Page 9 of Her Feral Biker (Savage Kings MC #6)

ANNALISE

“I want you to move in with me.” Lake never went to sleep, though I dozed a little sometime after he fucked me over yet another piece of the furniture on his room.

I didn’t object, knowing I probably wouldn't be able to walk properly come morning. That last part mattered, maybe, seeing as I’d have to work in a few hours.

Oh, shit. Work.

Not that I wasn’t still shaken from the night before. But something about knowing that Lake was here for me, what he’d done—what the men he trusted had done for him and for me in the darkest hours took some of that fear away.

“You kind of ruined my dress,” I muttered. “What am I wearing to work?”

He tipped his head to one side, the corner of his mouth beneath his beard tipping up. I loved that about him. Where any other man might get pissed off, he didn’t. “I asked you to move in with me, and you're thinking about work. It’s cute, princess. Should I be offended?”

My cheeks flamed. “Oh. I mean—” I bit my lip, knowing I couldn’t really dig myself out of this one. “Um, orgasm brain? You’re definitely to blame.”

I poked the giant biker in the centre of his chest, then traced over the whirls of ink on show. I couldn't see all of the patterns and images he had, but the ones I could fascinated me.

Two were of card decks, the entire suits scattered across his torso in an eternal game of fifty-two pick up. On his other side, an eagle took flight, something I couldn’t quite make out clutched in its talons. His arms and hands were covered in ink as well, and his back.

Lake carried me to the shower after my legs finally gave out, washing the blood from both of us, and picked the gravel from my knees and cleaned my hands and face. I’d never felt more adored in my life than I did in his arms.

His belief that he’d hurt me seemed biased. Sure, we’d had rough sex, but that's all it had been. Rough. Maybe a little violent. My mouth still felt bruised but it was the right sort of bruised. I’d go for round seven right now if he asked me.

“Okay, short list: I need clothes, and you want me to move in here with you?” I looked up at him, hoping it got it all right.

Lake stared down at me. “Fuck, you’re cute.”

I wrinkled my nose at him. “I resent being called cute.”

“And yet, you are.” He rolled—both of us—and suddenly I found myself on my back trapped beneath two hundred and something plus pounds of, for once, not a leather covered biker.

“Lake,” I whispered, my heart beat ratcheting up a notch.

“Yeah, princess?” He brushed hair back from my face. “Did I hurt you?”

I shook my head, tears threatening at the tender tone in his voice. “No, you never hurt me.” My fingers told the story of my lie, rising to touch my too tender lips.

He caught my hand, kissing my fingertips, then my mouth, sweeping his tongue across my lips before he delved deeper in the long sort of kiss I associated with this man.

Whatever manic energy he’d had before, that moment seemed to have passed. Now, his kisses ran slower. He hardened between my legs, nudging my sore thighs apart. I wrapped my legs around his hips, tilting my pelvis up in invitation.

His groan as he sank deep inside me echoed in my own whimper.

“Promise I’ll take it slow, princess,” he hushed out, gripping my hips firmly.

I shuddered through my first orgasm of the morning moments later as he hit some point deep inside me.

Or maybe I was lying to myself, and it was the tender way he looked at me, as Lake worked my body to his own rhythm that drove my pleasure and his higher, again and again.

No matter how many times I came, or called his name, Lake never stopped.

His love making lasted far longer than any other session with him, as though he was determined to imprint his soul to mine.

And by the time he bellowed my name, I was sure that he’d actually succeeded.

“You sure you’ll be alright here?” Lake refused to let me go outside my shop. I arrived later than I usually turned up, and his friends had already gone through and checked that my business was empty of unwanted intruders.

Riding through town in a convoy of Savage Kings was certainly a new experience for me.

Parking out the front of my shop added to that list, but there was something to be said for the intimidation factor.

Everyone knew they were around, and heads turned, especially in the quiet of the morning with the combined roar of their engines that snarled through the air.

I smiled, leaning into Lake’s chest. The moment we pulled up out the front of my shop and I took my helmet off, stowing it in the compartment that seemed made just for it, he pulled me around onto his lap.

My borrowed leather skirt rode up my thighs.

Reyna, the manager at the Black Crown bar, had found me a skirt, a flowy cream embroidered top that looked like something I’d actually wear, and a pair of heels I could barely walk in and the skirt that was just long enough to not be indecent—except when I straddled Lake’s lap.

And, of course, his jacket that he refused to take back for now. He seemed to like how it looked.

His hands circled my waist as I bit my lip, knowing I had to bring it up. “This is more than just a jacket, isn’t it?” I looked straight at him, betting he was damn good at evading a point if I didn't hit him with a truth head on.

But Lake didn’t use any of those tactics on me this morning. Maybe he never intended to, or maybe something had changed between us last night. Maybe a lot of things.

He swept my hair back from my face. It means you’re mine,” he said simply.

My nose twitched. “And?” I was promoted when he didn’t say anything else.

The corner of his mouth lifted as he squeezed my waist. “You’re gonna be trouble, aren’t you, princess?"

I shrugged. “One of the girls tried to rip it off my back last night, but you looked pretty terrifying to everyone else so she stopped, I guess.”

His grip on my waist flexed. “To everyone else?”

I wiggled in place and breathed hissed between his lips, a hardness swelling between us. “Yep.”

“Fuck, princess. You’re not scared of all the things you should be,” he growled.

“Probably not,” I agreed. But then, he’d never been scary to me. “So, story time,” I prompted.

He sighed. “You’re not gonna let this go, are you?”

I shook my head. “Nope. And you’re on a deadline.” I knew the club needed to move on, and I had a shop to open.

Lake leaned forward, resting his forehead against mine. “In the club life, wearing my jacket means you’re my old lady.”

I wrinkled my nose. “That sounds?—”

“It’s a mark of respect,” he cut me off. “I said you’re mine, and it means that. Permanently.”

My breath stalled. “Wait. More than just…us?” I didn’t have any more words.

He swallowed. “Yeah. I needed more than just that last night.”

I should have been angry. For more than the first time I should have ranted and raved and screamed at him.

I didn’t.

“You could have asked,” I said softly.

“I’m asking now.”

“Okay.” I wiggled, and closed the tiny gap between us, pressing my lips to his. “Pick me up tonight after work?”

He stared at me hard, then his eyes narrowed. “Princess? You gonna tell me what the fuck just happened in that crazy head of yours?”

I wiggled on his lap again, enjoying the way he stifled a groan way too much. “You offered, belatedly. I accepted. Same thing. And you said something about a place to live?” I said brightly.

Lake watched me, keeping his lips still but the corners twitched as she dropped his hands to my ass and squeezed through the leather skirt.

“We’re gonna have a conversation after I collect you from work, princess.

” His mouth descended on mine in a long, deep kiss that left me staggering as he deposited me on the sidewalk.

“I’ll be back for you tonight. Then I’ll take you to a place you’ll call home from now on. ”

My hands twitched on the keys that he’d rescued for me the night before. “Back at the bar?” That was the only thing I wasn’t sure of. I sucked at communal living. I’d proven that with my father, and even he didn’t seem to want me, enough to end a mafia prince out to ruin my chosen version of life.

Lake revved his bike. “I’ll see you tonight princess.”

My heart half at odds with his words and half invested in hope, I turned toward my shop, wishing the day would go faster.

But first, coffee. And new locks on my doors.