King's Reign (Sydney Storm MC #6)(77)

My mind duelled with itself; on one hand, I wanted him to continue to tongue fuck me, but on the other hand, I really wanted his cock. In the end, the desire for cock won and I reached down and pulled his mouth away from my pussy. He knew what I wanted and stood up, lifting me as he went. I wrapped my legs around him and I clenched in anticipation.

His cock hit my entrance and he thrust in, hard and fast. Just how I liked it. My arms were around him and I gripped as he thrust in and out, in and out. The pleasure inside me built as we continued our climb. Silence surrounded us except for the grunts and groans as we fought for our release, which was perfect – the less talk, the better. I just needed his body and his time, nothing else. His cock filled me, the friction divine, and when his finger hit my clit to massage it, I went over the edge. I screamed as I came and he grunted in approval. A moment later, his body shuddered as he found his release. We then clung to each other as waves of pleasure flowed through us.

He lifted his head to look at me. “You done, darlin’?”

I nodded and smiled. “Yeah.”

He let me down and I headed for his bathroom to clean myself up, grabbing my clothes on the way. Neither of us said a word, but really, what was there to say? We’d both gotten what we wanted.

I locked myself in his bathroom and splashed water on my face, enjoying the cold, cleansing sensation. Turning the tap off, I looked in the mirror. My face had that just-fucked flush and my long brunette hair was a tangled mess. The lipstick I’d applied before hitting the club was long gone and sweat had smudged my makeup. But the thing that stood out the most to me was the dullness I saw in my eyes; the indifference I felt towards life.

The only thing that gave me a buzz anymore was sex, and even that was starting to lose its magic.

Fifteen minutes later I was on my way home when my phone rang. Retrieving it from my bag, I checked the caller ID. Private number. No way, buddy. I ignored it and threw it back in my bag. However, the asshole was persistent and rang again. I ignored it again but after three more rounds, I was pissed off.

I stabbed at the phone to answer it and snapped, “This had better be good.”

“Madison, it’s Griff. Got some news for you that you’re not gonna like very much.”

Fuck. Griff was a member of Storm, the motorcycle club that my Dad was President of, and my brother, Scott, was Vice President of. I grew up in the club; it was my family. However, two years earlier I walked away from that life, moving from Brisbane to Coffs Harbour to put distance between us. Now I spent my time trying to keep my nose out of club business. My family had supported my move two years ago, but they wanted me to come home. Scott often called and visited, trying to convince me, but I never caved. When I left, I’d been a broken mess, and I was still trying to put myself back together. Going home would be going backwards as far as I was concerned.

I sighed. “What’s up, Griff?”

“Scott wants you back here. There’s some shit going down with Black Deeds and he doesn’t want you alone in case they retaliate by going after you.”

Black Deeds MC was a rival club Storm often had problems with, so I couldn’t see that this would be any different. “Griff, I’m fine, and you can tell Scott I’m not coming back.”

“It’s bad shit, babe. Be best if you did come home.”

“The answer’s no. Not happening.” I raked my fingers through my hair and blew out a long breath, wishing he would accept my answer and let me get on with my night.

There was a long pause while he took in what I said. He probably hated this part of the job. Dealing with me. I would. “Right. I’ll pass that on to Scott,” he replied, and then hung up.

I stared at the phone. He gave in way too easily and it made me suspicious. They had to have an agenda and I wondered what would be the next step now that I’d said no. Storm didn’t take no for an answer. Ever. And they didn’t tend to get caught up in bad situations for too long. They barrelled through anything that got in their way. They had a reputation for being a strong and ruthless club, so there was only one question on my mind. What the fuck have they gotten themselves into that’s made them feel this threatened?

“Hey, honey, I’m home,” I yelled out as I came through the front door.

“I’m in the kitchen, chica,” came the reply, and I headed towards the voice.

The scene that greeted me in the kitchen left me stunned. My best friend and roommate, Serena, had filled the kitchen with muffins. It was after midnight and there she was with about fifty muffins spread from one end of the kitchen to the other. Her hair, face and clothes were covered in flour, and there were ingredients and cooking utensils everywhere. Unusual for Serena; my BFF was no domestic goddess.

“What is all this cooking in aid of?” I asked, because it had to be for a reason. Serena didn’t often bake.

“My mother,” she said simply. And that said it all. Serena’s mother was a domineering woman and when she said jump, you said how high.

“Ah, another one of her charity assignments?” Her mother was always doing stuff for charities so I guessed this was just another one of those. Usually, she didn’t get Serena to bake though, because let’s face it, we all knew her skills in this department were somewhat lacking.

Serena nodded. “Yep, and at the rate I’m going, I doubt she’ll ever ask me to cook for her again.”