, sending ripples of pleasure through me that connect with my clit.
Flint keeps up his relentless rhythm, fucking me faster and harder than ever before.
He’s like a man possessed, and I realize he needs this release even more than I do.
His smoldering gray eyes stare into mine, and I don’t look away.
Despite its intensity, it’s like he’s peering into my soul and baring his to me, showing me all the darkness inside him.
I won’t turn away from it. I want to let him know I embrace the darkness, that I love all of him.
“Mine. Ours,” Flint growls.
“Yes, always. I’m yours,” I cry as the orgasm hits me suddenly, unexpectedly, as I shudder, cumming hard as Flint cries out, finding his climax deep inside me.