Rough Justice (Sinner's Tribe Motorcycle Club #1)(77)

The low, guttural sound that escaped her lips inflamed him. He turned his attention to the other nipple, working it until it was a hard bud. Then he released her and eased her back, almost fevered with the need to take control and pump into her hot, wet channel.

She was almost regal, sitting astride him, her back straight, breasts thrust high, long hair spilling over her shoulders. So beautiful, his heart thundered for her, pride swelling his chest.

“Mine,” he breathed.

Her eyes sparkled and then she bent down to kiss him. “Yours,” she whispered.

She rocked over him, spreading her knees to take him deeper, driving his steel against her sensitive tissue. Sweat beaded on his brow as he strained to hold back. But when he slid his hand down her hip to her throbbing nub, her hips jerked. Slow became fast, and he lost his last ounce of his control.

“Jagger. I can’t—”

With a rumbled growl, he tensed, then flipped their bodies, threading his fingers through hers, pinning her wrists to the bed, gazing into the emerald eyes that had captured him the moment they fluttered open outside his burning clubhouse.

“I have so many flaws, I wouldn’t even know where to begin,” he murmured. “But you are perfect. You have fire, you have soul. Your strength and resilience amaze me. Your gentleness and kindness humble me. Your beauty takes my breath away. If I could have only one thing in this life, it would be you.”

“You have me, baby.” She arched against him as a groan tore from her throat. “I need you.”

“You need me.” He dropped his weight to hold her still, just enough for him to regain control. “Next time, I’m going to spank your pretty ass to punish you for all your teasing.”

“Now you’re the one who’s teasing.”

He slanted his mouth over hers, angling his body to rub against her clit, and then he thrust deep and he thrust hard. Arianne’s body bucked beneath him, and she moaned into his mouth as she came, her * pulsing around him, squeezing him until he was mindless with the need to move. He hammered into her, drawing out her orgasm. Pressure built at the base of his spine, and he joined her in release, tearing his mouth away to bellow as he pumped deep inside her.

After they had both come down, he rolled, pulling her over his chest. “I thought I did pretty good letting you take over. I almost made it to the end.”

Arianne laughed, the sound muffled against his shoulder. “Not even close. But I appreciate your effort. I like having an MC president under my control, if only to see him suffer.”

“Don’t get used to it.” With all the passion he felt inside, he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her.

“I could get used to this,” she whispered.

He didn’t know what else to say. He had given her all he had to give. Short of begging, he didn’t know what else he could do to convince her to stay.





EIGHTEEN

The president shall be the sole arbiter of all matters not covered in the club bylaws and constitution. His word is law.

“She’s not a spy.” Jagger shoved the laptop across his paper-strewn desk and glared at Zane. “I thought she’d convinced you she wasn’t a Jack when she fired at them to save Bandit. And shooting Leo should have sealed the deal.”

He glanced up to make sure the door was closed. The study he had commandeered as an office was the only room in the clubhouse that wouldn’t need significant renovation. Dark wood shelves lined the walls, a contrast to the light oak desk and matching credenza. Floor-to-ceiling windows looked out over the backyard, where the target Gunner had pinned up for the shooting demo was still visible through the trees.

Zane folded his arms and leaned back in the visitors’ chair. “You can’t deny the evidence in those surveillance photographs from the clubhouse fire. And it’s not just me. After the incident at Riders, I had a chat with the Road Kill president. He’d pretty much figured Viper never intended to patch them over after Leo showed up at the bar instead of Viper. But he did spend a lot of time in their clubhouse, and he knew all the Jacks. I showed him the surveillance photograph, and he said he was ninety percent sure it was Jeff. Apparently, they don’t have many blond Black Jacks.”

“All that proves is that Jeff was there.”

Zane heaved a sigh. “Jeff and Arianne were at the clubhouse together. Seems likely he’s either our arsonist or Cole’s shooter, or both. Given the relationship, it’s possible Arianne was involved after all—a lookout, maybe, or a distraction?”

Jagger waved a dismissive hand in the air. “She hates them. She hates Viper. Her whole life has been about getting out of Conundrum. I’ve spent more time with her than any of you. If she were a spy, I’d know.”

“I like her.” Zane pushed himself out of his chair and paced the room. “The way she took down Leo, what she did at the ice house, and the work she does with Sparky … Hell, I almost wish there were two of her. But what if this was all a setup? She knows our men, our security systems, and our operating procedures. She’s got her hands on everyone’s bike and her * wrapped around your cock so tight, you can’t even think straight. Could be you’re not seeing clearly and there’s nothing she won’t do for the Jacks.”

Jagger’s gut clenched. He knew Zane was trying to protect him. “Club first” to Zane had always meant Jagger first. He had already expressed his concerns that Jagger had let Arianne get too close, and if she were betraying him, his leadership would be compromised. With the official elections still two years away, taking down a president meant taking him out—something Zane would never allow to happen.