Conjugal Visits (Souls Chapel Revenants MC 2)

“Gonna come on your tongue,” he growled moments later.

Then, before I could close my mouth around him, he did.

He painted my tongue, the back of my throat, and then my lips with his release, causing me to nearly choke on all that he gave me.

But I swallowed it down, trying to keep up, and knowing that I failed.

It was still hot as hell, though.

Like, on a scale of one to ten, it was a fifty-seven.

When he finally pulled back and I dropped my hands, I used them to wipe my face clean.

But I knew that I would need a light and a mirror to make sure that I’d gotten it all.

I felt a cool wetness on my shirt and knew that I was now a mess.

“Damn, I think I got your stuff on my shirt,” I teased.

He flicked on the light, and sure enough, there was a small amount on my t-shirt over my shoulder.

It stuck out like a sore thumb.

“Shit,” I snorted.

“Here,” he said, walking to a desk behind him and pulling a wipe out of a tub of Lysol disinfectant wipes before coming back toward me.

He wiped my shirt off, but it left a rather large wet stain. Then handed the wipe to me to clean off my hands.

When I was done, I looked down at myself.

“Damn,” I said.

Before I could come up with a solution, though, he was throwing his jacket around my shoulders.

I looked up at him once he had my arms threaded through the armholes.

I shivered at the delicious heat that was still emanating from it and groaned when a whiff of smell—spicy and manly—hit my nose.

He curled his hands around the collar and tugged it toward him, bringing me with it.

“I’ve been wanting to see you in this and nothing else since you gave it to me,” he groaned.

I grinned. “I’ll make sure to give you that tonight.”

He winked. “Let’s go before they start calling my phone asking where I am.”

We’d been ten minutes, max, since I’d left the table.

But he was right.

His friends would start asking questions soon, and I didn’t want them to think we’d abandoned them for our own selfish needs.

Which, we kind of did.

But not for long.

“Let’s go,” I said.

He winked and pulled open the door, waiting for me to exit before he turned out the light and locked the door, closing it solidly behind us.

We were halfway across the bar, within sight of our table, when it happened.

“Oh, ho, ho!” some obviously drunk dude called out loudly. “Look what State has! A shiny new toy!”

State tried to keep walking, but the guy reached out and touched my hair, causing Trouper to lose it.

“Don’t touch her. Ever,” Trouper ordered as he pushed him away before he could even get a finger on my long locks.

The drunk guy started to laugh even more, finding it utterly hilarious that he’d gotten a rise out of the unflappable man.

Troup didn’t find it funny.

Not at all.

He glared hard, then started to once again lead me to the table.

Except, again, drunk guy intervened.

“Looks like she’s got your jacket,” drunk guy said. “Did she suck your cock good, State?”

Troup’s hand twitched as if he wanted to punch the guy’s lights out.

Hell, I wanted to, and he hadn’t said much but a few words to me.

“When you’re done with her, maybe I can take her for a spin,” drunk guy pushed.

Still, Troup kept walking.

“Or does she only suck and fuck, Officer Dick?” he continued.

I rolled my eyes.

“You weren’t an officer when I fucked you for the first time. I’d just like to say that,” I teased him, trying to lighten the mood.

“Bet if I took her in the back room like you just did, I could make her come,” drunk guy slurred.

Then, for good measure, he started to cup his crotch.

When he still didn’t get the rise that he was searching for, he took a swing at me.

At that particular moment in time, I wasn’t sure if he was trying to pour his leftover beer on me, or hit me with the beer bottle.

Troup never let me find out.

One second, I was walking at his side, and the next I was behind him, Troup was swinging his fist, and shit hit the fan.

Troup went… berserk.

He hit drunk guy so fucking hard that the ricochet of his fist hitting drunk guy’s face cracked through the now silent bar.

Hell, even the music had turned off.

I watched dispassionately, knowing that Trouper wouldn’t appreciate it if I intervened.

I’d tried that once and only once and had nearly been hit for my efforts. He’d ripped me a new one after he’d pounded the guy a little extra hard for nearly hitting me in the face.

“Maybe he just didn’t have the right trigger,” I heard Cannel whisper from behind me. “That guy who started the brawl? He kept attacking Trouper’s mother. His father. His heritage. Nothing. But that guy takes one fuckin’ swing at her, and State hits the fan.”