Selah’s Wish (Imperial Knights MC #1)

Chapter 7

SEVEN

Selah

“Is it bad?” I ask Butcher as he stomps his way into the living room. I put the book I was reading down after putting a bookmark inside of it. I’m not a page bender, that ruins the pages in my opinion and each and every novel I hold in my hands and read is a precious treasure.

“I’m gonna need you to do something for me and I need you to swear you’ll never mention it to anyone,” he exclaims.

“Anything you need from me, Butcher, you know that. Including keeping my mouth shut, no matter how critical it is. Tell me what’s going on, biker man?” He lays it all out on the line for me, and when he wraps up, I’m pissed. I know what it’s like to be on the other side of a man’s hands, and considering she’s allowed this to happen in order to keep our family safe, I’m more determined than ever to take this man down a peg or two and get her out of that abusive situation. I just have to be slick about it, make sure that whatever they’ve gotten their hands on has no digital footprint.

Standing up, I go over to my laptop and fire it up, ready to start digging and erasing anything out on the web. “I can make anything on the cyber end of things disappear, but what about the physical copies they claim to have?”

“I’ve got a man on the outside I’ll be getting in touch with tomorrow that’ll be helping me out with that. I’m just worried about the consequences,” he discloses.

“Have another conversation with Wrecker before you take that step,” I suggest. “He knows things we aren’t privy to; he’ll know if you’re doing the right thing or not.”

“I already texted him and asked, but he’s on his way back up to the hospital to be with Harper and Stone, so it could be a bit before he gives me an answer.”

“Either way, I’m not only going to get rid of anything with an electronic trace, but I’m going to dig into the men themselves. Babe, if your sister knows the man her husband hired to follow her, it’d help, but if not, don’t stress about it. I’ll find out who it is and begin unraveling their lives. This person, whoever he or she is, is going to find themselves in the hole both financially and professionally. I’ll have them blacklisted and their reputation ruined before the end of business day tomorrow. Nobody messes with ours and gets away with it.”

“Vicious,” Butcher laughs. “I like it. You’re the perfect woman for me, Lah.”

“And don’t you forget it,” I return.

“Never,” he avows. “Every day I’m reminded of how you’re my idyllic woman. We complement each other and that’s something I’ll forever be grateful for.”

“Are you trying to woo me and reel me in, Butcher? I’ve got news for you, you don’t have to because you already have me hook, line, and sinker,” I declare. “Heart, body, and soul, I belong to you.”

“Dammit, woman. You just made me hard as fuck. My dick is going to have imprints of my zipper on it for days,” Butcher huskily says.

“That’ll have to keep behind the bars of your jeans until I have buried this person so deep they’ll never climb their way out,” I remind him. “But after that, nothing will be holding us back.”

“Why am I always the one having to sacrifice?” he asks, scratching the back of his neck. “You know what? Fuck it, that’ll have to keep.” He points at my computer before stalking over to me and lifting me out of my chair and tossing me over his shoulder. “Tonight, you’re mine, Lah.”

Could I argue with him and insist he put me down? He absolutely would, without any arguments. However, my man needs this intimacy with me so I won’t deny him this. I already have a program running that’ll start doing searches on Joceline’s husband. It’ll store that information and I can browse through it tomorrow.

The kids went down not too long ago, every one of them were drowsy once we got home. There hasn’t been a peep coming from either of the bedrooms so I know they’re passed out. They’ve had a few busy days here lately and were feeling the draw of exhaustion since it quickly pulled them under.

Once I’m carted over the threshold of our bedroom, Butcher slowly lowers me down his muscular body, the friction of our shirts cavalierly brushing against my erect nipples has a muted moan escaping my lips. When our hips meet, I’m met with the steel erection of his dick. The mere thought of possessing one another has fueled us both with desire. Butcher walks me backward until my backside is flush with the wall.

The passion and fire in his eyes makes me want to shred his clothes and mount him. The same look he’s wearing must be mirrored by me because without any words spoken between us, he leans forward and slams his lips onto mine. Butcher doesn’t do anything halfway, when he does something, he does it with a flare.

When he rips himself away from me, he utters one single word, “Mine.” Before I get the chance to blink, he’s on me again. His hands are roaming beneath my shirt, he lightly brushes my skin until his hands find my breast. He cups them and massages them, plucking my nipples. “Strip for me, baby girl.”

As I rip my shirt over my head and toss it to the ground, he repeats my movement. Next, I unbutton my jeans and slip them down my legs, and again, he does the exact same thing I do. This occurs with each article of clothing I remove until we’re both standing naked before each other.

“So goddamn beautiful,” he rustles out, his voice deep and guttural, but comes out no louder than a whisper. He drops to his knees and pushes me back against the drywall. He pushes my legs tightly together then takes his fingers and spreads my labia open with his thumbs. “Look at this pretty pink clit of yours. It’s just begging for my mouth to suck on it.”

“Yes,” I moan, my fingers embedding themselves in his hair.

When he flattens his tongue and licks on that bundle of nerves, my eyes cross. He laves that section for fuck knows how long since I’ve lost all sense of time before he sucks it into his mouth, manipulating it with his tongue. He takes one of his hands away from cupping my ass and slides it between my thighs. He instinctively knows that I’m feeling empty and inserts two of his digits inside of me. He scissors his fingers before locating my G-spot where he quickly begins adding a savage amount of pressure to it, causing my hips to buck.

“Butcher,” I whimper, knowing that even if I were to beg, there’s no guarantee he’d give it to me. My man does everything on his own timeline, and sometimes, that means he edges me a little. The only reason I don’t whine and simper about it, is because no matter how long it takes for me to get there, it’s always a memorable experience.

Once I detonate on his tongue, he pulls back and looks up at me, he has a smug smirk on his face, looking like the cat who got his cream. “On the bed, Lah.”

Stripped of speech and all cognitive thoughts, I nod my head and on shaky legs, I walk over to the mattress and crawl on it. When I make it to the middle of it, I situate myself in his favorite position.

The perfect submissive pose.

I never thought after my past I’d find myself here, willingly submitting to an alpha male. But Butcher has accomplished a feat I thought would always be impossible—he makes me feel safe, cherished, and secure, even in such a vulnerable position.