Page 29 of Claimed By The Club

“Oh God—fuck—Luke!” Her hands fist in my hair, holding me there as she grinds against my tongue. I don’t let up, fucking her with my fingers, lapping at her until her whole body tenses, her back bowing off the desk as she comes with a broken cry.

“You taste so good, perfect. My favorite kind of flavor,” I murmur against her skin, savoring every drop of her honey. I plunge my tongue in her, and she shivers as mini-orgasm wrecks her body.

“Luke!”

Before Sierra can recover, I’m unbuckling my jeans, shoving them down just enough to free my cock. It’s thick, flushed, leaking at the tip—and when she sees it, her eyes darken with hunger. She reaches for me, wrapping her fingers around my length, stroking me slowly.

“I want your dick inside me. It’s thick,” she breathes, spreading her legs wider as her eyes widen a fraction. “Please.”

“Open your cunt for me, part those pussy lips, baby,” I order, watching her as I grip my dick. She gasps, but follows my orders, and spread her legs even wider then her two hands spread those lips open. It glistens, wet and smooth.

“Sierra,” I call out, staring and moving closer.

“Fuck it, Luke. This is embarrassing!” she moans, trying to hide her face on the table but she creams more. I chuckle as I move upwards and kiss her. “Just fuck me with that thick dick, make me lost it!”

“Your wish is my command,” I groan, then I grip her hips, dragging her to the very edge of the desk, and slam into her in one brutal thrust. She gasps, nails raking down my back as I fill her to the hilt, her tight, wet heat clamping around me like a fucking vice.

“Jesus,” I grit out, fighting the urge to come right then. She’s so goddamn perfect, taking every inch, her pussy fluttering around my cock as I start to move.

There’s nothing slow about it now—just raw, desperate fucking. The desk creaks beneath us, her tits bouncing with every snap of my hips. She meets me thrust for thrust, her moans loud, unfiltered, fucking filthy as I pound into her.

“Harder,” she demands, arching up to bite my shoulder. “I want to feel you tomorrow.”

“You want this, huh? You want my cock lodge in here? You want to still feel me tomorrow?” I question, gasping. I pull out of her all way, and she grumbles a protest.

But then, I slam into her, so deep, so raw, so hard that she lets out a scream, “God!” Sierra’s body quakes, her eyes glisten with pleasure as her cunt gushes with honey like a broken faucet.

“Fuck, you make me come so hard,” she whimpers, riding the wave. Her legs are around my hips, shaking for dear life.

“We’re not done yet, baby,” I whisper in her ears. “I’m still fucking hard for you. I’m never going to let up until I ruin you for tomorrow.”

“Oh, yes!” I move my hips in a circle, making he cry out again. “Do me more…” she begs.

I oblige, slamming into her so deep she cries out over and over, her walls clenching around me as another orgasm rips through her. The sight of her coming undone—lips parted, body trembling—pushes me over the edge.

“Sierra!” With a groan, I bury myself inside her and come, my cock pulsing as I fill her up.

For a long moment, we’re both still, panting, sweat-slicked and wrecked.

The door handle jiggles.

We freeze. My cock is still buried inside her, both of us sticky and spent, but the sound sends a bolt of panic through me. A rough grunt comes from the outside the door, followed by a low, unmistakable voice:

“Sierra? Ghost? You in there?”

It’s Viper—Carter. Sierra’s eyes go wide with alarm. My own chest lurches. But an unexpected flash of boldness flickers in her gaze. We both know we’re past the point of no return, bodies pressed together in a moment too powerful to abandon.

“Yeah, we’re…” My voice catches, breath ragged. “We’re busy, man.”

A pause. “Damn,” Viper mutters from the other side. “I need to talk to you—like, now.”

Sierra and I exchange a breathless look.

She mouths, “Sorry,” but I shake my head, pressing my forehead against hers.

Guilt and adrenaline churn in my gut, but part of me can’t bear to let go of her warmth yet.

We stay entwined, hearts racing. Neither of us moves to unlock the door, reluctant to shatter this fragile sanctuary.

Viper knocks again, more insistent. “Seriously, open up.”

With a resigned sigh, I step back, rummaging for my clothes.

Sierra scrambles to right her own appearance, picking up her clothes, cheeks flaming.

We manage to slip back into shirts and pants in a record time, though her hair remains tousled, my own face flushed.

I shoot her a regretful smile, then cross the space to unlock the door.

Viper slips in, shutting it behind him. His gaze sweeps over our disheveled state, the messy desk, and an unmistakable realization dawns in his eyes. He huffs a short laugh, his heated eyes roaming all over Sierra. “Well, I guess I interrupted something.”

Sierra ducks her head, lips parted in an embarrassed smile. “We were just?—”

He lifts a hand, cutting her off gently. “No worries, baby. But we’ve got a problem.” His tone turns sober, and adrenaline rushes back. “Reapers smashed the front window of Bluelight an hour ago, left a message on the walls. Nothing subtle.”

My stomach sinks. “They’re getting bold. Any injuries?”

“Luckily, it was closed. Just property damage.” He glances between me and Sierra. “But we can’t ignore this. We gotta assemble a crew, lock down the territory before they do worse.”

Sierra’s expression hardens, fear and anger mingling. “Are they demanding something?”

Viper shrugs, grim. “The usual threats. Painted your name in red across the bar door, along with some choice words about Renegade Cross.”

I clench my jaw, protective instincts kicking into high gear. “That crosses a line.” I glance at Sierra, her face pale with worry. “We’ll handle it.”

She steadies herself, arms wrapping around her middle. “I can’t believe they’re still so fixated.”

Viper nods. “They think you’re the golden ticket to repaying Jen’s debt or leveraging us. They won’t let up.” Then his gaze settles on me, taking in the tension in my stance. “We’re meeting in the lounge in five minutes to plan our response.”

I exhale, glancing at Sierra’s disheveled shirt and flushed cheeks. “We’ll be there.”

Viper inclines his head, sparing a small, understanding smile. “Sorry for barging in.” Then he slips out, leaving us in the heavy quiet.

Sierra rakes a hand through her hair, expression twisting with a mixture of frustration and fear. “No matter what I do, the Reapers escalate. I?—”

I silence her worries with a light brush of my fingers across her cheek. “Don’t blame yourself. They’re the ones crossing lines.”

Her lips quiver, and she nods. “We should go.”

“Yeah.” But I linger, pulling her into a swift, tight embrace. “I’m not letting them take you,” I whisper fiercely. “Count on that.”

She leans into my chest for a beat, then pulls away. We straighten our clothes one more time, gather scattered papers, and cross the threshold into the hallway. The reality of the Reapers’ fresh attack pushes away the tenderness of our moment, leaving me hungry for justice.

Down the corridor, we meet Viper again, who waits with arms folded.

He doesn’t tease or question what he walked in on.

Instead, we walk together in tense silence, heading toward the main lounge.

I sense Sierra’s anxiety spiking with every step.

My own heart pounds, locked on the knowledge that the Reapers singled out her name.

When we reach the lounge, a cluster of members has already gathered. Frost stands at the center, jaw clenched, his composure tested by the news. The room hushes as we arrive, all eyes flicking to Sierra. She holds her head high despite the trembling in her fists.

“All right,” Frost says, voice cold with controlled anger.

“We’ve got a direct threat. Bluelight’s window is busted, paint scrawled with Sierra’s name.

We can’t stand by.” He sweeps his gaze over each member, settling on me, Viper, and Sierra.

“We find their hideouts, their enforcers, and cut them off. No more waiting.”

A quiet rumble of agreement passes through the group.

The air crackles with tension, a mixture of fear, anger, and fierce loyalty.

My mind drifts to the locked office, the closeness I shared with Sierra just moments ago.

That intimacy stands in stark contrast to the harsh reality we face now.

But maybe that’s what makes it all worth defending.

Sierra squares her shoulders, stepping forward. “Can I help with finances to fund any retaliation or increased security?”

Frost inclines his head, appreciating her offer. “Yes. We’ll meet after church. For now, everyone, gear up. We move at dawn if we locate their camp.” Then he flicks his gaze to me, Viper, and Sierra. “Stay close. We’ll rotate shifts so she’s never alone. Understood?”

We answer with silent nods. The room bursts into motion, men dispersing to make calls, gather weapons, triple-check perimeter defenses.

Sierra remains near me, tension rolling off her in waves.

I give her a side glance, remembering the resolve in her eyes when she gave in to our closeness.

That same resolve will help her weather this storm.

“We’ll figure it out,” I promise, leaning in so only she can hear.

She manages a small, brave smile. “I believe you.”

Deep down, fear claws at my nerves. The Reapers are escalating.

The traitor’s still unknown. But as I stand here, flanked by Viper on one side and Sierra on the other, I feel a fierce determination that we’ll protect what’s ours—by any means necessary.

Even if it means riding through the desert night to hunt down every last threat, we won’t let them break us.

And if the traitor thinks we’re divided, they’re dead wrong.

Because in the quiet corners of this clubhouse, we’ve forged something stronger than gossip or threats.

We’ve found a bond that refuses to cave, a loyalty that resonates in every shared glance, every stolen kiss, every vow to stand together. Let them come. We’re ready.