Page 81 of Manic

"Yes," I moan, my nails raking down his back. "God, yes."

The pain in my body fades away, overwhelmed by waves of pleasure.

Tor's muscular frame moves above me, his chest tattoo rippling with each thrust.

I trace the skull with my fingertips, feeling the raised lines of ink beneath my touch.

"Meghan," he groans, burying his face in my neck. "You feel so fucking good."

I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper.

The new angle has him hitting just the right spot, and I cry out, my body tensing with building pleasure.

"That's it, baby," Tor encourages, his voice rough. "Let go for me."

His words push me over the edge, and I come undone beneath him, waves of ecstasy washing over me.

Tor follows soon after, his body stiffening as he finds his release deep inside me.

For a moment, we lie there, panting and intertwined.

Then Tor starts to pull out, and I whimper at the loss.

But before he can fully withdraw, he pauses, his eyes fixed between my legs.

"Fuck," he breathes, sliding back in with a smooth thrust that makes me gasp. "I love seeing your pussy drip with my cum."

The crude words, spoken in his deep, gravelly voice, send a shiver of desire through me.

But exhaustion is creeping in, and I know we both need to rest.

As we settle into his bed, a thought occurs to me. "Where's Tindra?" I ask, suddenly realizing I haven't seen our daughter since yesterday.

Tor strokes my hair, his touch gentle. "She's over at my father's house, with Rev and Dalla. They're having some girl time."

Relief washes over me. "That's good," I murmur, grateful for the safety net of Tor's family. If she can't be with us, Fern and Runes are the next best thing.

"She'll be safe there."

Tor nods, pulling me closer. "Always, babe. We protect our own."

As I drift off in Tor's arms, I can't help but wonder how long this momentary peace will last.

My father's shadow still looms, a constant threat to the happiness we've found.

But for now, in this moment, I let myself believe in the safety Tor promises, in the strength of the club, and in the love that surrounds us.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Tor

The aroma of sizzling meat and spices wafts through the clubhouse, drawing me like a siren's call to the kitchen.

I pause in the doorway, taking in the scene before me.

Meghan stands at the stove, her blonde hair pulled back in a messy bun, wisps escaping to frame her face.

She's stirring something in a massive pot, her brow furrowed in concentration.

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