Page 2 of Wild Night (Vicious Reapers MC #2)

CHAPTER ONE

POSEY

Pulling my car up to the Vicious Reapers MC clubhouse driveway was not on my list of things I thought I would ever do in my life. Not that I even knew what a Vicious Reaper or a clubhouse was before now, but I’ve had a lot of things that weren’t on my radar come to fruition, so I drive forward.

Stopping at the end of the drive, right in front of the building, I shift my car into Park and see nothing else around me except a woman standing a few feet away from me dressed very…

bridal. I’m sure there are things and people everywhere, but if there are, I don’t see them because she’s the only thing my eyes can zone in on.

She’s stunning.

The sight of her takes my breath away. And at the same time, my eyes water because it’s as if I’m looking directly at my sister. Forcing myself to breathe, I do a double take, then plaster on a fake smile before I unfold from the car.

I push my glasses over my eyes and use them like a headband to keep my long hair out of my face as I straighten my body and look straight ahead, my lips curving into a smile.

“Oh my god,” I cry.

I don’t know if it sounds fake or if it is, in fact, fake. I’m not sure. I have a million emotions slamming into me, coming from all different directions. I’m just trying to push forward. I’m having second thoughts about being here.

Dakota’s eyes widen, then she turns to look up at her new husband.

They exchange some words, though I’m not sure what, then she shifts her attention back to meet mine.

I watch as her lips curve up into a blinding white smile, which matches her dress.

It’s absolutely gorgeous, just like her—all of her.

I’m not sure what possessed me to wear this skimpy red dress, but I am having some serious regrets.

Regrets are something that I seem to continue collecting as the years go by.

In my mind, I just thought, bikers, red, short, tight, cut-outs—win.

I wasn’t thinking about wedding guest attire, and now that I’m here, I feel very out of place.

If Dakota is upset by my clothes, she doesn’t act it. Instead, she moves toward me, bunching up her dress before she almost breaks out into a run. When she wraps her arms around me in a hug, something shifts inside of me immediately.

Closing my eyes, I let out an exhale. In this very moment, I heal. I didn’t know I needed this kind of healing, but I did. And I welcome it—wholly. Dakota takes a step backward, and her eyes find mine.

Her smile consumes her face. Her happiness pours from her, and I try to exude the same cheerful demeanor. But I’m not sure it works. Her hands reach for mine, and she takes them in her grasp, squeezing them before she speaks.

“I’m so happy you came.”

“You look gorgeous. I’m so sorry I’m late.”

Dakota shakes her head a couple of times. “You’re here. That’s all that matters.”

It’s not all that matters, and I feel like an asshole. I wasn’t sure I was going to come at all. I wanted our first meeting to be intimate, but time is of the essence. It was a do-or-die situation, so here I am… hopefully, I don’t die.

Dakota keeps one of my hands in hers as she turns toward her people. They’re all watching me with mixed expressions. Some seem to be curious, some indifferent, and there are even a few who appear angry.

Yikes.

She drags me behind her, and I try not to twist my ankle in my too-high-heeled strappy black sandals on the gravel parking lot. Dakota whirls me around, introducing me to all the men and the few women.

The men… my god . I’ve never seen so many sexy men in my life. They’re all wearing different versions of the same uniforms. Nice black shirts, a leather vest with some matching insignia stitched on the back, and patches on the sides and front.

And jeans.

Blue jeans that are well-worn and seem to be made for each of them.

I’ve never seen a whole group of men who are collectively— hot .

I smile and shake hands, trying not to be overly embarrassed or act shy. I feel extremely overwhelmed by the situation. I should have waited until tomorrow. I acted impulsively. I shouldn’t have. I didn’t think. I never think. Again, this is my fault, and I feel like a complete asshole.

Thankfully, she’s taken away by her husband to do wedding things, like dancing and cutting cake. Staying away from the action, I lean against the side of the building and watch the reception.

I should have waited to come here tomorrow, maybe in a week… probably shouldn’t have come at all. Closing my eyes, I let out an exhale. When I open them, I jump with a gasp. There is a man standing in front of me.

Albeit a sexy man.

A really sexy man.

Probably the sexiest man I’ve ever been this close to, live and in person.

“You’re trouble, aren’t you?” he asks.

His voice is rough and low, his eyes focused on mine. He takes a step toward me, lifting his arm then placing his hand on the wall next to my head. I sink my teeth into my bottom lip and flick my gaze up at him, being obviously flirty.

“Trouble?” I ask. “Me?”

He chuckles and leans forward, and then I feel his lips against my ear.

Whatever good sense I have, it vanishes.

Any clear thought that I have disappears completely.

Because right here in this moment, and it’s been well over two years since I’ve felt the sensation of desire, but with him being this close, it’s pulsing through my body.

Desire.

Want.

Need.

“You,” he chuckles, “are fuckin’ trouble.”

He says the words, but his lips are curved up into a grin, and he seems cheerful about the fact that he thinks I’m trouble. He lifts his other hand between us and moves it back and forth as if showing me what’s in his hand, which contains two bottles of beer that he holds by their necks.

Pushing off the wall, he takes a step backward, then jerks his chin. Without another word, he turns his back to me and starts walking around the building. I think about ignoring his silent invitation, but my body doesn’t let me.

My brain turns completely off, and my feet move, one right after the other, until I’m in a room alone with him.

There’s a bed, a single nightstand, and nothing else.

It’s definitely not anyone’s personal space, maybe a guest room, although I didn’t think badass bikers had those, but what the hell do I know?

He thrusts one of the bottles in my direction, his arm outstretched. I take it from him, wrapping my fingers around the cool, sweaty bottle, watching as he lifts his to his lips and takes a pull.

“My name’s Ivy,” he states.

“Posey,” I exhale.

His lips twitch into a smirk. “Yeah, babe. Know your name.”

“I shouldn’t be here,” I murmur.

His head tilts to the side, his eyes searching mine. “Probably not. But you are, and Dakota seems happy, which makes Bullet happy. So that’s all that really matters.”

“And you’re keeping me away from them so I don’t upset anyone?” I guess.

He snorts. “Don’t do pity fucks, babe. You standing against that wall looking like a goddamn wet dream, makin’ my dick hard, is why I brought you here. Nothin’ else.”

Lifting the beer to my lips, I take my own pull as I walk past him and toward the bed before I sink onto the edge of the mattress. He watches me, unmoving. I look down at my red-painted toenails, inhaling deeply through my nose, and hold my breath for a moment before I let it out slowly.

“I don’t do things like this.”

I assume people who do things like this but want to appear innocent probably say the same thing. But I actually don’t usually do things like this, so I hope he believes me. If he doesn’t… so what?

He hums. “Yeah, got that.”

IVY

Posey is sex on a stick, and every single one of the brothers was trying to figure out who was going to bang her before Bullet made her off limits.

Because I have no doubt he will. I’m not someone who sits around and waits for shit like that to happen, though.

Instead of coming up with a plan, I just approached her with a couple of beers, and it worked.

“Stay right there,” I warn.

I walk out of the room and grab a bottle of tequila, some salt, and some limes. When I make my way back in, I’m surprised to see that Posey has taken her shoes off, but unfortunately, her clothes remain in place. Her eyes widen at the sight of the bottle.

I close and lock the door behind me, then watch her for a moment.

She lifts her head, her eyes meet mine, and she gives me a soft smile.

She’s really fucking gorgeous, and I have a feeling really fucking high maintenance.

That should bother me, but it doesn’t. I think it’s the challenge. I fucking want it.

“Here you go, princess,” I murmur, walking toward her.

She takes the bottle from my hand and sets the glass of limes on the nightstand, and I place the salt next to it before I sink down beside her.

“This is dangerous,” she says with a small laugh, her voice soft and sexy as shit.

I hum before I speak. “Is it?”

She jerks her chin up slightly, her eyes meeting mine. “You know it is. That’s why you brought it in here.”

“Trouble,” I grunt.

I watch as she sinks her teeth into her bottom lip, her honey eyes searching mine. Fuck . I want to be inside of her right now— my balls ache for it. She is trouble. I can see it lurking behind her eyes, and I want no fucking part of it… except for a night. Just once , I tell myself.

A night is all I need to assuage the curiosity that I feel about this woman.

A bright fucking red Mercedes Benz, a skirt too fucking short, too much cleavage, too much skin in general.

She’s too fucking much, and I want all of her.

Every damn inch.

Posey smiles, then tugs the cork out of the bottle, tossing it on the nightstand next to the salt and limes before she brings it to her lips. I watch as she takes a drink. She doesn’t even flinch as she swallows.

It’s expensive tequila. There isn’t much of a bite, but it still surprises me that she doesn’t reach for the lime or the salt. Instead, she slides her tongue across her bottom lip and takes a second drink.

Slipping the bottle from her grasp, I bring it to my own lips, and we go back and forth a few times, allowing the booze to flow through our bodies along with the conversation. And then that conversation begins to dissipate, and our drunken bodies take over.

Touch. Taste. Teeth.

Perfection.

Completely fucking wild.