Page 21 of Rough & Ruthless

“I, oh god, I want…” He presses one finger into my slick entrance, slowly thrusting in and out. “I want you to claim me,” I moan. “Remind me what it’s like to be yours.”

“Always, Soraya. I’ll remind you every day, starting right the fuck now.”

I hook my thumbs into the waistband of his jeans and help him pull them down. His cock springs free and my hand automatically wraps around it. I feel his shaft throb in my hand, growing impossibly harder as I stroke up and down.

Stryker grabs my hand and lifts it away. “I’m not gonna last if you do that. Need inside your perfect pussy.”

He strips me down in seconds, grabbing my thighs and lifting me up. I wrap my arms around his neck and my legs around his hips. Stryker thrusts into me in one swift motion, pushing all the air out of my lungs. I breathe him in, letting the smell of sweat and sex fill me up.

His dick hits the end of me with each stroke, tearing me apart in the best way possible. It hurts so fucking good, his cock destroying my cunt, both of us groaning, crying out, grunting our pleasure.

My muscles tighten, my pussy pulses, but I hold off my release. My entire body arches, my throbbing clit aches, but still I hold on. Desire, pleasure, and sweet pain push me into a new place. My world drips into a pinpoint of pure pleasure.

My orgasm hits me hard as Stryker rams his cock deep inside. I bite down on his shoulder and he roars his release, bucking his hips into me to prolong our pleasure.

When I open my eyes, my head is resting on Stryker’s shoulder, and his body vibrates as he chuckles.

“You okay, baby?”

I lift my head and smile up at him, still a little dazed. He places a chaste kiss on my lips and slowly pulls out of me, gently setting me back down on the floor. I lean into him, my legs still not working right.

“Holy fudge,” I manage to say when I catch my breath.

“Yeah,” he confirms, chuckling again as he strokes my back and kisses the top of my head. “Let’s get you some food and a nap, sunflower. You’ve earned both.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

STRYKER

The stale smell of stale coffee and cigarette smoke hangs heavy in the air of the intel room. I stand right behind Wolf’s chair, my arms crossed over my chest as I stare dead-ahead at the glowing computer screen. Viper and Phoenix flank us on either side, the tension in the room thick enough to cut with a combat knife.

"Right there," Wolf murmurs, dragging his mouse across the screen.

He clicks, and the image on the monitor enlarges. It's a snapshot from the abandoned shipping yard earlier today—the exact spot where we found Soraya. Wolf has zoomed in on a massive stack of wooden shipping crates sitting at the base of the rusted dock.

Viper leans in closer, his eyes narrowing. "Are you shitting me? Those crates look exactly like ours."

"They don't just look like ours," Wolf replies, his voice grim. He taps a finger against the screen, pointing to a heavy steel clasp near the corner of the top box. "Look at the hardware. They have the exact same proprietary locking mechanism we use. The ones specifically designed to keep the crates from shifting during long-haul transportation."

"What the fuck are our crates doing sitting unguarded at a rotting dock on the east side?" Viper growls, his hands balling into fists.

"Shut up and look at the screen, brother," Phoenix snaps, his usually calm demeanor fractured. "Just look at it."

Wolf hits a few keys, running an enhancement program to clear up the grainy, pixelated shadows of the image. As the blur sharpens into focus, the blood in my veins turns to liquid nitrogen.

There's a logo plastered on the front of the center crate. It’s bold, sharp, and completely foreign. It sure as hell isn't the King’s Logistics logo we use for our legitimate trucking fronts, and it definitely isn't the Rebel Kings skull and crown.

"Son of a bitch," I curse, the sound tearing out of my throat in a dark, feral growl.

It all clicks into place. This is them. This is the faceless ghost who has been fucking with our product, hijacking our routes, and causing absolute chaos for the club over the last few months. I was already planning to hunt these bastards down and end their miserable lives for stepping on Rebel Kings territory. But now? Knowing these are the exact same pieces of shit who dared to lay their hands on my woman and put her life in danger? It changes everything. I’m doubling down on my promise. I'm going to burn their entire organization to the ground, and then I'm going to salt the earth with their ashes.

"Dig deeper," I order, my voice a deadly serious command that leaves no room for failure. I look around the room, meeting the eyes of my most trusted men. "I want that logo run through every database, every street contact, and every dark web forum you can access. Find out who it belongs to and report back immediately with any new information. I need a name.”

"You got it, Prez," Wolf says, already typing frantically on his keyboard.

With the meeting over, I turn on my heel and stride out of the intel room. My steps echo down the hallway as I make my way back to my apartment. I left Soraya sleeping soundly in my bed, her beautiful, exhausted body tangled in my black sheets, and I need to see her. I need to anchor myself in her presence before the rage completely consumes me.

I push the heavy wooden door open and step inside. "sunflower, I'm back⁠—"