Grave (Royal Devils MC #1) - Erin Trejo Page 0,11

body into the bed before yanking her shorts down. I do the same with my own jeans as she lies there, bent over the end of the bed.

“You better say no now,” I warn her before slapping my hand against her ass. She gasps but doesn’t say a word. It takes seconds for me to position myself behind her and shove in. Her hands tangle in the blankets by her head as I grab her hips and thrust roughly into her.

“Oh shit!”

“Try to walk away from me again,” I growl as I plunge into her. Each thrust gets me deeper. Each one taking me higher. Goddamn this girl for fucking with my head the last few months. Goddamn her for coming into my world and ripping it apart. Each thought has me fucking her harder, rougher. She pants, she moans, she fucking calls out my name as I slam inside of her.

“Grave! Shit I’m gonna—” Her words are cut off when her pussy spasms around my cock. It takes every ounce of strength I have to not come inside of her. A few more thrusts and I pull out, grabbing my cock and unloading all over her ass. I grunt, jerking with my release.

“Shit,” I draw out the word. When I have nothing left to unload, I tuck myself back into my boxers and jeans. Silla stays there, spent from her orgasm. I run my fingers through the cum on her ass, scooping it onto my fingers before moving to the side. “Open,” I demand. She looks up at me and opens her mouth. I stick my fingers in and she sucks them like her life depends on it. Her tongue licks over my fingers, taking everything. When I pull them free, she smirks.

“Get cleaned up.”

“Does that mean I get to go?”

“That means you’re mine now. Try and fuckin’ get away from me. I dare you.” Silla smiles and stands up, walking with her shorts around her ankles to the bathroom. I run my hand over my face wondering what the hell I’m doing now. Am I claiming her? No, I’m not. She can ride though. She can be my little fuck toy for the time being and once all this shit is settled, she can go on her way.

Silla comes out of the bathroom a few minutes later looking freshly fucked. Her hair is mussed up and sexy as hell but it’s the pinkness in her cheeks that causes me to grin.

“What?”

“Freshly fucked looks good on you, babe.”

“Then maybe you should do it more often,” she adds.

“I can do that. Listen, Silla, if you wanna bail, I get it. You’re steppin’ into the unknown and I can tell you, this isn’t gonna be easy. They think I’m dead,” I tell her. She shrugs her shoulders, grabs her bag, and looks back up at me.

“That makes two of us. Maybe we’re in the same grave.” She winks.

“The clubhouse makes this look like a goddamn fairy tale.”

“I’ve lived in worse. Look, if you don’t want me going, say the fucking words, Grave. I’m not some little girl you need to coddle and hold hands with to cross the fucking street. I’ve seen shit in my life. Maybe not the exact same as you but I’ve seen it.”

“I… fuck, Silla! Fine! You know what? I want you to go. Don’t fuckin’ ask me why either.”

“Well it isn’t because of my golden pussy, that’s for sure. Took you long enough to use it, by the way,” she says as she walks past me, toward the door.

“Keep that mouth up and I’ll be usin’ it next. Besides, you were sick.” She snorts out a laugh.

“No, I was pretending remember?” She looks at me over her shoulder, her long dark lashes fluttering as she does. Damn that woman.

“You weren’t pretendin’ to be shot. Now get that smartass mouth of yours outside. I got a bike bein’ delivered.”

“Really?” She looks over, scrunching up her nose.

“Yeah. I told you I have connections, darlin’.” We step outside just as I see the truck backing in. Silla smirks up at me like she didn’t actually believe me. Hell, Mystic can pull strings that no one else possibly can.

“You got skills, huh?” she asks.

“I might but I’d like to see your skills, stripper girl.” She laughs, and it’s the best sound I’ve heard in a very long time. She moves to stand in front of me, grabbing the back of my neck and pulling my mouth to hers. Before our