Page 87 of Baby for the Bikers

She shakes violently, her moans growing louder, pushing her hips back into Brick’s thrusts as she lets go completely.

We don’t stop. We keep moving, each of us pounding into her relentlessly, our bodies working her until she’s gasping, hermind swimming in the aftermath of her climax. But we’re not done.

Her body still shudders under us, and I know we’re all close. The pressure is building again, and I feel it in the way my body tightens, in the way Brick’s hands grip her ass as he slams into her with more force, faster. Her hips are moving in sync with us, her body driven by the need to please us, to take us all. I feel her tighten around me again, the familiar, mind-shattering pressure building, intensifying with every movement.

Finally, she moans loudly as she squeezes around me, another orgasm crashing over her, making her body spasm uncontrollably.

We keep going—never stopping—until, with a groan, I explode inside her, my cock throbbing as I spill deep. At the same time, Brick’s thrusts grow erratic, and he fills her with his release as well, while Maddox, who’s stroking himself, spills moments after.

Her body is still shaking as we pull out, and we lie there, panting, spent, our bodies still pressed together.

For several minutes, the room is still, our breathing the only sound. Rowan lies between us, her body exhausted, and I can see the satisfaction in her eyes. She’s been claimed, and we’re all spent.

But this isn’t the end. It’s just the beginning.

36

BRICK

Six Weeks Later

Business is booming.

I stand at my office window, coffee in hand, watching the early morning activity at Black Dog Bites.

At the diner, a line forms at the door every morning, people eager for Rowan’s cinnamon rolls that have become legendary in just weeks.

Maddox won another race last weekend, bringing home not just the prize money but a whole new crowd of racing enthusiasts who’ve now discovered our businesses. Ryder’s custom work is drawing clients from three counties over, people willing to wait months just to get his hands on their bikes. And Rowan…

Six weeks since she moved in, since she became ours, and I still wake up every morning half-convinced I’ve dreamed her up.

Her treats alone would be enough to make the diner a success, but it’s more than that. She’s transformed the place with her warmth, her laughter, and her uncanny ability to rememberevery regular’s order and make them feel special. Customers who used to grab coffee and go now linger, soaking up the atmosphere she’s created.

The phone on my desk rings, pulling me from my thoughts. I check the caller ID—Teller. My good mood instantly dims. Club calls this early are never about anything good.

“What’s up?” I answer, keeping my voice casual even as tension knots between my shoulders.

“We’ve got a meeting. My place. One hour.” Teller’s tone is clipped. “All three of you need to be there. Cerberus is calling in.”

My blood runs cold. “We’ll be there.”

I hang up, staring at the phone for a long moment before setting down my coffee and heading to the kitchen, where Rowan is rolling out the dough. The sight of her would normally make me stop and appreciate the view. Not today.

“Everything okay?” she asks, immediately picking up on my mood.

“Club business,” I tell her, forcing a calm I don’t feel. “I need to grab Maddox and Ryder. We’ll be gone most of the morning.”

She nods, but I can see the concern in her eyes. Since whatever happened six weeks ago—whatever made her run to our house for protection—she’s been hyperaware of any change in routine and any hint of trouble.

“Anything I can help with?” she offers, wiping her hands on her apron.

I cross to her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Not this time. Just club stuff. We’ll be back by lunch.”

It’s not entirely a lie. This is club business. But the part I’m leaving out—the part about Cerberus calling an emergency meeting—would only worry her. And she’s carrying enough fear already.

Twenty minutes later, my brothers and I pull up to Teller’s clubhouse, the gravel crunching beneath our tires. The atmosphere inside is grim, faces tight with tension as we walk into the main meeting room.

“Kane brothers.” Teller nods from his position at the head of the table. “Take a seat. Matthews is already on the line.”

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