My jeans get shoved down farther, quickly followed by my underwear.
“What the hell, Saint?” But Saint isn’t listening to me.
I hear him undo his belt and the telltale sound of his zipper being lowered before his hot cock glides across my pussy lips. I can’t part my legs wider to accommodate him because of my jeans, so I just say still with my ass out while Saint reaches around to strum my clit.
“You wet for me, Trouble?” he growls in my ear as my juices coat his cock.
“Always,” I admit with a husky voice.
“Good girl,” he praises, before nudging his cockhead at my entrance and surging inside.
“Fuck, Saint,” I gasp out.
“You branded me into your skin,” he grunts, pulling back before thrusting back into me. “You’ll carry me with you forever,” he growls before thrusting in again, my hips pressing against the sink hard enough to leave bruises.
“I might have you inked into my skin, but you guys have been embedding in my heart from the beginning.”
He hammers into me at a brutal pace, hard, fast, and reckless, just the way I like him. We both race toward the edge, the promised pleasure so close and yet just out of reach, until Saint pinches my clit hard and I free-fall into the abyss.
Saint pulls free from me and shoots his cum into the porcelain basin beside me with a guttural groan. When I look at him in question, he smirks before tucking his cock back inside his pants.
“As much as I like to see my cum leaking out of you, I didn’t think it would make for a comfortable ride home.”
“And he wonders why I fell in love with him,” I mumble, cleaning myself up as best I can.
“Did you just say you love me?” he asks, spinning me to face him.
I know it’s soon, but when you know, you know. My mom and dad were married a month after they met and were happy together until the day she died.
“Yeah, I did. What are you going to do about it?” I challenge him with my hands on my hips.
“I’m gonna love you right back,” he croaks before stealing a kiss, which brands me as his far more than some pretty ink ever could.
Before we can get carried away again, Saint takes my hand and pulls us out the door, down the short corridor, and out into the brightly lit café. Priest and Bates look up when we enter, with knowing smirks on their faces.
We make our way toward them, through the busy tables of people eating their lunch, chatting with each other over the low hum of the television playing from behind the counter.
“You know, I was starting to worry. Now I’m just jealous,” Priest whispers into my ear when we reach them.
He pulls the chair out beside me to sit when something on TV catches my attention, making me freeze.
“What? What is it?” Priest asks, following the direction I’m looking. But I can’t answer him. I can’t drag my eyes from the screen where a truck is on fire outside a church, the wooden cross behind it also in flames like a burning effigy.
I take in the scene as it unfolds. The pretty reporter is talking to the camera, but I don’t hear her words, all I see is the burning truck. The truck we arrived in only hours ago.
A truck with the words Reign must fall scratched into the side of it.
The ride back to the Vegas chapter of Carnage was uneventful, but we could have driven through a circus of flying monkeys and I likely wouldn’t have noticed. I felt numb as I turned over the what-ifs in my head.
What if we drove the truck back instead of Jarvis? Would we still have been targeted, or would he have killed my men outright and just taken me? How many more people were going to have to die before this guy was caught or he managed to get his hands on me?
Priest lifts me off the back of his bike and pulls the helmet free from my head, tossing it to someone behind me. It’s a hot day here in the desert. I can see it in the flushed faces of the people around me, but I’m chilled to the bone.
Priest wraps his arms around me, holding me tightly, forcing me to breathe him in. I feel the tears prick my eyes and have to fight back the sob in my throat,