Page 87 of Devil's Queen

“That’s it, Rem.” I groan, my hips bucking wildly. “Come with me.”

Rem’s eyes lock with mine, her body trembling uncontrollably. She’s so close, so ready for the release we both desperately crave. Her walls tighten around my cock, milking me with a ferocity that threatens to push me over the edge.

And then it happens—I feel it, the wave of pleasure washing over me, the sensation of my cock releasing deep inside her. My cum spurts into her, my body trembling with the force of my release. I can feel her convulsing around me, her orgasm finally breaking free.

We collapse onto the bed, our bodies entwined, our hearts racing in unison. I’m still buried deep inside her, my cock twitching as it continues to release its seed. Rem’s arms wrap around me, her breaths coming out in short, sharp bursts.

“I love you,” she whispers, her voice hoarse with emotion.

“I love you, too, Rem,” I reply, my voice barely audible above our labored breathing.

Rem rolls onto her side, tucking herself against me. I hold her close, my heart swelling with love and gratitude. This woman, this queen, is the one I want to spend the rest of my life with. I can’t wait to explore every inch of her body, to make her cry out in pleasure, and give her the love she deserves.

As I lay there, basking in the afterglow, I can’t help but smile. This is what life is supposed to feel like—complete and utter contentment, love, and desire all rolled into one.

Rem drifts off to sleep with a soft snore. I kiss her forehead again and smile. This is paradise. Inevitable paradise.

REMY

Today marks a significant day.It’s the day that I officially reopen the shop. In the history of this business, we’d never been closed this long. Not even Katrina had shut us down for more than a few weeks. Now, nearly two months later, Papa Midnight Motors is reopening for business.

“You sure you’re prepared for this?” Cheyenne questions, concern etched on her face.

“Absolutely,” I reply with determination. “It’s time.” I’d been living in the shadows of my dad’s memory and legacy for too long. He may have started me on this journey, but I had gotten us to where we are now. I’ll always appreciate him for taking care of Mama and me in his own way, but his time has passed. Today marks a new chapter for the shop. A fresh start for us all.

As I insert the key into the side door and turn it, the new door effortlessly slides open as if the building is eagerly welcoming me back.

“Wow,” I gasp, taking it all in. I hadn’t stepped foot in the shop since the day Wolff and Diaz wrecked it. With Rex’s recovery, my club sisters had taken point on the repair work for me. They’d given me time to not only look after him but also settle into our new life together as a family. We were still living in his house, under the watchful eye of Miss Blanche, but we’d started the process of finding something bigger. A place big enough for our families—his club and mine.

“Do you like it?”

“It’s beautiful.”

Cheyenne smiles, her eyes gleaming with pride. “We wanted to make sure Papa Midnight Motors rose from the ashes stronger than ever. And I think we’ve accomplished that.”

I walk farther into the shop, my footsteps echoing against the newly polished floor. The scent of fresh paint fills the air. The walls, once marred with graffiti and scorch marks, are now adorned with vibrant murals celebrating the spirit of the shop—images of strength and our culture.

“Who did that?”

Cheyenne smiles. “Do you remember the first person we helped as a club?”

I silently think back. She’d been one of Tinley’s clients at the social services office—a young mother with two small children and a third baby on the way. Her ex-boyfriend had been stalking her and walked through restraining orders like they were rainstorms. “Amanda.”

“That’s right. Turns out Amanda stayed local. She heard about what happened to the shop and wanted to do something to thank us for our help. She’s an art teacher now.”

“It’s amazing.”

“Come on. There’s more to see.”

Cheyenne walks me through the rest of the shop. All their hard work is evident in every inch and workstation. The interior structure had endured so much damage that it had taken weeks for contractors to fix it and install our new equipment. With Diaz dead, our deal went with him. We’d used most of the cash from his payment to cover the repair costs upfront. Since Diaz and Wolff had caused the damage, it only seemed right that Diaz’s money paid to fix it.

My gaze drifts toward the corner where a surprise sits with a bow on it. The stolen motorcycle that had started this all sits in pristine, restored condition. I stalk toward it, my fingers tracing her chrome handlebars. The paint job that Diaz requested is long gone. In its place, a beautiful hand-painted phoenix in orange and red hues decorates the tank and fenders.

“Where did you find the parts?”

“Wolff and Diaz had them stored close to the Zulu Kings’ clubhouse. We came across them when the fire department worked to tamp down the grass fires around the place. Some of the guys at the shop pitched in to get it fixed up.”

“She’s beautiful, Chey.”

---