“Mnph,” she mumbles and raises her hips.
“Good?”
“I…I.. don’t…ohmygod.”
Sounds like a yes to me.
The thing’s buzzing like a helicopter now. Watching her closely for a reaction, I press harder.
“Oh shit!” She bows off the bed. “Fuck.”
Jackpot.
Her legs tremble, toes curling into the bedspread. Eyes squeezed tight and breathing hard, she works her body against the vibrator.
“Feel good?” I ask.
She screams something close to a “yes.” Her hips buck wildly for a few more seconds, then she yelps and squeezes her legs shut.
“No more! Oh my God.”
I turn it off and toss it. Grabbing her hips, I yank her closer and thrust inside, fast and deep.
“Oh shit, yes!” She wraps her arms and legs around me. “Fuck me hard,” she pants in my ear.
I answer with a growl and nip her shoulder. “You’re so fucking wet,” I rasp. “Can still feel your pussy squeezing the fuck outta me. Did you like that?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Our pulses race together. Underneath me she chants a string of yeses that blend into one long, continuous sound. I’m balancing on a knife’s edge, trying to hold out for her to come again. Her legs tremble against my sides. Unable to control myself for another second, I fuck her hard and fast. Moaning, groaning, and twitching until our sweaty bodies reach the peak again.
“Shelby.” My throat’s so tight I barely squeeze out her name.
She stares up at me with love shining in her eyes as we fall over the edge together.
Shelby
Sweet relief relaxes muscles I hadn’t even realized were tense. My body sinks into the mattress as Logan pulls away.
“You all right?”
My lips curl into a dopey smile. I might be the musician, but Logan knows how to play my body like a cherished instrument. “I feel thoroughly and roughly loved.”
He chuckles. “You are.”
We’ve practically been fused together since we got to the hotel but I still need more skin-on-skin contact. I flop to my side and drape myself over his body. He welcomes me by curling his arm around my waist, resting his hand on my hip.
Something cold rolls and lands against my butt. Rooster shifts, picking it up. The vibrator. He sets it on the nightstand.
“That thing needs a license to operate,” I mumble.
He pats my butt. “You seemed to enjoy it.”
I rest my chin on his chest, taking in my beautiful, cocky man. “I did.” I slide my hand between my legs. “My bits are a little sore, though. It’s like pleasure that kinda borders on pain.”
He frowns. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“You didn’t. It was just different. Not in a bad way.”
He makes a humming noise like he’s not convinced.
“You’re not one of those guys who’s worried a vibrator will replace his cock, Logan, are you?”
He snorts, then full-out laughs. “Come on, now. Nothing’s better than my cock.”
Giggling, I crawl up his body to kiss his cheek. “Very true.”
It’s late but we can’t seem to stop touching and rubbing each other.
“You’re so soft,” he murmurs, kissing my shoulder.
His big hand splays over my stomach and I’m fascinated with how tiny I feel in his embrace. I rest my hand over his, measuring the difference.
“Your hand’s like twice the size of mine.”
He grasps my wrist and kisses my knuckles. “But these fingers give the world the gift of music.”
“Aww.” I rest my hand over his heart. “Yours give the gift of orgasms. I’d argue that’s more useful.”
He rumbles with laughter.
“Logan?”
“Hmm?”
“What’d you talk about with Priest? Did that go okay?”
He opens his eyes and peers down at me for a few seconds.
Uh-oh, maybe this isn’t an appropriate after-sex conversation.
“It went well,” he answers slowly. “He seems…pleased. I may have made myself too useful.” His jaw tightens and he glances toward the door before meeting my eyes again. “I’m concerned he’s gonna try shipping me off to another charter.”
“Can he do that?” I ask, sitting up. “That’s not fair.”
“He did it to Z.”
“But Z’s still in New York. He didn’t make him go far.”
“True. But there are no other New York charters to send me to.”
“Why does he have to send you anywhere?”
He shrugs. “He didn’t say he was. But some aspects of our conversation raised caution flags for me.”
Logan’s damn smart and has a hell of a bullshit meter. So if he’s concerned, there’s a reason. “Oh.”
“Nothing you need to worry about right now.” He pauses for a second, flicks his gaze toward his cut draped over a chair by the closet. “That shit with that guy shouldn’t have happened tonight.”
“Bonehead?” I wrinkle my nose. “Is that really his road name?”
He huffs a laugh. “Yeah. Fitting, obviously.”
I wait for him to continue whatever he was going to say and am rewarded for my patience.
“We haven’t talked about this a lot, but the property patches the ol’ ladies wear—”
“Like Heidi and Trinity’s?”
“Yup.”
My heart pitter-patters at where this talk might be heading.
Why?
Part of me should be insulted at wearing something calling me property but that part must be buried deep because all I feel is the excited thump of my heart and hummingbird flutters in my stomach.
Rooster said in his world, the property patch is like an engagement ring.
“What about it?” I ask, trying to hang on to my calm.
“I don’t know how closely you’ve looked at them.” He strokes his finger along my side. “Most brothers ask the officers of their charter to vote the ol’ ladies in. Some charters are stricter than others. In some, the vote needs to be unanimous. Others…it depends. Priest kinda blew that out of the water.” He snorts. “Anyway, the vote’s about trust—”
“What do you mean? Is it like being voted into the club?”
“Yes and no. Ol’ ladies still don’t sit at the table.” He holds up his hand before I protest the injustice of it. “For their own protection. We don’t share club business. But,” he adds, “over time, obviously, you might see and hear stuff. The officer’s vote is about whether they can trust an ol’ lady to be around the club and not betray them to outsiders.” He taps my side again. “Those officer patches on the sides inform everyone else in the organization that ol’ lady is respected and trusted. It announces to other clubs that brothers will throw down to protect her.”
“Sounds powerful.”
“It is in our world. It means a lot. And not every ol’ lady gets voted in by the officers right away. Or at all. Some ol’ ladies get pissed about it. They can be…competitive is the best way to describe it.”