Chapter 3

Hunter stood frozen, his breath heavy in the shadows of Thorns he was the fool who had stepped into the fire, willingly surrendering to the flames.

Widening his stance to make room for his cock, Ethan prolonged the eye contact and waited for Hunter to make his decision. Their gazes locked, unflinching and intense. Ethan could feel the pulse of the club around him, the air thick with anticipation, but none of that mattered. All that existed for him in that stretched-out moment was the man standing before him—Hunter "Crosscut" Maddox.

He knew Hunter as a shadow on the edge of his professional world, a figure wrapped in rumors and the occasional glimpse from afar. Ethan had built a profile of him in his mind: the vice president of the Emerald City Overdrive MC, bound by brotherhood and the unwritten laws of the biker world. He'd never expected Hunter to venture outside his territory, figuring the famous ECO club parties held enough sex and booze to entertain a man like him.

The surprise of seeing him here had thrown Ethan off-balance initially. But now, as he stood watching the biker deliberate, a thrill ran through him. There was something raw and undeniably sexy about the way Hunter moved, the way his eyes held a storm of thoughts just beneath the surface. But given the way Hunter's gaze ate up Ethan, and his own reaction to the attention gave a hint of what might have made Crosscut seek pleasure outside his realm: his interest in other men.

Ethan's training taught him to read people and to seek beyond the fa?ade they presented to the world. And right now, every line of Hunter's body spoke of a tumultuous battle within. The man was a fortress of muscle and resolve, yet there was the subtle tension of his jaw and the slight narrowing of his eyes.

The unshakeable vice president was wrestling with a decision that clearly went against his instincts. Ethan found himself fascinated, caught up in the play of emotions across Hunter's face. He watched as Hunter's throat worked, as if he were swallowing doubts that threatened to choke him.

Ethan's own heart pounded with a mix of adrenaline and something deeper, more compelling. As the seconds ticked by, the music and the chatter of the club faded to a dull roar behind the blood rushing in his ears. Ethan stood motionless, not wanting to disrupt the delicate balance of the moment. He needed Hunter to make the next move, to choose his path.

With a resolution that seemed to pull the air from the room, Hunter stepped forward, closing the distance between them with a determination that sent a shiver down Ethan's spine.

The shift in dynamics was immediate and intoxicating. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. Here was the biker, stepping into his world.

The realization was a rush. A flood of excitement blurred the edges of his vision. As Hunter halted, they stood inches apart, and the rest of the club seemed to vanish.

"Maddox." Ethan inclined his head, searching for words. Finally, he settled on, "What do you need?"

The biker blinked as if processing the question. Then he admitted, "I want you to have the control. Hold me still, grip my wrists, mark me, and fuck me raw like you own me."

No prevarications, no stumbling, he just simply stated his needs. Ethan respected that. He gripped the man's beard-roughened jaw and plundered his mouth in a reward. For only one second, Hunter stiffened, then he engaged. Their tongues dueled and their bodies pressed together until Ethan could discern each dip and valley and the hard ridge of Hunter's cock.

When they finally broke apart, Ethan rested his forehead against Hunter's, and waited for their breathing to return to normal.

"All right. Follow me; stay on my left side and about two steps behind me." Without glancing back, Ethan walked to the seated area near the stairs to the dungeon and halted at a secluded nook.