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“Mmm, that’s it, sweet cheeks.”
His movements become more urgent, more frantic as he chases his own release. I can feel him nearing the edge, and it only pushes me further toward my own climax. Each thrust becomes more powerful than the last, bringing us closer and closer to that exquisite precipice.
And then it hits us both like a bolt of lightning. We roll over the edge of the cliff together into complete pleasure. Magnus drops down onto my body. “Fuck, that was . . . Gods, I’m not crushing you am I?”
He rises up quickly, and I laugh. “You might’ve been a little bit.”
CHAPTERFIVE
Magnus
It’s been over a week since everything changed between me and Rayna. We had sex once, and things have been going really well. We flirt, spend a lot of time together, and she usually kisses me every day. I wish I was having more sex with her than I am, but I’m not going to be the kind of man who pressures a woman for that shit.
I’m in the laundry room, where we have seven commercial laundry machines and dryers, taking my clothes and transferring them to the washer. It’s about three-quarters of the way full, so I head over to the shelves, where we have our laundry detergent, fabric softeners, and dryer sheets. There are even garment bags here for the ladies when they wash delicate items like their underwear and bras.
As I scan through the laundry detergent options, I notice all of our typical laundry options are gone. Instead, they’re replaced with some all-natural, vinegar sort of soaps. There are a variety of scent options like cedar and spruce, lavender, fresh scent, and pine . . . but where the hell did our normal soap go?
Tor comes into the laundry room carrying two oversized baskets of laundry in his arms, “Do you know what in the fuck happened to the soap?”
Tor chuckles lightly as he places the baskets in front of a washer. “Yeah, Charm came through and replaced everything with all-natural soaps. She kept going on about how there’s formaldehyde in all of the top name brands, said something about how they aren’t regulated in the USA.”
“Formaldehyde? Don’t they put that in people at the funeral home to help preserve their bodies?” I raise my eyebrows, not really believing what I’m hearing right now.
Tor stares at me blankly. “Is that what it’s called? Fuck, and we were washing our clothes in that shit. Now I understand why Charm threw it all out.”
I shake my head in disbelief. “Well, I guess it’s a good thing she replaced it then. Who knew laundry detergent could be so dangerous?”
Tor shrugs, his face contorting into a mix of confusion and amusement. “Yeah, well, Charm has always been that way, you know? She’s super picky about what products she uses to clean around here and at her house. Fuck, even at the spa. Always going on about the dangers of everyday products. She’s convinced they’re all out to kill us.”
I chuckle, picturing Charm’s passionate rants about the hidden dangers lurking in our daily lives. “Well, at least she’s looking out for us. I mean, if there’s formaldehyde in our detergent, who knows what else could be harmful?”
Tor nods in agreement as he begins to sort his laundry into separate piles. “That’s true. I never really thought about it before, but maybe she’s onto something.”
“Maybe. I guess we’ll have to deal with this stuff.” I grab the pine-scented bottle and take it over to my laundry machine, pour it in the cup, and then drizzle it over my clothes. The scent of pine isn’t overpowering like it would be if we were using the non-regulated products we used to.
I start the cycle, shut the lid and return the bottle where I got it from. “What’s been going on with you? I haven’t seen you around too much over the last few days.”
Tor shrugs as he puts one basket full of laundry in one washer. “Nothing interesting. Everyone’s been keepin’ me busy. Washin’ their bikes, doin’ their laundry.” Tor motions to the two baskets he has.
“Everyone has you paying your dues, I see.”
“Yeah. But I’m kind of wondering if everyone is giving me the shit end of the stick because my dad is the president.”
He makes a good point, but we’ve always put the prospects through hell. It’s how we know if they’re going to end up being a good addition to the club long-term. “You have to remember being a prospect isn’t supposed to be a good experience. You’re at the bottom of the totem pole, a thousand percent. Sure, you’re the president’s son, and that means you had a birthright to be able to prospect with the club. What it doesn’t mean is that you’re automatically given the chance to be patched in. You still have to prove yourself, man, and doin’ shit like this is the first step.”
Tor’s expression drops. It’s almost like he thinks this would have been easier. Unfortunately for him, he’s going to have to endure everything that Regnor and Geirolf have as well.
“There you are! I’ve been looking all over the clubhouse for you, and you’re not answering your phone,” Rayna chastises me from the entrance of the laundry room.
“Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, it is, but would you mind heading out with me for a bit? I want to go to the furniture store, but I don’t want to take Regnor or Geirolf, and I sort of need one of the trucks the club owns.” She flashes a smile that no one could say no to.
“Yeah, for sure.” I glance over at Tor. “When these are done, would you mind tossing them in the dryer?”
“No, not at all.”
“Cool. Thank you.”
