“Priest,” she pants, but I keep my touches soft and gentle, adding to her growing frustration.
“It's not your fault,” I tell her, speeding up for a moment, but stopping when she shakes her head.
“Say it,” I prompt, but she glares at me defiantly. There's that fire I love.
“Say it, Reign, and I’ll give you everything you need,” I coax, sliding my fingers in and out of her faster, using my thumb to skim over her clit for a minute or two before dropping to my knees in front of her. Hooking her leg over my shoulder and with my fingers still inside her, I flick her clit with my tongue before sucking hard.
She cries out, making me grin. “Is this what you need, Trouble? The big bad biker on his knees worshiping you with his tongue and fingers?”
“Yes, yes, oh, god.”
“I’m not a man of God, despite my name, but I can make you see the light. Now say it.”
“Fuck, it's not my fault,” she cries.
Shoving a third finger inside her, I nip her clit with my teeth. “Come for me, Reign,” I order, fucking my fingers in and out of her hard and fast.
She screams before her legs buckle, and I catch her as she falls. When a sob tears free from her, I know she’s finally letting go, purging the shit that will only eat her up from the inside if she doesn’t let it out.
I scoop her up and walk her out of the shower, before placing her on her feet and snagging a towel to wrap her up in. Tucking the remaining one around my waist, I pick her up once more. She doesn’t protest, just wraps her toned legs around my hips and her arms around my neck.
I carry her to the bed and climb on with her still in my arms and hold her close until she calms down. Finally, after what could have been minutes or hours, she looks up at me with wet eyes, making my breath catch in my throat.
She wears her sorrow like a banner for the world to see, but beneath the storm brewing in her eyes, I see her fire burning within. She’ll need the anger to fuel her because that inferno racing through her veins at the injustice of it all is what will stop her from giving up.
She’ll need to dig deep into her reserves because I have a feeling this guy is only going to cause more havoc until he’s caught. Or worse, he captures this butterfly and rips off her wings, which will happen over my dead fucking body. I’ll kill him and every man who thinks to hurt her.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, a pink hue covering her cheeks. “Some badass old lady you picked, huh?” she jokes, but she’s so fucking wrong that it’s not even funny.
I rub my thumb over the apple of her cheek and bring my face closer to hers so our breaths mingle together, letting me breathe her in.
“If a hundred women lined up beside you and I had to choose again, I’d pick you every single time, Trouble. I’m learning that old ladies are more than just sharp tongues and dangerous curves.” I slide my hand from her face down her throat, skating my fingertips over her collarbone before smoothing them over her shoulder.
“They know when to give and when to pull back, when to hold strong and when to lean on someone else. An MC is about having people at your back, people who stand beside you, and people who will step in front of you if necessary. You are not alone, so you don’t get to shoulder these problems without us. It’s not how it works. Your load is heavy right now. There is no shame in letting us carry it for a while.”
Her lips part in surprise.
“What?” I move my eyes over her face, taking in her expression but not sure what it means.
“You surprise me sometimes, that’s all. Just when I think I have you all figured out, you go and make me realize there is so much more to the man who wears his leather like armor.”
“Leather armor, huh? I like that,” I admit, amused.
“I guess that makes you a warrior. What a lucky lady I am,” she whispers, lifting her hand and tracing my lower lip with her thumb.
I suck it into my mouth, making her gasp, but she doesn’t pull it away.