(3 Weeks Before)
Ashley "Are you sure your man is okay with this?" Diamond murmurs against my skin, her lips brushing my throat as our bodies grind in rhythm under the strobe lights. Her hands roam, bold and warm, as the bass pulses through the floor—and through me. The air inside the club smells like smoke, sex, and alcohol. And the lights scatter across our skin like glitter-drenched sin. I tilt my head just enough to catch sight of Gray in the corner booth. Drink in hand. Arm draped across the backrest like a throne built just for him. That dark, unreadable expression of his locked directly on me, watching like I'm the only thing that exists in this whole damn place. He doesn't blink. Doesn't smile. Just drinks me in with that gaze that strips me bare and sets every nerve in my body on fire. A slow, satisfied smirk tugs at my lips. "Oh, he's more than okay with it," I purr, arching into her touch, fully aware that every grind, every kiss, every teasing little moan is just for him. Grayson Bennett—president of the Crimson Reapers, my best friend Alyssa's older brother, and the man I've been messing around with for the past nine months—doesn't exactly come with a label. Mostly because he's still technically married to the wife who ghosted him nearly a year ago. But I've been on the back of his bike. I've been to the clubhouse. And he sure as hell doesn't complain when I tag along—or climb into his bed. Six months ago, I realized I was bisexual. Not a groundbreaking revelation or anything—I'd always suspected it—but growing up with ultra-religious grandparents meant I didn't exactly get the space to explore it. Especially not with girls. Which is ironic, really. Probably would've been less drama sneaking girls into the house than hopping fences to meet up with tattooed bad boys who smelled like weed and Axe body spray. The first time I ever slept with a woman, it was at a sex club with Gray. Actually, the one War opened shortly after his almost-thing with Alyssa. There was this sexy-ass Latina dancer spinning on a pole in front of us, all curves and confidence, and she invited me up to dance with her. I said yes without thinking. And the second I felt Gray's eyes on me—hungry, possessive, challenging—my whole body lit up. So, I pushed it. Took it a step further. I kissed her. Right there on stage, with the lights catching the shimmer of our lipstick and our hands exploring each other's bodies. The moment was electric. My pussy ached with need. And all I could think about was him fucking both of us. And that's exactly what happened. We ended up in a private room and spent hours fucking like we were trying to burn the sheets off the bed—his hands and mouth everywhere, his cock switching between our dripping pussies as we moaned, gasped, and screamed his name like a prayer we wanted answered all night long. And he sure as fuck delivered. I thought I'd be jealous, watching him with another woman—but he gave us exactly what we needed, and we weren't shy about giving it right back to each other. Let's just say... there were plenty of orgasms to go around. Now? Threesomes are kind of our thing. Not every weekend or anything, but often enough that it doesn't feel dirty anymore. And honestly? Even if Gray and I ever made things official, I don't think I'll stop. As long as the other woman knows the rules—he's mine. Gray knows the second I say my safe word, everything stops. No questions. No exceptions. And so far? I've never had a reason to doubt he'll honor that every damn time. I grab Diamond's hand and lead her off the dancefloor, weaving through the crowd until we reach Gray's booth. He leans back in the chair, arms still draped over the backrest, and spreads his legs just a little wider when he sees us approach. His eyes rake over her with slow, deliberate interest. "Who's this?" he asks, tilting his head. The low roughness of his voice makes my pussy clench. I smirk, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear as she blushes under his gaze. "This is Diamond. She wants to play with us." His lips twitch, dark with approval. "Good. Show her what I like, sweetheart." "Yes, Sir." I lean in, my lips grazing the shell of her ear as I whisper, "Get on your knees and take out his cock." She shivers, her breath catching in her throat, before slowly sinking to the floor in front of him. Gray doesn't move. He just watches her—calm, composed, in complete control—like he's already got the entire scene mapped out in his head and he's just waiting for us to catch up. Diamond's hands tremble as she reaches for his belt. I guide her with a firm hand on her shoulder, grounding her. The second his cock springs free, she gasps. And yeah, that's the correct reaction. I remember the first time I saw it too. How it made my mouth water. How it still does. Gray's eyes flicker to me, heat simmering behind them as his voice drops lower. "Your turn." I drop to my knees beside Diamond. She shifts just enough to make room, her fingers gripping the base of his cock. I lean in, wrapping my lips around the crown, sucking slow and steady—just enough pressure to make him groan, deep and guttural. His cock twitches, slick with my saliva now, and I gently guide it toward Diamond's mouth. She opens for him eagerly, her lips closing around his tip as I slide lower, dragging my tongue along the thick vein running the length of his shaft. "Fuck," Gray hisses, his jaw tightening as his fingers dig into the chair beneath him. My lips curl into a smirk. I know he's fighting the urge to grab my hair, but he won't. Because we've had that conversation. I already warned him: don't touch a Black woman's hair unless you're trying to start a fight you won't win. And I just got my hair braided. I didn't sit for six damn hours just to let a man fuck up my edges. Diamond moans around his cock, messy and eager, her tongue working the top half of his huge cock while I trail wet kisses down the base, licking where her lips can't reach. Gray's breathing gets heavier, his thighs tensing beneath our touch. "Look at you," I murmur, brushing her hair back so I can see her wrecked face. "Taking him so well." She whimpers, her eyes fluttering open to meet mine, and I feel the sharp spike of power twist low in my gut. I fucking love this. Love having him stretched out in front of me, fighting to stay still. Love watching another woman come undone while I keep the reins. I wrap my hand tighter around the base of his cock, Diamond's saliva dripping on me as I suck on Gray's balls, flicking my tongue over them. His hips jerk, and a deep groan rips from his throat. "Goddamn," he growls, losing control more by the second. "You're gonna make me come before either of you take your panties off." I glance up at him, grinning wickedly. "Then maybe you should stop us." He doesn't. Of course he doesn't. Because he loves this just as much as I do. Gray sets his drink down, his eyes still locked on me—like we're the only ones in the room, even though the bass is thumping and half the club is watching with barely disguised hunger. Let them. We're not the only ones fucking in here tonight, and it's not like we don't enjoy putting on a show. Another kink I didn't realize I had... until recently. Gray pulls a fistful of Diamond's hair and drags her off his cock with a wet pop. She gasps for air, her lips swollen, drool glistening on her chin and dripping down her chest. "Sweetheart," he says, his voice all grit and command, "get on the table." My body moves before my brain can catch up, heat flashing down my spine as I climb up. "Diamond," he adds, his eyes never leaving mine. "Take off her panties. Real fuckin' slow. Then eat my girl's pussy while I stroke my cock and watch." Goddamn. Yes. Please. And as I settle on the table, skin flushed, pulse racing, I know one thing for sure—whatever this thing is between Gray and me, I'm not ready to let it go. Not even close. Especially not with him watching me like he owns every inch of my body. And even if his wife does come back? I'm not giving him up without a goddamn fight.Alyssa"You ready?" Ashley asks as we pull into the clubhouse lot. Morning slices across chrome—King's, Niko's, and Mason's bikes parked in perfect formation, metal flashing like teeth. The air is crisp, a raw mix of exhaust and wet leaves that smells like trouble waiting to happen. Of course, Gray's bike is nowhere in sight. He's probably off handling whatever chaos couldn't wait until nightfall. Typical.That means Ashley won't get the confrontation she came for.Fine. I'll chew my men out solo.My hands grip the steering wheel until my knuckles go white. If what Ashley told me is true—if there really is a trafficking ring in our town—keeping it from me wasn't protection.It was betrayal. Plain and simple.Did they honestly think I couldn't handle it? That pretending I was fragile somehow made me safer?After everything I've fought through, everything they know about me, they should know better. Ashley's right. I was born into this life.This MC runs in my blood. Time to remind
Mason"When are we gonna tell her?" Niko asks, his eyes locked on the laptop screen, blue light reflecting off his face.He's been digging into Senator Alder's finances for hours, his fingers flying over the keys like he can hack his way straight into the bastard's soul. Meanwhile, King and I have been combing through camera feeds—traffic lights, alleyway corners, gas stations—anything that might give us even a glimpse of what went down the night of the drop.So far? Nothing.Either the footage was scrubbed, or those sick fucks knew exactly how to stay hidden.Not that there were many cameras in that part of town anyway. It's the kind of place the city pretends doesn't exist—where drug deals go down dark alleyways, and the only witnesses are junkies or corpses no one bothers to claim.Even if more than one person saw it happen, they'd keep their mouths shut. In neighborhoods like that, silence isn't loyalty. It's survival.I lean back in my chair, rubbing a hand over my face, the weig
AshleyGray: Gonna be busy all day. Pack a bag. Want you to stay at my place.I stare at the text, propped against my pillow with the sheet clutched to my chest—not because I'm embarrassed. Please. Gray's already seen every inch of this fine-ass body, and I'd flash the whole damn block before I ever pretended to be ashamed of it. The sheet's just something to hold on to while I fight the urge to yeet my phone across the room.Stay at his place? The hell does that even mean—one night? A week? Am I pulling up with a cute little overnight bag, or should I be backing a U-Haul into his driveway? My thumb hovers the screen, itching to fire back a smartass, "define pack a bag." But under the attitude, my chest squeezes tight. Because if Gray's really asking me to stay with him, then maybe—just maybe—he's not bullshitting about the promises he made yesterday. I should be hyped. Thrilled, even. But Gray's not the "let's play house" type. He doesn't invite anyone into his space unless he mea
Grayson"Baby, I'll be back later, okay?" I whisper, pressing a kiss to her forehead."Mm-hm." Ashley burrows deeper into her pillow, her lips twitching faintly like even asleep she knows I'm still here. She looks at peace. Soft. Content. That glow that only comes after hours of tearing each other apart and piecing ourselves back together. We spent the day making up the only way we know how—skin on skin, nothing left but heat.It almost makes me stay. Almost.But War's call won't leave my head. The moment I saw the missed call at four a.m., I knew. Shit's moving, and it's worse than I thought.I just called him back. He's got a name. A thread to pull.So I sent a message out to my brothers: Church. One hour. No excuses.We can't sit on this. This is our window, our edge.And I'll be damned if we don't use it.The ride to the clubhouse is nothing but static—plans, angles, a dozen ways this can go wrong and the one way it has to end right. Catch the bastard. Shut it down before it sp
WarBlunt pinched between my fingers, I let the smoke curl slow toward the ceiling as one of my dancers, Naomi, flips herself upside down on the pole. Her heels smack chrome, legs spread wide for the kinds of men who couldn't get laid unless they paid for it.Business at Rapture's been good. Too good.Nothing sells better than ass. Doesn't matter if it's dusted in glitter under neon or raw in some backroom—men'll bleed their wallets dry for five minutes where they feel wanted. Powerful. In control.The Iron Serpents is my kingdom. Rapture's the throne room.Every dollar that moves through this joint feeds the club—fresh cuts on my brothers' backs, a roof over their heads, ammo stacked for the next asshole dumb enough to test us. The girls get paid. The rules stay clear. Cross one and you learn quick why we run this town.Working with the Reapers fattens the cash. Their enemies are ours now. Their assets back mine. Muscle multiplies. Protection sharpens. Power consolidates.Moonshadow
AshleyWith the help of aspirin, a few mind-blowing orgasms, and a long nap in Gray's arms, I'm feeling somewhat human again by mid-afternoon.He's still out cold—stretched across my bed like he owns the lease, naked, shameless, completely unbothered—while I drag my hungover ass to the kitchen. I whip up pancakes, bacon, and eggs, letting the smell of grease and syrup do its thing and sober me up a little more.Don't get it twisted—I'm still pissed at Gray. But the way he showed up last night, making sure I didn't choke on my own vomit? The way he fucked me like it meant something instead of using my body to blow off steam?Yeah... that's progress.It's proof he's trying. Shows he's not out here running game on me, or jumping into some other bitch's bed just because we're not official.But none of that changes the fact that we still need to talk.Ground rules have to be set if Gray actually wants another shot with me.Any tattooed bad boy with a deep voice and an ass you could bounce