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He wanted to take her rough and relentlessly but also wanted to be gentle and take his time, discovering and appreciating every inch of her.
He decided he’d do both.
And if he got his way, he’d be able to do either one on a regular basis.
The thought of only fucking sweet butts didn’t do it for him. When he was fifteen—hell, even younger—they got him hard and he wanted every single one of them. With how they dressed and how they acted, what teenaged boy with raging hormones didn’t?
Now that he was thirty-five, he couldn’t swallow the idea of fucking any of them.
Not that the club had any right now anyway.
But they’d show up. They always did. They’d do whatever was demanded of them, no matter how perverse, in hopes of being allowed to hang around the club or becoming an ol’ lady. In hopes of securing a coveted spot on the back of a brother’s sled.
It was one thing to bust a nut in a sweet butt, it was another to make her your permanent piece. Nobody wanted to go home to a woman who’d fucked, sucked, and more, all your brothers. No brother wanted a woman like that being the mother of his kids.
Why they thought they’d had a shot? Trip never knew as he watched sweet butt after sweet butt getting bent over and accepting the load from a line of brothers, waiting to give it to her.
He’d watched that and much worse.
At the time, he wasn’t a patched brother, still too young to even prospect, so he couldn’t participate.
Besides that sweet butt being told by the president, his own father, to pop his cherry, Trip wasn’t allowed to touch any of them.
Stella would never be one of those. But she would be his.
And his alone.
He deepened the kiss when she didn’t try to pull away, didn’t make a sound except for a low groan he captured in his mouth. In fact, it was her tongue that invaded his mouth and found his first. Touching, tasting, not tentative at all.
She wasn’t holding back which proved she wanted him, too.
Only he didn’t want this to turn into what happened the other night, where she goaded him into being rough.
There was nothing wrong with rough if that’s what she wanted, it just had to be for the right reasons.
Being punished for something that happened in her past—whatever it was— wasn’t one of them. One of her hands curled around his waist, the other slid up his chest, skimming over one of his nipples before pausing on his throat, then a second later moving up along his jaw, and into his hair. She took a handful and he waited for the sharp pain of her ripping on it to free herself.
But it never happened. Instead, she tugged him forward, bringing him closer until his dick, now hard and throbbing in his jeans pressed into her belly.
She was not soft because she was too thin. She probably couldn’t afford to eat like she should.
He would remedy that, too.
He loved the softness of a woman’s belly, the wide curve of a hip, the heaviness of a breast, the roundness of her ass. Flesh he could grab and hold onto, squeeze and bite.
The ecstasy on Stella’s face when she ate that slice of bacon...
He wanted to see that every morning. He never wanted her to worry about where her next meal was coming from. Never wanted her to have to choose a booze invoice over a grocery bill again.
That shit was going to end immediately.
Without breaking the kiss, he tugged her tank up her belly, shoving her bra up and over her tits until they were free of the restraint. He swore the tips of her nipples were as hard as his dick as he thumbed one and then the other.
The urge to taste them, suck them, bite them became so overwhelming he broke his mouth free and slid his nose down her jaw, her throat and with one hand holding the cotton of both her tank and bra out of the way, he cupped one, pinched the nipple between his finger and then sucked it deep into his mouth.
His teeth scraped the tip as he squeezed her tit hard, her back arching and her breath rushing from her on a cry.
Taking small bites, he worked his way to the other one, sinking his teeth gently into the soft swell first and then sucking the nipple hard.
The fingers from both of her hands were now threaded into his hair, her nails digging into his scalp, not to discourage him, but to encourage him to continue.
He pulled his mouth away just enough to growl, “Shirt off,” before going back to taking one puckered nipple into his mouth then the other.
Her shirt and bra were ripped over her head, leaving his hand free to slide along the waist of her jeans.
