Semua Bab Daddies Underground MC Club: Bab 151 - Bab 160

Vesper POV The asshole. The goddamn, stubborn, pride-riddled idiot.I storm through the club’s bar, shoving past whatever prospect or hangaround even thinks about stepping in my way. The fury in my chest is like fire, crackling, untamed, and ready to burn.I round into the kitchen, grab the biggest knife I see, and spin back around without a word.“Oh, shit,” Glitch mutters, stumbling out of my path as I march past him. His eyes widen as he catches sight of the knife clutched in my hand.Out front, I spot it, his bike. The one he polished like it was a shrine. The one he rode off on when he decided that running was easier than facing the truth, than facing me.He wanted to leave? Fine. Let’s see how far he ge

Ghost POVI deserved worse. Way fucking worse. Honestly, she went easy on me, considering the damage I’d done. Kissing her forehead, I pull back and let out a breath I didn’t even know I was holding.“Go see Red,” I murmur.Her eyes narrow. “You gonna run again?”“No running. I swear,” I say, and this time I mean it. I hold her gaze long enough for her to believe it, and when she nods and turns toward the clubhouse, I let her go.Once she’s out of sight, I drag myself over to what’s left of my bike.Jesus. It’s wrecked. Slashed tires, dented tank, bent forks… she took a fucking hammer to it like it was a punching bag and she had ten years of rage stored up. I don’t even try to sit on it. I just lower myself down against the wall beside it and stare.

Ghost POVI set the rhythm first with nothing but my voice. I tell her when to breathe. I tell her when to hold. I tell her when I want her to look at me and when I want her eyes closed so she can feel everything with no defenses left. I don’t push for depth at the start; I draw it out, testing the give and the limits, reading every small change in her throat and shoulders and breath. I praise her when she follows, warn her when she rushes, make her wait when she tries to take without permission.“Slow,” I say quietly. “Earn it.”She obeys, and it wrecks me more than anything reckless ever could.When I finally tighten my grip in her hair, it isn’t punishment, it’s direction. I pull her closer, set a deeper cadence, and keep her there with the firmness of a man who knows exactly what he wants. The mirror throws us back at ourselves, two bodies haloed in f

Vesper POVMy throat burns, but I don’t let the tears fall. Not here, and not now.“Then don’t give me a reason to leave,” I say. “Don’t run from me and expect me to sit here waiting for you to decide I’m worth staying for.”He closes his eyes. “I didn’t run from you, Doll. I ran from what I am when I’m with you.”That hits hard.Because he’s not wrong. We're fire and gasoline. Fists and knives. We don’t soften each other, we make the wounds burn brighter. But even knowing that, we never walk away.“We don’t get to be soft,” I say, voice shaking. “We don’t get the storybook. We get blood and broken bikes and fucking in bathrooms. That’s what this is.”“And I’m good with that,” he growls. &l

Ghost POVEcho isn’t in the main room, so I head for his room. Of course, I hear the noises before I even knock. He’s busy, someone’s moaning his name, but this can’t fucking wait.I knock anyway.A groan answers me. “Whoever it is, you better be dying.”The door swings open. Echo’s standing there, completely naked, eyes dark with irritation.“What now? I swear down, I’m done with your fucking bullshit.”“I need clearance to take a job,” I say, stepping forward. “I’m not letting her do it.”He sighs, scrubbing a hand down his face. “For fuck’s sake.” He steps back inside, then reappears with clothes on, dragging a shirt over his head. “What job?”“Dean Whitby. At midday.”