Chapter Twenty-Four Brigit

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: brIGIT

Damn the man. I'm trying to focus here. His magnificent dick almost slips out of my mouth when he sucks on my nub. In retaliation, I take him deep and hollow out my cheeks, causing his hips to jerk. Score one for me. But then he plays dirty by sliding his finger into my passage. I swallow around him just as he finds that perfect spot. Our bodies shimmy and shake in an orgasmic dance.

I giggle as I release his cock with a loud pop.

"You're giggling?" He roars as he snags me around the waist and tickles me.

"Stop!" I screech, laughing harder.

"Don't you know guys get a complex if their woman laughs while looking at his dick?"

I break free and straddle him. "I would never laugh at your magnificent dick."

"Too right." He grins at me while kneading my breasts.

"I was laughing because I'm happy."

His grin widens. "Yeah? I'm happy, too."

I lean down and kiss him.

His phone buzzes, which draws a snarl out of him.

"What?"

Feeling bratty, I shift so I can rub my pussy up and down his cock. He narrows his eyes at me as I feel him harden beneath me. Grinning, I speed up and watch his eyes roll.

"Is he okay?" The seriousness of his question stills me. I try to slide off, but he stops me. "Okay, I'll be there in a few minutes."

"Is everything okay?" I ask him when he ends the call.

He lifts me up before sliding me down his hardened shaft. "Now, it is."

I open my mouth to ask him about the phone call, but a low moan escapes instead. Fuck, the man's dick is a marvel. He uses his strength to lift and lower me as he powers his hips to slam himself deep into my core. In seconds, I reach the peak again and let myself fall.

He pats me on the butt as he shifts to move us off the bed. "Shower, and then I have to go."

"Where are you going?" I ask as I follow him into the bathroom. He turns on the water and waits for it to warm up before drawing me inside.

"1%. My assistant manager cut his hand and is heading to the hospital. I need to fill in until Trouble can get one of his men to take over."

"Trouble? Is he a member of the club? I haven't met him."

"No, he's not. He's the President of the Shadow Borns. They're part owners of 1%. His guys and ours take turns covering the hotel."

He fills the palm of his hand with shampoo before sliding his fingers through my hair. I melt when he massages my scalp. So good. He rinses out the shampoo before grabbing the conditioner. He glides his fingers gently through, detangling any knots with great care. I collapse into goo when he switches to soap and caresses my body with his powerful hands.

Once I'm clean, I return the favor. I think washing Wildcard is now my favorite activity, next to fucking him, that is. His muscles jump under my administrations and I feel all-powerful when I stroke his dick until he explodes.

"Oops, made a mess. Guess I'll have to start over," I purr.

He takes the soap from me. "You do that again and you'll have to carry me out of the shower. I'll finish cleaning myself. You can't be trusted."

I pout until he gives me a kiss before ducking under the spray to rinse off.

We dry off and return to the bedroom to dress.

"How long will you be gone?"

Wildcard pulls on his shirt and watches me. "You could come with me? I could give you a tour of the hotel."

"Is it safe?"

"My shoulder's healed enough," he says, rotating his shoulder. "We could take the bike. No one can see you under the helmet. We have a private underground parking garage we don't use very often. There's an elevator that will take us up to the executive floor. What do you say?"

"Where you go, I go," I reply.

We check on Colt and then tell Puma where we're headed. Wildcard makes a detour downstairs into the basement. He's back up in minutes, holding the helmet he bought me for our escape to Boston.

"You still have it?" I ask. My eyes mist as I take it from him.

"I hoped that one day you would need it again."

I hug my helmet with one hand as he takes the other. He leads me outside and stops next to a bike I've never seen before. "This isn't your bike."

"It is. I still have the one you rode to Boston. Couldn't part with it. I bought this one five years ago. Bought it the day I met Puma. He was in the store buying a bike and we got to talking." He gestures toward the largest motorcycle I've ever seen sitting next to his.

"He'd need a bike that big, wouldn't he?" I ask. It's almost twice the size of Wildcard's bike.

"Custom order. Well, it would have to be. They weren't expecting a giant to be shopping for a bike."

I laugh as he helps me put my helmet on. Flashes of the times he did this on our trip pass through my thoughts. I sigh when he finishes.

"What was that sigh for?"

"Memories."

He grins and swings his leg over the bike. I take his offered hand and brace my free hand on his shoulder to slide in behind him. Snuggling up close, I wrap my arms around his waist and hold on tight. This is my happy place. Memories slide in and out as he revs the bike and flies through the gate. The Strip looks entirely different when you're on the back of a motorcycle. The buildings feel closer and taller somehow. Even the lights seem brighter. Cool air passes over my exposed skin, making me grateful for my jeans, boots, and jacket. Too soon, we're pulling into a familiar parking lot. But instead of driving to the entrance like my cabbie Jason had done, Wildcard drives around to the side and down a small ramp. He slows to a stop in front of a gate and leans over to key in a series of numbers into a keypad. The gate opens, and he drives through. The parking garage isn't large. There are only a dozen parking spots.

He parks near the elevator and waits for me to climb off. I remove the helmet. My face hurts from smiling. I'm bouncing as he takes my helmet and hangs it on the handlebars.

"You enjoyed that, didn't you?"

I bob my head up and down. "I missed riding. Didn't realize how much until now. That was the best trip yet."

"Why?" He asks as he takes my hand and pulls me toward the elevator.

"Because you're mine and I'm yours," I reply.

He stops and turns to face me. "You're right. Shit. I knew I was enjoying the ride, but I thought it was just because you were back on my bike. But it wasn't just that. It was because you will always be on the back of my bike. Damn woman. I love you." He kisses me as the elevator doors close and doesn't release me until they open again.

"Welcome to the Executive Floor of 1%."

We're in a utilitarian hallway with several doors baring silver plaques. This hallway lacks the luxury of the hotel, but it's still nice. He stops in front of the door with his name on it and opens it. Inside is where they hid the luxury. A chrome u-shaped desk with a black smokey glass top sits to the left, so the occupant has a view of the city skyline. To my right is a table with six matching chairs in black leather and chrome. Along the glass windows is a black leather couch.

"Take a seat. There's a bar inside the cupboard if you want to get anything to drink or eat. I'll just be a few minutes." Wildcard sits behind his desk and pulls a laptop out of a locked drawer. He powers it up and gives me a nod when I hold up a bottle of water. Handing it to him, I take a seat on the couch and stare at the city that is now my home.

In Boston, my office was on the first floor and I didn't have a window. Mike's office did, but it only looked out into the parking lot. I shudder when I realize that Misha's goons could have shot me from that window if they hadn't chosen to chase me down instead. I got lucky. Shaking off that thought, I try to determine what floor we're on. I hadn't been paying attention in the elevator. Was busy getting kissed. We're not at the top of the building, but I conclude that we're at least ten floors up.

My mind drifts as I watch the cars drive up and down the popular road. I can just make out forms as people walk past. Many stop and make the trek to 1%. This hotel is impressive, much grander than where I worked before. Funny that Wildcard and I both ended up working at hotels. The biggest difference being that he owns a stake in this one. I hear Wildcard talking on the phone, but it's just background noise. However, the knock on the door draws my attention. Turning, I see a man enter. He's wearing a kutte like Wildcard. He looks familiar, but I can't place him.

"Hey, man, what are you doing here?" Wildcard asks as they share a bro hug.

"Came to fill in for Speedster."

"How's he doing?"

"Five stitches. Fucking idiot. Not sure what he was doing, but I think we need to have another class on safety in the workplace."

Wildcard chuckles and beacons me to come over.

"Trouble, this is my woman, Brigit. Brigit, this is Trouble. He's the President of the Shadow Borns. I told you about him earlier."

"Hello," I say, offering him my hand.

"You were here the other night," Trouble says. "With a little boy. Your son." He turns to Wildcard.

That's when I realize where I've seen him before. He was standing at the front desk when I checked in. Along with a gorgeous woman. He'd been watching us.