Daddies Underground MC Club

Danielle POVI watch as people move around the restaurant, their movements a blur of purpose and noise. They don’t seem to notice me standing here in the corner, and for that, I’m grateful. I gather the plates and glasses left behind, then disappear behind the door that shields me from the rest of the world.If I could survive without work, I wouldn’t leave the house at all. After placing the items into the sink, I turn to the manager. He gives me a nod.“Off you go, girly. See you tomorrow,” he says.I nod in return, then walk out into the night and rush home. When I step inside, the apartment is quiet. I glance around, but Sam isn’t here. Grabbing a glass of water, I sit down on the couch, and feel my phone vibrate.His name flashes across the screen.We should eat out. Come meet me.Eat out? Is he serious right now?I’m not coming out, Sam.I hit send, set the phone down, and curl into the cushions. Somehow, despite how early it still is, I doze off. The next thing I hear is the do

Ghost POVSo this is the woman Prez was talking about. Yeah, she’s got fire, no doubt about that. There’s a sharp edge to her eyes, even if her nerves are running just beneath the surface. I grip her hips and pull her into my lap, settling her over me so she’s straddling my thighs. She doesn’t resist.“Let me guess,” I say, giving her a slow, knowing smirk. “Things aren’t working, he thinks opening the relationship will somehow fix your sex life?”She shakes her head, but the ghost of a smile touches her lips. “Not exactly,” she whispers.I lean in a little, watching the way she chews at her bottom lip and glances around the room like she’s afraid someone’s listening. Maybe shy. Or maybe just unused to sitting in a stranger’s lap, especially one like me. Still, she hasn’t moved away. That tells me more than her words ever could. There’s damage there, something broken and aching under the surface, and even if she’s pretending to be bold, it’s all raw edges and silent screams underneath

Knox POVI don’t usually take gate duty, but Bones needed a break, and I didn’t feel like sitting on my ass any longer. Figured I’d stretch my legs, breathe in something other than exhaust and whiskey for once.Didn’t expect a storm in red heels to come marching up the drive like she owned the goddamn place.She didn’t flinch. Not at the gates, not at the barbed wire, not even at me. Most folks get twitchy the second they realize who runs this place. Not her. She looked me square in the eye and told me to shove our “members only” rule straight up my ass. Sweet voice, wicked temper. A fuckin’ firecracker wrapped in perfume and defiance.I let Prez know. He said let her in.Now, back inside, the usual noise hits me, music, clinking glasses, the low rumble of laughter, but it’s her I spot first. Leaning against the bar beside Hex like she belongs here. Like the place didn’t scare her, didn’t swallow her whole. That dress? Shit. It’s cut high and clings like a second skin. Makes it real d

Danielle POVI try to laugh, to play it off, to hide the fact that my skin feels too tight and my lungs won’t expand all the way. “Okay, okay, dramatic much?” I joke breathlessly, forcing a smile. “You made your point, caveman, now put me down.”But he doesn’t even glance at me.Instead, he murmurs, “You walked in here in that dress, thinking you were proving something to someone who doesn’t even see you anymore.”He turns down a hallway I hadn’t noticed before, one dimly lit and far quieter than the rest of the bar. My pulse pounds louder than the bass outside.“I see you.”My throat works around a lump I didn’t expect. “Knox—”He kicks a door open with his boot and steps inside. There’s a bed. A real one. Not some dirty mattress on the floor like I half-feared. The room smells like leather and cedar and heat. My breath stutters.“Please,” I whisper, and I don’t even know if I’m asking him to stop or to keep going.He lays me down on the bed like I’m something fragile, and that alone

Danielle POVKnox pulls back just enough to look at me, his eyes blazing with an emotion I can’t quite name, something dark, possessive, and fiercely protective all at once. It takes my breath away, the intensity in his gaze, the silent promises hidden within his unwavering stare.“Your turn,” I whisper breathlessly, fingers trembling as they slip down to grip his shirt. My heart races as I tug at the fabric, desperate to feel him, skin to skin, to erase every remaining barrier between us. “Please,” I add softly, needing to see, needing to touch, needing him more than I thought possible.With a slow, knowing smile, Knox rises from the bed just enough to peel away his shirt, revealing a body carved by rough, demanding days and countless fights won and lost.Ink flows down his chest, swirling across muscles that flex as he tosses his shirt aside. My fingers trace over him reverently, exploring every hard ridge and groove, every scar and faded bruise, learning him with a quiet awe that s