Page 33 of Desert Loyalties

MANDRAKE

Waiting for trial sucks. I’ve watched every legal drama on Netflix, twice.

Even signed up for more streaming services just to rot my brain with courtroom theatrics.

It got so bad, Skye poked my not-so-hard belly while we were cuddling naked.

Shit hit the fan, and I hit the gym. I’m not vain, but I’ll be damned if I’m the one in this relationship getting soft. No fucking way.

My old lady, Skye has become a queen, and not just in the club.

Out there in the real world too. She’s running the businesses better than I ever did, and that doesn’t bruise my ego, but damn if it doesn’t turn me on.

I always enjoyed the money, sure, but juggling all that shit after dealing with club-owned fronts?

I hated it. Couldn’t say that out loud back then.

Now? I’m gonna ask her to take over everything, completely.

Not as a stand-in. As the boss. If anything like this ever happens again, she’s gonna need the power and the protection. Money, if it comes to that.

I wanted to go to the pretrial hearings.

There’ve been a bunch. But Christina told me no.

Said she wasn’t risking me yawning or scratching my balls and offending the judge.

Since we landed the bench trial, despite prosecutor Cheng's whining, she’s extra cautious.

Jerkoff tried to block it, but the judge approved it anyway.

Probably because Christina made it clear how fucking stupid their case is.

It’s been nearly two months since we last set foot in court. And tomorrow… tomorrow the trial starts.

I’m staring down twenty-five years. Cheng tried dangling ten if I pled guilty.

I told him to fuck off. No way in hell I’m doing ten years for something I didn’t do.

Christina said the offer proves her theory; they’re trying to flip me.

Hoping I’ll crack and give them something.

Anything. Funny thing is, they haven’t even brought up the location of Locke’s body.

No immunity deal either. Christina says if they really wanted to flip me, they’d offer protection, even no jail time. So, what the fuck are they playing at?

It’s a mindfuck. A long, slow, psychological chokehold.

They gave us their witness list. Practically every officer in the club is on it. Serena must’ve opened her big mouth, figures. She wouldn’t understand loyalty even if it fucked her in the ass.

Christina’s been working nonstop, cross-referencing timelines, digging through bullshit, trying to build our defence.

Which is kinda hard to do, considering, how the hell do you prove you didn’t do something?

Especially when no one else saw or heard it.

Except maybe a dead guy. Definitely a dead guy. But they don’t know that. Not for sure.

We don’t even know when they’re planning to drop the bomb, when they’ll claim I threatened him. I never even suspected Locke of being a rat. Never. He was a fucking mess, but he was still a brother or so I thought.

But that’s tomorrow’s war. When the pricks open their mouths and finally lay it all out.

Tonight? Tonight, I’m making dinner for my lady.

One last night of peace. One last night where it’s just her and me, no lawyers, no whispers, no prison walls looming in the shadows.

She deserves that. Hell, maybe I do too.

I cooked. Hand-made the fucking pasta from scratch, just like some bootleg Italian grandma. And damn, it smells fucking delicious. If the brothers could see me now...

That’s another thing. Ranger, Ice, Maverick, some of the few without convictions on their records, have been able to visit the house. Perks of being clean, I guess. I’m still stuck on house arrest. But it’s been good, having them around. Like old times, almost.

They even brought me a bunch of paperwork. Fuckers. Said it was “club business,” but I know it was just an excuse to mess with me. I think they miss me more than they let on. Or maybe they’re just trying to remind me that I still have my seat.

Either way, it’s been good for my head. Gave me something to do between trial prep and Netflix.

I hear the car pull up. Then the familiar click of the door, keys hitting the dish, and the soft sigh she always lets out when she finally steps off those sexy as fuck heels.

Skye walks in like she owns the world and she does, at least the parts I care about. Power suit sharp enough to cut throats, heels dangling from her fingers, her other hand already reaching up to undo the top button of her blouse. She catches my eye and smirks.

Still mine. As much now as the day I claimed her. Maybe more.

"Smells amazing," she says, tossing the heels toward the hallway. She walks barefoot across the hardwood floor.

I wipe my hands on a towel and meet her halfway. She melts into me without a word, arms wrapping around my middle. I bury my face in her neck and breathe her in. Her scent mixed with the perfume, sweat, city dust. All of it mine.

“Handmade pasta,” I murmur into her skin.

She pulls back just enough to raise an eyebrow. “Have I told you how much I love you?”

My answer is a kiss. I meant for it to be chaste but Skye deepens the kiss, tangling her tongue with mine.

Her fingers find my shirt buttons as she walks me backward.

My spine hits the dining table and she presses against me, warm and demanding.

The scent of oregano and garlic mingles with her perfume.

"Dinner can wait," she breathes against my mouth.

I grip her waist, turning around and lifting her onto the polished wood surface. She gasps as the cool surface meets her thighs, her pants already halfway to her knees. The pool lights cast dancing shadows across her flushed skin.

"You're going to ruin my table setting," I growl, sweeping aside plates and silverware with one arm. Crystal glasses chime as they hit the floor.

"Good," she whispers, pulling me between her legs. Her nails rake down my chest as I claim her mouth again, harder this time. She tastes like mine.

Something animalistic comes over me and I shove her backwards, pinning her wrists above her head with an insistent grip.

Her eyes fly wide open not with fear, but with an intense craving that matches my own.

The need to take her is a storm inside me, and I yank her pants off completely, tossing them somewhere on the floor. Her breath is ragged, but she's ready.

"Spread your legs," I demand, my voice rough with the urgency of my desire.

She responds without delay, her thighs falling open. The sight of her laid bare and waiting has me throbbing painfully against my zipper, and I clumsily free myself with my other hand, not bothering to strip completely. I have to have her this instant.

"You're mine," I growl, aligning myself. "Say it," I insist.

"I'm yours," she gasps, arching up to meet me with desperate anticipation.

I thrust into her without warning, driving into her fully.

She cries out, her body tensing as it clutches every inch of me.

The table creaks beneath us as we move with wild abandon.

I tear her shirt open, buttons scattering across the table.

The sight of her lace-covered breasts heaving with each breath takes my breath away. Mine. All fucking mine.

"Drake," she whimpers as I roughly yank her bra down, exposing her perfect tits to the cool air. Her nipples harden instantly, begging for my touch.

"You think you can tease me like this?" I growl, pinning her wrists above her head with one hand. "Coming home, bending over in those tight pants after making me wait all day?"

"I knew exactly what I was doing," she admits, her voice a sultry whisper that feeds the fire raging inside me.

I release her wrists only to grip her throat, applying just enough pressure to make her eyes dilate with dark desire. My other hand slides between her legs, finding her slick and ready.

"So fucking wet for me," I hiss, my thumb circling her clit as I drive deeper. "Always ready to be filled by me."

Her walls clench around me, and I feel her pulse quickening under my palm. The power I have over her body intoxicates me. Each thrust is punctuated by her gasps and the scrape of the table against the floor.

"Please," Skye begs, though for what, mercy or more, I can't tell. I give her the latter.

"Turn over," I command, withdrawing suddenly. The loss makes her cry out in frustration.

I grab her hips roughly and flip her over, admiring the curve of her ass as she braces herself on trembling arms. Her hair cascades down her back, and I gather it in my fist, pulling just enough to arch her spine.

The sight of her positioned before me, vulnerable and waiting, sends a surge of primal possession through my veins.

"Look at you," I growl, running my free hand down the curve of her spine. "Displayed on my dining table like the only meal I want to devour."

She whimpers as I position myself behind her, teasing her entrance with my tip. I'm rock hard, throbbing with need, but I make her wait for it. Make her feel the anticipation.

"Who owns this?" I demand, slapping her ass hard enough to leave a pink handprint.

"You do," she gasps, pushing back against me desperately

"Fuck me," she begs. "Please."

That one word makes my restraint snap. I plunge into her with a snarl, my fingers digging into her hips hard enough to bruise. She cries out, the sound muffled against her forearms. Her pussy is molten around me, so hot I fear I'll burn alive.

"Take it," I hiss, pounding into her relentlessly. "You wanted to be fucked? Let me show you what that means."

She arches beneath me, taking everything, I give her. Her walls are velvet fire, sucking me in deeper and deeper until I feel her start to shudder around me. I lean forward, sliding a hand beneath her.

"Come for me," I whisper in her ear, rubbing her clit in quick circles. "Let go, darlin’."

Skye shatters beneath me with a sob, her orgasm tearing through her with the force of a hurricane. Her body grips me like a vice, sending me hurtling into oblivion with her.

I'm dimly aware of my roar as I come, pumping hot and heavy into her as my vision goes white. Pleasure explodes in every cell, burning away every coherent thought in my mind. All that's left is sensation… and her.

The sound of her ragged breathing. The feeling of her tight, slick heat pulsing around me. The sight of her perfect body bent before me.

I can't even remember my own name. All I know is this woman.

“You okay?” I whisper, my lips barely brushing the nape of her neck.

“Yeah,” she breathes, voice low, warm. “I’m hungry.”

I smile, pressing my face into her shoulder, skin damp and sweet with sweat. My heart finally begins to slow.

“Now I’m really hungry,” she mumbles, almost to herself.

That draws a soft laugh from me. I ease out of her, careful, watching as our mess slips from between her thighs. I tug her underwear, still hooked around one ankle, back up and kiss the curve of her hip.

I shrug off my unbuttoned shirt and offer it to Skye.

She takes it without a word, slips it on, and doesn’t even bother to button it.

That small, effortless defiance, bare skin peeking through the open fabric, makes me want her all over again.

I zip up my jeans, still catching my breath. Food first.

We don’t say much after that. Just wander into the kitchen half-dressed, still slick with sweat, and smelling like sex. Her legs wobble a little, my cum probably still dripping down her thigh, but she doesn’t complain. Just flashes me a crooked smile like she knows exactly what she’s done to me.

I lean against the counter, watch her move around in nothing but my open shirt. She’s marked up with my handprints, teeth. Skye doesn’t hide any of it. Doesn’t need to.

Because she’ll always be mine.