“Ahhh…” She moaned, reaching her arms around his back and hooking her legs around his thighs. He lowered his mouth, licking the seam of her lips.
“You feel so fucking good.” He groaned, thrusting inside her.
This felt different. It was more intimate. Not only the sex but the closeness between them. As if they’d broken down yet another barrier. Her entire relationship with Cross had started with a wall. Addison thought it was all him. But she’d had her own up. They were slowly chipping away at each other’s.
He deepened the kiss. With each stroke, he dipped his tongue between her lips, mimicking his moves. Addison would’ve been completely content having him over her until she was screaming his name. Sometimes missionary was underrated. But Cross had other plans. He pressed his hand on either side of her head and rose, pulling out, in the process. She immediately felt the loss and instinctively turned toward him.
Cross grasped her hip and rolled Addison onto her side facing the wall. He hooked his arm under her thigh and looped it up and over his leg. In this position, she was completely open, but it gave him all the access.
He slid his cock inside her, resting his hand between her legs, teasing her clit. When she dropped her head into the crook of his neck, he thrusted deeper. She reached back, weaving her fingers through his hair, and his lips pressed against her shoulder.
Addison arched her back and pressed her ass against his hips. Cross’s sharp groan echoed through the room as he fucked her harder, caressing her clit until she screamed.
“Cross!”
Addison gasped, losing her breath. He trailed his fingers over her stomach and cupped her breast, tightening his hold as he jerked deep inside her body. She may have reached her peak, but Addison wasn’t ready for it to be over. She grabbed a fistful of his hair, and Cross grunted, pounding harder. He squeezed her breast, and slammed against her, seating himself deep until his cocked pulsed.
The mattress dipped, and she could feel Cross relax against her back, sliding his lips over her shoulder, spreading small kisses. His hand skimmed over her chest and he slowly slid his fingers in between her breasts over the length of her scar. It was about eight inches long, starting near her collarbone. Her doctors had been happy with her level of healing and the results.
“People suggested I should get a badass tattoo to cover it,” She muttered.
His hand stilled, and he tugged her onto her back.
“No.” His tone was deep and raw, his gaze hard but not threatening. She cupped his jaw, and he pressed his cheek into her palm. The moment felt intimate.
Cross bowed his head and his lips traced over her scar between her breasts. His shoulders bunched, and then tensed as he dropped his forehead to her stomach. “It’s perfect the way it is.”
I agree.
****
He could’ve stayed in bed with her all day. A part of him wanted to. It was the polar opposite of how he was with women. One, done, and get the fuck out. Cuddling was never part of his MO. Talking wasn’t either, but they’d spent over an hourcurled up in her bed, bullshitting. Nothing deep, though she did push to know where he’d been last night after leaving her at the clubhouse. Cross brushed it off, repeating what he’d initially told her about it being club business. But he knew she wasn’t buying it.
When he heard the toilet flush, he ripped off the covers and got dressed. If she came back in wearing just a T-shirt, he knew they’d be in bed all day. It was tempting. But he had another idea.
He was sitting on the bed and putting on his boots when she walked through the door. She moved off to the side and leaned against the wall.
“Leaving?”
He read through her faux indifferent tone.
He laced up his boots, got up from the bed, and stopped in front of her. “We both are. Put on jeans and bring a jacket.”
She scoffed. “Telling me how to dress now?”
He smiled, leaning in and kissing her.
“Yeah,” he muttered against her lips before breaking the kiss and walking out of the bedroom. “Meet me outside.
“Wait, Cross.”
He glanced over his shoulder as he walked down the hall. Addison’s head was poking out from her bedroom.
“Where are we going?”
He turned, walking backward. “You’ll see.” He pointed to her feet. “Wear boots if you got them.” He spun around, walked out the door, and over to his bike.
He rarely wore a helmet but always kept one in his saddlebag. It was a safety measure in case they crossed state lines to a place that required one by law. The last thing any of them needed was to get busted for a small infraction.
