Page 24 of Blood of Vengeance

“Fuck, Locklyn.” I breathed deep and moved my hand on my dick. Had to. Not a full stroke, just enough to give me a little shiver. To make the hair on my legs stand up.

The third time my mate whispered my name in her sleep—the time when her hand slipped underneath her hips and I assumed into those green panties—I broke. With a growl and more self-restraint than I thought possible, I lunged across the hall, keeping my hand on my dick as I slammed into the wall and dropped to the floor. My feet pressed into the wall opposite me, my dick throbbing as I began stroking. And of course, because I was a sick son of a bitch, I ended up with enough of a view of Locklyn’s ass to make me lose all control. Ended up still smelling that cherry-coated goodness between her thighs and wanting to devour it. I growled and humped my hand, tugging hard and squeezing tight on the entire four strokes it took me to get off. Coming into my fist in seconds like some sort of pup during his first game of beating the bishop.

“Fuck,” I groaned, stretching my orgasm out as much as possible, thumbing over the head of my cock and pushing off the wall as the trembles took over my legs. As the feeling of euphoria faded slowly. Still keeping my eyes on that ass as I nudged my thumb tip into my slit for a little bite of pain to go along with the pleasure.

Locklyn had fallen back into a deeper sleep, no more words being whispered, her hand tucked somewhere underneath her. I wanted to think of her with her hand in her pussy, her fingers growing wet and sticky as she slipped them inside herself. Her skin growing hot under her own touch.

“Enough,” I hissed, pushing off the wall and stumbling into the half bath. I washed my hands, staring at the wild wolf eyes looking back at me in the mirror. Both disgusted and proud of myself for resisting the call to invade my mate’s space. Just the thought of Locklyn—of those fucking emerald-green panties—had my dick growing hard again. The need to touch and taste and feel my mate underneath me a powerful drug.

One I had to resist.

Earn her.

“I will.” I reached down to grab my dick again, unable not to. Knowing it was going to be a long night of me and my hand and the image of those panties burned into my brain. “Fuck, I totally will.”

Ten

Locklyn

I didn’t get to see Flinch for long the next morning, not that I needed to. Or should have wanted to. But I’d had some intense dreams starring him, and I had an urge to stay close to him. Something that he had made clear would be impossible from the moment I woke up. The man had plans.

“Eat,” he said, his energy high and his movements rushed. “I have to meet Zed in fifteen.”

“Then go.” I picked up a fork to dive into the spread he’d made—eggs, sliced tomatoes, bacon, toast. The man knew how to eat, and he made sure I didn’t starve. Even if I had missed breakfast and rolled right into lunchtime.

“You eat, then I’ll go.” He cussed under his breath and ran out the back door, reentering the kitchen with what looked like a stack of money in his hands. “What did you spend yesterday?”

My mouth felt glued shut, and my body went cold. “Uh…what?”

He counted the cash, not paying attention to me whatsoever. “What did you spend? Was it enough? Do you need?—”

He glanced up, and his face went blank. Serial-killer blank. First night at the clubhouse blank. He stared at me with no emotion, those light eyes a physical force against my skin. Making goose bumps rise on my flesh.

“Why are you scared?” he finally asked.

I swallowed back the fear creeping up my throat, unsure where it had come from. Not knowing if there was a right answer to his question. “I didn’t spend much. And I left the extra?—”

He dropped the money on the table—all of it. Three good inches of what looked like twenty-dollar bills.

“That money is yours. This money is also yours. Spend it how you like.” He waited for me to nod before coming around the table and leaning down so he could make sure he had my attention. So his face was the only thing I could see. “And you don’t ever have to be afraid of me, short stack.”

Something inside me relaxed at that comment, but my neck still felt tight and my stomach remained clenched. “I don’t like feeling like I owe someone.”

“I get that, but you don’t owe me shit. Your dad would have wanted you taken care of, and as his club brother, I will make sure to honor that. Got it?” He waited for me to nod, then dropped a kiss to my forehead. “Good. Now, eat your brunch. I have to go, and I won’t feel right leaving you unless I know you’re not going to starve.”

“I won’t starve,” I said, even as I resumed digging into the food on my plate. “I know where that taco truck is.”

“The good one?”

“Yeah.”

“You liked it?” he asked, sounding almost excited about it. As if my liking his recommendation for dinner made him happy.

“Loved it. Thanks for telling me about it.” I took a drink of my coffee as his phone beeped. Watching as he frowned when he looked at the screen. “You can go. I’ll be okay.”

He didn’t look up from his phone as he said, “You deserve more than just okay.”

I froze again, fork halfway to my mouth. “Are you all right?”

---