Page 9 of Her Grumpy Biker (Savage Kings MC #1)
“Who sent you on a delivery to the railroad tracks?” Rock asks immediately. His gaze is intense, and while I know it’s just because he’s focused on getting rid of our new enemies, Camden doesn’t.
“I think what our President meant to say is thank you for sitting down with us today,” I say, giving Rock a pointed look. He rolls his eyes, and I narrow mine, letting him know he needs to back off if he wants her to talk.
“Yes, of course. Thanks for showing up.” Rock takes a breath, trying to calm down enough to have a conversation. He’s not used to talking to anyone other than hardened bikers. I get it. I was like that, too, until Camden came along.
“I want to help,” my girl says, her voice stronger than I know she feels at the moment. “I didn’t know what I was agreeing to when I accepted the job. I was told it would be easy and I would have enough money to pay rent at the end of the day.”
“Who told you that?” Savior asks.
“My landlord, Peter Logan.”
My brothers and I grunt at the mention of Peter.
He’s a small-time criminal, always looking for an easy buck.
He often navigates the gray areas of the law, such as predatory rental policies for his tenants.
However, we’ve been keeping an eye on him in case he gets any big ideas.
Looks like the fucker followed his dreams and became a dealer.
“And how did Peter set things up?” Rock inquires. I can tell he’s making an effort to speak slowly and softly. Well, as softly as an MC President can muster.
Camden launches into the events that took place last night.
The meeting place was in the alley behind Bottles & Bites.
She describes the strung-out drug dealer who gave her the coat and two addresses, along with the instructions to drop the coat off and wait at the park for the second package, presumably the cash.
Knowing how the evening ended, it becomes clear what actually happened.
The Sons of Decimation aren’t cooking meth on their own yet, but they’ve set themselves up to be middlemen.
Distributors of the product, but not the producers.
Fucking cowards sent a young woman to do their drop, probably because they thought something like this would happen.
Stitch, Bruise, and Guardrail clearly thought they could steal the drugs and blame it on the Camden, but those fuckers have another thing coming. Not only will their supplier be out for their heads, but now my brothers and I have a reason to put them six feet under.
“I was supposed to wait at the park for someone with a long gray beard with braids in it,” Camden finishes. “That’s it. That’s all I know.”
“Shit,” Rock mutters.
“Mugshot?” I ask. Savior and Rock nod, the same disgusted and outraged look on their faces as I’m sure I have on mine.
“Uh, no, I haven’t seen a mugshot,” Camden answers.
“It’s his road name,” I clarify. “Mine is Deadeye, remember?”
She nods, and I brush my thumb over her knuckles.
“Fucking Mugshot,” Rock grunts. “Thought he was still in prison.”
“He never stays locked up for long,” Savior says. “You think he’s their President?”
“That would make sense. He’s older than the other guys, and he’s had experience in the MC life for decades now. Add in the giant chip on his shoulder and a streak of narcissism, and I could see him starting his own club simply for his own selfish gain.”
I nod in agreement with Rock’s assessment. He and Savior discuss the next steps, and I turn to Camden, who has her eyes closed. She’s had enough excitement for the morning. Besides, I need to get her back home so I can taste her lips again. Maybe she’ll let me taste more of her…
“We’re going back to my place,” I announce. Everyone at the table looks over at me. Rock nods, though I know he has more to say. It’ll have to wait. I gather Camden up and head out through the back door, avoiding the prying and curious eyes of the rest of the members hanging out in the front.
We’re halfway home when Camden shifts in her seat behind me. She’s been holding me tightly since we took off a few minutes ago. I thought it was out of anxiety, but the more she wiggles her hips behind me, I realize she’s… turned on.
I shift gears and hit the gas, knowing the bike will vibrate more at a higher speed.
My sexy fucking woman clamps her thighs tightly around the outside of mine while rocking her core against my back and the bike seat.
A snarl is ripped from my chest, the sound swallowed by the wind as we speed home.
By the time I pull into my driveway, my dick is half-hard thinking about Camden’s dripping wet pussy. She’s trembling as I guide her off the motorcycle, then join her. My bike is still running, the engine making the frame rattle and vibrate.
I grip Camden’s hips and guide her to sit on the seat facing me. She whimpers when I step in between her spread thighs and scrape my teeth down her neck. Camden fists my jacket and pulls me closer, and I gladly follow her lead.
“Do you like being on my bike, beautiful?” I rasp against the shell of her ear.
“Mmhm,” she breathes out.
“Does it feel good right here?” I rub my thick cock against her center, groaning when she grinds against me even harder.
“Y-yes…”
“Fucking hell,” I murmur into her parted lips. “Are you aching for me?”
“God, yes. I… Oh, god…” Camden gasps and buries her face in my chest while bouncing up and down on the seat.
Jesus, I can feel how much she needs to come. Each stuttered shake of the bike winds her up more and more, but I need her inside before she shatters apart for me. No one gets to hear her orgasms except me. They’re mine, just like the rest of her.