I’m a firm believer a man should never rush his meal and seeing as breakfast is the most important one of the day, I take my time. Savoring the taste, I flick my tongue over her clit before licking her all the way down. Ally rides my face like she rides everything else—with every bit of fire in her soul.

Being a survivor, losing as many years as she did—taught her to live in the moment, to leap with all she has. Every inhibition is lost, and that’s a beautiful fucking thing. Especially when we’re fucking. It don’t matter none—whether it’s my tongue fucking her senseless or my cock, she takes and takes.

Gripping the wrought iron headboard, her thighs clench around my head as she goes off like a fucking firework.

“Yes, goddamn it, yes!” she cries as her pretty little pussy throbs against my tongue. Sucking every last drop, I grip her thighs and push her back, sliding out from under her. Flipping onto my knees, I watch her chest rise and fall with each breath and grab her legs. I drag her body down and wrap her legs around my waist. Then I take her hands and pin them over her head and dip my head. Staring into her blue eyes, I press my lips to her nose, count her freckles and push my cock inside her.

Panting she locks her ankles around me and arches her hips off the bed. With every thrust, she takes another inch until I’m fully seated inside her and then we remain still.

“You feel me?”

“I feel you,” she murmurs.

I slide out of her and charge back in making her take me in one stroke. Fluidly we move together as if we’ve been fucking each other our whole lives. As if this is all we know as if there was never anyone before me or before her—as if we were put on this earth only to do this with one another.

Bending my head, I take her nipple between my teeth and tug. She cries out and begs for more. More of my teeth, more of my cock, more of everything. Never one to begrudge her, I give her what she needs. I give it fast and hard until her hips buck and she thrashes against the mattress. I give it to her as she screams my name and comes all over my cock. I give and give until I can’t anymore until my balls are too heavy and my cock spasms inside of her. Letting go, I come hard and give her something else.

And she takes every bit.

We create fire.

Beautiful fucking fire.

Her legs fall from me and I drop my weight onto her before rolling us over so she’s on top of me. Silently we both lay tangled in one another catching our breath.

Minutes later, I lift my head from her chest and kiss her softly before pulling out and rolling onto my back. My arm snakes around her and I pull her into the crook of my arm.

“What time is it?” she murmurs as she slings her arm around my stomach.

I have no idea what day it is let alone the time. Since Ally and I moved into our apartment, every day has been like the one before. When we’re not breaking in our new bed, she’s got me painting walls, hanging pictures and building Ikea furniture.

Fucking Ikea.

The black hole of home decorating.

Make that, the ninth layer of hell. When did we start buying furniture in pieces? Shouldn’t the drawers come with a dresser? And don’t get me started on the fucking knobs. That shit should all be included.

Reaching over, I grab my watch off the nightstand that took twelve hours to build. Turning it over to display the time, I glance at it quickly before tossing it back on the table and wrap my arms around her.

“We got at least an hour before we have to get out of this bed,” I tell her, burying my nose in her coconut scented hair.

“Or we can get up, have breakfast and you can hang a few frames before we head out for the day,” she suggests, throwing her leg over my thigh.

“More frames?”

I swear we’re running out of walls but whatever—I’ll never tell her no. Giving her this, letting her decorate our apartment, watching as she puts her touch on everything—well, it’s better than watching her pick out lipstick and toothpaste. She’s making us a home, something she hasn’t had since she was a kid and something I never had at all.

Aside from the twenty-seven trips to Ikea, we’re constantly taking trips to Target and always come home with another picture frame to fill. If I wasn’t head over heels in love with her, I would’ve surely slipped over the edge when I came home and found a photo of me and my old man on one of the end tables in the living room.

The old photo was the only thing I had left of my pops and to say the thing had seen better days would’ve been the understatement of the year. Somehow, Ally managed to preserve the photo and framed it. It sits alongside a photograph of her parents.

“This is the best one yet,” she says, as she rests her chin on my chest. Those blue eyes find mine and she grins up at me.

“I may have a shopping problem,” she confesses. “But I had to have it. It was perfect for us.”

“Let me see,” I say, threading my fingers through her hair.

“It’s on the coffee table,” she replies before taking her lower lip between her teeth. “So is the hammer and nails.”

I laugh out loud and give her hair a playful tug.

“Of course it is,” I say, releasing my hold on her hair. Sliding my hands down the curve of her back I grab her ass. “Fine, I’ll hang your pictures.”

“Our pictures,” she corrects.

“Right,” I laugh, patting her ass before I let go.

That goddamn ass—I’ll never get enough.

I throw my legs over the edge of the bed and grab my sweats from the floor. About to pull them up my legs, I pause when I feel Ally’s lips touch the scar on my shoulder. Her mouth lingers for a moment before it travels to the second scar and I glance over my shoulder at her.

Kissing the puckered flesh on my shoulder is something she does every chance she gets. It’s almost as if she thinks she can kiss them and they’ll magically disappear. But, like I can’t make the scar on her belly vanish she can’t make the ones on my shoulder disappear.

It’s okay though.

Those scars remind us we’ve prevailed and when the future is bleak, it’s those scars that will make us fight harder to overcome.

“I’m going to shower,” she says as she scrambles off the bed. I watch her hips sway as she grabs her clothes and thank the good Lord for sparing me and giving me more time with Ally.

Then I force myself not to join her in the shower and pull my sweatpants on. Padding out of the bedroom, I make my way down the small hallway and into the living room. Resting on top of the coffee table is two framed movie posters of Bonnie and Clyde.

My lips curve into a smile as I stare down at them and then I notice the books piled next to the frames. Stacking one frame on top of the other, I sit down on our red sofa and sift through the pile of books.

The one on top is Ally’s journal—a gift from her therapist. Every night before she goes to sleep she jots something down. Sometimes it’s a dark memory but most times it’s a new experience, something she never thought she’d get to do. Respecting her privacy, I flip through the pages and smile proudly when I realize she’s filled most of the pages. Setting it aside, I reach for the second book and my eyes widen slightly at the GED study book.

She had mentioned going back to school and wanting to get a job but I didn’t realize she had struck another match. To be fair, my head has been pulled in a million different directions lately. When I’m not with Ally building shit and loving her, I’m with my club.

After the fire and the showdown with the Bastards of Mayhem, Jack called church and had me explain my deceitful ways to my brothers. I didn’t deserve a pardon but still they gave me one. I should’ve had more faith in Jack, I should have known he wouldn’t let me walk to the end of the line without him. I may have been born a Bastard but I’ll die a Knight and there is no greater honor as far as I’m concerned.

I’m damn proud of who I am and while I may not be a believer, I thank God every day for making me cross paths with Wolf. He’s a crazy fucker but if it wasn’t for him, I never would’ve come to Brooklyn. I may bitch every chance I get that we’re fucked but if Wolf didn’t find me, then I never would have found my heart.

I can’t say for sure Ally wouldn’t have been rescued. I like to think even if I hadn’t put two and two together, one of my brothers would have. If things were different, maybe Cobra would’ve discovered the truth.

Who knows, all that matters is that she’s safe now.

No one will ever touch my girl again.

Tomorrow may not be guaranteed but death is and the Satan’s Knights are going to deliver on that guarantee. We’ve got a ways to go before we get Yankovich but I have faith in Parrish.

Since it was decided that Linc would be the man to get us in with this motherfucker we’ve been taking the proper steps to get us where we need to be. Knowing there’s a possibility he’s still in town, we’re all on lockdown—which isn’t easy considering we don’t have a clubhouse and we’re all scattered amongst the city. Each of us has a prospect outside our doors at all time. Bas and Needles brought in a couple of guys from Albany that they trusted and they’ve been working overtime to get the clubhouse rebuilt.

On top of that, we need to keep Linc out of sight. Right after the fire, we took down the ramp I busted my ass to build in case Yankovich is watching us. Now, Jack is working on moving Linc out to the fucking sticks until Rocco gets us into the card game—something Linc isn’t all that happy about. I don’t think he realizes what he’s setting himself up for. For Linc, this operation is a way to prove his worth to the club. It’s also a reminder that he’s alive, something he forgets a lot.

He doesn’t realize is he’s our last hope. Everything we have is riding on him. He has no idea he’s making the biggest sacrifice of all, that he cheated death only to tempt it again.

Placing Ally’s books back on the table, I reach for the hammer and nails. I shove them in the pocket of my sweats and grab one of the frames. Standing on the sofa, I position the frame on the wall before I set it down and hammer down the nail.

“Do you love it?” Ally calls from behind me as I finish hanging the picture. Leaning back, I study my handiwork and turn to glance over my shoulder at her.

“Is it straight?”

“It’s perfect,” she says with a smile.

So is she.

Dressed in sweats, without a stitch of makeup and her wet hair wrapped up in a towel, she’s fucking perfect.

Perfect and mine.

She grabs the second frame and hands it to me.

“Slave driver,” I tease, throwing her a wink as I set the frame down on the couch and hammer in the second nail.

“I’ll make it up to you,” she promises. “After target practice, we’ll come home and I’ll let you have your way with me.”

Shaking my head, I let out a chuckle and glance at her.

“Sorry babe, no shooting today,” I tell her as I finish hanging the second photo. Once both are aligned perfectly on the wall, I step off the sofa and turn to her.

Trying to hide her disappointment she cocks her head and studies me.

“But I have therapy today,” she reminds me.

Shooting is our thing.

No matter what, come hell or high water, after every therapy session we drive down to Pop’s and fire off a couple of rounds. The old grump fucking hates me for breaking into his shooting range but he’s got a soft spot for Ally and never denies us.

But today is different.

Today, I get to rewrite another first for Ally.

“We’ll go shooting tomorrow,” I tell her, taking her hands in mine. “You’re a sharp shooter, darlin’.”

She’s got a better aim than me but I’ll never admit that out loud—I might as well hand over my balls if I do.

“But we can’t pull off the perfect crime if you can’t drive a getaway car,” I continue.

“I beg to differ,” she retorts, cocking an eyebrow. “My driving abilities are just fine. They got me to you, didn’t they?”

“That they did,” I agree, smiling. “Still, as much of a badass as you are, I thought maybe we’d get you a driver’s license.”

Her face softens and her eyes widen.

“Time to teach you how to drive, darlin’”

“For real?”

I nod.

“One of the prospects brought in a Mustang the other day. It needs some work and a fresh coat of paint but as soon as I saw it, I bought it from him,” I reveal. “Got your brother working on it already and once he’s done fixing everything under the hood, we’re going to paint that baby candy apple red.”

Her fingers squeeze mine and she leans into me, releasing a little squeal.

“You bought me a car?”

“Baby steps,” I remind her, wrapping our joined hands around her. “Gonna take it slow, yeah? First a car, then a Harley.”

“Baby steps,” she agrees with a smile.

“Love that smile,” I murmur. “Do anything to keep it there,” I add, leaning down to touch my lips to hers.

“I love you, Deuce,” she whispers against my mouth.

We may not be bank robbers, but we’re a lot like Bonnie and Clyde. We’ve got that ride or die love.

The kind of love that burns until you reach the end of the line.