The Biker’s Revenge: Loving The Enemy’s Daughter

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Blade’s pov

The night air whipped past me like ice, but my blood was pure fire. Riding tail on the convoy, I kept the van I’d just fixed purring smoothly behind Stone’s lead bike. Every mile we logged deeper into the dark felt like a knife twisting in my gut. Up ahead, Stone Callahan rode like an untouchable king, completely oblivious to the fact that the prospect he’d just brought into his inner circle was the son of the Viper he’d executed in cold blood ten years ago. It would be so easy. I could gun my engine, pull alongside him, and put two rounds in his skull before his boys even realized their president was dead.

But the lingering taste of Skyler was still on my lips. Her breathy promise of “Tonight” echoed louder in my head than the roar of the V-twin engines. Revenge had waited a decade. It could wait one more night.

We hit the drop point without incident—an abandoned, rust-eaten warehouse sitting right on the jagged edge of Reaper territory. Under a harsh moonlight, crates of illegal firearms changed hands with rival suppliers. I kept my head down, loading iron and keeping my eyes moving, quietly memorizing supply routes, security blind spots, and faces for my own club. It was absolute intel gold. Yet, every single time Stone barked an order, all I could picture was his daughter spread out beneath me, moaning my name while her father’s entire empire cracked at the foundation.

The ride back felt twice as long. By the time our headlights cut through the darkness of the compound, my veins felt full of boiling lava. Most of the crew headed straight for the clubhouse bar to celebrate another successful run. I didn’t. I went straight to the garage, wiping down tools with mechanical, rigid precision just to give my hands something to do while my mind raced entirely ahead to her bedroom.

Hours crawled by like a slow burn. Then, the rhythmic click of her boots cut through the quiet.

Skyler leaned against the metal doorframe, her arms crossed and that damn, infuriating smirk already firmly in place. She was freshly showered, her dark hair damp, wearing a thin black tank top and a pair of denim shorts that should have been illegal. The harsh garage lights cast sharp shadows over her tattoos and the dangerous curves of her body, making me harden instantly.

“Miss me, stranger?” she teased, pushing off the wall and stalking toward me like a predator. “Or were you too busy j*********f to thoughts of me while we were out on the road?”

I dropped the grease rag and closed the distance between us in three heavy strides, catching her by the waist and backing her hard against the heavy wooden workbench. My hands gripped her hips, lifting her effortlessly onto the surface so I could step directly between her thighs.

“Careful, Sparks,” I growled, my voice rough. “I’ve been aching for you since the second you walked away. Keep running that mouth and I’ll f**k it right here on the concrete before we ever make it to your room.”

She let out a low, throaty laugh—pure, unadulterated sin—and wrapped her legs tightly around my waist, pulling me flush against her. Her hands slid beneath my shirt, her nails raking down my abs with agonizing slowness. “Big talk from a man who’s still breathing my father’s air. What if I bite, Blade? What if I make you earn every single inch?”

I groaned, grinding myself hard against her heat through our clothes. “Then bite, baby. I’ll just f**k you harder for it.”

I caught her jaw in my palm, tilting her face up to claim her mouth. The kiss was deep, filthy, and desperate, our tongues tangling as if we were already losing control. She tasted like cool mint and absolute trouble. I devoured her, one hand sliding up to palm the heavy weight of her breast, my thumb circling her n****e through the thin fabric until it pebbled hard under my touch.

Skyler moaned into the kiss, rocking her hips against mine with a sudden, needy desperation. “Mmm… maybe you’re not all talk,” she gasped when I finally broke away to press harsh, bruising kisses down the line of her neck. “But can you actually handle a Reaper princess who likes it rough? Or are you gonna tap out when I ride you like I stole this bike?”

I chuckled darkly against her skin, pinching her n****e just hard enough to elicit a sharp, breathy whimper. “Princess? Nah. You’re a f*****g queen, Sparks. And I’m gonna worship this throne with my tongue until you’re dripping down my chin. Then I’ll bend you over and remind you exactly who’s in charge tonight.”

Her breath hitched completely, her fingers fisting into my hair to pull me back up for another bruising, relentless kiss. The s****l tension between us was nuclear—every tease, every heavy grind pushing us closer to a breaking point. I could feel how incredibly wet she already was through her shorts, friction rubbing against my thigh like she needed me inside her yesterday.

Suddenly, heavy voices echoed from across the gravel lot. Footsteps. Stone’s crew was finally wrapping up at the bar.

Skyler froze for half a second, her eyes wide, before she abruptly shoved against my chest with a wicked, breathless grin. “My room. Now. Use the back door. Last one on the left.” She hopped down from the workbench, trailing a slow finger down my chest to the undeniable bulge in my jeans, stroking it once with painful promise. “And Blade? Don’t you dare come before I do. I want to feel you completely lose control.”

She slipped away into the shadows of the compound before I could grab her, leaving me snarling and aching in the quiet garage.

I gave her exactly two agonizing minutes, then followed her trail like a man possessed. The back hallway of the clubhouse was dead quiet. I didn't bother knocking; I just pushed her bedroom door open.

Skyler was waiting for me. Her tank top was already peeled off and discarded on the floor. She stood there in nothing but a pair of black lace panties, wearing a fiery, confident look that completely owned me.

“Lock it,” she ordered, her voice a husky whisper. “And lose the shirt, stranger. Let’s see if you can actually back up all that dirty talk.”

I kicked the heavy door shut behind me, twisting the lock until it clicked into place. My shirt hit the floor a second later. I stalked toward her, the dark obsession roaring in my ears louder than any motorcycle engine. Stone Callahan had taken my father's life.

Tonight, I was taking his daughter.

And absolutely nothing—not blood, not loyalty, not ten long years of hatred—was going to stop me from making her scream my name until the sun came up.