Page 52 of Nomad: Violent Devotion

“I promised you’d be safe with me, and I promised you that you’d have a place to be away from your father. Now I want to make you one more,” I say softly. A breeze washes through the pines, rustling the tips high above us, as though they, too, listen. “You’ll never be alone again, not if you don’t want to be, cosita. Not this club, not your father’s. You’re no one’s property but your own. You were patched to ride, yeah?”

It’s a guess, but she nods.

“Yes.” Her hair flips, but there’s no defiance in it. She’s listening, too.

“I’m not a part of this club. The Sons. Not like you’re used to. Nomad is what I’ve lived for the last years. It’s who I am. And if you wear this,” I shrug out of my cut, and hold it out to her on three fingers, “then it’s who you become, too.”

Her breath stalls as she watches me with wide eyes. Her lashes flutter, then she turns her back to me. My chest tightens, right up until she lifts her hair. “Will you?”

Fuck. Me.

I slide the leather over her slight form. The cut clings to her as though it was made to fit her, despite that the warmth of it was on my larger body mere seconds ago. “Poppy?” My voice and breath are ragged.

She turns and I’m out of words. That’s more than I’ve said to anyone in a fucking decade, anyway. My mouth finds hers in a kiss that sweeps gravity away with it. She opens for me as I pull her into my body, my hands roaming under the cut, over the top of it, messing up her hair.

Her moans are a symphony as I stroke her tongue with mine and she rubs against me. “Clubhouse, please?” she pants against my mouth. “I know you said you don’t usually live there, and I’ll go wherever you go, Walker. Forever. But if you want to play out that scene you mentioned earlier...”

I’m halfway to dragging her back to my sled before I remember she has her own. And her giggle haunts me all the way back to the yard.

So, when we pull up on two bikes instead of one in the Sons’ yard and she’s wearing my cut, silence falls. Then there’s a whoop and a scream. Someone—Raven, maybe?—dives at Poppy and engulfs her while the prospects are already bullshitting with each other and talking up the finer points of her bike as though she doesn’t know her shit better than they do. Savage finds my eyes through it all and nods, then turns and heads inside.

I grin. Tonight will be a party night, and I know just how I want to celebrate.

****

The Sons know how to throw down when the occasion calls for it. Drinks flow. Club sluts rampage through the bar riding cocks and shaking ass. Brothers relax. And my girl is spread out on one of the tables exactly the way I promised her, those pink lace-edged panties stuffed in my pocket for later, her leather mini shoved up with my face buried between her legs. And on top? All she wears is my cut over her pretty tits.

Someone shouts out nearby. I raise my head from my work. Poppy’s already on her fourth orgasm of the night. Her thighs tremble at my sides but she knows not to bring them in closer. I’m an inch from tying her to the table but I don’t want to give the brothers the idea that she’s free use for the night. This woman is mine, and mine alone. I slide two fingers inside her, pumping gently to watch the action as Cherry pours vodka into a double shot held delicately between Poppy’s lips. Then the other woman reaches down and liberates the glass, her mouth almost touching Poppy’s before she frees it and tosses the shot back to general cheers.

Her eyes catch mine, interest alight there. I nod slowly, noting the way my girl clamped down on my fingers when Cherry’s lips almost touched hers. I grin as she leans down and kisses Poppy, earning a surprised soft moan from my girl. Flicking her clit with my tongue, and pumping my fingers, it’s an easy fifth shaking orgasm that soaks my hand in seconds.

“Never kissed a girl before?” I ask her softly, rubbing her oversensitive clit as she gasps.

“N-never,” Poppy says weakly. “I was never allowed.”

“Yeah? You do whatever it is you need with me,” I reassure her.

She swallows hard, her pretty soaked pussy already fluttering with her next round of pleasure. “I can’t think,” she mumbles, scraping her nails at the edges of the table.

My cock swells as I stroke her thighs, already glistening with stripes of her need from the last hour of getting her off, and alternating shots. “Take a long, deep breath.”

“Why?” She looks around like someone may steal it from her.

I watch her. “Because I’m not going to be gentle.”

Her first scream stills the room as I plunge into her, railing her with every inch of need that has been building in me for the last hours since I placed my cut on her shoulders. After that, she doesn’t have enough breath for anything. Someone films us, but I don’t have the bandwidth to tell the asshole to stop. Good luck to him wanking off to my hairy ass while I pound my girl’s weeping cunt.

Poppy grips the edges of the table, her nails digging in hard. I pull out and flip her, running my hand over her smooth, round ass. My name on her back does it for me and I slam back inside. Her body is stretched across the table, Crimson holding her hands in a tight grip, talking to her softly as I rail her while one of the club sluts sucks him off.

Whatever he says keeps her sane for us both. Everything I’ve held back I unleash now. She’ll bear more than my name on her back come tomorrow. There will be bruises on her hips where she’s bent over the table and my handprint will mark her ass for days to come. But the way she creams constantly around my cock leaves me in a constant state of raging desire. I come more than once, filing her until the evidence of us coats the insides of her thighs.

The night passes in a blur. Finally, Poppy curls on my lap in the safety of my arms, still wrapped in my cut. Someone puts a blanket around us and gives her water.

“I’m sorry if I hurt you.” I kiss her and can’t stop. It’s not only her body that will bear bruises come tomorrow, the lovemaking sort.

“It’s okay,” she murmurs against my mouth. “I like those sorts of marks. The ones that take a few days to fade, but I can press and remember, oh, those came from that night and relive it all over again.” She nuzzles into my neck, letting her fingers stroke along my chest, and lower over my cock.

I groan, closing my eyes. “Christ, cosita. You’re not wearing panties, you’re sore as hell, and if you keep doing that, I’ll fuck you again right here.”