All Chapters of In Bed With The MC President: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

147 Chapters

Reapers don’t fuck a family

JustinThe sleep didn't help. The talk with Reaper didn't help. Nothing helped.My sister was in a penthouse with a man who wanted her dead and I was sitting here, ordered to stand down like a prospect.The rage was eating me from the inside out. I needed to break something. I needed to bleed. Or I needed to fuck until I couldn't remember my own name.I stormed out of the main bar, ignoring the few brothers still hanging around, and headed toward the back hallway where the private rooms were. The bass from the speakers vibrated through me. I shoved open the door to the VIP lounge. It was a dark space usually saved for big-money card games or private dances.It was empty, mostly. Except for someone in the corner. The lights were dim, just a red neon sign buzzing on the wall, but it was enough to see her. She was standing by the long mirror with her back to me. She was bent over a bit, messing with the strap on her heel. Her skirt was so short it was practically a belt, barely coverin

You can’t touch

MilaI woke up with a nasty taste in my mouth, like I had swallowed something rotten. Before I even opened my eyes, the nausea hit me, twisting my insides into knots.I practically leaped out of the guest bed and bolted toward the bathroom. I barely made it before I was on my knees in front of the toilet. My stomach emptied itself, until there was nothing left. Just dry heaves and tears that stung my eyes.I sat back, trembling, and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. “Stress.” I told myself, flushing the toilet. “It's just stress. The adrenaline crash.” But honestly, it had been going on for weeks. I was always dizzy, and these random sick feelings kept hitting me at the worst moments. I just figured it was the garbage food from that bar, or the cheap beer, or maybe it was from the constant fear of being hunted.And now? Now, it was probably some ulcer I was brewing from having to sleep under the same roof as Caleb Sterling.As I stood up, grabbing the sink, the room spun fo

Ride?

MilaThe guy turned to face me so slowly. Up close, I saw the scrapes on his knuckles, still red and raw. He had definitely been throwing punches recently.His eyes were dark, real dark, and my stomach did a weird flip. I felt a clenching low in my body. Reaper. He checked me out, his eyes lingering on my red dress and my scared face. He noticed how hard I was breathing.“You look so good in red, Princess.” he said in a low and dangerous voice. The confined space made it more intimidating. “Like a target.” He reached for my ankle, yanking me closer until we were so close I could smell his cologne. “Think you can mess with me and hide in you husband’s little shadow?” He breathed, his hand sliding up my leg. “I am the monster, remember? And monsters always find their way into the shadows.”“What do you want?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. I waited for him to tell me to get back to the club, or to start yelling about me running off.But Reaper didn't answer. He just stared a

One condition

ReaperMila studied the motorcycle, then turned her gaze back to me, folding her arms. The red silk of her dress tightened across her chest.“I have one condition.” she stated.I paused, my hand already reaching for the door handle. I let out a short, disbelief-filled huff. “You are negotiating?” I asked, arching a brow. “You are in a basement with a man who could snap your neck, hiding from a husband who owns the police and you want to negotiate terms?”“I am not getting on a bike with someone I don't know.” She said, her fingers digging into her own elbows. “And 'Reaper' is not a person. It's just a street name.” She leaned in slightly, challenging me. “I want a real name. No code. No bullshit.”I stared back at her. The silence in the car thickened, becoming almost tangible. No one ever asked for my real name. The cops didn't know it. Half of my club didn't know it. That name belonged to a kid who died in a detention center, a life replaced by the monster sitting in this car's s

what boot does

MilaThe city became blurry as we sped across the Queensboro Bridge. The wind lashed at my bare legs, but I barely noticed. I was too aware of the engine's warmth between my thighs and the solid, leather-clad form of Ryan in front of me. “Ryan.” I screamed inside my helmet, the sound lost in the roar of the exhaust. It felt like casting a spell. Each time I said his name in my head, the memory of Caleb's suffocating penthouse seemed to crack a bit more.He didn't slow down. He weaved through the standstill traffic like a pro, reckless, yet precise. We sped from the fancy streets of Manhattan into the more industrial Long Island City. He turned sharply, heading towards the skeleton of a huge, unfinished skyscraper that stood over the waterfront like a dead giant. My heart pounded against his back. Where was he taking me? But I didn't ask.He dodged the barriers, guiding the motorcycle up a rough concrete ramp. We climbed, floor after floor. There were no walls, only steel beams

Dared her to die

Reaper Her palm pressed right over where my club's patch was, the one men had fought and died for. She was shaking slightly. I could feel it through my leather vest. “Show me what the boot does.” she had said. She was looking up at me, chin tilted, exposing the smooth curve of her neck. She was trying to play my game, trying to act like she was in charge, like she was the hunter. She had no idea what was coming. A dark laugh welled up inside me, scraping my throat raw. “You think this is a game, Mila?” I asked. I moved before she could answer. My hand shot up, wrapping around the back of her neck, my fingers tangling in the strands of hair. I didn't squeeze, but my hand was a clear warning. “You think because I turned up the heater in my car and played you a song, that makes me safe?” I leaned in, my lips close to her ear, feeling her shiver. “You think because I rescued you from a party you didn't want to be at, that makes me some kind of hero?” I felt her swallow hard a

Wait for you

ReaperMila stumbled slightly without my support, but she caught herself. She reached out, her hand hovering. "Ryan…""Don't think giving you that name mean something." I barked. "And don't look at me like that."She blinked as the confusion blurred the adrenaline in her eyes. "Like what?""Like I am a hero." I spat. "Like I am the white knight in shining armor who is going to swoop in and rescue you from your big bad husband."I paced away from her and kicked a loose piece of rod across the roof. It clattered loudly. The sound echoed. I turned back on her, letting the monster took over, letting her see the cruelty I used to survive. "You think because I have a club and a bike, I am freedom? You are delusional, Mila. I am not freedom. I am just a different kind of cage."I gestured to the dark city below us. “You are a tourist here. You are a bored, rich little girl playing with fire because you hate your life. But you don't know what fire does." I walked back to her, looming over

Your move

MilaRyan didn’t speak again. He didn’t check on me. But I pressed myself into his back and buried my face.Ten minutes, he had said in the car.Forever, I had felt.We had crossed a line up there. I had looked into the depths of his eyes. I had challenged him. And instead of begging him to pull me back to safety, I provoked him to jump with me. My thoughts drifted off when Ryan slammed on the brakes, shutting off the bike's engine. He stopped not in front of Caleb’s mansion, but the service lane behind. Shortly, he set the kickstand down but stayed on the bike. He kept his eyes glued to the brick wall, clutching the bike's handlebars.I slid off the back and unbuckled the helmet. As soon I pulled it off, the night air hit my neck.I handed the helmet to him. "Go." he said after taking it. He sounded like he hated me. He sounded like he wanted to ruin me.I didn't move. I stood my ground. "The guest suite." I reminded him. "Ground floor. East Wing. The one with the terrace facin

Clearer answer

HavocLyla.Gunner’s little sister. The one he bragged about. The one he showed pictures of at Christmas. The one holding a biology textbook. “She is gonna be a doctor,” He would say, puffing out his chest. “She is the only good thing we got.”And I had just bent her over a pool table and treated her like a two-dollar whore.I looked down at my hand. Fifty bucks. Maybe a hundred. I had paid the Sergeant-at-Arms’ sister for the privilege of ruining her.Bile rose in my throat. I pushed away from the door, stumbling slightly. The hallway felt like it was tilting.I had to get out of here. I had to scrub my skin. I had to burn these clothes. I turned the corner toward the main bar and froze.Gunner was there.He was standing at the end of the hall, leaning against the wall, laughing with a prospect. He had a beer in one hand and was gesturing with the other. He looked happy. He looked like a brother who trusted his family.He looked up and saw me. “Havoc!” he shouted over the music, r

Back to her

ReaperI threw the grenade. Now I waited to see if he would jump on it or let it blow his legs off.The room went dead silent.I watched Justin’s face. I watched the color drain out of it. His eyes went wide, darting from my face to the bottle of whiskey, then back to me.He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.I didn't blink. I held his gaze, but my mind wasn't in the office anymore.It was back to that roof. It was back to the image of Mila. It was back to the words she told me about waiting in the guest suite.Own it?If I owned it, the club would get involved. Justin would get involved. She would be in trouble.My hunger for her was a living, breathing thing, demanding to be fed again.I didn't want the brothers knowing I had her. I didn't want them thinking about her wet heat or the way she screamed my name."That ain't funny, Reaper.” Justin finally rasped. He looked like he was going to be sick."I am not laughing." I said as I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the desk.

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