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29: Tasted Heaven
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2026-01-10 23:42:34
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The Biker's Bride Wants Revenge 39: The Happiest Men Have No Shame
RHEAI take three steps before I realise he’s following me.Not that he ever tried to hide it. Ignoring him has never worked, and pretending he has boundaries is a fantasy I gave up on early. There’s just the steady sound of boots behind me as we walk into the building together, like this is normal. Like he belongs here.I stop at the entrance.He almost walks straight into me.“You done?” he asks, mild as ever.I turn slowly. “Why are you still here?”His gaze drifts past me, taking in the stairwell. The paint that’s mostly been fixed. The lights that actually work now. The air that smells faintly of disinfectant instead of mould. He hums to himself, thoughtful.“This your place?”My eyes narrow. “Why?”“Curious.”That single word makes my skin prickle. The Reaper doesn’t get curious about things that don’t concern him.Unless, for some reason, he thinks I concern him.The thought is unsettling enough that I start up the stairs faster. If I stop moving, he’ll only get worse.“It’s no
The Biker's Bride Wants Revenge 38: This Smitten Man
RHEA“See? Your body already knows the answer.”Everything about him screams sin, danger, and that lazy, nonchalant confidence that makes the world feel smaller when he’s around. Right now… if he could swallow me whole, I know he would.I swallow dryly, lust fogging my thoughts so badly it takes every ounce of control to plant my hands on his shoulders and push him just enough to create some space. My breaths come uneven, shaky. What is it about him that has me tossing common sense out the window?“It doesn’t,” I lie. I can tell he knows from the tilt of his head, the faint arch of his brow. Damn him. “And we really can’t, Damien. Just… take me home.”“But I came all this way because I missed you, Dot. And you’re so willing to get rid of me?” He presses a hand to his chest. “You break my heart.”“I could break something else if a single car drives past.” I snap, half-laughing, half-serious.He snorts, amused, his eyes glinting with mischief. “You shouldn’t threaten me with a good time
The Biker's Bride Wants Revenge 37: Is My Dot Jealous?
RHEA“Who’s Wendy Osborne?”I don’t know what I expect to see on Damien’s face, but it’s not this—his jaw locking tight, hand dragging roughly through his long hair like he’s one second from snapping.“Is she what this is about?” he mutters, voice low and edged. “Fuck, Dot… Come here.”I tense. “Damien—”He reaches back, one strong arm wrapping around my waist. Not rough. Just firm. Unquestionable. He shifts his hips, rolls the bike slightly under us, and guides me forward until I’m no longer behind him.I’m in his lap now.Straddling him.My thighs bracket his hips, knees pressing into the leather seat on either side. My hands fly to his chest for balance. His cock—already thick and hard—twitches beneath me through his jeans, right against my core. The seam of my own pants rubs against my clit with the slightest shift, and I suck in a sharp breath.He gently lifts my helmet off and sets it aside. Then his hands are back—both of them—planting firmly on my ass, fingers digging in just
The Biker's Bride Wants Revenge 36: Five Minutes, Wendy
DAMIENI release her like she’s something rotten in my hand.“Talk about her like that again,” I tell her softly, “and I’ll carve your tongue out and send it to your mother with a ribbon.”She stumbles back a step, clutching her throat like she can already feel it.“A stripper,” I repeat, slow and deadly. “You don’t get to speak about my wife like that. Ever.”Her lips tremble. “She’s not—”“She’s mine.” My voice drops. “That’s all you need to know. And everything you should be afraid of.”I step closer—not to touch her, never that—but to make sure she understands how small she is in front of me.“You think you matter in this?” I murmur. “You think your last name, your parents, this little marriage fantasy gives you power over me?”A humorless smile curves my mouth.“You don’t even have power over yourself.”She swallows. “Our families agreed—”“Our families don’t own me,” I snap. “And they definitely don’t get to decide what I care about. And trust me, Wendy. It’s not you.”I lean in
The Biker's Bride Wants Revenge 35: My Woman, My Dot
DAMIENI’d spent the past weeks dealing with the gun shipment. Bones was right—other MCs, the ones too spineless to mind their own business and found an opportunity the second I wasn’t around, had started poking around in places they had no business being. Messing with club operations. Stepping into my territory. My city.That kind of mistake earns permanent lessons.I’m a kill-first, questions-never kind of man.But today, even while handling all that like I promised I would, there was a strange lightness in my step. My gun stayed farther from my hand than usual. I only brought a few knives into play.Because my mind kept drifting back to this morning.My woman. My Dot.Aftercare for your future wife does something to a man. Puts a different kind of fire in your blood. I didn’t even blow one of the bastards’ brains out—just broke his finger and sent him limping away.And still, I kept thinking about her.The kiss.Her rejection—half-hearted, stubborn, beautiful.It riled me up more t
The Biker's Bride Wants Revenge 34: Who’s Wendy Osborne?
RHEA“Turn around, Dot.”I don’t want to look.I really don’t.But my feet slow anyway, traitors to my good sense.He’s across the street, leaning against his motorcycle with the kind of lazy confidence that should be illegal. One boot hooked on the curb, black tee stretched tight over muscle, every line of his body on shameless display. The tattoos on his arms peek out like they know exactly what they’re doing.His long hair is loose, dark and wild around his shoulders.No rings this time.Just a thick chain around his neck—simple, heavy, unapologetically dangerous.And of course he’s already looking at me.Not casually. Not politely. Like he’s been waiting.My chest twists in that stupid, traitorous way it always does with him. The kind that forgets betrayal and remembers heat. The kind that remembers hands, mouths, and the way he says my name like it’s a promise and a threat at the same time.“You’re unbelievable,” I mutter into the phone.“You look tired,” he says quietly. “And ma
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