“Take Me to Church” | River Reapers MC Miniseries: Part 3

Olivia’s hand slips into mine and pulls my palm to her, up under her shirt. “I just want to forget, for a bit,” she says.

There’s nothing else to say. I close my fingers around her breast, the softness of it light in my hand, giving it just the right pressure she likes. Her hands clasp my face, my beard brushing against her fingers. It’s getting long, longer than I’ve ever let it get. Not counting prison.

Author’s Note

You asked for more Olivia and Cliff, very very nicely, so here it is! This miniseries runs for 12 weeks (and you don’t need to have read the books to follow along). So grab a snack and drink, kick back, and enjoy.

This week’s episode is NSFW. Read at your own risk!

Catch Up: Part 1 | Part 2

Part 3: “Take Me to Church”Cliff

Around the table, my brothers—the other members of the MC—stare blankly at Olivia.

“What’d you say her name was?” Beer Can asks, the crow’s feet at his eyes more pronounced as he squints at her.

Olivia’s lips part, then close. “I… She didn’t say.”

Skid scoffs. “You dragged us all out here for a woman whose name you didn’t even get? What is this?” he asks Ravage.

Olivia bites her lip.

I rush to defend her, even though I’ve got nothing. “Tommie said she’d recognize the boyfriend if she saw him, right?” When Olivia nods, I surge forward. “So then let’s have her over, see if she recognizes anyone.”

“That’s if this isn’t total bullshit,” Skid says. “Are we really gonna waste club time on some slag from the streets?”

Olivia bristles at the term, shoulders tightening. Her eyes narrow at Skid. “Wanna try that again?”

“You heard me,” he snarls. “Slag.”

She shoves her seat back, his hits the wall as he rises, and I slam him back against the sheetrock.

“Watch your manners,” I growl, my arm pressed against his throat.

He snarls in response.

“That’s enough, Red Dog,” Ravage says, and I release him immediately.

For now.

He lifts a scarred arm, his mottled hand rubbing at his throat, eyeing me with hateful blues.

“I found newspaper articles about it,” Vaughn says from behind his battered laptop. “Her name was Liane Paige.”

Mark shakes his head. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“Not for me, either,” Beer Can says.

“How ‘bout you, Skid?” I ask.

“This is bullshit, Prez,” he says to Ravage. “Are we really going off the whims of a little girl and some slag?” He stares straight at Olivia when he says it. I reach for the collar of his shirt, but Ravage yanks me back.

“Enough. Olivia, you’ve got a barbecue to plan.” He bangs the gavel, dismissing us.

No one moves.

“Did I stutter?” His ice blue eyes appraise us.

Vaughn shuts his laptop. “Someone’s cranky,” he mutters as he stands.

“Hold it,” Olivia says.

I know that look on her face. The one that says she knows better, even if just a smidge. The one that says, “Gotcha.” I know that look because it’s almost the same one she gave me that first night.

Almost.

That night, the corners of her mouth curled up just a bit, with just the slightest hint of mischief, her eyelids heavy. Then she broke into someone’s station wagon and pulled me in behind her, losing clothes as we slid into the back.

The look she’s giving Ravage now has none of the lust. Instead there’s that fire in her eyes that I’ve come to love.

And fear.

Just a little.

“Come on in,” she calls through the closed double doors, doors that club legend says came from an actual local church. They’re old and wood and heavy, so they could’ve.

A woman slips inside, the same woman from the other day.

“We don’t allow outsiders,” Mercy says, his voice warm but tinged with warning. Don’t push it, he seems to be telling his daughter. But of course she won’t listen to him. Not with the strain between them. He turns to Skid and Ravage. “She’ll go. No harm—”

“She’s not going anywhere,” Olivia says, clasping Tommie’s hand. “Do you recognize anyone?”

Tommie lowers her sunglasses, staring from face to face. She skips right over Vaughn, does a double take at me.

I clench my fists under the table so no one sees. It’s what I thought. Bastard must’ve been her mother’s boyfriend. That’s why Ravage didn’t want to do this. Once again, he was protecting my father.

Dead since I went away to prison a lifetime ago, yet he’s still calling all the shots.

I’m sick of cleaning up Bastard’s messes. I’m tired of drying little girls’ tears. Tommie’s too old for his tastes but he still ruined her life. He took her mother.

Yet one more thing I’ll never forgive him for.

Tommie lifts a hand, points a finger. I follow its direction, positive I’ll see myself at the other end of it.

Him. He looks just like his father. He’s the one. That’s what she’ll say any second now.

But when I see who she’s pointing at, my chest spasms like the wind’s been knocked out of me.

Judging by the looks on everyone else’s faces, we’re all just as shocked.

Alone in the room we held Church, I lift Olivia onto the table. “That was hot,” I say, kissing her neck. “The way you had Tommie outside, waiting for the right moment.” My lips move against her skin, kissing up to her chin.

She wraps her legs around my waist. “I can’t believe it, though,” she says. “The mom’s boyfriend?”

“Yeah.” I touch my forehead to hers, each of us leaning against the other. We breathe in and out, cells recovering after the shock.

Olivia’s hand slips into mine and pulls my palm to her, up under her shirt. “I just want to forget, for a bit,” she says.

There’s nothing else to say. I close my fingers around her breast, the softness of it light in my hand, giving it just the right pressure she likes. Her hands clasp my face, my beard brushing against her fingers. It’s getting long, longer than I’ve ever let it get. Not counting prison.

Her soft lips push mine open, and I forget those hellish years, forget the last thirty minutes. I hitch her skirt up to her waist, push aside her lacy thong, finding her soaked. She nods, emphatic, unbuckling my belt, freeing me. Her fingers squeeze the base of my cock, rolling over the head, notching me to her. Then I push in, sweetly slow, the hot wetness of her sucking me in an inch at a time. She’s quicksand and I’m drowning in her, buried to the hilt, breathing in her oxygen.

She lies back so I can hit it deep, my head reaching the end of her. When I withdraw, my shaft is coated in her. I run a finger along her leaking lips, soaking the pad of it in creamy desire. I bring my fingers to my lips, but she grabs my wrist, sucking me into her mouth, tasting herself.

I come hard, shooting into her, rolling my hips against her in an attempt to bring her with me.

“Come on me while you fuck me with your fingers,” she says, all doe eyes as she lifts her tiny tank, exposing her belly. I shoot onto her, white pearls dotting her skin even as I thrust two fingers into her, pinching her clit while I fuck her. She matches my pace, grinding hard against me, crying out as she squeezes her eyes shut. I feel her clench around my fingers, her thighs shaking, her body going limp.

I grin, feeling proud of myself as she slumps back onto the table, droplets soaking into the wood.

Ravage would kill us if he knew what we just did, but fuck him.

Olivia’s eyes meet mine, her thoughts seeming to sync with mine. She sighs, and I help her sit up. “What do we do now?” she asks, and I know she’s not talking about the mess on the table.

She’s talking about Tommie, Tommie’s mother Liane, and the mysterious boyfriend—Ravage.

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