Page 6 of Arch (Wolf Rider MC Daddies #3)

Keegan

I’m straddling a line I don’t know how to walk—half of me burning for Arch, for the way his hands felt on me in that safehouse, the way his mouth tasted like whiskey and control…

The other half of me is screaming to run, to keep pushing against his rules until something breaks.

He’s got me all confused up, his voice in my head— “You’ll learn to kneel, or you’ll learn the hard way” —and I don’t know if I want to obey or spit in his face.

That kiss, his hand on my throat, the way he held my cock and made me pump… it’s all too much, too fast, and I’m drowning in it.

But I can’t lie.

It was the hottest thing I’d ever done.

Arch made me submit to his commands, had me pleasuring myself with his hand… but all the while totally on his terms.

And here I am, my head spinning with desire yet at the same time right in the thick of things with the Wolf Riders…

I’m outside the clubhouse now, the night air sharp against my skin, my bike idling as I wait for the job Arch assigned me.

Guarding a shipment—some crates of “product” the Wolf Riders are moving through Willow Creek.

It’s a test, he said, to see if I can handle the trust, the responsibility.

I’m not even a potential member yet, and he’s throwing me into the deep end.

Part of me is pissed—why me, why now?—but another part, the part that’s been itching for purpose since the Army kicked me out, is ready to prove I’m not just some hothead drifter.

Tank’s leading the run, his bulk dwarfing the bike he’s on, with Jinx and a couple of prospects riding behind.

I’m at the back, eyes scanning the dark roads as we roll out toward the warehouse on Route 17. The same one the Vipers are planning to hit, according to Clay’s call.

My pulse is steady, but there’s a hum under my skin, like I’m waiting for a fight I know is coming.

Arch’s words from the safehouse echo: “No half-measures.”

I’m in this now, whether I like it or not.

The warehouse is a hulking shadow against the night sky, its metal walls rusted and silent.

We pull up, the bikes’ engines cutting off one by one, and Tank signals for me to take point at the loading dock.

“Eyes open, kid,” Tank grunts, tossing me a flashlight. “Anything moves, you holler.”

I nod, gripping the flashlight like a weapon, my other hand brushing the knife tucked in my boot.

The Army taught me to stay sharp, to read a situation before it unravels, and I’m not about to let these Wolves think I’m soft.

The young guys unload crates from a van, their movements quick but tense, while Tank and Jinx stand guard, their eyes scanning the tree line.

The air’s thick with tension and every rustle in the dark feels like a threat.

Minutes drag by, the silence heavy, and I’m starting to think this is a bust when I catch it—a glint of metal in the woods, too sharp to be natural.

My stomach drops. It’s on.

“Tank, we’ve got company,” I hiss. “East side, in the trees.”

Tank’s on it in a second, signaling Jinx, but before they can move, the night explodes.

Gunshots crack from the opposite direction— west , not east—and I curse under my breath.

The Vipers didn’t come from the expected route. They flanked us, clearly smarter than we gave them credit for.

Shadows move fast, three, maybe four guys in dark gear, their bikes roaring as they close in.

One of the prospects panics, dropping a crate, and the crash echoes like a gunshot.

“Get down!” Tank bellows, drawing a pistol, but I’m already moving.

My training kicks in, and I sprint for the van, diving behind it as bullets ping off the metal.

The crates are still half-loaded, and if the Vipers get them, we’re fucked.

I spot one of their guys creeping toward the dock, a crowbar in hand, ready to pry open our cargo.

There’s no way in hell this is happening on my watch…

I don’t think, just act.

I bolt from cover, tackling the guy before he can swing. We hit the ground hard, my fist connecting with his jaw, and he’s out cold.

But another Viper’s on me, a blade flashing.

I roll, kicking his legs out, and grab the crowbar, smashing it across his knee. He screams, collapsing, and I’m back on my feet, dragging the crates toward the van’s open door.

Tank’s firing now, keeping the others pinned, and Jinx is shouting for the prospects to move their asses.

It’s chaos, but we get the crates loaded, the van’s engine roaring as it peels out.

The Vipers scatter, their bikes screaming into the night, and I’m left panting, blood on my knuckles, the crowbar still in my hand.

Tank claps my shoulder, his grin wide.

“Not bad, kid,” Tank laughs, wiping sweat from his brow. “You’ve got balls.”

But I know Arch won’t see it that way.

I broke formation, acted without orders.

The old man’s gonna have my head on a platter when we get back…

We’re back at the clubhouse by midnight, the shipment secure, but the adrenaline’s still pumping through me.

Arch is waiting, leaning against the bar, his gray eyes locked on me the second I walk in.

Clay and Jace are there too, Dylan and Caleb hovering nearby, but it’s Arch’s stare that pins me.

He’s pissed, I can tell, but there’s something else in his look—something that makes my pulse race for reasons that have nothing to do with the ambush.

“Outside,” Arch says, voice low and hard, jerking his head toward the lot.

I follow, my jaw tight, knowing what’s coming.

The night’s cold, the floodlights casting long shadows as we step into the gravel lot, away from the others.

“You wanna tell me what the hell that was?” Arch starts, his voice cutting like a blade. “You were told to guard the dock, not play fucking hero. You could’ve gotten yourself killed, or worse, lost the shipment.”

“I saved the damn shipment,” I snap, my temper flaring. “They came from the west, Arch. Nobody saw that coming. I did what I had to. And I’d do it again.”

“You did what you wanted to,” Arch growls, stepping closer, his bulk towering over me. “You don’t get to make calls like that, Keegan. You’re not a Wolf Rider yet. You follow orders, or you’re out.”

I laugh, sharp and bitter, my blood still hot from the fight.

“Maybe I don’t want to be your damn lapdog,” I spit. “You think you can just bark orders and I’ll roll over? That’s not me, Daddy .”

The word’s a mistake, and I know it the second it leaves my mouth.

Arch’s eyes darken, and before I can blink, he’s on me, his hand fisting my jacket, slamming me against the wall.

My breath catches, his body pressed close, all hard muscle and leather, his face inches from mine.

Arch’s grip’s tight, unyielding, and I can feel his breath, heavy and warm, mingling with mine. The air crackles, every nerve in me alive with the heat of him, the anger, the want.

“You keep pushing, boy,” Arch growls, his voice low, dangerous, “And you’re gonna learn what happens when you don’t listen.”

His other hand braces against the wall, caging me in, and I’m caught, my heart pounding, torn between shoving him off and pulling him closer.

“Whatever,” I say, my heart pounding but the defiance still clinging on in my voice.

But before I know what’s happening, Arch has spin me around and pulled my jeans down, briefs too. The cold breeze catches my ass cheeks as they’re on full display.

“Count them,” Arch growls, his voice pure Daddy now. “We’re going up to ten. And I expect to be called Daddy too.”

“Y-y-y-yes, Daddy,” I say, overwhelmed by knowing that this has to happen.

“Got a safeword?” Arch barks.

“Broccoli,” I answer, dizzy with expectation and a chunk of fear too.

“Now count!” Arch bellows, his voice almost certainly audible from inside the clubhouse as he brings his hand down on my exposed ass cheek.

“One, Daddy!” I cry out, the shock of the first spank robbing me of any inclination to sass or put up any resistance to Arch’s Daddy energy.

And as Arch spanks me with unerring accuracy, I count along with him, knowing full well that a group of Wolf Riders have gathered just to our side, all eagerly watching my ass getting turned redder than a tomato.

“Eight, Daddy!” I cry out, my cheeks wobbling as Arch makes sure to land on their fleshiest curve each and every time. “Nine, Daddy! Ten, Daddy!”

“Good boy,” Arch says, stepping back and seemingly taking in the view of my red ass. “A little privacy, guys. You’ve seen the boy take his medicine, now it’s time for me to look after him, Wolf Rider style.”

Arch’s dominance crashes over me like a wave, and for a moment, I’m lost in it, my defiance crumbling under the weight of his control.

I sag against the wall, my breath shaky, my body still buzzing from his fearsome spanking.

“Daddy,” I whisper, the word slipping out before I can stop it, a surrender I didn’t plan.

I look to the side and see Arch’s eyes soften, just a fraction, but it’s enough to make me feel seen, like he’s not just breaking me down but building something new.

“I’ve got some cooling gel with your name on it, young man,” Arch says.

But then the moment shatters.

My pride rears up, the part of me that’s been running from rules my whole life.

I pull my jeans up, shove past him, my shoulder brushing his chest, and storm toward my bike.

“I need space,” I spit, not looking back.

My head’s a mess—his hands, his voice, the way he makes me want to kneel and fight all at once.

I swing onto my bike, the engine roaring to life, and peel out, the gravel spitting behind me…

The road stretches dark and endless, but it doesn’t clear my head.

I saved the shipment, proved I could handle myself, but Arch’s lecture, his grip, his spanking—it’s too much right now.

The Wolf Riders are a family, a purpose, but they come with him, and I don’t know if I can handle his hold over me.

Dylan and Caleb seem happy with Clay and Jace, but that trust, that surrender—it’s a leap I’m not sure I can make.

I’m not like Dylan and Caleb—I can’t obey another man like that. Not after the Army, not after losing everything I thought I was.

I pull over at the bluffs, the same spot I stopped at after The Ring, and light a cigarette, the flame flickering in the dark.

Arch’s world is dangerous, not just because of the Vipers but because of what he’s asking of me…

To belong, to obey, to be his.

I want it, more than I’ve wanted anything in a long time, but it scares the shit out of me.

What if I can’t do it?

What if I fuck it up like everything else?

The cigarette burns down, and I flick it away, watching the ember fade.

I’m not running, not yet, but I need to figure out if I’m strong enough for this—for the club, for the fight, for him .

My ass is on fire, my pride is all over the place, and after storming out like that, I don’t even know what would happen if I showed up at the Wolf Rider clubhouse again...