Sinister Knights MC #1-3

Chapter 4

Chapter Four

R yker

I curled her into my arms—my words, as they often were, so damn useless in any situation.

I should have written her, but at the time, it’d seemed better not to.

She deserved a life outside of Falcon’s Nest.

She didn’t belong here, and just because I’d done what I’d done didn’t mean she had to stay behind out of some sense of guilt or atonement.

I would have made that same decision no matter who she had been, because I was a good person.

I’d been through a lot of shit that led to me standing right here, and I didn’t regret a goddamn thing.

Except for not writing her.

I should have written her.

“Ryker!” King growled down the hallway. “Prez is askin’ for you!”

I groaned. “Wish I could stay right here with you.”

“I should go anyway.” She turned away from me.

Christ, I hated when she turned her eyes away from me. “Can’t hide your thoughts from me, sweet girl.” I caught her chin. “You never could.”

She sank her teeth into her bottom lip. “You don't know what I’m thinking.”

My grin crooked up. “Got a good idea.”

I slipped a hand up the soft skin of her thigh, pushing the fabric of her dress higher.

My rough fingers hovered just at the mound of her sweet, damp cunt, the heat coming off it just for me. I brushed against the soaked slit, feeling a shudder course through her body. I pulled my hand from between her thighs and traced the seam of my lips with my thumb, now softly scented with her delicious juice. A lick of my lips confirmed the addictive taste of her cunt. “So that’s what missing me tastes like.” I slid my lips across hers, forcing her mouth open to take my tongue in deep, lustful strokes. “Helluva welcome home.”

Her fingertips dug into the hard muscles of my biceps as a soft tremor quaked through her body.

“I always know what’s on your mind.” I sank my tongue inside her mouth again, desperate for another taste of her. I’d get fucking drunk on her if she’d let me. “Catch you later.”

I spun her in my arms, pushing her soft waves to one side and exposing her sweet neck.

I sucked in a quick inhale, committing that heady musk to memory, before dropping a kiss right at the top of her spine. “Now, go home, sweet girl. That’s not a request. That’s an order.” I smacked her ass once.

Her eyes caught mine just as I swung open the door and nodded at King, one leg crooked against the wall and waiting.

“Ready?”

“Can you make sure she gets home?” I pressed a hand at the dip of her back.

King’s eyes nailed mine, held them for long seconds before he gritted his teeth and nodded. “’Course.”

I shot her one last glance before tearing my hand from her waist and striding off down the hallway to see what the hell Prez wanted.

Guy was fair, always. That’s why I respected him, always. But that didn’t mean he didn’t get under my skin with his tough lessons now and again.

But the bottom line was I owed that man my life, so whatever he said went as far as I was concerned.

King, Saint, and I had been brothers together since we were young. Hell-bent on raising hell at first. And then when we got old enough, knew better, and found the right foster family to bring us up, we became hell-bent on getting justice.

Sinister Knights wasn’t your typical motorcycle club, at least, not the brutal one-percenters that flashed across the headlines for shooting up parking lots or smuggling drugs. The Sinister Knights was one hundred percent legal, all our businesses gave back to the community, and we made a point of keeping our little slice of the planet safe—for everyone.

There was a time this town had been overrun with crime, specifically directed at the small community college population of pretty young co-eds.

Some streets weren’t even safe after dark in certain neighborhoods. Seeing that had made King, Saint, and me enraged and angry, and we’d vowed to change it however we could.

The three of us fit in well on the streets, our wide bodies and loud bikes running up the alleyways, keeping the criminals out. We’d escorted a few of the women home if we’d had to, and if some scum wound up bloody on the doorstep of the ER, the police had no problem looking the other way because the three of us kept this place safe.

After a few years, Sonny came along and approached us with an idea. He had a piece of property outside of town with an old abandoned lodge. We could use it for our Sinister Knights headquarters with the one condition that he be allowed to ride with us when he wanted, and that he was Prez because, well, he paid the bills and all.

So, we’d agreed, and it wasn’t long after that Sonny had brought in a couple more guys—after they were heavily goddamned vetted by the three of us first—and that created our informal justice dream team. If you couldn’t trust the actual police to keep the people safe, you had to do something.

We rode bikes, and we had a mission.

And most importantly, it allowed the three of us to stay together.

Our lives had been in so much turmoil up until the time Saint’s parents had taken King and me in as fosters, and I think we all craved some sense of stability in our own ways.

And hell, if we could have a roof over our heads and make a good living with the club businesses, why the hell not put down roots?

“Good luck,” Saint said, slapping me on the back just as I was about to knock on Prez’s door.

“What?” I shrugged him off.

“Prez’s hot, saw the way you were looking at his pretty little thing.” Saint dragged out the last word, eyes bright.

“You gotta be shittin’ me.” I thrust a hand through my already too-long hair.

“I’ll be right here if you need backup.”

I rolled my eyes. Saint was always looking for entertainment; the fucker liked to stir up drama like a woman sometimes.

“Get the fuck outta here,” I grunted and tapped on the door.

Prez grunted from the other side, indicating I could come in, before I opened the door and stepped feetfirst into the biggest pile of shit Sonny could muster.