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I kissed her head as she mumbled, cuddling against me before sighing in contentment. Her fingers curled against my skin, like she was hanging on to me. A contented smile tugged at my lips even as my cock lengthened and thickened. We were getting ready to face what would probably be a nightmare for her. No matter what I did, she’d have to face Dustin sooner or later. But once was all he got. After that, if she didn’t want to see him, I’d make sure he never got close to her. And, no. I didn’t fucking care that he was Cassie’s biological father. As far as I was concerned, he lost any rights to her when he refused to be there for the birth, to say nothing of the threats he’d made to Pepper.
“Rage?” She stretched against me, moving more of her body over me. Her hand left my chest, and she rubbed down my body until she cupped my cock. We were both naked, having gone for a swim earlier. And made love in the water. Both were among her favorite activities. When it was this hot out, she said the cold swim made her skin tingle when she got out, and the sun felt wonderful. I was happy to indulge her.
She squeezed my cock and kissed my chest, finding one nipple and swiping her tongue over it. When she looked up at me and her eyes met mine, I smiled down at her.
“Needin’ somethin’, baby?”
“You,” she breathed. “I need you, Rage.”
I happily obliged, rolling us over so that I lay between her legs, kissing her slow and deep. She opened to me with the ease of a woman who was accepting of her man and eager for his touch. She’d gotten over her nerves and embraced every aspect of our life together in the three weeks she’d been here. The fact she was confident enough to initiate sex warmed my heart.
As I kissed her, she reached between us and guided me inside her. When I sank into her, she sighed and wrapped her legs around me, surrendering herself to my touch.
“I love you, Virgil Weston. Rage.” She looked up into my eyes, giving me a soft smile.
“I love you too, baby. With all my heart.”
It wasn’t long after that I made her scream my name as she came. Then I followed her into bliss, her name on my lips as well.
* * *
Pepper
I walked into the clubhouse with Rage, his hand grasping mine firmly. We’d spent the afternoon at the creek while Serelda and Winter had babysat. I’d resisted going. It seemed like I’d been pawning Cassie off all the time, but Rage had insisted, telling me I needed to take some time for myself, and there was no shortage of willing and eager babysitters.
After we’d made love, he’d cleaned me gently, taking every opportunity to touch me tenderly in non-sexual ways. He helped me dress before pulling me into his arms and holding me tightly, telling me we needed to go back to the clubhouse. I’d agreed but hadn’t asked why. Probably because I knew the peace I’d experienced in this place with these people and this man was about to be shattered. I knew they’d been looking for Dustin. Had they found him? And what had he told them? Would they still be in my corner, or would they believe whatever Dustin had to say?
Had this incredible afternoon with Rage been a goodbye? One last special moment before he let me go? He’d explained the way Iron Tzars MC worked. No one left. Not members or prospects. Not old ladies. Not club whores. If you got kicked out or wanted out, you died.
The only person Rage knew of who’d ever left the club without a death sentence was their former president, Warlock. He was Sting’s father, but that hadn’t been the reason he’d been spared. Apparently, there was a club in South Florida whose president was some kind of hitman. He’d insisted Warlock be given to him, and Sting had allowed it. His old lady had betrayed the club, and Warlock had been the man to exact the club’s justice on her himself. Would Rage be the one to kill me if the club decided it had to be done?
As if sensing my disquiet, Rage squeezed my hand. “Hey. Don’t worry. Everything’s OK. I wouldn’t be bringing you here if it weren’t.”
“What’s happening?” I couldn’t help my little whimper. My palms were sweating, and my heart was pounding. Taking one more step inside that room suddenly seemed like an impossible task.
“Nothing is happening right now,” he muttered. “Sting!” He jerked his head, a signal for the other man to come to us.
Sting was the president and, though he was congenial enough, when there was club business happening, the man was scary as fuck. Not many people would dare jerk their head at him, but Rage had.
