Page 5 of Arch (Wolf Rider MC Daddies #3)

Arch

Keegan’s got no business taking up this much space in my head, but here I am, planning a ride to get him alone, away from the chaos of the clubhouse and the Vipers’ latest taunt…

That snake painted across our lot last night was a middle finger, a dare, and it’s got Clay and Jace on edge, ready to roll out and bust heads.

I’m the one who keeps them steady, who thinks three moves ahead, but Keegan’s throwing my focus.

The way he stood there in the clubhouse, scrubbing bikes with that defiant smirk, like he was daring me to push him harder—it’s got me twisted up, wanting to tame him and tear into him all at once.

The boy’s all kinds of hot—and he knows it too.

And I’ve been around the block more than enough times to know when I boy wants to wrap his mouth around my hard cock. Keegan wants me just as much as I want him.

But to even consider that, I need to iron out some clear lines between us—and I know just the way to do it.

I’m outside the clubhouse at dawn, my Harley idling, the low growl matching the tension in my gut.

Keegan’s late, but I expected that.

Evidently, the boy’s not one for punctuality, not yet .

When he finally rolls up on his beat-up bike, his dark hair a mess under his helmet, those green eyes catch mine with that same reckless spark from The Ring.

He’s wearing that worn leather jacket, jeans hugging his lean frame, and I have to look away to keep my thoughts from veering into dangerous territory.

“You’re late,” I say, voice hard, swinging onto my bike. “Get on. Leave yours.”

Keegan raises an eyebrow, leaning against his bike like he’s got all day.

“What, I don’t get to ride my own?” Keegan says, a hint of suspicion in his voice.

“Not today, boy,” I growl, patting the seat behind me. “You want to talk about the Wolf Riders, you ride with me. Move .”

Keegan’s smirk falters, but he doesn’t argue. If I didn’t know better, I’d say that maybe this boy is starting to realize that I’m the real fucking deal—and the Wolf Riders are too.

I’ll soon find out for sure though.

The boy swings a leg over, settling behind me, and the moment his hands grip my waist, my blood hums.

He’s close, too close, his chest pressed against my back, his thighs bracketing mine. I can feel his crotch push up against me. I’m not complaining either—Keegan’s packing something down there, that’s for sure.

The heat of him cuts through my leather jacket, and I grit my teeth, focusing on the road as I gun the engine.

The bike roars to life, tearing out of Willow Creek toward the safehouse, a cabin tucked in the hills where we stash gear and plan when shit gets too hot in town.

As one of the senior men, I have access to the safehouses in a way that the vast majority of the gang don’t. It has to work this way. We’ve been burned in the past by over-ambitious or even disloyal men gaining safehouse access and fucking our shit up in more ways than one.

Keegan’s lucky that he’s even getting close to a safehouse, let alone being allowed inside. Still, I’m not expecting any thanks from him.

“You good?” I shout, my voice just about audible over the engine’s roar.

“I’m good,” Keegan replies, this time with no backtalk or quip.

If I didn’t know better, I’d say that the boy was enjoying riding behind this so-called old man .

The ride is electric, every curve of the road pulling Keegan tighter against me. His hands tighten on my waist, his breath warm against my neck when we lean into a turn.

I can feel his heart pounding, matching the rhythm of the engine, and it’s all I can do to keep my focus on the asphalt.

He’s a distraction I can’t afford, but damn if I don’t want to pull over and see how much further I can push him. The wind whips past, cool and sharp, but it does nothing to cool the fire building between us.

“Nearly there,” I holler, the feeling of Keegan’s arms around my waist making me feel something I haven’t experienced in a long, long time.

“So hurry up and show me what this bike can really do,” Keegan retorts, his sass back in full effect.

“As you wish, boy,” I laugh, gunning even harder, determined to show the boy how the Wolf Riders rule the roads…

We reach the safehouse by mid-morning, a squat wooden cabin hidden by pines, the kind of place you’d miss if you didn’t know it was there.

I cut the engine, the silence heavy after the bike’s roar, and Keegan slides off, his hands lingering on my waist a beat too long.

I don’t call him on it, but I feel it, that spark that’s been crackling since he threw that Daddy line at me.

Inside, the safehouse is sparse—wooden floors, a table, a couple of chairs, and a stash of weapons locked in a cabinet.

I motion for Keegan to sit, but he leans against the wall instead, arms crossed, his smirk back in place.

“Nice hideout,” the boy says, looking around. “You bring all your strays here?”

“Only the ones worth my time,” I say, standing across from him, keeping the table between us for now. “You showed up last night, Keegan. That’s a start. But if you’re serious about the Wolf Riders, you need to understand what you’re signing up for.”

I watch as Keegan tilts his head, green eyes glinting with challenge.

“Lay it out, then,” Keegan shrugs, evidently up for the challenge. “What’s the deal with your little biker family?”

I lean forward, hands on the table, my voice low and deliberate.

“The Wolf Riders aren’t just a club,” I begin.

“We’re brothers, bound by loyalty, trust, and blood.

Our code is simple: protect the club, protect each other, no matter the cost. You ride with us, you follow orders—Clay’s, Jace’s, mine .

You don’t question, you don’t freelance.

You fuck up, you’re out, and believe me when I say you don’t walk away clean.

Or in some cases, you don’t walk away at all . ”

Keegan’s smirk fades, his jaw tightening as he processes.

“Sounds like the Army,” Keegan replies. “Except with better bikes and worse haircuts.”

I don’t laugh. The boy needs to know when it’s time to stop the snark and get real. And this is very much one of those times.

“The Army didn’t want you because you couldn’t follow rules,” I bark.

“I’m offering you a chance, but it comes with a price.

You answer to me, Keegan. I’m not just a rider—I’m the one who keeps this club alive.

That means I expect obedience . Not just from you…

but especially from you, if you follow my meaning. ”

The boy’s eyes narrow, that defiant spark flaring.

“Obedience, huh ?” Keegan says. “You really lean into this Daddy thing, don’t you?”

The word hits like a match to kindling, and I’m around the table before I think it through, crowding him against the wall.

Keegan doesn’t flinch, just lifts his chin, his breath hitching as I brace a hand beside his head, caging him in.

“You keep throwing that word around, boy,” I growl, my face inches from his, “It’s like you think you know what it means. You don’t. Not yet. But if you want to be mine—want to be a Wolf Rider—you’ll learn what it takes to please me.”

Keegan’s lips part, and I see the want in his eyes, raw and unguarded, but there’s still that edge of defiance.

“And what if I don’t feel like pleasing you?” Keegan murmurs, his voice low, taunting, his breath brushing my jaw. “What if I want to push you instead?”

My hand finds his throat, not tight, just enough to feel his pulse jump under my fingers.

“Push all you want,” I say, my voice a low rumble, “But you’ll learn to kneel, or you’ll learn the hard way.”

For a second, we’re frozen, the air thick with heat, his eyes locked on mine.

Then he moves, fast, closing the gap, his lips crashing into mine.

The kiss is fire—hard, desperate, all teeth and need.

I kiss him back, my hand sliding from his throat to his jaw, angling him to deepen it, tasting the rebellion and hunger in him. His hands fist in my jacket, pulling me closer, and I feel him, all lean muscle and reckless energy, pressed against me like he’s daring me to take more.

I roughly unbutton and yank Keegan’s jeans down, taking his briefs down at the same time. His hard cock springs up, thick and throbbing.

“Hold still,” I growl, gripping the base of his shaft and wrapping my fingers up toward the top. “Now pump. Show me what a good boy you are.”

Keegan gasps and begins to pump his achingly hard cock in my fist, his cheeks flushing red as we make eye contact and establish the clear line between us…

I’m the Daddy, and I tell Keegan what to do—and how to do it.

As Keegan begins to pump harder, I can see that he’s close to cumming. In his dreams…

I pull back, breaking the boy’s rhythm, my breath ragged as I hold his gaze.

“Not this time,” I say, voice rough. “You want this, you earn it. Prove you can handle the club, handle me. Then we’ll see.”

Keegan’s chest heaves, his eyes dark with frustration and want.

“You’re a real bastard, you know that?” Keegan says, but there’s no venom in it, just a mischievous laugh. “Teasing me like that, then pulling back.”

“I’m not teasing,” I say, stepping back, putting space between us before I lose control again. “You’re not ready, boy. Not for the club, not for me. But you will be. Now pull your jeans and briefs back up and cover that stiff little dick.”

“Asshole,” Keegan mutters, but there’s a hint of sweetness in there too–the boy is enjoying this, it’s written all over his face.

He pushes off the wall, running a hand through his hair, his smirk returning as he zips his fly.

“You’re so sure you’ve got me figured out, huh ?” Keegan mutters. “Maybe I’ll surprise you.”

“I’m counting on it,” I say, meaning it. I want him to surprise me, to rise to the challenge, to be more than the hothead who stumbled into The Ring. But I don’t say that. Instead, I nod toward the door. “Let’s go. You’ve got work to do.”

We’re halfway to the bike when my phone buzzes.

It’s Clay, his voice tight…

“Arch, we got trouble. Tank pulled footage from the cameras. Vipers are planning a hit—our warehouse on Route 17, tonight. They’re coming heavy.”

My jaw tightens, the weight of the club settling back on my shoulders.

“Get everyone ready,” I say. “I’m on my way.”

I hang up, turning to Keegan, who’s watching me, his expression sharp with curiosity.

“What’s up?” Keegan asks, sensing the shift in mood. He’s got goo instincts, and I’m appreciating the way he’s locked in to the situation quickly.

“Vipers,” I say, voice hard. “They’re hitting one of our spots tonight. This is what I meant about stakes, Keegan. You’re either all in, or you’re out. No half-measures.”

The boy doesn’t answer right away, just holds my gaze, and I see it—the flicker of decision, the moment he starts to choose.

“I’m not running,” Keegan says finally, his voice steady. “No chance.”

“Good,” I say, exiting the safehouse and swiftly swinging onto the bike. “Get on. We’ve got work to do.”

Keegan climbs behind me, his hands finding my waist again, and as we tear back toward Willow Creek, the road blurring beneath us, I feel it—the pull of him, the weight of what’s coming.

The Vipers are closing in, and Keegan’s stepping into a world that could break him.

But I’m not going to let anyone break Keegan.

I’ve got plans for the boy. Big, filthy, rock-hard plans…