Chapter 1

CHAPTER

ONE

DILLION

Fingertips slowly glide up my hip, moving to my side, and then curl around the front of my throat. I let out an exhaled breath. I know I should gasp at the feel of a man’s fingers anywhere on my body because I live alone, and it’s the middle of the night.

But I don’t.

Because I know who it is… or at least I know of the person. It’s my secret lover. I may not know what he looks like, but I know the feel of him, and I know the way he makes me feel, too.

Amazing.

Beautiful.

Sexy.

Alive.

And I don’t even know his name.

His mouth touches the spot right below the back of my earlobe. His tongue swirls there, and my eyes roll to the back of my head. If I could think, I would probably tell my mouth to cry out, but I can’t think. I can’t move. I can’t even breathe.

He’s good.

So good.

The fingers around my neck flex before he slides his hand down the center of my chest. His rough, calloused palm slips between my breasts and then right to the sweet spot—between my thighs.

Good god.

So good.

His fingers swirl around my clit, then two of them slip inside of me. The good thing about not knowing a damn thing about this man is that I have nothing to be embarrassed about when it comes to him.

I can be who I want to be. Move the way I want to move. He can’t see my small breasts, my stomach roll, or the cellulite on my thighs. I don’t have to look him in the eye when the sun comes up.

It’s always dark outside, and we’re always in my room.

He’s always gone before the sun rises.

I have nothing to hide from him. I have nothing to impress him with and nothing to be shy about. I wouldn’t even know him if I passed him in the street. So, my inhibitions vanish the moment he appears in my darkened room.

Gone.

I’m sure that I should ask questions about who he is and how he managed to get into my house, but that would be about three months too late. It’s the weirdest arrangement I think I’ve ever been party to.

He broke into my house one night. I didn’t hear him. Didn’t know he was even in my room until his mouth was between my legs. I was already on the edge of the cliff, ready to fall over.

I didn’t stop him.

How could I?

What man voluntarily eats you out? I figured he couldn't be half-bad, and honestly, I thought that maybe it was someone I knew. Maybe someone from the past, although I can’t imagine anyone from my past being so damn good or nice.

It wasn’t until I reached up and cupped his cheeks as he slid inside of me. Until I felt the short hair on his face, then slid my fingers through the longer strands of hair on his head, that I realized I didn’t know a single man with longer hair and a beard.

But I was already gone for—completely and totally.

And just like tonight, I didn't ask any questions. I don’t care either. I’ve never done anything wild or dangerous willingly. And if this is my one thing, I’m going to sit back and enjoy the ride—literally.

Arching my back, I press my ass against his hips and feel his cock nestle between my cheeks. Rolling my eyes to the back of my head, I let out a long moan. I need more than just his fingers inside of me. I need to feel him stretch me like only he can.

My secret lover growls against the shell of my ear. Goose bumps break out all over my skin. His heavy breathing is sexy as hell as it washes over my ear. My hips jerk, and my pussy grows wetter and achier with each come-hither motion of his fingers between my legs.

“Please,” I exhale.

His fingers move faster. His thumb presses against my clit and draws circles there, bringing me to the brink, to the edge. I’m about to come. I’m one split second away from falling over. Then I feel his head shift, his lips find purchase on my neck right before his mouth opens and his teeth sink in.

Then.

He.

Sucks.

I don’t know why, but his mouth on my body, anywhere, turns me on to no end. I’ve never felt this way about any man before. I didn’t even know I could feel this way. That anyone could evoke these types of sensations throughout my entire being.

When I come, my pussy pulses, my hips buck and jerk. My entire body feels warm from the inside out. I want more. Every minute that passes, the need to have him inside of me grows. Trembling, I turn my head and touch my lips to his.

His tongue fills my mouth and swirls. He tastes me, and it’s long, deep, and wet. I know what that tongue feels like on every inch of my body, and I want it. Crave it. Need it. His hand slips from between my legs, and he glides his fingers along my skin. Up my torso and to my lips, painting them with my wetness.

“Hook your leg over my hip, moonlight.”

Moonlight.

My heart slams against my chest at his use of the nickname.

I love it.

It’s the only name he’s ever called me, and I know it isn’t special. He only sees me in the moonlight, and maybe he tells everyone the same thing, but I like to think it’s special to me.

I do as he demands, wrapping my leg around his thigh, hooking my ankle behind his knee, and spreading myself for him. Wordlessly, I feel his length press against my center, right where I want him before he slowly sinks inside of me from behind.

Closing my eyes, I let out a slow exhale as he fills me, stretching me. Every time he slips inside of me, I feel like he’s going to split me in half. I wrap my fingers around the back of his neck, gripping him there, holding on because I know this man is energetic.

His hips begin to move slowly, his hand finding its way around my throat again. I breathe slowly as my chest rises and falls as he takes me.

Slow and easy, then hard and fast.

It’s absolute perfection, just like it always is.

Every single time.

CLINK

The more often I come to visit her, the longer I want to stay. Tonight, it takes everything I have inside of me to roll away from her soft body, get out of her warm bed, and leave her house. I should stay.

Dillion is mine—she just doesn’t know it yet.

Straddling my bike, I stare at the front of her house. It’s a cute little house, only a two-bed, one-bath. I know it was Loner’s, but I also know if he stayed here, it wasn’t often or for very long.

It’s small but enough for her. Me too, if I ever decide to move in with her. Which I will. I’m just not sure when I’m ready to give this up. It’s fun, and after being locked up for three years, I’m down with a little fun.

This house is probably the smartest thing Loner ever did before we took care of his ass for betraying us. Especially since it brought Dillion here. Otherwise, she probably would have stayed away in Shreveport, where she was going to school.

Then I would have had to kidnap her and lock her ass up. But this is a hell of a lot more fun. I should probably feel like a dick because she’s stuck alone in Pineville. According to reports over the past three years, she’s found a few friends here in town, although she doesn’t seem to spend much time with them.

She’s mine.

Given to me by the laws of our world.

Even if she doesn’t know it yet.

Starting my engine, I rev it as I walk the bike backward out of her driveway. Looking over to the house, I flick my attention toward the bedroom window. I see her there. She’s standing at the window. I thought she was asleep, but I probably woke her up when I was leaving.

Thankfully, her driveway isn’t very well lit, so I’m pretty sure she can’t see my face right now. Jerking my chin toward her, I leave. Even though every ounce of my body is begging me to stay—I don’t.

The bike moves through town as I guide it straight out of the city limits. The roads are empty, making it easy to maneuver through the streets. Sal’s Bar comes into view, the only busy place at this time of night. I ride right past and make my way toward the clubhouse.

As I ride, I think about the future. Dillion might be mine, but I haven’t staked my claim publicly. I will. When the time is right. I’m still not acclimated to life on the outside. I was only away for three years, but it felt like a goddamn lifetime.

I missed a lot of things that happened in the world. One of them was the fact that my sister fell in love with one of my brothers. He still has an ass beating coming to him for that shit.

As I ride, I think about that. I should be pissed as fuck at them, but I had three years to think about it. At the end of the day, I’ve decided it doesn’t matter how it happened. All I give a fuck about is the fact that my sister is home.

Here with me. Where she’s always belonged and where she needs to be. I also know that Brew loves her. He wouldn’t fuck her over because he knows I’d fucking kill him—slowly.

The weekly visits helped ease that pain, that anger of them getting together while I was locked up. There’s also the happiness that has been clearly written all over her face. That has helped, too.

Pulling into the clubhouse parking lot, I kill my bike’s engine and stay where I am, straddling the seat as I stare forward. I’m not looking at anything, really. There’s nothing much to see, but that doesn’t mean my mind isn’t racing.

Brew has asked me for my sister’s hand. I agreed, of course. He’s going to propose soon, and all is right in the world.

Except it’s not.

There is Dillion.

There is the Southern Mafia.

There is my prison sentence.

I’m not sure there is any kind of solution to any of it. Throwing my leg over the seat, I make my way into the clubhouse, stopping when I step fully into the bar. It’s a Thursday night, by all accounts.

It’s quiet, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t a party of some kind happening. There’s always something, even if it’s just the clubwhores putting on a show for us. Because there is—always something.

Vixen appears by my side. I’ve already come twice tonight. I don’t think I could rally again, but when my gaze swings over to meet hers, I can tell she isn’t here to fuck. She’s got something on her mind.

“Vix?” I ask.

“Can I talk to you?”

Jerking my chin, I give her a single nod. “Sure, what’s up?”

“Privately?”

Placing my hand on the small of her back, I guide her toward my room. My body is fucking spent, so I won’t be getting her naked tonight. However, nobody will even look twice at the two of us going into my room. I’ve fucked Vixen more times than I can count, along with everyone else here.

Once we reach my bedroom door, I push it open. She moves inside and walks straight toward the window, where she stops. Closing the bedroom door behind me, I place my hands on my hips as I wait for whatever it is she’s going to say.

“I have a sister,” she announces, her voice barely above a whisper right before she spins around. Her gaze finds mine, connecting before she speaks again. “I want you to take her.”