Page 98 of Riding the Edge

Chapter Thirty

Three ex-wives and not one of them ever had my back when it came to my club. If I wasn’t already crazy about Maria, her unwavering support would’ve sealed the deal. For a woman who claimed our timing was off, she was suddenly starting to understand the truth I knew all along—we were sent to one another at the exact point in time we needed each other most. We were the blessing to beat every curse.

But having that wasn’t enough to sign my life over to Satan. I needed to see Maria through her surgery and overcome that obstacle before I sacrificed my soul. In the meantime, I would talk to Jack when he became lucid. I’d force him to give me back my patch and make him understand we needed to call off the deal with the cartel. Then, I’d give him the truth and abide by the laws of brotherhood, telling him he needed to step down.

Not immediately but in a few months.

I know it’s a stretch, but I need Maria to complete her treatment before I can entertain the idea of taking Jack’s place at the head of the table. It’s manageable if he nixes the shit with the cartel and the club flies under the radar. We would need to focus on the few legitimate enterprises we possess, get the bar off the ground and stay the fuck out of trouble. At least for ten months. Maria will be done with radiation by then and Lacey will have had her baby without losing Blackie to drugs.

“You’re awake,” Maria murmurs beside me, pulling me away from the thoughts racing through my mind. Turning to her, I watch her stretch her arms over her head and yawn.

God, she’s gorgeous.

She caught me off guard last night and I barely had a chance to revel in the fact I had her on the back of my bike. My classy lady had her legs wrapped around my thighs and the wind in her fucking hair. It was leather and silk finding that middle ground once again and I didn’t even acknowledge how good it felt.

Well, fuck that.

Rolling on top of her, I pin her arms over her head and pry her legs apart, positioning myself between them. She lets out a little gasp as her groggy eyes widen.

“Well, good morning to you too,” she murmurs, lifting her head off the pillow to give me her mouth.

Silk.

So fucking soft.

Taking her mouth, my tongue slides home and sweeps through heaven. Keeping my eyes open and glued to her timeless features, I take my time exploring every crevice and corner. I savor her, nibbling on her luscious lips as I grind my stiff cock against her lace panties, making a mental note to break her from the habit of putting them on before she falls asleep in my arms.

“Mmm,” she moans, pulling at the ends of my hair. “That’s one hell of a way to start the morning.”

“I can think of a couple of others.”

“Someone’s riled up this morning,” she teases, arching her hips.

“Someone had his lady on the back of his bike and didn’t get a chance to celebrate the victory,” I growl against her throat. “Fuck, baby, meant everything to me to feel you around me, giving me your trust and taking the wind. Meant almost as much as knowing you got my back,” I say roughly, reaching between us. Ripping the lace to the side, I let my fingers find her pussy. “If I could get a rewrite, I’d go back to last night, to the moment you climbed off my bike and I’d shove my hand down your pants.”

“There’s that filthy mouth,” she whimpers, grinding against my fingers.

“Tell me, Lady, were you this wet last night?”

“I guess we’ll never know.”

Plunging two fingers inside, I go still.

“Tell me you were wet,” I demand. “Tell me you didn’t want me to pull you down onto my face in the middle of the lot and take this pussy.”

“Al,” she admonishes.

“Tell me, Lady.”

“I always want you,” she admits, reaching for my wrist. “I wanted you last night and I want you now.”

“How badly?”

“How badly does one need air to breathe?”

“Good fucking answer,” I grunt, crooking my fingers. “Gotta stop wearing this shit to bed,” I add, dragging the lace away from my working fingers. “Man needs his woman bare, so he can fuck her properly when she wakes up.”

Looping her fingers under the waistband of her panties she pushes them down her hips, forcing me to pull my fingers out of her. My hands join hers and together we rid her of the lace. Free, she eagerly spreads her legs and welcomes me between them.

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