Page 37 of Claimed By the Bikers

She tries to stay quiet, tries to maintain some dignity, but I know exactly how to break down her defenses. My hand slides around to find the sensitive bundle of nerves between her legs, stroking in time with my thrusts until she’s shaking against me.

“Tell me you’re ours,” I demand, biting down on the curve of her shoulder. “Tell me this is where you belong.”

“I can’t—” The words break off in a moan as I hit that spot that makes her see stars.

“You can and you will.” I increase the pressure of my fingers, driving her higher. “Because if you try to leave us again, if youeven think about betraying us, I will hunt you down and bring you back. And next time, I won’t be nearly so gentle about reminding you where you belong.”

The threat pushes her over the edge. She comes with a cry that echoes across the empty racetrack, her body clenching around me like she’s trying to keep me inside her forever. The feeling of her falling apart triggers my own release, and I bury myself deep as I fill her with evidence of my claim.

We stay like that for several minutes, both breathing hard, skin slick with sweat despite the cool air. When I finally pull away, she slumps against the tree like her legs won’t hold her anymore.

“Get dressed,” I tell her, tucking myself back into my jeans and fastening my belt.

She turns around slowly, green eyes glazed with satisfaction and something that might be shame. “Atlas?—”

“Get dressed, Ember. We’re going home.”

She pulls on her clothes with shaking hands, and I try not to notice how thoroughly fucked she looks. Hair mussed, lips swollen, the scent of sex clinging to her skin. When we walk back into that house, my brothers will know exactly what happened out here.

The walk back to town is silent except for the crunch of gravel under our feet. She keeps pace beside me, not trying to lag behind or race ahead. Accepting her fate with the same grace she showed when she stopped fighting that first night.

“Why?” she asks as we approach the restaurant.

“Why what?”

“Why not just let me go? Why fight so hard to keep someone who obviously doesn’t want to be kept?”

I stop walking and turn to face her, noting the genuine confusion in her expression. After everything we’ve shared, everything we’ve given her, she still doesn’t understand.

“Because youdowant to be kept,” I tell her simply. “You’re just too scared to admit it.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because if you really wanted to leave, you would have sent that message before I got there. You had the phone, you had the opportunity.” I reach out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “But you hesitated. And that hesitation tells me everything I need to know about what you really want.”

She stares at me for a long moment, then looks away. “I don’t know what I want anymore.”

“That’s okay. We’ll figure it out together.”

“And if I try to run again?”

“Then I’ll catch you again. And next time, I’ll make sure you can’t sit down for a week.”

A flush creeps up her neck at the promise, and I see her press her thighs together unconsciously. Damn.

As we head home, I text the restaurant so they know Ember’s off for the rest of the day, making sure they’ve got it covered. We climb the steps to the house, and I can already hear voices from the kitchen. Garrett and Silas are home early, probably wondering where we disappeared to. They’re about to get their answer.

I open the front door and guide Ember inside with a hand on the small of her back. She walks like someone who’s been thoroughly claimed, and I’m primitive enough to take satisfaction in that.

“There you are,” Garrett calls from the kitchen. “We were starting to wonder—” He stops mid-sentence when he sees us, taking in Ember’s rumpled appearance and my possessive posture behind her.

Silas appears in the doorway, green eyes immediately cataloging the same details. “Everything alright?”

“Just fine,” I reply, steering Ember toward the stairs. “Our girl needed a reminder about the consequences of bad decisions.”

“What kind of bad decisions?” Garrett’s voice carries a warning edge.

“The kind that involve hidden phones and federal handlers.”