Never been attracted to a man before, so I don’t think it’s anything other than an in-the-moment event. But it does make me wonder if it’ll happen again and whether we’ll be comfortable with that.
“Oh god!” Logan cries out, and I can feel her trembling body ready to combust again. Sliding downward, I drag her pants and thong down, exposing her pussy just enough to get my mouth on her clit.
Sucking the little bud between my lips, I nibble on her until she cries out her release, then flick my tongue gently to bring her down from the high as she moans and whines between us.
I kiss my way up her body and capture her lips, surprised when she turns to Priest and says, “Taste me,” then presses her lips to his.
Why is that so fucking erotic? I want to join them the way Priest did, but I sense he might need a minute. Hell, we both do.
Sitting up, I watch the two of them make out as I explore Logan’s body with my fingers. Testing where she likes to be touched, what tickles her, and investigating the bruises more thoroughly.
“I want his name,” I say once they’ve pulled apart, both breathing heavily. “He doesn’t get to get away with this.”
Logan sighs loudly before sitting up. Her shirt drops, and I growl at the loss of sight. “What are you going to do to him?”
I lift her shirt again, and Priest helps me take it off. “When we’re in this room, you’re naked at all times,” I demand. If I thought she’d go for it, I’d say she’s nude anytime we’re at the clubhouse. “Understand.”
“No. And you didn’t answer me.” Her arms cross, and she cringes as she rattles her body.
“I’ll answer you once you agree.” Her little growl is fucking adorable as she gets to her feet, wobbling a bit until Priest grabs her hips to steady her. Her pants drop, and she kicks them off the bed, her thong going with them. “Better,” I mutter as she sits back down.
“So, tell me then.” Her sass will earn her some spankings in the future.
“The fucking attitude on this girl,” Priest snarls, nudging her to lie back gently. Her eyes roll when we each grab a thigh and spread her legs open.
I slap her pussy twice. Logan jumps, and her breathing picks up, but she doesn’t protest. “I’m going to fucking kill him. You want the dirty details, too?”
Before she can answer, someone knocks on the door.
“Open that fucking door, and I’ll slit your damn throat and bathe in your blood!” I shout. No fucking way anyone else gets to see her right now.
“Prez needs you both,” one of the prospects—Neo, I think—speaks before bolting. He’s a good kid, but he needs to fucking grow a pair.
“Get dressed.” I collect Logan’s clothes, hand them to her, and wait while she puts them on, before taking her downstairs.
Immediately, she’s overwhelmed by the number of bikers gathered around the room. Booze flows, the music isn’t too loud, but it’s pumping, and the smell of something burning invades my senses.
“Fucking prospects,” Priest and I say together as we descend from the second floor.
Logan takes her time soaking everything in and halts in her tracks when she notices Trista entering through the back door with Amber and a drink in her hand.
“Fuck,” I groan.
Trista’s eyes laser in on Logan, and she looks fucking feral. I didn’t want to deal with her bullshit just yet, but I stop her when she lunges forward. Gripping her arm with one hand and the other on the back of her neck, I lean in and whisper, “One nasty fucking word to her, Trista, and I’ll end you here and now.”
Her mouth gapes open like a guppy before sputtering, “Seriously? You’re going to defend her, a nobody who means nothing to this club, and threaten me? After all I’ve done. Fuck you, Viking.”
“Don’t fucking test me, not today.” I’m too fucking livid about the shit Logan’s been through already; she doesn’t need it from her fucking sister too.
Chapter 9
Logan
Anxiety, fear, dread…they war within me as my presence causes a bit of a stir in the clubhouse. Viking and Priest don’t seem to care that everyone stares at me like I’m an alien. They just threaten everyone within an inch of their lives.
After leading me to the bar, where a prospect serves drinks—Neo, maybe—I’m only given a grape soda and painkillers because my body is on fire again, and I’d like to sleep for the next three weeks if I could.
One of the girls approaches me. “Brutal shiner,” she says.
