Page 19 of Diary of a Biker Queen

We fucked for all the lost time. For all the time forced apart. She came around my cock with a cry so loud there was no doubt in my mind the entire club heard.

I hoped with every inch of me they had. Because any man out there who wanted to touch her needed to do at least this much. Making her scream was the bare minimum, and he didn’t deserve her if he couldn’t give her what she wanted. What she deserved.

I’d only ever wanted to worship this woman. And I did it now, in every way I could think of.

My orgasm came hard and fast after hers, her internal muscles tightening and clenching around my aching cock, too much to hold back.

I moaned her name into the space between her shoulder and ear, wanting to take up camp there and never leave.

Except she needed to hear how I felt about her. And I needed to look in her eyes and tell her I loved her. So I did. I slowed my pace, riding out the last of my erection, and whispered to her all the ways I loved her and that I would never leave her, no matter what.

I didn’t care if it was too much. If I was too much. Because I knew I wasn’t. Not for her.

She whispered it all back.

I fell asleep still inside her, smelling of her, and Luca Guerra very, very far from my thoughts.

7

NYAH

Dear Diary,

I made a deal with the devil, but he called me ‘good girl,’ so what else was I supposed to do?

My body ached so deliciously when I woke up. I needed a shower, so with the stealth of a ninja, I’d rolled off the bed, not wanting to wake Dax. But I stared down at him for the longest of moments, just taking in the familiar planes of his face. He was bruised from the fight, but all I saw was the man he’d been last night, hovering over me, filling me so perfectly, whispering all the words I’d wanted him to say but hadn’t been brave enough to ask for.

I smiled to myself over him accepting that things had changed between us. That we weren’t the same people and Luca was part of my life now too.

A part I was suddenly scared of losing.

But Dax had wanted me anyway.

After a lifetime of being told my future was all planned out and set in stone, Dax had just promised me I could have something more.

I went into the little bathroom attached to the room Dax and I had slept in, but after a moment of fiddling with the faucet, I realized this bathroom had no water supply. I grimaced at the dry sink and considered just getting back into bed, but surely the entire club wasn’t without water, and I desperately wanted to shower and brush my teeth.

I plucked a towel from the rail beside the door, and with my toothbrush in hand and a fresh set of clothes, I padded down the hallway in nothing but Dax’s oversized T-shirt in search of the communal bathroom I was sure I’d seen last night before we’d all gone to bed.

The clubhouse was quiet, the soft sounds of one of the guys snoring behind a closed door the only thing that broke up the silence. I squinted at each one as I passed, mentally reading off names written across pieces of masking tape. It was a big clubhouse, clearly built with the main purpose of housing multiple men. I recognized some of the names, War and Hawk and Fang, though from what I could tell, like Reaper, none of them lived here full time, though maybe they had once. Other names were unfamiliar—Chirp and Gunner—and I was surprised to see a couple of women’s names on there as well. I paused outside the bedroom marked with Lynx’s name and fought the urge to twist the handle. Part of me knew being alone with Lynx right now might not be the best idea.

He’d done some unspeakable things to that man in Scotland, and that guard accusing him of being the Lynx Killer rang loudly in my head.

I’d ditched the phone MacGregor had given me, and that was the only reason I hadn’t googled it. Part of me was glad because I was sure I didn’t really want to know.

But at some point, I would have to.

Because one thing had become clear. I didn’t know Lynx as well as I thought I had.

I found the bathroom I’d seen the night before and held my breath as I entered, sure that a club full of men all living together would mean the communal bathroom was scary, with pee on the floor and mold in the shower.

But it was perfectly clean. Outdated, sure, but the sink had been wiped out, and there was a vague scent of lemon disinfectant that hung in the air.

Either this bathroom didn’t get used much because most of the rooms had their own en suites, or someone at this club cared about cleanliness. Either way, I was grateful. I set my clothes down on top of the closed toilet and twisted the faucet above the sink.

Glorious warm water fell into my cupped hands, and I sighed happily in relief that I was going to be able to get clean. I ran my toothbrush beneath the water, then turned it off, not wanting to be wasteful, before shoving my toothbrush into my mouth and going to work on freshening up.

A door opened somewhere down the hallway, and I stuck my head out to see if it was Dax.