Diamond in the Dust (Lost Kings MC 18)

He pats my butt. “You seemed to enjoy it.”

I rest my chin on his chest, taking in my beautiful, cocky man. “I did.” I slide my hand between my legs. “My bits are a little sore, though. It’s like pleasure that kinda borders on pain.”

He frowns. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“You didn’t. It was just different. Not in a bad way.”

He makes a humming noise like he’s not convinced.

“You’re not one of those guys who’s worried a vibrator will replace his cock, Logan, are you?”

He snorts, then full-out laughs. “Come on, now. Nothing’s better than my cock.”

Giggling, I crawl up his body to kiss his cheek. “Very true.”

It’s late but we can’t seem to stop touching and rubbing each other.

“You’re so soft,” he murmurs, kissing my shoulder.

His big hand splays over my stomach and I’m fascinated with how tiny I feel in his embrace. I rest my hand over his, measuring the difference.

“Your hand’s like twice the size of mine.”

He grasps my wrist and kisses my knuckles. “But these fingers give the world the gift of music.”

“Aww.” I rest my hand over his heart. “Yours give the gift of orgasms. I’d argue that’s more useful.”

He rumbles with laughter.

“Logan?”

“Hmm?”

“What’d you talk about with Priest? Did that go okay?”

He opens his eyes and peers down at me for a few seconds.

Uh-oh, maybe this isn’t an appropriate after-sex conversation.

“It went well,” he answers slowly. “He seems…pleased. I may have made myself too useful.” His jaw tightens and he glances toward the door before meeting my eyes again. “I’m concerned he’s gonna try shipping me off to another charter.”

“Can he do that?” I ask, sitting up. “That’s not fair.”

“He did it to Z.”

“But Z’s still in New York. He didn’t make him go far.”

“True. But there are no other New York charters to send me to.”

“Why does he have to send you anywhere?”

He shrugs. “He didn’t say he was. But some aspects of our conversation raised caution flags for me.”

Logan’s damn smart and has a hell of a bullshit meter. So if he’s concerned, there’s a reason. “Oh.”

“Nothing you need to worry about right now.” He pauses for a second, flicks his gaze toward his cut draped over a chair by the closet. “That shit with that guy shouldn’t have happened tonight.”

“Bonehead?” I wrinkle my nose. “Is that really his road name?”

He huffs a laugh. “Yeah. Fitting, obviously.”

I wait for him to continue whatever he was going to say and am rewarded for my patience.

“We haven’t talked about this a lot, but the property patches the ol’ ladies wear—”

“Like Heidi and Trinity’s?”

“Yup.”

My heart pitter-patters at where this talk might be heading.

Why?

Part of me should be insulted at wearing something calling me property but that part must be buried deep because all I feel is the excited thump of my heart and hummingbird flutters in my stomach.

Rooster said in his world, the property patch is like an engagement ring.

“What about it?” I ask, trying to hang on to my calm.

“I don’t know how closely you’ve looked at them.” He strokes his finger along my side. “Most brothers ask the officers of their charter to vote the ol’ ladies in. Some charters are stricter than others. In some, the vote needs to be unanimous. Others…it depends. Priest kinda blew that out of the water.” He snorts. “Anyway, the vote’s about trust—”

“What do you mean? Is it like being voted into the club?”

“Yes and no. Ol’ ladies still don’t sit at the table.” He holds up his hand before I protest the injustice of it. “For their own protection. We don’t share club business. But,” he adds, “over time, obviously, you might see and hear stuff. The officer’s vote is about whether they can trust an ol’ lady to be around the club and not betray them to outsiders.” He taps my side again. “Those officer patches on the sides inform everyone else in the organization that ol’ lady is respected and trusted. It announces to other clubs that brothers will throw down to protect her.”

“Sounds powerful.”

“It is in our world. It means a lot. And not every ol’ lady gets voted in by the officers right away. Or at all. Some ol’ ladies get pissed about it. They can be…competitive is the best way to describe it.”

“That makes sense, I guess.” Where is he going with this long explanation?

“Z was in a tough spot because he got bounced downstate when he was ready to patch Lilly. So our charter didn’t know her well enough to vote her in, or at least Z didn’t think he could ask us to. And upstate…well, there were reasons he didn’t want to ask there, I guess. Priest neutralized that issue by giving her his patch, which is—”

“As good as gold, I’m guessing.”

His mouth twitches. “Yeah, you could say that.”

“Had he spent time with Lilly?”