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When Duncan moved her so he could comfortably look her in the eyes, when his hand slipped gently over her cheek, his fingertips brushing the scratches there, and the butterfly bandages over them, that new thrum of manageable worry quieted almost to nothing.
He was why she wasn’t afraid. Duncan, and Vin, and Margot. Her family. And Duncan had brought even more to her life—his family, his club. They’d helped him help her. They’d been there for her, no doubt at risk to themselves. Because Duncan was who he was, because he was a Bull, she was protected.
Whatever happened, she’d be okay. She had support. She had family, one she’d built herself. And a motorcycle club at their backs.
“Hey.” He tipped her chin up so she looked him in the eye. “Whatever happens, you’re gonna be okay. I promise. We’ll figure it out.”
We’ll figure it out. We. She really was going to be okay.
“I love you, Duncan. Throwing a rod on the highway was pretty much the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
Laughing, he pulled her against his chest again. “That night completely rearranged my life. I like it better this way.” He pressed his lips to her head and whispered, “I love you so much.”
Phoebe felt good. She was home, in the arms of a man who loved her, and she felt strong and safe and like everything was going to be okay. Wanting to be as close to Duncan as she could get, she turned in his arms, so they were almost completely chest to chest. Still not as close as she wanted, she threw her leg over his and straddled him—and discovered that he was completely naked, and he was completely hard.
In fact, he grunted lustily as she landed on his thighs. “Babe,” he rasped.
In that earthy, almost pained sound, she heard a warning and understood. He was hard for her, but he didn’t want to push to make anything happen. He was being careful with her.
This was real love. Fire and passion, yes, but also warmth and calm. Above all things, love was care.
She didn’t think she’d understood that until right now.
“It’s okay, babe,” she whispered. “I’m okay. And I want you.” To punctuate her point, she pulled off her t-shirt and offered him her breasts.
With one last questioning dive into her eyes, he took the invitation, catching both breasts in his wonderful hands, their long, rough fingers wrapping around them, then drawing inward to lightly pinch her nipples. Phoebe threw her arms around his neck, buried her hands in his hair and pulled him to her chest, begging for his mouth. With another deep, rasping grunt, he obliged, sucking on a nipple as his fingers excited the other, switching back and forth, letting his teeth clamp down gently each time he left one for the other. Each suck, each pinch, each nip was an arrow arcing through her body to strike her core.
Still in her underwear, Phoebe rocked on his thighs in time with his mouth and hands. His cock stood like a lead pipe between her legs, and she quickly discovered the move that would press him to her clit. Even through the silky gusset of her underwear, the intensity of that contact was like an electric charge, and she cried out and arched backward.
Growling like a wild animal, Duncan followed with her, somehow laying her on her back, her head at the end of the bed, and rose above her. She looked up and saw how deep and ferocious his own need was, and knew hers was no tamer.
“Be wild with me,” she gasped, lifting her hips to find contact with his again. “I want to be wild.”
“What’s that mean?” he asked, straining to form the words through his panting breath.
At first, she thought she didn’t know. She’d never been interested in the weirder corners of sex. No ropes or chains or safe words, nothing like that. But she needed something more now—what was it?
Then she got it. She didn’t need anything more. She simply wanted abandon. She trusted Duncan so completely, was so confident that he wouldn’t hurt her or push things too far, that she wanted to let go.
“I want us both to let go. Don’t be careful.”
He frowned, and his head tilted, asking if she was sure.
“I trust you, Duncan. I love you, and I know you love me. You won’t hurt me, I know it. Let’s be wild.”
His frown became a grin—and then he dived down her body, tore off her underwear, threw her legs over his shoulders, and began to feed. Wildly.
Already stimulated from her ride on his lap, now feeling his fervent enthusiasm as he sucked and nipped and licked, Phoebe soared with pleasure at once. She let go, let herself feel everything, let herself make any sound, let the world fall completely away until her climax caught her and she broke apart.
She was still dazed, still throbbing, her blood still fizzing, when Duncan disappeared and left a chill where he’d been. Before she could make sense of that, he was back and sliding into her. The cool slick of his entry told her he’d gotten a condom on. So a little bit careful, after all.
He filled her with a desperate groan, and for a moment, he lay on her, unmoving. All her most sensitive bits, still throbbing from one of the most intense climaxes of her life, were full of him, and she couldn’t keep still. Twisting and squirming, she moved around his steady cock, finding all the best places inside her.
“You are so fucking hot,” he rumbled against her shoulder after a groan tore through him.
“Fuck me, Dunc. Do it hard, please.”
He shifted onto his elbows and slammed into her. “Fuck!” he shouted.
