All Chapters of The Biker's Bride Wants Revenge: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

RHEAIt’s strange how an identity I carried for half my life could be cheapened in a single moment of betrayal.I wonder if Sister Agnes still prays for me—the six-year-old girl who walked herself to the orphanage, knowing she needed someone to take care of her because her parents were dead and gone.My mother’s blood was still in my hair when I knocked on that door. Spanish was the only language I knew then—I hadn’t learned English yet. My mother was an immigrant from Venezuela, and my father was Afro‑Latino. They cared more about making sure I knew my native tongue than anything else, so English was never really taught to me.Now, I can barely remember the last words my mother spoke as the light left her eyes. I’m certain they were in Spanish, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t recall them. Maybe it was the trauma—but after they died, Spanish became a language I no longer understood.When the double doors to St. Mary Magdalene’s Children’s Home opened, Sister Agnes’s face wasn’t

RHEA“Rhea…” Damien’s voice cracks, raw and strained, like he’s one breath away from snapping. His eyes are pure torment—dark, wild, pupils blown wide as he fights himself. Good. Let him suffer.He tries to pull his hand away, tries to cling to whatever shred of restraint he’s got left, but I don’t let him. I guide his palm from my abdomen upward, pressing it firmly to my breast until he has no choice but to feel me.He resists for half a second.Then he gives in.His hand cups me fully, fingers spreading wide over the soft weight of my breast. A low, filthy moan spills from my lips the instant his skin meets mine.His gaze drops to where he’s touching me, then snaps back to my face—eyes black with lust, jaw clenched so hard I can see the muscle jump.I smile at him—slow, wicked, dripping seduction.“You should let go,” he whispers.“Shh…” I press one finger to his lips, silencing him. “You’re thinking too much. Since when did you grow a moral compass?”He answers by licking my finge

RHEAI take him into my mouth—slow at first, then deeper, lips sealing tight as I suck hard. The piercing drags against my tongue and he swears under his breath. I hollow my cheeks, pick up the pace, tongue circling the head, tasting him until my jaw aches.His hips jerk—short, controlled thrusts, using my mouth exactly how he wants. The leash is wrapped around his fist, keeping me locked in place.“Take it,” he growls. “All of it.”I do. I gag, eyes burning, tears spilling as drool slips down my chin and streaks my breasts. I don’t stop. I moan around him, the vibration pulling another curse from his throat.He comes fast—hot and thick down my throat. I swallow everything, greedy, desperate.When he pulls free, he’s still hard. Of course he is.He looks down at me like he owns the sight—dark-eyed, satisfied, ruined.“Good girl,” he murmurs. “You took me so well.”He lifts me again, gentler now, and lays me back on the bed.Then he kneels.He spreads my legs wide and hooks his fingers

RHEA“That’s a stretch,” I murmur, though my voice sounds distant even to me.“I’d call it a gamble,” he replies easily, almost teasingly. “But judging by your face, I played the right cards.”He’s right. And if anything, it only confirms what I already suspected: he didn’t leave this to anyone else. He chose every single thing himself, from the shoes to the tiniest accessory.I lift the cotton underwear, thumb brushing lightly over the fabric, and feel that familiar tightness in my chest. Not embarrassment. Not even disbelief. Just… the quiet, unsettling awareness of how much thought he put into this for me.“Thank you,” I say again, softer this time, the words carrying more than I intend.He tilts his head, amusement and quiet satisfaction flickering in his eyes. He doesn’t say anything—doesn’t need to. The gratitude hangs between us, heavy enough to make my chest tighten.“Did that impress you?” he asks finally, voice low.I glance around the closet again. The space. The care. The

RHEA“Ma! Mama! Maaaama!”Camryn barrels toward me on unsteady little legs, her curls bouncing, arms wide like she’s about to tackle me. I barely manage to catch her before she crashes into my knees.“Oof!” I laugh as she slams into my stomach. “You’re getting so big!”She tilts her head back and grins at me, drool shining on her chin. I wipe it gently with my sleeve.Across the living room, Victor is pacing. His phone is pressed tightly to his ear, his voice low and tense. His shoes make a soft, repetitive sound against the marble floor.He’s been like that since we got back from the studio.I don’t know if I did something wrong.Maybe I should have told him the moment I saw the positive test. I should have walked out of the bathroom and said it before I even wiped my tears. But I wanted it to be a surprise. A good surprise.I thought he’d be happy.Because children are happy things.But Elara’s words play in my head. She’s right, Camryn is only two. She still needs help with everyth