War (Kings of Sin MC #2)

11. Storm

CHAPTER 11

STORM

“Rogue!” Callan calls from behind me. I don’t stop. Moving with purpose, I catch the exit door as it starts to close, slipping through the sliver of space.

“Are you okay?” an older man asks, startling me. He’s hunched against a wall in a hospital gown, a walking stick holding him up.

“I honestly don’t know.” I laugh without joy. I take off running, navigating the halls in a haze of rage and almost colliding with a nurse. I don’t stop moving until I see the entrance. The doors open, and I get a few feet outside before Callan grasps my arm and spins me to face him, heat in his cheeks.

“I thought we agreed you wouldn’t run off again,” he puffs out. The wind howls, whipping against our bodies.

“I wasn’t running off,” I snap, struggling to reel my bitterness in. I’m so agitated, my bones are vibrating beneath my skin. “I just wasn’t sticking around to be insulted and threatened,” I spit out.

“He needs time,” Callan says. Whether he’s trying to convince me or himself, I’m not sure.

“And what if he never comes around?”

“He will.”

“What if he doesn’t?”

The sky weeps, the lashing of rain soaking us through. Thunder booms as the moon glows through a break in the clouds, mother nature mimicking the pain storming inside me.

“Maybe you won’t have a choice.”

He swallows, looking down at his boots. My heart screams for him as my chest cracks.

“Will you give me up?” I murmur, sounding so fragile it sickens me. I may as well take a knife and slice into my arteries—that’s what it will feel like if, after everything, he casts me out.

His gaze snaps to mine, and the intensity almost buckles my knees. He steps into my space, grasping my cheeks, angling my face to his. There’s so much passion written in his eyes that it steals my breath.

“You don’t seem to be listening to me. I’m crazy in love with you, Rogue. There is no giving you up. No choosing between you and him, or you and the club. It’s you and me. Period.” A tremor of energy cracks the sky as his lips crash against mine, absorbing the darkness, filling every crevice with light. With love. With him . The world around us pales into a muted fog.

He swipes his tongue into my mouth, and I groan. I press flush against his body, becoming drunk on his taste. Sniggering penetrates my ears, and I remember where we are. Pulling back, I scrub an errant tear from my eye with the side of my hand and chuckle, sniffling. A group of women look back at us, holding coats over their heads to ward off the rain.

Wrapping his arm around my shoulder, Callan nods toward the SUV. “Should we get out of here?”

“What about Kitty?”

“She’s going to call Tim.”

“Okay.” I nod.

The wind assaults us, picking up the rain that had settled on the ground, whipping it against our clothing. Taking my hand, Callan jogs to the SUV, opens my door, and practically lifts me inside.

Rounding the hood, he slips into his seat and blows into his hands, rubbing them together. Kicking over the engine and flipping on the heat, he pulls out of the space and takes a different route than the way we came.

After a few seconds of silence, I turn to him. “I don’t want to be the cause of a rift between you and your dad,” I admit.

“Rogue, he was out of line, no doubt about it, but we need to give him a little slack. He just woke up from a damn coma and nearly put himself back in one tonight. He and I will be fine.”

“It could have been worse, I suppose,” I muse, picking at a torn fingernail.

“Really?” He chuckles. “How?”

“He could have been the one who killed Harley.”

“You seemed shocked to hear it was her who shot him.”

“Harley was a party girl.” I blow out a breath, soothing over my torn nail with my thumb. “She liked to have fun, was flaky as hell, and was also gentle, loving. She was never into the violent side of the biker life.” I sigh, my gaze turning to the window as we enter a driveway.

“Where are we?” I perk up, looking around.

“My place.”

“What?” I exclaim.

“You didn’t think I lived at the club, right?” An amused smile curls his lips.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I thought. You haven’t mentioned living anywhere else.”

Turning the engine off, he opens his door and slides out. “You coming or what?” he asks before slamming the door shut.

Hopping out of my side, I look up at the beautiful wooden structure. It looks like a log cabin, but on a street, not secluded in the woods. I peer over at the neighbor’s house about thirty feet away.

“Rogue, move your ass.”

A massive floor-to-ceiling window stretches across the entire front wall. It’s stunning.

“Wait.” I halt my steps. “Are you bringing me here because I’m not allowed at the club?”

Callan rolls his eyes, groaning. “No. Stop overthinking and come inside.” He takes his key out and leads me up the five steps to the front door. It’s a huge black panel with a long silver handle made for a giant. When the door opens, the lights switch on, illuminating the hallway. Oak floors and cream walls offer a warm, homey vibe. “It’s not fully furnished yet, but I’m getting there.” He rubs the back of his neck self-consciously, watching me.

“It’s gorgeous. Do you own this place?”

“I hope so,” he says, rattling the keys before placing them in a bowl on top of a table.

As we move farther inside, I become self-conscious of my wet clothes dripping on the hardwood floors. He disappears into a room to the right and returns a second later with towels.

“Thank you.” I take one and pat my hair down. “I love the high ceilings.” I trail my gaze to a giant light fixture of twisted black metal dangling in the center.

“A local artist makes those out of old bike and car parts.” He toes off his boots and slips out of his cut, the shirt beneath completely dry, then moves into the living room. A dark leather, L-shaped couch sits around a coffee table overlooking a fireplace. He turns it on, casting a warm glow through the room.

A breakfast bar toward the back catches my attention, partitioning the space between the kitchen and living room. Black gloss cabinets and stainless-steel appliances gleam in the kitchen.

“Have you ever cooked in there?” I nudge my head from the kitchen to the dining table that can seat eight people. “To host dinner parties?”

“I wouldn’t know the first thing about dinner parties. That table came with the house.” He tilts his head to the side, watching me as I continue to look around. A staircase leads to what looks like a loft with a railing overlooking the downstairs area.

“Is that a glass-walled shower room?” I ask, wonder in my tone. Thoughts of me lying on his bed watching him shower fire into my mind, and my pussy throbs.

“It is,” he replies huskily.

I walk over to the large window, not seeing anything beyond the pane of glass, just the reflection of the inside. I’m not sure if I prefer it that way or not. Anyone could be out there looking back at me.

“Do you live here alone?” I ask.

“No, I have a wife and three kids hidden away.”

My stomach leaps. I know he’s joking, but my fists ball all the same. “I meant a roommate, ass.”

“I have enough of those at the club. This is just for me.” He raises his brow. “And you, if you want it to be.” I meet his eyes, my heart galloping like a herd of wild horses.

“Things have moved fast between us.” I smile, wringing my hands, my stomach dipping.

“Fast or slow, we’re still heading in the same direction.” He moves closer, licking his bottom lip. I track the action, my core awakening with need.

“With everything we’ve been through, it feels like we’ve known each other for a hundred lifetimes.” He moves behind me, stroking my hair from my shoulder and kissing the delicate space between my neck and ear.

“When will it all be over? I’m so tired,” I murmur, my eyes closing as I sink into his touch.

“You’ve been trying to keep yourself together, control the outcome. Sometimes you just have to let someone else take the reins.”

“I don’t like feeling coddled. Fragile,” I admit. I’ve been taking care of everyone else for so long, it’s hard to let go and accept I’m not in this alone anymore.

“Our fragility is what makes us human, Rogue. The beautiful broken pieces, the vulnerability—they’re what make you you .”

His teeth graze my shoulder. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” I reply without question.

“Take your clothes off.”

My mouth gapes, and I shift on my feet. “What?”

His chest rumbles in a laugh against my back at the shock in my voice.

Inhaling my scent, he says, “Don’t ask questions. Be a good girl and take your clothes off for me. Show me all of you.” Heat singes my skin, his words flustering me. I want to be defiant. To say no. That thought gets whisked away when he adds, “I need to see what’s mine.” Lust saturates me. My hands move of their own accord, pulling the hem of my top over my head, acutely aware of the window.

“Are you trying to corrupt me?” I ask, turning to face him, brushing my body against his and relishing in the thick, hard cock bulging in his jeans.

“I think it’s the other way around,” he breathes, his warmth dispersing over my cheeks.

“Is that what you think?” I drop my tone, cupping his cock.

“Mmhmm.”

“Maybe I should be the one giving you orders.” I gasp when he lifts me, my legs winding around his waist. He walks us with purpose up the stairs to the bedroom.

Dropping me on the bed, I bounce, squealing as he backs away and rests his ass against the railing, folding his arms. He crosses his legs at the ankles. There’s just a king-sized bed in the space, no other furniture. “Take your clothes off, Rogue.”

My chest rises and falls with hastened intakes of breath, showing him everything I’m feeling.

His words kiss over me, awakening every nerve ending, as a seamless desire simmers between us. Biting my lip, I reach behind my back, unclasp my bra, and drag it down my arms until my tits spill free. His eyes flash, spurring me on. Standing, I kick off my shoes and unbutton my jeans, lowering the zipper deliberately slow.

“Tease,” he groans, a rough edge to his voice.

Pushing the fabric down my legs, I step out of them. A chill races over my thighs where my skin is still damp from the rain, but it does nothing to cool the fire burning in my core.

“Panties, Rogue,” he says, nodding toward them.

I’m going to combust and he hasn’t even touched me yet. Hooking my fingers into the waistband of my panties, I shove them down my legs before kicking them toward him. He whips his hand out, snatching them from the air, a delicious smirk kicking up the corner of his lips.

“Such an obedient little slut,” he drawls, bringing the flimsy fabric to his nose and inhaling. My clit pulses. My arousal dampens my pussy lips. He’s looking at me like I’m the air he needs to fill his lungs. “Lie on the bed. Show me what’s mine,” he demands, his tone deeper, firmer.

Silence surrounds us, our mixed heavy breathing filling the space. I sit on the pale gray comforter and shift back until I’m in the middle of the bed. Leaning back on my hands, I spread my legs wide, opening myself up to him. A hungry growl claws up his throat, a wolf ready to devour.

“Put your fingers in your mouth. Make them wet for me.” His commanding tone takes hold of me. My nipples bead. Goosebumps cover my skin. Slipping two fingers into my mouth, I suck them like they’re his cock. The tip of his tongue darts out, dampening his lips.

“Now, fuck your pretty pussy with them.”

My pulse taps a wild beat as I stroke my fingers through the valley of my tits and down my stomach, reaching my mound.

“I don’t want you to think. Just forget about everything and be here, in this moment, with me.” He moves his hands behind his back to grip the railing.

Pushing past my folds, I slowly enter my body, feeling my walls in delicate detail.

“Tell me how it feels.”

“Warm.” I pant. “Wet.”

“And?”

“Good.” I drop my head back, quickening my pace. I’m weightless, floating high as a giddiness frees my mind of all thought.

“What do you taste like?” Callan asks, his tone strained with hunger.

I bring my fingers back to my mouth, sucking my juices from them while holding his stare. “Tell me what you taste like, Rogue.”

“Ne-need,” I stutter.

“Do you want me to taste you?” Yes. Yes. Yes.

“Yes, I want your tongue.”

“Are you asking me or telling me?”

“Eat me, Callan,” I growl, drawing him closer with a crook of my finger.

Stalking me across the small divide between us, he edges across the bed until he’s between my parted legs, leaning over my feverish body. His familiar scent blankets me. Knotting my fists into his shirt, I urge him closer, needing skin on skin.

“Take it all off,” I beg, my mind a haze of lust-drenched fog, the room swaying. He rips his shirt over his head and yanks open his jeans, kicking them off his legs as he retakes his position over me. My nerve endings tingle at his closeness. I stroke his shoulders, the smooth skin taunt with tight muscle. My fingers drag down his upper arms dyed in ink. I trace the lines of scars like thread beneath his skin, slight imperfections on this god-like man. His lips trace the line of my jawbone with soft kisses.

I ache to taste him, the need overwhelming my senses. When his lips finally caress mine, it’s too soft, too sensual—a tease.

“Don’t kiss me like you love me, Callan. Fuck me like you own me,” I growl, the words so desperate, they could have been a prayer.

He groans low in his throat. Clasping the back of my head, he crashes his lips to mine, stealing my breath while feeding it back to me. He deepens the kiss, and I know I’ll never kiss another man. Callan is it for me. I melt into him, yearning for more, more, more. I can’t get close enough. Grasping his cock, I guide him to my entrance, needing to feel him like my veins need blood to keep me alive. Thrusting his hips forward, he claims me.

Urgent touches of his mouth are my undoing. His lips are everywhere, my neck, my chest, my arms. I can barely catch my breath. Sweat beads over my skin as he moves over me, his cock sliding deeper with each thrust. Reality bleeds away as I hook my leg over his shoulder and he drives deeper, tilting his hips in delicious, curving strokes against my walls.

His uneven breathing fills my ears, his pulse pounds beneath his skin against my palm as my own veins throb, my heart racing. It’s carnal. It’s perfection. It’s us.

I lose time as he shifts me onto my side, groping my ass with one hand, fondling my tits with the other. His mouth teases, sucks, bites. Pushing me onto my stomach, his body covers my back, hips slapping against my ass cheeks as he fucks me like an animal. A sharp pain ignites over the flesh of my shoulder as his teeth clamp down, tipping us over the edge. Throaty, intense cries hum through the room, the stars falling from the sky behind my eyes. Collapsing next to me, he drags my body against his, and we lay there trying to catch our breath.

“You can boss me around anytime,” I finally say, a light giggle singing from my lips.

He palms my ass, squeezing me closer. “There’s so much I want to do with you—to you.”

“Better than what we just did?” I stroke the pad of my finger down his sweat-glistened chest.

“You have no idea.”

“Give me one,” I breathe.

He chuckles, kissing the top of my head. “Give me five minutes and I’ll show you one…or two.”

I look up at him, a giddy smile on my face.

His thumb travels down my cheek to my lips, outlining my mouth. “You’re so fucking sexy. You know that, right?” His eyes soften, his gaze now tender.

My joints loosen. A sated sigh wisps past my parted lips.

After being with Callan for the first time, I felt startlingly changed. Something inside of me flipped. I’d become almost numb to sex with Tyler. Not Callan. It’s so much more than two bodies feeling pleasure. Being with him awakens every part of me, feeds me, renews me. Swinging my leg over his waist, I nestle into him.

“Four minutes to go,” I murmur, my eyes closing.