Chapter Thirty – Throneplay
1746 Words
The clubhouse was buzzing, the low hum of conversation and boots on concrete echoing through the halls — but Colt’s office door clicked shut with a heavy, final sound.
Avery turned the lock.
Then turned to him.
She was already taking off her jacket — slow, confident, unapologetically sensual — as she walked across the room with the sway of a woman who knew exactly what she was doing.
Colt sat behind his desk, watching her like a storm he wasn’t sure he could contain.
“You serious about this?” he asked, voice low.
“You tell me,” she said, slipping out of her heels with a delicate click. She circled around the desk, trailing one hand across the back of his leather chair. “This is the chair, right? The one that rules this kingdom?”
He smirked, leaning back. “You got a thing for power, counselor?”
“No.” She straddled him, gripping the armrests as she slid into his lap, knees bracketing his hips, silk dress slipping up her thighs.
“I’ve got a thing for you in power.”
Colt’s hands found her waist immediately, firm and hungry. “You’re full of surprises.”
Avery leaned in, lips brushing his. “You think that’s a bad thing?”
“No,” he growled. “I think it’s the best damn thing about you.”
His mouth crashed into hers and the heat lit up between them like fire on dry wood. She moved with purpose, grinding into him, drawing low curses from his throat as her hands found his belt.
Colt chuckled against her neck, breath ragged.
“First my bike. Now my chair. You planning to check every box on your list this week?”
“Maybe,” she whispered, biting his jaw gently. “You up for the challenge?”
“I’m the damn president,” he said, thrusting up into her with one smooth motion that stole her breath. “You tell me.”
She gasped, fingers digging into his shoulders, hair falling into his face as she rode him like she’d owned the damn chair all along.
And as her moans filled the air — raw, real, his — Colt realized this wasn’t just some fantasy.
This was Avery.
Unfiltered.
Fearless.
And she’d just rewritten what power looked like in this room.
Later, in the quiet aftermath…
Colt leaned back in his chair, shirt halfway unbuttoned, his jeans still undone but just enough to be almost put back together.
Avery sat across from him now, perched casually on the edge of the desk, sipping from a cold bottle of water she’d swiped from the mini-fridge.
Her cheeks were flushed.
Her smile was smug.
Colt clocked every inch of it.
He dragged a hand down his face, exhaling slowly — the kind of satisfied exhale that didn’t come around often for a man who lived like war was always at the door.
“You good?” she asked, one eyebrow arched like she already knew the answer.
Colt gave a lazy, half-wild grin. “Woman, if I was any more relaxed I’d stop breathing.”
She chuckled softly, her tone teasing but oh-so-proud of herself.
“Don’t let it go to your head,” he warned, smirking up at her, arms folded behind his head now.
“Too late,” she said sweetly, crossing one leg over the other and giving him a mock-innocent look. “I’m just wondering…”
“Wondering what?”
“Where else I could rock your world like that.”
Colt blinked once.
Then twice.
Then let out a low, deep laugh that rumbled through the office.
“Jesus,” he muttered, dragging his gaze down the length of her legs. “You really are dangerous.”
She leaned forward, resting her hand over his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heart beneath her palm.
“Only to you.”
“Damn right,” he murmured, catching her wrist and kissing the inside of it. “And don’t you ever forget it.”
She smiled as he tugged her gently into his lap again, his arms wrapping around her waist.
No urgency this time.
No game.
Just the two of them in that warm, slow quiet — all fire burned down to glowing embers.
“So,” Colt said, voice close to her ear, “what’s next on your little list?”
Avery grinned, eyes sparkling.
“Wouldn’t you like to know.”
Same Day – Later Afternoon
Avery didn’t move from Colt’s lap for a long time.
Not because he asked her to stay.
But because neither of them saw a reason to break the moment.
Eventually, she did slide off — just long enough to freshen up in the little bathroom off his office. She emerged with her lipstick reapplied, hair smoothed, and an unmistakable glint in her eye.
“I look like I’ve been thoroughly ruined,” she said, grabbing his coffee mug and sipping without asking.
“Because you have,” Colt replied, reclining again. “Twice.”
“Don’t get cocky, President Mercer.”
“Too late. Your moaning fed my ego.”
She rolled her eyes, but the blush on her cheeks gave her away.
By the time they stepped out of the office, Avery back in her heels and Colt with a fresh shirt thrown over his shoulders, the clubhouse had shifted into its usual rhythm — music low, bikes rolling in, chatter drifting from the bar.
Frankie clocked them instantly.
“Well, well,” she called from the corner table, stirring sugar into her tea with dramatic flair. “Look who’s glowing like she invented sex.”
Avery smirked and waltzed over. “You’re just jealous I beat you to the office chair.”
Frankie barked out a laugh. “Girl, I’ve been on that list.”
Colt passed by with a grunt. “Y’all need a damn hobby.”
“You are our hobby,” Frankie said sweetly, winking at Avery.
As Colt kept walking toward Reyes at the bar, Avery lingered at the table with Frankie and a few of the girls, confidently taking her seat, crossing her legs, and letting them banter around her like she belonged there — because now, she did.
Someone slid her a soda, someone else complimented her hair, and for the first time, no one looked at her like she didn’t fit.
Even the women who used to whisper seemed quieter now. Distant. As if they could feel the shift too.
Colt threw a glance over his shoulder and caught her grinning.
He didn’t say anything — just dipped his chin.
That small motion was everything.
Later that day, they rode out for a short run — nothing dangerous, just presence. A reminder the club was strong, united, thriving.
Avery didn’t ride behind Colt.
She drove her own car, following the convoy.
But when they parked on the overlook and the wind whipped through her hair, Colt came up behind her, slung an arm around her waist, and leaned in close.
“You feel it?” he asked.
She tilted her head. “What?”
“This peace.”
She nodded.
“We earned it.”
“Damn right we did.”
Later that night – Their Room
The clubhouse had quieted.
Most of the crew had cleared out or turned in, leaving only the hum of the occasional engine and distant laughter floating through the walls.
Inside Colt’s room, the lights were low. A single lamp bathed the space in a soft golden glow.
Avery sat on the bed in one of his old shirts — oversized, worn, smelling like leather and cedar. Her legs were curled under her, a mug of chamomile tea in her hands. Her hair was messy in a way that said she didn’t care — which always drove Colt wild.
He stepped out of the bathroom, towel slung low on his hips, freshly showered. His tattoo glinted under the light, and she smiled at it — her mark on his skin.
“You’re staring,” he said, grabbing his sweatpants and pulling them on slowly.
“You’re wet,” she said. “I’m allowed.”
Colt smirked, tossing the towel over the back of the chair before joining her on the bed.
They settled in side by side, her legs draped over his, his arm lazily tossed behind her shoulders.
For a while, there was nothing but silence and the occasional sip of tea.
Then she said it.
“We should write it down.”
He raised a brow. “What? Our grocery list?”
She elbowed him gently. “Our list.”
His lips twitched. “The ‘how can Avery blow my mind next’ list?”
“Exactly that one.”
She grabbed a notebook from the nightstand — one she usually used to scribble reminders or notes from detective calls — and flipped to a clean page.
“Okay,” she said, tapping the pen to her lip. “We already did your chair.”
“Twice,” he added, smug.
“Fine, twice,” she smirked. “Your bike, technically the middle of nowhere... now I’m thinking…”
She tapped the pen again.
“The rooftop,” Colt offered suddenly. “At sunset. No one’s ever up there.”
She blinked, surprised. “Romantic and filthy. I like it.”
“That’s my brand.”
They laughed.
“Okay, rooftop gets added,” she said, writing it down. “What else?”
“Your office, when you go back to work.”
“Colt—”
“You’re the one who said no regrets.”
She tried to hide the blush on her face. Failed completely.
“You know what?” she said. “Fine. But we do your garage too. On the hood of one of your favorite bikes.”
“You really are dangerous.”
They kept going — tossing out ideas, some wild, some sweet, others so ridiculous they ended up in fits of laughter.
And somewhere between hot tub at the cabin and one day, with a baby monitor off to the side, Avery rested her head on his chest and whispered:
“We’re making our life.”
Colt’s hand slid into her hair, thumb brushing the back of her neck.
“Yeah,” he murmured. “And I wouldn’t trade a damn second of it.”
- Writer
