Page 66 of Raiden

“If you take Gunner and he sees the truth of Zale, he might be more willing to act against him.”

“You mean challenge him? Gunner?”

Raiden shakes his head and shrugs. “I don’t know. I’m one for books, not for plots. The kind of books that don’t involve plotting past figuring out where dollars can best be served, hid, or laundered.”

He allows a small smile, but even that warms me. It’s just for me and it’s as dazzling as any grin. I deflate, forgetting the shit that I’m imbedded in. Right now, it’s just me and Raidenin here. My dad, his club, even the rest of this one, is out there, behind that locked door.

I never thought about finding a soulmate for myself. I was starting to figure that such a person didn’t exist. I find myself stepping closer to Raiden. I can’t help myself. I belong in his sphere, pulled to him by the elemental and magnetic impulse of the universe’s weaving.

The reluctant, frightened parts of me that still believe strongly in reason over emotion and in basic self-preservation resist as my feet take me closer. I’m the one who puts a hand on his hip, lifting up his t-shirt and planting my palm on his hard abs because I just need to feel the heat of him.

“Widow…”

My nails curl in, anchoring him like I might be able to keep him when all of this is over because in the meantime, I’ll fight as hard as he’s willing to fight.

I never realized how much of my life has been about survival until I wished I could thrive.

I want to give him this moment before I go to the den of the wolf and everything might go to shit. I don’t know if we can get through this without someone we love dying. I might have to leave, and I will if it means keeping Raiden and his family of club brothers safe. Our marriage wasn’t written as a love story, but just for a moment I’d like to pretend like the forces outside of us aren’t unravelling our seams and that the storm isn’t gathering to break over us.

“We should go and talk to—” Raiden’s sentence finishes as a groan when I work his belt open.

“We will. Just give me a minute. Or ten.”

I drop to my knees, pushing Raiden against the edge of the desk. He doesn’t need balance, but it’s hot to think about his legs wanting to give out like mine do when he touches me. He looks down at me, the world dropping away for him too, pupils blown wide and black and entirely focused just on me.

The way he looks at me is a key slipping into the locked door that I’ve kept inside of me for so long. The mistrust, the walls, the shackles I’ve chained myself in, all drop away just from that single look of reverence. It’s like having the sun beat down on me, warming the ice in my marrow.

I undo his zipper and brush my finger over the wet spot on the front of his boxers before I take him out. “Fuck…” His low grunt comes straight from the bottom of his gut. He fills up my hand, thick and long, the veins standing out, his head a dark red.

“Widow…”

“Ten minutes, Raiden. Please.”

He fights with himself, railing against more than just the option of pleasure, then bows his head in agreement. I bow mine in worship, taking him into my mouth, determined to shut everything else out for these moments that are ours alone.

Chapter 20

Raiden

It might make me a bastard, but I love the way Widow struggles to take my cock into her mouth. I only love it because she looks up at me with determination and watches me watching her while she wraps one fist tight around the base of me.

She might have struggled to take much of me in her mouth a second ago, but she’s going to make this good and she can do that in other ways besides taking me down her throat.

I groan again, unbidden, as she works her hand down my shaft and eyes me greedily, like she’s planning her method of attack. She’s not talking about an assault on one club or other or a potential war still looming over us. She’s not trying to figure out how we can all get out alive. She’s down on her knees before me like she’d worship me alone, her god of carnal pleasure and sin. It rocks through me. I know I’m not worthy of her adoration by half.

I jackknife forward at the pleasure of her tongue coming out to lick my tip. She sucks just that first part of me into her mouth, rolling her tongue around me, working me with her hand at the same time until I’m harder than I’ve ever been in my life.

When she came to me, I had visions of her leaving and all of this being over, but it was me she sought out, clearly in pain and distress. I might not be able to make it better for her, especially not instantly, but I can stand at her side and try to get through this with her together.

It makes this so much hotter now, her trying so eagerly to take more of my cock, getting on her knees before in a position of trust and surrender.

She takes more of me in her mouth, even though it’s a struggle. She works hard at it, a line of drool pooling at the corner of her mouth. She shifts her hand from the base of me to stroke my balls, fondling their heavy weight, working me with her tongue.

I’m a half-spent mess of electric currents already and she’s barely even started.

I wonder if she truly knows just how far gone I am for her, and not just physically.

She works me back and forth with her mouth, taking as much as she can, using her hands, fisting my shaft and grabbing my balls with the other. She’s so fully invested that it sets flames roaring over my skin, consuming me to my bones and resounding with the percussion of an explosion in my soul.

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