Page 10 of Ghost's Angel

She’s still flustered, her gaze darting away from mine.

“Shh… Just lie back and enjoy,” I tell her, my voice rough with need. I pull her panties down her legs, my gaze never leaving hers. She’s stunning. Her innocence, her vulnerability, she’s breathtaking.

I move between her legs, one hand cupping her face. “Trust me, angel,” I murmur, my thumb brushes her swollen lips. “I’m going to take care of you.”

And then I lower my head, my tongue tracing the delicate line of her inner thigh. She gasps, her body tensing beneath me, and I know I’m about to unleash a storm of ecstasy in her.

The taste of her is so fucking sweet it’s mind-blowing. I lick and suck, my hands cupping her ass, holding her close as she begins to squirm beneath me. Her little coos and mews are like music to my ears, and I lose myself in her sweetness. I forget everything but the feel of her in my mouth, the taste of her on my tongue.

She’s so tight, so sensitive. Each lick elicits a shiver from her, and she cries out, her nails digging into my shoulders. She’s getting closer, I feel the tension building in her muscles, and I know she’s about to come undone.

“Come on, angel,” I whisper against her skin. “Let go.”

And then she does. Her body arches against me. Her cries echo through the room, and I feel her pulsing contractions as she comes apart in my mouth. The taste of her orgasm is like fire in my veins, and I have to grit my teeth to keep from shooting my load in my boxer briefs.

When she finally stills, her breath coming in ragged gasps, I pull back slightly, my gaze searching hers. Her eyes are glazed with pleasure, her lips swollen and kiss-red. Her cheeks are flushed. “I…I’ve never felt anything like that before,” she whispers.

I’m lost in am moment of confusion. And then realization dawns.“Was that the first time you came?”

She nods shyly.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed, angel. Not with me,” I tell her, my voice thick with emotion. “I’m going to makeyou feel a lot of things you’ve never felt before. Good things, I promise you that.”

I pull her close, holding her against my chest, feeling the rapid beat of her heart against mine.

She doesn’t realize the significance of me putting her on the back of my bike or that no other woman has ever ridden there. She doesn’t know that she’s the first woman I’ve ever allowed in my private quarters, or that with both of these actions, I’ve laid claim to her as my ol' lady, my queen, the first lady of the Shadow Riders MC.

Chapter 7

Mira

I wake to sunlight streaming through unfamiliar windows and my cheeks flush hot as memories of last night rush back—Ghost’s touch, his kiss, the way he made me feel things I'd never felt before. For a moment, panic claws at my chest. Did I dream it all?

But no—I'm still wearing Ghost’s t-shirt, and this is definitely not my flooded basement apartment. The scent of leather and man lingers on the pillow beside me. Ghost's pillow. But the bed is empty now, the sheets cool where he should be.

I sit up slowly, trying to get my bearings. This is Ghost's private room above the clubhouse. His sanctuary that he shared with me. But is it okay for me to leave? He didn't say I had to stay put, but then again, he didn't say I could wander around either.

The faint sounds of life drift up from below—voices, laughter, the occasional rev of a motorcycle. This is a world I know nothing about.

After using the bathroom and finger-combing my hair into some semblance of order, I dig through my damp duffle and pull out a pair of thrift store jeans with a couple holes in not-so-fashionable areas, and slide them on under Ghost's t-shirt, which I can't bear to remove.

Then, gathering my courage, I venture downstairs.

The staircase opens into what appears to be the main room of the clubhouse—a large open space scattered with leather couches and chairs, pool tables, what looks like some kind of shrine of motorcycle parts mounted on a wall to the left, and a massive bar dominating the far wall.

I'm not sure if it's my imagination or if the room actually falls silent as I descend the last few steps. I avoid making eye contact, but I'm pretty sure every gaze turns to me, and I fight the urge to shrink into myself. These people are Ghost's family—his chosen family. I don't want to appear weak in front of them.

A few of the men nod in my direction. I recognize some faces from the diner, and they seem friendly enough, offering small smiles or raised coffee mugs in greeting. But the women...their stares are razor sharp, cutting me to ribbons with unconcealed disdain.

I suppress a shiver. I faced, mean girls before, both in school and the foster families in which I grew up.

They're gorgeous—all of them. Tight clothes showing off more of their perfect figures than I'd ever dare reveal in public, flawless makeup, confident curves. Everything I'm not in my borrowed oversized t-shirt and outdated jeans. One of them, a statuesque blonde with enormous breasts, looks me up and down with a smirk that takes me right back to high school.

"Well, well. What do we have here?" Her voice drips honey-coated venom. "Did the prez pick up a stray?"

I lift my chin, willing my voice not to shake. "Hello, I'm Mira."

"Are you now?" Another woman, this one with fire-engine red hair, circles me like a shark. "And what exactly are you doing here? In Prez’s shirt, no less?"

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