Wave after wave of successive orgasm struck my body, and I lost myself in a cacophony of moans. Pleasure whiplashed down my spine; briefly, I was afraid that I was going to suffocate the poor man.

Hunter instead let me pull myself free, climbing off of his face and letting him have access to fresh air again. But before I could try to wobble down to a kneel between his legs, he was throwing me on all fours over the couch cushions.

My ass exposed to the air, he ripped the gown off of me and gave himself a few quick strokes before pressing into my slickened pussy.

"Now, I can fuck you as often as I want without the damned condoms," Hunter groaned into my ear as he mounted me from behind.

"That's right, baby," I huskily whispered back. "Fuck me raw. Fuck me like the filthy girl I am."

"Damn, Sarah," he laughed, pulling back to secure better positioning on the couch with me. "You've really grown to love the dirty talk, haven't ya? Maybe I'm rubbing off on you a bit..."

"Maybe you are, Mr. President," I cooed, spreading my knees a little further to tighten my grip around his thick cock. "Fuck me until I'm yours..."

"You've never belonged to anyone else..."

Before I could think of a retort, he had already clutched a fistful of my hair. Tugging my head back, he rode me on all fours like an animal, fucking me into oblivion on the couch. My knuckles went white over the back cushioning edge as he pummeled me into complete submission.

"You're still as tight as ever, Sarah," he groaned into my ear again. I felt his firm arm wrap around my shoulder, sliding into position along my throat. "I'm going to make you scream..."

His firm, muscular arm served as a light choker, holding my neck into position and only slightly cutting off my air.

I felt so powerless beneath his might powerless, and yet whole. I knew that his massive cock twitched only for me; Hunter Hargreaves might say he owns me, but the bond went both ways.

I owned this cock... I'd owned it since I was nothing but a love-struck teenager, and now we had the bond of the child growing in my womb...

Ripped from my pure sexual satisfaction, my thoughts went back to our future.

All the creeping, nagging doubts of Hunter's place in my life and his worthiness as a father wormed their way into my head and broke down my pleasure.

"Is everything okay? Do you not like that?" Hunter asked suddenly, pulling his arm away from my neck.

"No, no, it's fine," I quickly added. "Just keep fucking me. It's okay."

"Sarah..." he slowed down his movements. "You're an open book to me. I know when something's bothering you."

I swallowed in my throat, feeling him come to a stop inside my pussy. The wild thrusting that had been close to building up a fresh wave of orgasms was motionless now, and I felt a quick surge of guilt that I hadn't gotten him off...

"It's okay, really. I want you to come."

The telltale sensations of him unsheathing his cock from inside me was almost unbearable.

"Sarah, if you want to"

A knock at the door cut him off. He cast me a quick glance, then silently strolled over to the front entrance. His eye went to the peephole, gazing out over the lit front patio.

How he moved so silently with such a broad, powerful build was beyond me.

"Give me two minutes! And it had better be fucking good," he shouted through the door.

I had already sat up, wrapping the gown around myself.

"It's one of my Devil's Dragons," Hunter answered my silent glance, referring to his daring motorcycle club. "They know that I'm... busy tonight, which means this must be important."

I shrugged, turning away.

I felt Hunter's curious gaze burning into the back of my head, trying to figure out what was wrong...

"I'll have him gone quickly. He won't be coming in."

"Invite him in," I replied, turning to face him again. "It's okay. No point in keeping him out there if it's really that important... And I think we're past the point of keeping secrets."

Hunter's inquisitive stare was almost intimidating as it bore into my eyes. I wasn't sure how long I could hold his gaze before he glanced away, stepping back towards the bedroom to throw a pair of jeans on.

A moment later, the biker president answered the door barefoot. "Ricochet," he acknowledged.

Remembering the name, I ascended from the couch and crept near the foyer. The only time I'd meaningfully interacted with Ricochet was when the three of us and another one of Hunter's men, Victor were defending the exterior corner of a cartel-owned farmhouse under a shower of bullets.

The man had complimented my shooting.

Ricochet opened his mouth to reply but spotted me, skulking just in his view. "Oh. I, uh... I'm sorry, boss."

"Yeah?" Hunter retorted, a little testier than necessary. "Imagine that."

"I can come back later today..."

"If it's important enough to bother us in the middle of the night, then it's important enough to share right this fucking second." He motioned into the house with his head. "Get in here."

Ricochet turned my way, and I nodded.

"Right. If you say so..."

He stepped inside sheepishly, keeping his gaze off of me as he pushed around the corner towards the kitchen table.

I observed the uncertainty in Ricochet's walk as Hunter followed him, a few paces behind.

Hunter's quick gaze seared me on the way past, but he didn't say a word as he continued to the kitchen.

Suddenly feeling that familiar detective curiosity building, I followed the men to the kitchen. Hunter motioned for Ricochet to take a seat as he leaned against the countertop, bulging arms crossing over his heavy chest.

"Now that we're all settled... what did you have to tell me?" Hunter asked pointedly.

Ricochet swallowed quickly, then reached into the interior pocket of his Devil's Dragons leather jacket. After a moment, he withdrew a folded letter, holding it out towards Hunter.

"It's your sister, boss."

3.

Sarah

Hunter remained motionless for a moment, his gaze fixated entirely on Ricochet. His sister? Hunter told me that he only heard from her fleetingly, a couple of times since the rescue...

Still rolling the words around in my head, I opened my mouth to repeat them. Before I could get a single syllable free, Hunter took a stride forward and snatched the letter from Ricochet's fingers, startling both of us with the speed of his movements. Like a creature possessed, he tore the envelope open and began reading silently to himself.

Ricochet and I exchanged a quiet glance.

Hunter was already a little tense, but he was visibly stiffening as he read the words. Finally, he handed it my way.

I'd never met his sister before. She was a couple of years older than him and was already leaving for college when Hunter and I started dating...

I gave him a quick look before taking it.

They found me.

I'm on the road tonight and I can't trust the phone. Juarez is coming home to roost. I'm not safe here, and you're not safe either.

I'm heading to our old spot.

Meet me here. Please.

Hannah "Shit," I blurted aloud after reading the letter. "Hunter... What does she mean? Who found her? I thought we scattered Viboras Verde to the wind... Did you tell her about Juarez?"

At the mention of their name, Ricochet straightened his posture. "Is she in trouble?" he asked, staring hard at Hunter. I handed him the letter so he could catch up.

Hunter turned his head away, his voice dropping to a low growl. "It's bullshit."

"It's going to be okay," I offered up. "We can go meet her and..."

"No. The letter is bullshit. It's a forgery... and a damned good one at that."

"How can you be so sure?" I asked cautiously.

"It's missing our code," Hunter replied angrily. "But everything else is perfect. That's her handwriting, her signature... and they know about our old spot. There isn't anybody who knows about that but us. Everything's there to make me think that this is real."

He pounded a fist against the cabinet, rattling the dishes inside. "Whoever did this knows what they're doing, but she'd never send me a message without the code..."

"What's the code?" I asked him.

He threw me a glance. "Maybe we're past having secrets, but there are things you're better off not knowing. Whoever wrote this letter already knows too much, and if they ever got their hands on you, they'd tear your damn fingernails off to drag that little piece of information out of your throat."

"That's a bit of a stretch, don't you think? I can handle myself," I replied coolly, glancing over at Ricochet as he continued to study the paper.

"Maybe she just left the code off? Sounds like she was in a hurry," Ricochet said.

Hunter shook his head. "No way. She wouldn't send me a goddamn letter without our code in place... The question is, what kind of game are they playing here?"

"Either you're being lured into a trap... Or they're trying to get you to leave town," I replied, the possibilities rolling round in my head.

Ricochet immediately stiffened in his chair. "Sorry I bothered you, boss... I'm going to get back to the clubhouse."

"Wait," Hunter told him, his eyes still locked onto mine. "How exactly did you come by this particular letter?"

Ricochet frowned, scratching the top of his head. "The Couriers, boss. One showed up in the dead of night. I was close enough to the door to hear him calling for delivery."

"The Couriers..." Hunter tugged his stare away from me and scratched at his chin. "That's interesting..."

"I get the feeling that these aren't regular couriers," I observed. "More of your Outlaws?"

After our last adventure together, I was familiar with the fact that Hunter had, as he put it himself, friends in wicked places. It seemed that every time he needed a little help, he knew a few people on the wrong side of the law to make things happen.

Hunter had been instrumental in bringing this little alliance together criminals, rival biker clubs, and vigilantes were no longer restricted by in-fighting and disputes. I knew damn well if the feds ever got wind of this there would be a RICO case big enough for the front page of the New York Times...

Hunter grinned. "The Couriers run the kind of packages people don't want to put a stamp on. They're expensive, but they always deliver."

"Why would they deliver a letter from your sister?"

"Because all of her letters come my way thanks to the Couriers... If they had known the code, I'd be packing my shit and heading out the door right now."

"Alone?" I asked.

"You would be safe," he said instantly. "Safe with the club. Nobody knows my old spot, and that's another secret you're better off not asking about. I'd only be gone a few days..."

I wasn't convinced. Regardless, he turned to the letter on the tabletop. "...Whoever this is," Hunter said, "they know what they're doing..."

"Why don't you just ask the Couriers who sent it?"

"The Couriers wouldn't be in business if they kept those kinds of records. They run the perfect double blind straight down the chain. Dead drops and no questions asked. No paperwork, no names, no faces. I'm not getting shit out of them, and trust me, the Couriers are the last people on this fucking planet you want to piss off. They know where you live."

Hunter turned quickly to Ricochet. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention. Go get some rest."

"You got it."

Hunter locked the door behind him. The faint sound of a revving motorcycle could be heard moments later. I quietly watched through the kitchen window as Ricochet roared off in a trail of dust.

"So... Do you think they have your sister?" I asked with a hint of fear in my voice.