I slapped him, my palm meeting his cheek, and I didn’t even have the time to figure out why or feel guilty before he seized my wrists and spun me around, smashing my back against the cave wall. Gasping as the wind was knocked out of me, I closed my eyes when he banged his mouth against mine, tongue shoving between my lips and dominating me in every way possible. There wasn’t anything sweet about what he was doing to me; it was Thor, the vice president of the Norse Lords MC, owning me in every single way. His kiss was rough and painful as he scraped his teeth over my bottom lip, biting into it and tugging until the tang of blood exploded on my tongue.
He shoved his knee between my legs and nudged my hard cock with his thigh as his mouth moved down my neck, and his teeth made marks on every inch of skin he touched. I didn’t think this was the make-out session people expected when they called this place the Kissing Cave, but my body was on fire, my cock hard enough to pound nails, and my skin buzzed with goose bumps.
He slammed his palm next to my head and used the leverage of his knee to keep me exactly where he wanted me, and I melted under his rough touch. “You’re mine,” he growled out, biting particularly hard against the side of my neck, in a way that had my knees giving out under me. He held me up, ramming me against the cave wall. “You’re mine, Loki. For-fucking-ever. You will die and be buried in my grave. Am I clear?”
The words might have scared some people, but it shot a thrill through me, which landed straight in my balls. “Fuck yes.” I threw my head back, offering more of my neck. “Please.”
“No.” Then, he was gone, leaving me feeling cold without a hard body pressed up against me.
I blinked, crashing from my lust high to focus on him again and the teasing smirk on his face. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
His laughter did nothing to help my foul mood. Talk about blue balls. Or maybe left high and dry was a better way to describe it. “I’m hungry.”
“So am I, for your cock,” I snapped, glaring. Cupping my hard-on through my pants, I tipped my hips toward him. “See this? It needs release.”
He shrugged. “It’ll have to wait until after lunch.”
“You’re giving me whiplash.” Groaning, I let my head crash against the hard rock. “Bastard.”
“It’ll be worth it.” He gripped my hand in his and dragged me closer, laying a kiss on my cheek.
“You and food,” I grumbled but followed him back out of the cave and across the water, which had grown choppier since we went inside. I’m glad I knew the truth about his past, and it hurt to think he’d carried that guilt around for so many years, but I wasn’t letting him dwell on it. We’d go to this funeral, then go home and announce our relationship to Odin. I wasn’t going to waste another second with him. “Tell me something.”
“Mm?” He gave me a grin when we reached our socks and riding boots.
“What would it take to forgive yourself?” I raised my chin. “Because this isn’t your fault, Thor. Tell me what you need.”
He hesitated and rolled his shoulders. “Cameron moved not long after me. I saw Dana.”
“That leaves Morgan?”
He slipped on his boots and nodded. “Yeah, Morgan.”
“Tell me about him. Did he blame you?” Because if he did, there wasn’t a chance in hell I was going to let him near that guy. I didn’t have ties to Wittstock, and Thor came first—always.
“I don’t know.” The water crashed harder against the shore and he stared at the wave caps in contemplation. Darker clouds were clumping above, like it was about to open and drop buckets of rain on us, and I didn’t want to be around for that. “Morgan is Marion’s nephew.”
“I remember.” I slid my hand into his, and we walked up the beach and onto the patch of grass where we’d left our bikes.
“He was paralyzed in the accident.” Thor winced.
“Fuck.” I stopped him when we reached his Harley. I hadn’t comprehended his words before when he was talking to his mother, but now we were alone and they echoed in my brain. Pain for Thor and his friends throbbed in my chest.
“Yeah….” Shrugging, he threw his leg over the bike and straightened it, settling on the seat. He clutched the handlebars tighter and stared at me. “Morgan never held grudges. He was the best of us.”
“So, do you want to visit him?”
He thought about it for a moment before nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, I do. Not today, though. I’m fucking worn out. Tomorrow morning? Then Friday’s the funeral, and we can get the hell out of this place.”
I smiled in agreement and got onto the Ducati. “Lead the way, God of Thunder.”
He laughed as he sped off, and I followed—like I always did. Thor could ride the highway into hell and I’d be right behind him.
