Faith & the Dead End Devils (Sweet Omegaverse, #8)(98)
"King's energy has been waning for years now. We've all seen it. He's grown complacent. The Devils need to keep the fire under our wheels," Rider continued, voice growing.
I scowled and stared down at my hands, at the rings on my fingers, the scars there from fights and working on my bike. Was Rider right about my energy fading? Those words struck harder than the rest. I had built the club into what it was today, saved it from ruin from the last generation. Rider wasn't what was best for the club, but maybe I wasn't either now.
"Case rested," Rider said, feigning solemnity. Bastard was smug as fuck right now.
It was a good case. He had more little flaws—minor financial slips in the past couple years, a few business losses, decline in club growth—than I'd been expecting. I had a week to prepare my own rebuttal, and two weeks before the vote for both me and Rider to make and break alliances behind the scenes.
"Case heard," I answered, nodding my head in his direction, refusing to show anything on my face.
I had one anchor in the hour-long parade of my sins, and I held onto it now. Faith was in my room, working herself into one little whimpering frenzy after another, making my room rich with the scent of her satisfaction, waiting for me.
I rose slowly from my seat, trying not to appear too eager to escape this extended judgment.
"You'll all hear from me next week. In the meantime, listen to your own counsel, and consider your experience here in this club, under my presidency. There is no bond that comes before ours," I said, holding the gazes of a few men I thought I might need to sway back.
If I want to win the vote, a small hiss in my head whispered.
"Church dismissed. Potluck and club-only party tonight," I said.
I remained in the room as the men filtered slowly to the door, shaking the hands of the brothers who offered immediate support. There weren't enough of them. Five years ago, no one would've even considered challenging me, doubting my leadership. Had this started when I'd declined to sweep the Wasted out? When I'd offered Rider a consolatory place at my side?
"You want to plan?" Bear asked, still standing at my side.
"Later, after the party."
I had someone waiting on me. Maybe Rider was right about my loyalties. Or maybe I just needed a less bitter pill to swallow before I faced the club again. I’d told Faith I wasn't her medicine, but perhaps she was mine.
Bear cleared his throat and glanced at me. "Warning would've been nice before I sat through that meeting feelin’ her getting ready for you."
Unclench, I coached myself, relaxing my jaw again. Bear had a bond. He'd been feeling Faith following my instructions. Lucky fuck.
I shrugged and left the meeting at last, marching for my bedroom.
The attack against Rider was running through my head, formulating with every step. Lean on the connections I'd built, like Waylon and the ranch, the local sheriff. Preston was obviously out of the question now, but he'd be unreliable for Rider, who lacked any finesse. Money mattered to the club, no matter what kind of anarchist party lifestyle Rider thought he could pitch to the others. Money was what I was good at.
It was a relief for the thoughts to stop running as I reached my door. Sticky sweetness and floral lace edged the simple frame. Good girl, I thought.
I unlocked the door and groaned as I stepped inside. No sign of those quick one-night releases now. The air was infused with Faith. I leaned back against the door and reached down, palming my own thickening cock through my jeans. There was a buzzing sound coming from the bed and I was a coward, too afraid to see Faith, that I might fall to my knees at the end of the mattress and beg her to…
What? Destroy my promises to the club? My willpower to resist biting her?
"King?" Breathy, weak. I loved the sound of her when she was orgasms deep. The buzzing noise cut off.
"Don't stop, princess," I called, my voice thick with a purr.
It started up again, and she let out a high cry. Wet, slick licking sounds joined the buzzing, and it wasn't bravery but hunger that drew me forward.
"Fuck," I moaned at the first sight of her.
She was spread out on the bed, the mattress decorated with a startling collection of toys—vibrators and plugs and squat dildos with glittering knots and nubs. What did omegas need with alphas when they had a spread like that?
My spare sheets were black and Faith glowed on their surface, her skin dewy, the curtains drawn shut, and the mounted lamps on either side of the bed kissing her skin golden. She was sweating, upper lip dewy and eyes partially closed, fucking herself with a long, thin wand that glimmered with her release and fresh arousal.
"Did I do good, King?" she whispered, her motions jerky as she leaned into the vibrating wand, pumped it inside of her and then drew it out to circle around her clit.
Wicked creature. Beautiful and dangerous.
I leaned into the bed, bracing my hands on the mattress, staring at the darkened wet spot she'd made at the center, right where her red and swollen cunt was gasping at me.
"You did very good, princess," I growled, leaning in, licking up the length of the wand, groaning at her flavor on the silicone, nudging it with my tongue back down to her entrance. Faith moaned as it sank easily back inside of her, and I joined the sound with my own voice as my tongue reached her folds, lapping up to her clit.
"Oh, fuck, King, I—"