Night Sky (Satan's Sinners MC Book 3) (15 page)

“Where is what, Mr. Brady?” I give him my most innocent look, with sarcasm lacing my voice.

“The money, the guns, the drugs - all of it! WHERE IS IT?” He shouts the last part in my face. I wipe off the spray of spit from my skin..

“I have no idea what you're talking about. Since you didn't find anything in my fine establishment, then I think you can show yourself out the fuckin' door.”

“You watch yourself, Black. Don't worry. I will find out, and when I do, I'm bringing this club down.”

“It'll take a lot more than you to bring this club down. Are we done here?”

“For now. Come on, they are clean today. Let's get out of here.” Jenkins stays back as the rest of them walk out, leaving the place a fuckin' mess. “Jenkins, let's go.”

“I'll catch up,” Jenkins answers while not taking his eyes off me.

Once I know all of the cops are out and gone, I calmly say, “My office, now.” He follows me down the hallway and I slam the door shut behind us.

“I'm sorry, Hanger.”

“You're sorry? You're fuckin' sorry?!” My voice grows louder with each word.” I pay you to keep this fuckin' shit from happening.”

“I know, and whoever it is, they went above me. They called straight into the Lieutenant. You have to be careful Hanger, or the feds will be all over this. There won't be a damn thing I can do about it.”

“Then I suggest you start getting intel from the inside. Help me to figure out who is calling in. In the meantime, keep them off our backs Jenkins. I would hate to see your family in jeopardy of losing everything I have paid for. How would your wife feel about losing the house, the cars, or your kids' tuitions to that private school?”

“Hanger...”

“Shut your fuckin' mouth! Just do what I say and you can keep living the good life. Do you understand? Keep my club off the radar, yeah?”

“Yeah, I understand. I'll let you know when I have something.”

“You do that. Now get the fuck outta here. I gotta call my Ol' Lady and let her know everyone is good.”

EVER

I See You by Luke Bryan

I am lying in my bed, trying to get thoughts of Writer out of my head. It's been a week since I was at the clubhouse. I closed on the building, so between that and working on my sister's wedding dress, I haven't had much time to myself.

My phone lights up, letting me know I have a new text coming in. Who would be texting me at midnight? I open my messages to see that it's from Writer. How the hell did he get my number?

Writer:
Can you come to the ch?

Me:
It's late, how did you get my number?

Writer:
I begged Z for it. Can you come?

Damn her and her matchmaking ways.

Me:
Yeah I'll be there in a little bit.

Writer:
I'll be in my room.

Hopping out of bed, I decide he will just have to deal with me in my pajama pants, tank, messy bun and no makeup. I grab my keys off the nightstand, along with my purse and phone, then head down stairs and to my car.

When I pull into the parking lot of the clubhouse, after Pretty Boy let me through, I park my car and head inside.

I ignore all the sexual acts taking place around me and go right to Writer's bedroom. I flip the switch so he knows that someone is outside and I was not at all prepared for what I see when he answers. I take hold of the door frame to keep myself upright as I take him in.

Muscle, so much muscle, his abs have grown in size tremendously.

Ohmygod, he still has the nipple rings. I used to put my tongue and lips on those, flicking and biting down, teasing him to the brink.

Writer now has a tattoo of wings, a heart with swords and cursed love wrote in a beautiful script going across his sexy as hell chest. Oh God, I think he got that tattoo because of me, but no way am I asking right now. I'm too enthralled, looking over his perfect body.

His abs are still washboard worthy, but his waste is wider, his ‘v’ is more defined and I know where that leads, it makes my mouth water, wanting to get into those low riding plaid pajama pants he has on.

Oh God, it is hot in here. I'm so hot, my skin is on fire, my pussy is burning, and I am sure my face is bright red. I lift my eyes to see the cocky smirk he is giving me.
You like what you see?

Eh, it's okay.
I shrug my shoulder and walk into his room with a smile on my face. When I turn around, he is laughing and shutting the door.

Writer faces me.
You and your sister, both shit liars.

Why'd you want me over here?
I don't acknowledge his comment because hell, it's the truth and everyone knows it.

Because you haven't been around. You wanna watch a movie?

I smile.
You miss me, Writer?

Do you wanna watch a movie, Ever?

He dodges my question and repeats his because he is a shit liar too.

When did you get the TV and DVD player?

A couple days ago, Ghost got new shit so he offered it to me.

Yeah, I'll watch a movie with you. And I miss you too.

All this smiling is making my face hurt, in a good way though. I haven't smiled this much since before I left and I don't think he has either. Writer turns away from me to put the movie in the DVD player.

While he does that, I go over to what used to be my side of the bed, take my shoes off, and relax back against the headboard with my legs outstretched and crossed at my ankles. When Writer turns around, he stops dead in his tracks, just staring at me. My brows furrow.
You okay?

Writer quickly nods, shakes it off, then goes to turn the light out. When he lays on the bed next to me, matching my position, the chemistry sizzles in the air between us. I look down at my hand laying on the bed beside me, then over to his doing the same.

He grabs the remote, pushing play and The Conjuring starts. We watch the subtitles as they flash across the screen, telling the story of a family that moves into a haunted house. Most girls don't like scary movies, but I love them. I would rather watch horror then some sappy love story. I guess I'm weird like that, but if you have ever had love like that, the movies don't do it justice.

During the first half of the movie, Writer's hand slowly started moving closer to mine until our pinky's were lightly touching. Too scared he would pull away, I didn't make a move, so I waited for him. Soon after, Writer wrapped his pinky fully around mine, and next came another finger until we were full blown holding hands. My heart is pounding out of my chest at the nervousness and excitement.

Is he finally letting everything go and giving me a second chance?

The movie ends all too soon and I don't want to ruin my luck so I start to get off the bed, but Writer keeps a hold on my hand, yanking me back. Looking over my shoulder, he lets my hand go, then
Stay
is all he says before putting another movie on.

I get back in my position and he follows suit. Once the movie starts, I think he is going to take my hand again, but he doesn't. Instead, he places his hand on my thigh. The simple touch sends shocks of electricity throughout my body and has goose bumps forming.

About a third of the way through this movie, he has started rubbing up and down on my thigh. Each upward movement, he moves a little closer to my pussy and it is getting wet, I mean really wet, like panty soaking wet. The halfway point, his head is laying on my shoulder when I feel his lips on my neck. I gasp with surprise and need, my chest is heaving with my panting breaths.

Writer's hand goes under my shirt, then I feel his fingertips caressingly run along my stomach. I don't know what to do! Ohmygod, what do I do? Taking a chance, I run my hand soft and slow up the smooth skin of his shirtless back. My hands find Writer's silky hair as I gently pull his face towards mine. Our lips, tongue and teeth find each other in a mix of passion, danger, and intoxication. Complete exploration of everything we have missed for so long.

As our mouths are still connected, I finally come to my senses because I know this will only end badly. I push on his chest and he sits back, with me sitting up along with him. When our eyes meet, there is lust and confusion, and I know his desire matches my own. I have to be the sensible one so I ask,
What the hell are we doing? We are supposed to be friends and friends don't kiss like that.

Relax, Sugar.
Oh God, the nickname.
I wanna make you feel good. I don't want to fuck, I just wanna give you something.

Writer, why?

Because I fuckin' miss you, okay? Because having you back and not seeing you hurts. Because having you around me and I can't touch you kills me. I'm not ready to let you back in yet, but let me give you what I can right now.

And what is that exactly?
I am pretty sure I already know, but it gives me some time to get my bearings on this.

I wanna make you come. I wanna feel you let go on my tongue and feel you clench my fingers. Fuck, I have missed your sweet taste and the look in your eyes at the pleasure I can give you. I need it Sugar, please just give me this.

And at those words, all of my sanity went out the window because I lay back on the bed, lift my hips and let him free me of my soaked panties and pajama bottoms. Writer straddles my waist.
I'm gonna make you feel so good, Sugar, I promise. You remember how good my tongue felt on you? You remember how your body would tremble with want and need? You remember how good it felt when you would pull my hair, bringing me in as close as you could get me? You would make me drink you up until there wasn't anything left for you to give me. Do you remember, Ever? God, I fuckin' hope so, because I do. Baby, I remember everything and I want it now.

He stares into my eyes and I give a nod.
I remember Writer. I remember everything too.

Writer lowers himself over me, keeping his weight up with his hands as he leaves a trail of kisses from my ears, across my neck, my cheeks, forehead, nose and finally my mouth. He sucks my bottom lip into his mouth and releasing it, he slips his tongue inside. Writer explores my mouth as I do his and when the kiss is over, he continues on his journey.

Another stop is made as he finds my hard, perky nipples. He tries pulling my tank up, but I stop him by covering his hands with my own and shaking my head no. He just leaves it be with a shrug of his shoulder and starts rolling his tongue around each one before biting down gently over the thin fabric. His glorious torture goes on until I am arching my back trying to get Writer to give me more. That's his cue to keep moving down and he does, licking down my stomach.

His tongue takes that first lap on my pussy and it has me clawing the sheets. It's been over a year since the last time he did this, it's almost too much for me to take. The sensation of his tongue and tongue ring have me almost seizing. My hips raise off the bed, but Writer's hands are on my stomach, pushing me down and holding me still.

Writer finds his rhythm of flicking and rolling his tongue around my clit, mixed with sucking and laps. God, I missed this. I missed everything he could make me feel, everything he could do to me. I lift each leg to sit on his shoulders, dropping my knees out to each side. It opens me up and lets me feel so much more.

Over and over, he brings me closer to explosion. I see stars dancing behind my closed lids. I feel a tap on my hip and when I open my eyes, Writer is pointing to his own. He wants me to watch him, so I do. I lift up on my elbows, then it doesn't take long, my hips buck against his face as he slides two fingers inside of me. Writer easily finds my g-spot like he has millions of times, and he nods in approval as I tighten around his fingers. My orgasm hits and it hits hard. I drop back on the bed and reaching for his head, I pull Writer in close until I can't take anymore.

Writer climbs back up my body, giving one simple sweet kiss before lying next to me on his bed. When my breathing evens out, I go to get up again, but he stops me once more.
Stay
is all Writer says as he pulls me down, lies my head on his chest, a leg over his thighs, and an arm around his waist.