His large hands gripped my hips as he took over. He pulled me back until just the head remained and then slammed me down while his hips rose. Meeting me thrust for thrust until I detonated with a sharp cry.
By the time it faded, the brutality in his deep plunges had already built another. Before it could find me, his speed slowed even if the force stayed just as intense.
“Forgot one.” His thumbs stroked my lower stomach. “Don’t know if there’s a name for whatever this softness is right here, but I fuckin’ love it, too.”
I liked my little belly.
I found it cute.
But the way he touched it. The way his movements sped up. The blatant desire in his gaze made it clear he didn’t like it or find it cute.
Like he said, Rhyslovedit. And like he showed, he found it as sexy as he found the rest of me.
There was only so much I could take, and his list already exceeded that before he added that last one. I exploded around him, his name on my lips while giddy happiness mixed with thesparking bliss. He moved me harder and faster up and down his length, roughly fucking himself with me. I held on tight, letting him have what he wanted.
What he needed.
What belonged to him.
Me.
His muscular shoulders bunched. His fingertips dug in to leave marks. His head dropped back, and a low, rough groan seemed to echo around us.
I was filled.
With happiness.
With his love.
But also with his cock and cum.
And all of it was perfect.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
BUDDY COP FIELD TRIP
LUNA
“Good timing,” Judge said whenRhys and I walked through the front door of the clubhouse the next day.
When I’d woken up that morning, my brain was a whirl of good and bad.
Good? I loved Rhys, he loved me, and it hurt a little to walk thanks to how earnestly he’d shown that love at Rye and then again in the early morning hours.
Except that time, it’d been slow and tender yet just as incredible.
Bad? Pretty much everything else.
We didn’t know what was connected to whom. The Irish-Nash connection could be unrelated to Rye. Or whoever took over for Nash was behind it, and the FBI was mistaken about the Irish mafia being involved at all. Maybe there was a third door just waiting to be thrown open to reveal a mystery bad guy we never saw coming. Then there were the protestors and super PAC to think about. I couldn’t see the uptight protestors busting out the spray paint to create the detailed penises, much less masking up to shoot at us. But the timing gnawed at me.
My brain kept twisting the pieces of the puzzle, trying to get them all to fit. But for all we knew, there were ten puzzles mixed around in the same box, and they would never go together.
That was why we needed to talk it out as one cohesive unit.
Unlike the last time we were at the clubhouse, the vibe wasn’t easy with flowing drinks and amazing fried chicken. Instead, just the inner circle of brothers sat at the long table. Judge held his phone. Glitch didn’t even tear his focus from the computer he was furiously typing on. Jury, Haze, Scythe, and Hollywood were all doing their own things on various devices.
I’d thought Nox and his two guys were supposed to be there, but there was no sign of them.
