Page 32 of Knife Volume 2

“When someone disrespects an ol’lady, they’re disrespecting her man and the whole club. The vest is protection. It’s a declaration.” Harmony said. “And yes, ownership goes both ways. Brain is mine, and wearing this vest lets everyone know it.”

Tuesday looked out at the yard, at the party in motion around the many large fans, at Knife across the compound talking to his brothers with the ease of a man completely at home.

He’d invited her to move in. Would he want her wearing a vest proclaiming her his? That was how he’d introduced her, that first night. This is Tuesday. She’s mine.

“It isn’t just up to your man,” Angelica said. “The entire club has to vote that he can give it to you, because once you’re wearing the vest, any Rolling Thunder member from any chapter, whether he knows you or not, will defend you if he sees you need it.”

That made sense, and Tuesday nodded, licked the salt on her rim, and took another drink of her too-strong margarita that perfectly hit the spot.

About thirty minutes after the sun went down, the party shifted into a completely different energy.

The first paintball match was wolves against cats, twelve to a side, and Tuesday watched from the sidelines with the other ol’ladies, still holding her margarita.

This was two groups of apex predators with paintball guns, and the woods swallowed them for the better part of an hour before it came down to Cora and Nathan, moving through the darkness, occasionally shooting at each other and often missing by millimeters for nearly twenty minutes after everyone else was out. Kirsten finally walked into the woods and loudly called it a draw.

The second match was different. Someone suggested men against women, and someone else shouted we needed a humans-only battle.

Matty was on his feet before the suggestion finished landing, a huge smile on his face as he said, “Hell yes!”

Brain announced Lexi would captain the women, and she stepped out and started picking her team.

Lexi argued for having two more people than the men, and Duke quickly agreed with her.

Tuesday expected her to pick Gen first, but she never chose her, which seemed odd. She made a mental note to ask Knife about it later, though that conversation would have to wait until they were home. She wondered, not for the first time, what it would take to soundproof his room.

The men won, which wasn’t really surprising, even with the two extra people on the women’s team. Human males are stronger than human females. Simple biology. Tuesday was really happy the same wasn’t true for supernaturals.

Chapter 13

Tuesday thought the ol’ladies would have to clean up after the party, but Angelica told her, “Oh, no. The prospects will do that while we sleep. Whichever of our men have to handle sentry duty tonight will keep an eye on them, but mostly, they know how to clean shit up, or they wouldn’t have made it this far into the process.”

Knife took her ass before they fell asleep, but he must’ve been as tired as her, because it barely lasted ten minutes. He took even less time getting his rocks off inside the same damn hole the next morning, but he denied her an orgasm before plugging her ass, slapping it hard, and telling her she’d remember who fucking owned her orgasms all fucking day long.

She went up to help with breakfast at 7:30, which she thought was scheduled entirely too early after they didn’t crawl into bed until nearly three. But Duke had announced, “Breakfast at eight, church at 8:40!” before the party had ended.

But now it was ten, and she was sitting behind Knife on his Sport Glide with the morning sun warm on her back. Apparently, Duke starting his bike was the signal for everyone else to do it. All at once.

The sound hit her like a physical force when they all roared to life, and Tuesday realized this was going to be a completely different experience than riding solo with Knife. The deep, thunderous rumble reverberated through her chest, stomach, and clit.

Not to mention how the heavy plug filling and stretching her sensitive asshole amplified it, the low frequency making the unforgiving steel buzz against her inner walls — and the denied orgasm from hours before grew into an unbearable, pulsing ache that made her thighs clench and her hips want to rock, searching for friction, for movement, for anything.

Then the bikes began to move, forming a long, snaking line of chrome and leather that rolled out of the compound like a living thing, and it felt as if she was part of something much bigger.

The vibrations seemed to fade a little until they roared up the ridge cut, and the extra RPMs along with the climb made the heavy, thick steel buzz more and more with every surge of the engine until her thighs clenched hard around the seat, and her entire focus was on her swollen, aching clit. Her hips twitched forward, chasing pressure she wasn’t allowed to have.

The interstate part of the drive was mostly about people staring at them, and she needed to talk to him to keep from noticing — and to get her mind off the damned plug, if that was possible.

“No one can hear us on these radios, right?” she asked.

“Not right now, but always check with me if it’s something you don’t want others hearing. I’m on two channels right now, so I can hear the road team and you, but no one can hear you, and I’m muted on the other channel.”

“What was up with Lexi not picking Gen for paintball?” She had to fight to keep her voice steady, the constant vibration from the plug and the low thrum of the bike making her pussy throb with denied need.

“Ah. Gen hurt her leg and hip in a bike crash a few years ago, and when she’s tired, she still walks with a limp. She’s never really been into that kind of thing, even before she was hurt, but with her leg not quite right still, Duke wouldn’t be happy if someone tried to pull her in. He sees her as human and fragile, which I gather pisses her off, but he isn’t wrong.”

He detailed the club protocol for how the group has to stay together in public, and ended all the rules with an explanation for why they’re necessary. “A lot of people look at taking out a biker as bragging rights, yeah? And we aren’t really worried about someone sucker-punching us and actually hurting us, but bystanders are likely to call LEO if they see a fight involving bikers, and we’d all rather avoid that. It gets expensive, not to mention, it gives them an opportunity to ask other questions we’d rather not answer. So, no one goes off by themselves. Go to the bathroom when the other ol’ladies go, so you’re all in there together, and then everyone returns with the group. At least one of us will wait outside the bathroom for all of you, and will walk you back and forth. Other than the bathroom, you’ll be attached to me the whole time.”

When they hit the mountain, everything changed, and she truly understood the club’s name. Rolling Thunder.