Page 13 of Her Possessive Biker (Savage Kings MC #2)

Holt

I t’s been three months. Planning a wedding when you belong to an outlaw motorcycle club is a unique experience. The guest list includes hard-faced men with hearts of gold, barmaids with nerves of steel, and half the population of Jackson Ridge.

Red and Camden took over instantly and turned The Black Crown’s backyard into something out of a fairy tale with white lights, borrowed linens, and wildflowers stuck in mason jars. I didn’t argue. I don’t argue with Red.

Jim insisted on catering, complete with a tower of pies. The man still side-eyes me from time to time, but he’s all in now.

Grizz offered up his prized Black Crown Bourbon for the toast on one condition. Cassie’s glass better be filled with sweet tea or he’d toss the offender out the back door himself. She's carrying our baby, and I still can’t believe it. I’m going to be a dad.

The morning of the ceremony, my nerves are a steel wire pulled tight.

I’ve been shot at weddings before. You never know who might show up with a grudge and a bad idea.

So I’m in a suit, but my cut’s underneath, and my Glock’s riding in a shoulder holster.

Diesel and Deadeye are on patrol. Another one of my brother’s guarding the gate, blade in plain view.

“Relax,” Grizz grunts, slapping my shoulder. “It’s a wedding, not a war.”

“Same damn thing,” I mutter.

He laughs like he knows I’m only half-joking.

Music starts. Camden’s playlist of classic rock, slowed down and played acoustic by Nomad. The crowd rises. And then I see her.

My Angel.

Walking toward me with bare feet in the grass, white lace hugging her curves and flaring at the hips. Her hair’s loose, falling around her shoulders in copper waves. Her freckles dust her skin like stars. And her smile hits me like a gut punch.

“Fuck,” I whisper.

She links her arm through Caleb’s. He walks her down the aisle, proud and limping only slightly. He whispers something that makes her laugh and then he passes her to me like I’m the only man in the world he trusts with her.

Maybe I am.

The altar’s made of stacked whiskey crates draped with linen and wildflowers. Diesel stands between us in a clean button-down and his usual scowl. He’s the only one here with an officiant license besides Grizz, and Grizz refused.

“I ain’t standing up there saying sappy shit,” he said. “That’s your circus.”

Diesel clears his throat, voice rough. “We’re gathered here today to witness this foolish bastard and this fiery angel tie the knot.”

A few chuckles.

He looks at me. “Holt, do you promise to love, honor, and scare the shit out of anyone who looks at her sideways for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do.” No hesitation. No shake in my voice. I mean every damn word.

He turns to her. “Cassie, do you promise to love, sass, and keep this old man in line for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do,” she says, all grins and dimples.

“Then by the power vested in me by the state of Colorado, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Reaper, kiss your Angel.”

I don’t need to be told twice.

I grab her, dip her low, and kiss her like I’m starving. She clutches me back, soft and fierce all at once, and the whole club erupts in cheers. Diesel whistles. Lucy meows from a hay bale like she approves.

The reception blurs by. Toasts. Dancing. Red organizing like a general. Camden hugging Cassie every five minutes. Diesel actually smiling. Grizz tearing up when he thinks no one’s watching. Red clocks it and smacks him with a dish towel.

At some point, I slow dance with my wife. My wife . Her head rests on my chest. My cut’s over her dress. She says she likes the weight of it.

Camden pulls me aside just before we leave. “You ever make her cry, Gunner, I’ll cut off your balls.”

I nod. “That’s fair.”

Cassie laughs and hugs her tight, promising they’ll catch up soon. Grizz insists on packing us leftovers like we’re heading off to war. Diesel and Deadeye slap my back, muttering half-serious warnings about keeping her happy and making sure she eats.

Then we ride home.

The second we step inside, it hits me. It's ours now.

Our house. Our life. Our damn future.

The place is quiet, soft with the hush of night settling in. Warm light spills across the floor. Lucy trots in ahead of us like she owns the place, leaps onto her perch, and curls up without a care in the world.

Cassie turns to face me. Her smile? It’s slow. Wicked. Beautiful.

Like she’s been planning this moment all day.

“Holt,” she says, voice pure sin wrapped in silk, “take me on this counter.”

That’s it. That’s all it takes.

Whatever self-control I’ve got left shatters like glass.

I cross the space in two steps, hands already on her. I strip the dress from her body like it offended me just by touching her—lace and silk falling away until she’s bare in my arms, breath catching, eyes burning with the same need that’s been killing me since sunrise.

I tear off my own clothes in a blur. No finesse. No patience. Just raw urgency.

Because I’ve been waiting all damn day.

She gasps when I lift her onto the counter, her legs wrapping around me like instinct, like home. I line us up, and when I finally slide my cock into her pussy, it’s like the world rights itself.

She moans. Soft, sweet, desperate.

My hips jerk, and I sink deeper, jaw clenched so tight it aches. Her body welcomes me like she was made for this. Made for me.

“Oh God,” she breathes.

I kiss her. Hard. It’s rough and messy and not even close to enough. She tastes like champagne and heat and everything I’ll never deserve but refuse to give up.

I move faster. Deeper. My hands locked on her waist, holding her steady while she clutches at my shoulders like she’s barely holding on.

Her breathy little moans come faster now. Rhythmic, addictive.

And I lose it. I whisper her name. Groan it. Grunt it like a prayer.

I reach down between us, fingers finding her clit. I circle it, and she shatters.

Her whole body goes taut. She cries out my name and clenches around me, dragging me straight over the edge with her.

A few more thrusts and I’m gone too. Buried deep, pulsing with the kind of release that steals breath and thought and everything else I was holding onto.

When it’s over, she’s still clinging to me. Like I’m the only thing keeping her upright.

Maybe I am.

She leans in close, presses her mouth to my ear, and whispers—

“Thank you.”

My chest tightens. I pull her in closer. Bury my face in her neck.

“You don’t thank me for this, Angel,” I murmur. “I'm yours and you’re mine.”

***

THE END