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She wriggled against me, pressing her breasts to my chest, running her palm along my stomach. If she didn’t want to get the party started again, she was going to have to stop doing that. When she dropped her hand to my cock, cradling its length, stroking it as it grew hard again, I had to say, “You can’t be ready to go again.”
She smiled up at me, impish, determined. “Let me decide if I’m ready or not. She rose and damn if she didn’t straddle me, her hips grinding against mine. “Let me show you how ready I am.”
She took my shaft and brought it to her dripping entrance. Holding onto the headboard, she steadied herself. I watched her face as she sank down on my cock. Her mouth opened at the size of me. She felt so good, almost impossibly tight around me, her hips stretching open. I probably should have let her go slow, lead, but it felt too good. I loved making that mouth of hers pop open way too much.
She might be on top, but I drove into her. Hands on her hips, I pushed up into her with my dick. She groaned, her head tilting back, her naked breasts displayed for me as she arched back in pleasure.
I growled with satisfaction, watching her hips roll and undulate as she took me in, riding me in rhythm. “That’s it,” I encouraged her, watching her work to take me all in, sliding along my length. Working her back down again, I slammed up inside of her.
She cried out, hand up to her hair, straddling me and rocking like she was riding a bucking bronco. It was as erotic as hell, but I needed more. Moving swiftly, I flipped her, keeping her knees bent, ass up, but guiding her shoulders and head down into the pillows. Pushing her thighs apart with mine, I brought my cock to her entrance. At that angle, I pushed into her without warning in one, long thrust. She screamed, digging her fingers into the pillows, but she pushed back as she did it, wanting every inch. She wasn’t trying to squirm away. She was trying to arch back into me, offering herself up to fuck and fuck hard.
Grabbing onto her hips, I started working her, pounding into her, watching the way she took me in with every thrust. Her ass jiggled with the force, her moans growing louder, mewling, crying out for more. I reached around, finding her clit and stroking it in rhythm, filling her deep as I worked her most sensitive spot. She broke apart, squeezing along my cock as she came, spasming and gasping. But I didn’t stop. Pounding into her, relentless, I kept at it.
“More,” I growled, pumping into her, watching her quiver and strain to stay up on her knees. The orgasm must have been powerful. She probably thought she was going to get a rest afterwards. Not yet. I’d waited too long, had way too much time to cook up nasty fantasies about her. One of my favorites was forcing her to cum, again and again, making her beg and plead and shake and sweat.
Slowing down, deliberate with my movements, I teased her, giving her the entire length of my cock, then inching it out. She panted, trying to slide down on me, trying to get me to pick up the pace. I loved how eager she was. But I wasn’t going to let her have it. Not yet. I wanted to watch it build in her, see her shiver and shake before she exploded again.
“You’re going to come again for me,” I told her, so slow in, so slow out. “You’re going to come hard.”
“Yes, Jax.” She moaned, “Please.” She clutched at the sheets.
I spread her ass cheeks apart, feasting on the sight of her pussy as I shoved my thick cock in deep, then withdrew. So slippery, I slid in and out in a maddeningly slow rhythm. She whimpered, trying to push back on me, trying to make it happen faster. Ass up in the air, back curved, she was the prettiest thing I’d ever seen. I rubbed her lower back, pressing her down as I caressed her. “That’s it. Give yourself to me. All of you.”
She moaned, surrendering completely. Firmly, commandingly, I grabbed her hips. Positioning myself up closer, right behind her, I raised her higher for a more intense angle.
“Now, I’ll fuck you the way you deserve. The way you need.” I thrust all the way into her with one long, strong push. She trembled and cried out as I ground into her, faster, deeper, losing myself to the rhythm, pistoning in and out.
She looked so perfect there before me, so rosy and curvy, all feminine softness, yielding and wet. I was going to cum soon. And I realized I didn’t have a condom. Balls tightening, pulse pounding, at the last minute I withdrew and shot my hot cum all over her ass.
She screamed, shaking as she came, my cum spurting all over her pink cheeks, dripping down her thighs, coating her creamy skin. I shot out, then shot some more, rubbing her ass with my cock, watching it glisten over her rounded curves. I ran my hand over her cheeks, claiming her, rubbing in my cum, stroking her as she shuddered and rode out one last crest of her orgasm.
“So good, baby,” I murmured, amazed by her. I’d never had sex so intense, felt so turned on by a woman’s every sound, every move. She sighed in response, so content, so spent as she collapsed onto the bed, hips down, legs splayed. I’d worked my woman hard. Gathering her against me, I kissed her hair, her cheek.
Had I been too rough with her? She’d been with a violent, abusive man. I probably should have talked with her first, had a logical, rational, adult conversation about boundaries and language. I hadn’t meant to get so rough with her. But instinct had taken over and with Sky, that was how we fit together.
“How you doing?” I caressed her arms, her neck, wanting her to feel cherished and loved.
“So good.” She sounded drowsy, exhausted.
But I had to ask, “Too rough?”
She smiled, looking up at me so enraptured. “You’re exactly how I always dreamed you’d be. Late at night.” She traced a finger over my chest, gazing up shyly. “When I’d touch myself. Only what you just did was even better.”
She sank back down, snuggled into me. My heart raced, my cock already starting to stir again at her words. “You might be the death of me,” I told her.
“We’ll both die happy,” she murmured, sounding pretty damn deliriously happy herself.
§
“What do you think they’ll do to him?” Sky sat next to me in the back seat of the SUV, a plain black baseball cap pulled down low over her head. We were parked in downtown Cavallo, half a block from Griller’s girlfriend’s apartment. So far, we hadn’t seen either one of them.
“Do you really want to know?” Did she really not know? She’d been a part of the MC world the last several years. Sure, she and Griller had grown increasingly distant, and she’d told me she’d never spent much time with the crew. But she must know.
“Yes,” she said, certain.
“They’ll kill him.” No question about it.
She nodded, not seeming surprised by the news. Perhaps she had already known. “They will.” She bit her fingernail, never stopping her vigilant search out the front window. “I know it’s not right. But he’ll never stop hunting me down. Never let me live in peace.”
“Never,” I agreed. I wanted to rush in, reassure her. Tell her everything was fine. But there was that pragmatic streak in me, holding me back. She needed to work it out herself. I might be able to put a Band-Aid on the wound, make her forget about it for the short term. But life was a long time to live. If you felt guilty about something, it would eat away at you no matter how many people tried to make you feel better.
I should know. After the boat accident, everyone involved had told me I wasn’t to blame for Ian’s injuries. Ian himself had asked for me, one of the first persons he wanted to see after he came to in the burn ward. I’d slunk into his room, so embarrassed all I had was a broken arm and a few bruises. Seventy percent of his body had been burned.
But he’d looked up at me from his hospital bed, a mess of bandages and charred skin, and he’d thanked me. “You did all you could,” he’d said as I’d stood there silent, one of the few times in my life I’d shaken with tears. “I saw you trying to
get to me. I know you did everything you could.”
His words had stayed with me, but the guilt had proven even stronger, something about that night seeming to validate a fear I’d always had about myself, deep down. All my life, looking like a thug with a disinterested mother and a father in and out of jail, I’d always felt like a bad guy. I’d struggled to straighten out, do the right thing. But no matter how hard I tried, that doubt dogged me. Maybe it didn’t matter how hard I tried. Maybe it was baked in. I was no good.
So, I let Sky work it out herself. She needed to come to her own conclusions about the step she was about to take. If she went through with it and led Griller to the Reapers, she wouldn’t be the one pulling the trigger, but she wouldn’t be far from it. She had to look that head on, and make sure she could live with it the rest of her life.
“There’ll be no tracing it back to us, right?” she asked. “That’s the deal. We give them Griller. They give us freedom.”
“That’s right. Freedom.”
“We can walk away.” She smiled at me, but it wasn’t like the smiles she was giving me last night, or in the early hours of the morning in our hotel room. This one was determined, but small and tight. “It’s pretty Old Testament, though.” She looked out the window again.
“An eye for an eye,” I agreed.
“I’m not sure it’s the right thing to do.” It was difficult, watching her work her way through it. But I was a patient man. “He doesn’t do things the right way, though,” she added. “He’s been torturing and murdering people for years. Who knows how many people he’s hurt, husbands and fathers. He’s a bad man.” She shook her head. “He hurt me. He’ll hurt you. He’ll never let me divorce him. He’ll never let me rest.”
“Never,” I agreed. “But this is a big call, Sky. You have to make sure you really want to go through with it.”
She nodded, looking out with more weariness than I ever wanted to see on her lovely face again. But I guessed that was part of what made us connect so intensely, too. Neither of us had had an unmarked life. We’d both been through some rough shit, seen things that left us scarred. But that was part of what made her beautiful to me, how resilient she was, how I still saw her sing and smile and chat with everyone at the home even while she knew such darkness and pain. The woman baked pies, for Christ’s sake. She insisted on being happy, despite knowing the exact opposite. And man did she deserve to be happy. I hoped she’d give me a shot at making her feel that way the rest of her days.
