Strength from Loyalty (Lost Kings MC 3)

He keeps going, growling as I squirm and wriggle, pushing my pussy harder against his face. His hands hold my hips where he wants them as he keeps kissing and licking me. Hooking his arms under my legs, he hoists me higher, burying his face, sucking and licking at me harder.

“Shit!”

I can’t. The sensations are too much. I’m climbing higher and higher, about to shatter. Sweet pleasure unfurls from my core through my body. I’m still yelling and thrashing around, but he keeps me where he wants me. Over and over, his tongue sweeps over my pussy.

Gently, he eases me back onto the table. Slipping two fingers inside me, he curls them against that special spot while flattening his hand on my belly and pressing me into the table.

“Rock, what—” I try to lift my head, but his mouth latches onto my clit again. His fingers keep rubbing and stroking, slow at first, then more insistent. My legs are trembling so hard they fall to the sides.

Briefly, he lifts his head from between my thighs. “Come for me.”

“I did. I don’t think…”

He growls against me, sending shocking vibrations through my core.

I’m done. Shattered. Flying through time and space.

I barely have a chance to come down when Rock slides me off the table, grips my hips, and flips me over. My legs are like jelly, so I curl my fingers over the edge of the table and hang on.

An excited tingle races through me at the clink of his belt. The lazy ticking sound of his zipper lowering. The reaction in me is automatic—I rise on tiptoes, arching my back, offering myself.

And he takes me.

Rough hands cup my hips, holding me in place while he pounds into me from behind. My breasts are squished, trapped between me and the table. Planting my elbows, I lift up and push myself back.

“Don’t stop,” I chant breathlessly, over and over. I’ll die if he stops.

“No chance,” he grunts out, barely out of breath. “You comin’ for me again, doll?”

I open my mouth to answer, but pleasure grabs me and I let out a wailing moan instead. His furious thrusting doesn’t let up as I scream through my orgasm.

“That’s it, baby doll. Give me everything.”

He lets out a deep, satisfied groan and warm wetness sizzles over my back. I turn my head and quirk up my mouth at him. It takes him a second to come back to himself. When he does, he meets my gaze, a flicker of worry passing over his face.

“You mad?”

I hold down my grin as long as possible. “No, I’m not mad.”

I get a playful slap on my ass. “Stay there. I’ll be right back.”

When he’s done cleaning me up, I get soft kisses along my neck and shoulder.

“Come on, my sticky little girl, let’s go wash you up,” Rock says as he hoists me into his arms.

Looping my arms around his neck, I burrow my face against his shoulder, running my mouth over his skin. I love the salty taste of my man.

He growls, moving us faster to the bathroom. Inside, he sets me down gently next to the tub and gets the shower going. Feeling suddenly overwhelmed, I trace my finger down his arm. He turns and gives me a questioning look.

“Did you… Have you always done that?”

I don’t have to be more specific. Another flicker of concern. “No, baby. I don’t know why.” His dark-gray stare roams over my face. “I’ve never done that before. Before you. Does it bother you?”

A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. “No.”

A relieved smile spreads across his face. “Go on. Get in.”

As soon as he steps in behind me, I turn and wrap my arms around his waist. I don’t know why, but I’m suddenly overwhelmed with emotion and the need to be close. It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask him to spend the night here—something we haven’t done yet.

I open my mouth, but a strangled sob comes out instead.

“What’s wrong?” Rock asks, leaning over to swipe my bangs out of my eyes.

I force up the corners of my mouth. “Nothing, baby. You just overwhelm me.”

“Did I hurt you? Before?” he asks, his face darkening.

“No. Not at all. I love everything we do. Always.”

He still doesn’t look convinced.

“I think I just missed you a lot today.”

His face softens, and he runs his hands over my arms. “Missed you too. Thought about you all day,” he says with a secret smile.

After we’re squeaky clean and wrapped in towels, Rock turns to me. “Mind if I shave?”

“Not at all. Although, I’m kind of digging the scruff on you.”

He gives me a lopsided grin.

Reaching up, I run my fingers through his hair. “I like that you’re wearing your hair a little longer, too.”

His eyelids close briefly. Almost as if he’s embarrassed. “Haven’t had time to get it cut.”

I’ve never thought of Rock doing something so mundane. It’s difficult to picture him sitting still in a barber’s chair for a simple haircut.

An easier scenario to imagine is Trinity sitting all the guys down once a month and sheering them like reluctant sheep. It’s an amusing image.

“Hang on. I’ll grab you a razor. There’s none in here anymore.”

When I return, Rock’s facing the door, patiently waiting.

“I’m sorry. All I have are girly pink ones.”

“Babe, I’m more than man enough to shave with a pink razor,” he says while holding out his hand.

“Well, manly man, the only shaving cream I have is also pink and strawberry-scented.”

He chuckles, then eyes me up and down. Suddenly, I’m self-conscious about how I’ve been running around the house in such a skimpy towel.

“What?”

Rock rubs his hand over his chin and down his neck while his gaze roams over my body. “I was just thinkin’ maybe my scruff can wait.” He picks up the razor, twirling it between his fingers. “Instead, maybe I should use this pretty pink razor to shave my pussy, so next time I want it, you’re not pulling away from me.”

I’m struck dumb by his words. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he says, setting down the razor. His strong arms band around me, lifting me in the air so he can kiss my forehead. “That pussy is mine, baby. I don’t like you hesitating when I want to see it.”

My skin is so hot and tight. I’m sure I’m blushing like crazy. “You’re so dirty.”

“You just realized this now?”

Soft smacks rain down over my ass, and I squeal and wriggle out of his hold. “Aren’t you satisfied yet, caveman?”

He grins and plants another kiss on the top of my head. “I can’t ever get enough of you, baby.”

“Shave. Worry about my bush later.”

With a smirk, Rock ducks back into the bathroom, and I run down the hall to get dressed.

While waiting for him to finish shaving, I bend over to pick up the mail and other things we tossed on the floor earlier.

One envelope stops me cold. Unfolding myself from the floor, I turn it over in my hands. The New York State Attorney Grievance Committee. Mailed over a week ago. Of course, I haven’t been home much to check the mail, so it’s probably been sitting here like a career-ending bomb. My heart drops to my stomach. My fingers tremble so hard I can barely rip open the seal and get the letter out.

I’ve never been in trouble in my life. In fact, I’ve always been teased for being the “good girl.” The oath I took to become a lawyer is important to me. I take it seriously. Mentally running through all the cases I’ve handled in my career, I can’t think of anything I’ve ever done that could be construed as malpractice. Hell, I’ve only had two clients in the last year and a half.

Both connected to Rock.

Both cases he practically forced on me.

Dammit!

Since complaints cannot be made anonymously, I see it’s Winter’s ex who filed the grievance. He’s claiming, first, it was a conflict of interes

t for me to represent Winter when I had previously represented her boyfriend. That one is bullshit, and I’m surprised the committee is even investigating it.

It’s the next one that makes my chest constrict and my fingers go numb.

He claims I am involved in a criminal enterprise. That my representation of members of the Lost Kings, a known criminal organization, is personal, and I’m bending the law to cover up their crimes.

This is why they’re investigating me.

From what I understand about the process, normally I would be given an opportunity to submit a response in writing. But they’re actually calling me in for a face-to-face interview.

“Hope, what’s wrong?”

Freshly shaved and too handsome for my sanity, Rock strolls into the dining room with nothing but a towel wrapped around his hips. With a shaky hand, I pass the letter to him.

“What’s this?”

“I’m being investigated by the disciplinary committee for ethics violations.”

“What the fuck for?”

My jaw tightens. “Winter’s ex. The case you forced me to take.”

As soon as I drop the words in the air, I have a twinge of regret. But I thrust up my chin and glare at him.

“Babe, I’ll take care of this. That motherfuck—”

My rage boils over. He doesn’t get it. “Don’t you fucking dare! If anything happens to him, it will be so much worse for me. It will look like everything in his complaint is true!”

He moves to put his arms around me, and I flinch.

“Don’t touch me.”

“Hope—”

“No. I’m so fucking mad at you right now. You pushed me into taking that case when I wasn’t ready. Do you know what this kind of thing will do to my career?” The years I spent in law school, suffering through the bar exam, all the struggling I did to stay afloat before Clay died—all of it for nothing now if I lose my license to practice law.

“None of it is true.”

“It doesn’t matter! They’re actually calling me in before the committee. So someone thinks it’s got merit. Most complaints go unfounded, and the attorney never even knows about them. They should have given me a chance to answer it in writing. You don’t understand how bad this is, Rock.” This is so humiliating. How will I ever explain this to my friends? If I get disbarred, it will be made public. Even if I manage to skate out of this with a suspension or warning, it still gets published. Everyone will know.

Rock runs a hand through his hair.

“Hope, let me fix this. The club—”

I can’t believe he still isn’t getting it. His “fixing it” will make things worse. Without thinking through my words, I explode. “Fuck the fucking club! You and your stupid club are what got me in trouble!”

Oh no.

I want to yank back the words the second they leave my lips. The shock and anger they bring to Rock’s face is a gut punch I can’t handle.

His eyes go cold, and he storms down the hall. When he comes back, he’s fully dressed. He tosses the letter on the counter.

I’m frantically trying to wipe tears off my cheeks. I’m humiliated enough. I don’t need him to see me crying too.

But he barely throws a glance at me as he marches out the door.

Fuck the fucking club.

Those words keep banging around inside my skull. The day I get her voted into the fucking club.

I’ve never been a fan of irony.

When I finally hit the highway, I can breathe again.

I don’t even know where I’m going. The clubhouse is out. There’s no way I could look my brothers in the eye right now.

Fuck the fucking club.

I should have seen this coming. No matter how many fucking talks I have with her, she’s never going to get it. Our relationship was bound to go to shit eventually.

For miles and miles, I drive like a bull out the gate. The memory of Hope’s furious face chases me down the road.

Even after I’ve put a good chunk of highway behind me, I still can’t stop picturing her face. And there’s something else there I can’t quite put my finger on.

Embarrassment. Hurt.

Fuck.

From the day we met, I’ve known how insecure and sensitive my girl is. Since I find everything about her fucking perfect, I’d forgotten about her self-esteem issues.

A seed of doubt weasels its way into my concrete block of self-righteousness. I’d been so infuriated when she rejected my offer to help her I didn’t consider her feelings at all. No. All I thought about was how to fix it. Along with the doubt, I’m pissed because she’s right. I pushed her into doing that case and now she’s going to have a whole lot of bullshit to deal with because of my heavy-handedness.

Slowing down, I take in my surroundings. I’ve managed to put a good ninety miles between us.

Impressive.

Finding a motel to crash in is easy. Our downstate charter would take me in, no questions asked, and find a spot for me. I’m tempted because their clubhouse isn’t far, but I really need to be alone.

What’s not easy is checking my phone and finding no calls or texts from Hope. Not that I expected an apology. But I’d rather have her bitching me out some more than nothing at all.

The ride back the next morning seems to take forever.

I stop at Hope’s house first, but she’s not there.

It’s probably for the best, because I can’t fight with her again. Even with all my realizations last night, that fuck the club thing is still messing with my head.

Z meets up with me in my office, a stupid jolly grin on his face.

A simple, “Hey,” is all I manage before he starts letting me in on why he’s so excited.

“Kiss my ass now, fucker. Hope’s cut should be ready later this week. Patches and everything.”

Fuck me.

“You want to have a party or give it to her in private?” He waggles his eyebrows at me.

“Uh, she’s going through some stuff. I may wait on it a little bit.” Christ, wait on it might be putting it mildly.

His face falls. “Seriously?”

I pull him into the conference room and, just my fucking luck, Wrath spots us before I get the door closed.

“Where you been, dick? I’m fucking bored.” He hobbles in and drops his ass in the first chair he sees.

Z’s watching me with an intense expression. “What’s going on with your girl?”

Wrath perks up at that.

“That fucking ex of Winter’s reported Hope to the attorney whatever board. It’s bad. She has to go in and explain herself. It’s all bullshit, but she’s pretty upset.” I leave out our argument.

“Me and Bricks will go take care of the little fuck,” Z says, already pulling out his cell phone.

I hold up a hand between us. Hope was right to reject my offer to take care of it. That became clear to me on my little run downstate.

“No. One of the things he’s accusing her of is covering up ongoing criminal activity for us. Something happens to him, she’s toast.”

I can feel the anger radiating off Wrath, so I turn and face him.

“It’s all bullshit. He’s taking a stab in the dark to get even for losing his case.”

“Don’t get pissed, but what’s our exposure here?” Wrath asks.

His meaning is clear, and it does piss me the fuck off. “Nothing, you fuck. That’s not what it’s about. It’s not the fucking cops she has to talk to. It’s a bunch of stuffed shirts who are going to decide if she gets to keep her license or not.”

Wrath’s immune to my outburst. He nods but doesn’t say anything.

Z taps my shoulder. “Uh, we have another issue. What the fuck has Bricks told Winter, and did she blab any of it to her baby daddy?”

Fuck. In all my fury, I didn’t even consider that possibility.

“Last I knew, she was pretty clueless. He’s met Bricks, though. He saw me at the hearing. I had words with him outside when he att

acked Hope. I owe him a fucking beatdown for laying his hands on her.” I seethe with rage at the memory. “I’m sure he took notice of the cuts and decided to make up a story to fuck with Hope. Bricks is fucking solid. You know that.”

“Since we can’t kill this fucker right now, how’s Hope doing? Anything we can do for her?” Wrath offers.

Trying not to show my surprise at his concern, I shake my head. “Uh, she’s a little pissed at me. I kinda pushed her into taking the case when she wasn’t really feeling it…”

Z shakes his head. “That fucking sucks. I’m sorry, brother. You gonna work it out?”

“I think so.”

Wrath’s still watching me with his shrewd enforcer expression. “When’s the hearing?” he finally asks.

I sigh and try to recall what the letter said. “Tomorrow.”

“You gonna go?”

“Fuck no. That’ll just make it worse.”

Wrath looks at me like I’m nuts. “You’re gonna let your woman walk into that shit storm alone?” His tone makes it clear he thinks I’m being a douche.

Z makes a duh face at me. “Just don’t wear your cut, asshole.”

Adam scratches his head and slips into that maddening lawyer mode he does so well. “Hope, you know as well as I do that the most ethics complaints come from family or mat law cases. That’s why I do T&E. All the people I owe a duty to are dead. Can’t report me if I fuck up.”

Leave it to Adam to see it that way. I came here for some guidance because jumping off a bridge seemed like too much work. Now I’m reconsidering. “I didn’t fuck up,” I grumble at him.

“I know you didn’t.”

I jab my finger at the stupid letter. “The one about me representing her current boyfriend I can knock out. That one’s not the problem. I just couldn’t represent either one of them in the future against each other. The other thing he’s accusing me of—ongoing criminal activity based on my association with Rock’s club—that’s a problem.”

He makes a frowny, twisty-lipped face that doesn’t look encouraging. “Hope, from what I remember—and you know I prefer to spend the ethics portion of CLEs napping—you’ve got to have a damn good reasonable basis before you can disclose client confidences to anyone. You represented your man for what? Some weed? And you’re supposed to extrapolate what from that? That he’s going to smoke weed in the future? Who gives a flying fuck?”