Chapter Twenty-Six

Luc

In the darkness, I quietly observed her peaceful slumber while I adjusted my jeans, seeking relief from the discomfort.

The intense rush of adrenaline from earlier had my body humming with energy. I needed her, but I didn't want to wake her. She hadn't been sleeping well lately. Tossing and turning restlessly. Something was bothering her, and I knew it. However, until she told me what the fuck was going on in that fucked-up head of hers, I couldn't help her.

Therefore, she left me with no choice. I wasn't proud of myself, but drastic times called for drastic measures. Not knowing how the deal would go down tonight, I took matters into my own hands where Ivy was concerned. I didn't want her worrying needlessly if she didn't have to, so I spiked her drink and made damn sure she got a good night's sleep.

Yeah, I knew I was a sadistic son of a bitch.

Owned that shit, too.

I looked forward to her yelling at me in the morning.

As I lightly stroked myself, I couldn't help but admire the breathtaking view that lay before me. She was naked, sleeping on her stomach, her legs spread just enough to give me the perfect view of her glistening pussy. I noticed she was wet, which made me curious about what she was dreaming about.

I thought about her appearance the other day, how she'd squirmed and clenched her thighs, desperately seeking relief from the intense stimulation against her sensitive clit. I leaned against the wall and couldn't help but take pleasure in her squirming. Her attempts to curse at me from behind the gag only fueled my amusement, causing a noticeable tightness in my jeans. The overwhelming urge to punish her body resurfaced within me, yearning to remove the dildo and the stimulating clit clamp, allowing me to plunge myself into her depths. I wanted to fuck her mouth relentlessly and force my pleasure on her.

Unfortunately, she needed to learn a lesson.

She'd fought me again, and, while I understood our situation was unique, I wasn't exactly in the mood for her snarky attitude the other day.

So, I watched her suffer on her own.

Not only punishing her, but myself.

My cock throbbed now as I rubbed myself harder, my fingers wet with her fluids.

Rather than reaching for the lube on the nightstand, I instinctively thrust two fingers into her dripping entrance, gathering her silky juices to slicken my rigid member. Besides, the enticing smell of her heightened my pleasure as I vigorously pleasured myself.

Ivy breathed deeply on the bed. Her dark hair splayed over her pillow. She looked so peaceful, so calm. I thought it funny because this was the only time she was calm. Awake, Ivy was hell on wheels. She wasn't as strong as me, but Christ, she was a fighter.

A low growl involuntarily escaped me while I contemplated the idea of taming her wild body once more. I was certain that life with Ivy would always be filled with excitement and adventure. I was definitely going to have to up my game where she was concerned. Woman had no fucking problem challenging me every chance she got. Bitch wasn't happy until I restrained her.

Oh, she still resisted, but she knew I was in charge.

She stirred in her sleep, emitting a soft moan and shifted her position, abruptly diverting my attention toward her when she rolled onto her back. Bathed in the soft glow of the moon, her face exuded a serene, almost ethereal look. Her legs parted slightly, and I breathed out a quiet growl.

She was generally a stomach sleeper, yet tonight it seemed she preferred sleeping on her back, with one leg hiked up to the side, spreading herself like she was inviting me in. If I wanted to, I could seize her at this very moment. I could lift her hips slightly, allowing myself to penetrate her deeply. I could lose myself in her, caressing her softly and ensuring her undisturbed sleep, before indulging in a fervent exploration that would leave her trembling with pleasure.

So many options.

I stroked the tip of my pulsating penis and my other hand squeezed and pulled my balls. Staring at her face, a milky stream erupted from my swollen head like the water fountain in front of the Bellagio Hotel in Las Vegas. I pictured her looking up at me from the floor, waiting patiently for me to spray her face with my seed. I imagined her soft lips around my shaft while I held her head tight, dumping my cum down her throat. Lowering my eyes and exhaling heavily when the last of my seed dripped onto my hand, and I slumped back in the chair, panting a little.

Through it all, Ivy slept soundly, entirely undisturbed by my actions.

After a few minutes, I rose from the chair, removed my clothes and walked over to the end of the bed. Reaching for her ankles, I didn't waste time flipping her back onto her stomach before grabbing her hips and yanking her ass toward me.

Even in sleep, she held the perfect pose.

I ran a finger through her slit, nice and slow.

Fuck, she was so wet.

Grabbing my cock, I rubbed my head up and down, coating myself in her hot juices. I couldn't help but let out a groan when her body slowly moved against me.

She stirred, but I didn't stop.

Without further thought, I shoved my cock deep into her.

Seated deeply, I reached over and held her down to the bed, forcing her hips up higher while I pushed even deeper inside. The second I felt her walls clench around my cock, I lost it.

Thrusting deep into her, I held tight to her hips while I used her body to fuck myself into Nirvana.

"You're mine, Ivy. Even in death, you'll be mine. Forever."

I grunted, rutting into her like some rabid animal until my jaw tightened and I let out a groan before shoving upward into her with a forceful thrust, eliciting a soft moan from her lips. I throbbed inside her, filling every corner of her womb, pushing my dick deep against her cervix, flooding her with my seed. Her body coiled tightly around my cock even more, squirting out streams of our mixed juices, coating my thighs in our combined cream.

I smiled while I gripped her hips tightly, knowing she would see the bruised imprint of my hands for days to come. Her pussy clenched my cock tightly, drinking every drop of cum from my balls when the thought of seeing my handprints inked into her body permanently aroused me once again.

Fuck me.

This woman was going to be the death of me, and I couldn't think of a sweeter way to go.

I woke a few hours later to find Ivy sleeping restlessly next to me.

Groaning, I rubbed the sleep out of my face, turning to see the time.

"Fuck me," I muttered.

Even after all these years, I couldn't get that infernal, internal clock of mine to shut the fuck off. Didn't matter if I wasn't in uniform anymore. Come 0500 hours, my ass was wide awake.

Throwing back the covers, I stood, stretched, then walked toward the bathroom. Taking my time in the shower, I mentally prepared myself for the day. It was a habit I'd learned from my military days and another thing I couldn't shake. I couldn't remember the last time I didn't think or prepare for any eventuality. Maybe it was engrained in my DNA. Who the fuck knows? All I knew was that by the time I left my room, I was awake and ready for anything.

Knowing most of the brothers would sleep for a few more hours, the quietness of the clubhouse afforded me the peace I needed to get a few things done.

When I headed downstairs, it surprised me to find Frost sitting in his office, drinking a cup of coffee. Brother never slept until I did and was always awake before me. Leaving him to whatever had his attention at the ass crack of dawn, I made my way to the galley to find Elvis already cooking up a storm.

"Coffee is on the table," the grumpy man muttered, flipping pancakes on the large griddle.

Taking a seat at the small table, I muttered my thanks and lifted the steaming hot brew to my mouth. Taking a drink, I closed my eyes and sighed.

I watched while Elvis placed slices of bacon on the griddle after he placed several pancakes into a warmer. On the stove sat a large stockpot. Steam floating up as whatever he had in there bubbled like some witches' brew. I sat there when he opened the oven, removing three trays of homemade biscuits, before also dumping them into another bin, then sliding it under the warmer.

The kitchen setup was like most I guessed. Only ours had a large open window with several warming lights that illuminated the food while keeping everything warm. Set up like a military kitchen galley, the brothers made damn sure Elvis had everything he desired to cook for this greedy-ass crew. Because when it came to food, these fuckers were picky as fuck.

"How have you been, Elvis?"

The man shrugged while he kept cooking.

Elvis talked little, and unlike most of the brothers in the club, Elvis stayed in his lane and hardly, if ever, left the kitchen. Before joining the club, Elvis was the master chef for a two-star general. Poor bastard followed the general everywhere he went, and when the man retired, he cut Elvis loose. With no desire to work for another high-ranking officer, Elvis finished his tour and never looked back. Scuttlebutt was that the Secret Service offered Elvis the head chef position at the White House, but the brother told them to fuck off.

Now he cooked for us.

When Mouth brought him on board, I investigated him thoroughly, but found little. Similar to Mouth, the man's service record had more redacted black ink than I had on my body. I had my suspicions but kept them to myself. I didn't believe in forcing my brothers to talk.

However, I also didn't believe in coincidences.

"Prez." Hannibal walked in just as Elvis turned, handing him a plate of food without saying a fucking word. The big man took it before taking a seat across from me, chowing down the hot food.

Frowning, I looked at Elvis. "Why does Hannibal get served and I don't?"

"Coffee was waiting."

"Yeah, but why does that fucker get food?"

"Doesn't drink coffee."

Hannibal smirked while he shoveled food into his pie hole.

Puck and Pinball groggily stumbled into the kitchen next. Neither looked awake when they headed for the table. Sitting, Pinball dropped his head to the cool table and moaned.

"Get your fucking nasty head off my clean table, asshole," Elvis said, dropping plates of food before the two sluggish men.

"Sorry, Elvis," Pinball muttered, picking up a fork before digging in as Mouth, Cyrus, and Razor walked in, heading for the small table. However, when Mouth stood next to me, not moving, I looked up at him.

"Need something, Mouth?"

"You're in my seat."

"Excuse me?"

"Move," the man growled.

It was too damn early to go head-to-head with Mouth, so I grabbed my cup of coffee and stood, heading for the door, when I stopped, looked back, and asked, "Why are you all eating in here and not the dining hall?"

"We eat in here," Mouth replied while the Plebs staggered past me one by one, each nodding when they walked past.

Standing there, I observed half of my club brothers chow down their food while Elvis continued cooking and wondered what the hell I was missing.