Last Ride (Wind Dragons MC #5.5)(7)



“I’m going to come,” I say, gritting my teeth together as I feel all the tension in me about to explode.

“Come,” my husband demands, watching my face. He applies a little extra pressure to my clit, which pushes me over the edge.

“Fuck,” I mouth, my thighs trembling and my back arching as the pleasure hits me, nothing else in the world mattering in this second. Just as I come back to myself, Dex pulls out of me and puts his mouth on my clit, pulling another shattering orgasm from me. I grip the sheets with my hands and ride it out, sagging onto the mattress when it’s over, suddenly tired, but extremely sated. Dex lifts his head, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I love how f*ckin’ squirmy you get.”

“Squirmy?” I ask, groaning as he lies down, spoons me from behind, then slides back into me again.

He doesn’t elaborate, but I get the idea.

He grabs my nape with his hand and continues to f*ck me until he comes, then kisses my shoulder.

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” I reply, smiling. I turn my face and kiss him once more, a deep, hungry kiss that tells him that I’m ready for another round if he is.

“Death by fairy,” he mutters against my lips, making me stop mid-kiss and pull my lips away from him as they quirk upward.

My shoulders shake as I start to laugh. “I was just thinking about that the other day, how you used to always call me fairy. Now you call me babe more than anything else.”

He gently puts his hand on my throat, stroking my neck. “You used to complain about it so f*ckin’ much, but secretly you were loving it, weren’t you?”

I narrow my eyes. “I never said that.”

“You don’t have to, fairy.”

“Dex?” I whisper, then start to kiss him again, effectively shutting him up.

Maybe I do miss him calling me fairy, although I like babe too.

He can call me anything he wants, as long as he keeps loving me like this. Dex tracking me down and bringing me back to his clubhouse was the best thing that ever happened to me.





FOUR




Faye

I SLIDE Arrow the glass of Scotch and watch as he takes a sip. “How’s everything?”

“Good,” he replies, nodding his head. He’s about to say something further, when Irish walks in and sits down next to him. I pour him a glass too.

“What the f*ck are we going to do about this?” Irish asks me, his accent more pronounced than usual, meaning he’s seriously worried.

“What do you mean ‘we’?” I ask him with a raised brow. “I think you should tell Tina the truth. Do you know how much it would hurt to find out that everyone knew except her?”

“Trust me, brother,” Arrow says, grimacing. “Tell her the f*ckin’ truth before she hears it from someone else.”

Irish runs a hand through his dark hair in frustration. “She’s gonna be so f*ckin’ pissed I lied to her. Why can’t she just let it go?”

“Because she’s a woman.” I grin, putting the cap back on the bottle of Scotch. “Just tell her, Irish. She’ll be pissed, yes, and you’ll need to do some explaining and some apologizing, but she’ll get over it. Just let her rage first.”

“Rage?” he asks, eyes going wide. “I’m gonna lock her ass up so she can’t run off.”

I roll my eyes at him, but honestly, I think that’s probably a good idea. Bad shit happens every time one of the women gets angry and runs off. Take Anna for example. She got angry at Arrow once and left the clubhouse, only to be kidnapped by Talon. Though we didn’t know him at the time.

“Just explain you were trying to protect her and admit that you should have told her.” I pause, then add, “And that you regret it, and that you’re sorry.”

His tightened lips tell me he doesn’t like that, but too damn bad.

“Let go of your pride, Irish, if you want to keep your woman.”

That seems to sober him up.

Ronan then walks into the kitchen and joins us at the table. “I need advice on what to do with Steph. She’s pulling back but I don’t f*ckin’ know why. Why are women such pains in the ass? We need to bring back the old days when we could just club them over the head and bring them home as ours.”

“You can still do that,” Arrow says, keeping a straight face. “It’s just a little frowned upon.”

“A little?” I ask, eyes going wide as saucers. “Assault and kidnapping?”

“Faye, concentrate,” Ronan groans, drinking straight from the bottle of Scotch.

“Were you raised in a barn?” I ask, grabbing the bottle back from him and wiping the top off.

Tracker storms in then, looking good, his man bun on point. “I have a huge problem. Faye, I need you, like, now.”

I groan, covering my face with my hands. “Irish—tell Tina the truth. Ronan—speak to Steph and ask her what’s going on in her head. Arrow—let’s talk just us two at some point today, because I know something is on your mind. And, Tracker . . .” I stand up and approach him. “What do you need?”

“A female bodyguard.”

He doesn’t explain any further, and I don’t ask. He can enlighten me in the car on the way. “Let’s go.”

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