Page 123 of Hidden

I did as he asked, positioning myself so my hands were flat on the bed, my legs spread, and my ass up in the air.

I waited with bated breath for his next instructions. But instead, he dropped to his knees and pushed his head between my legs, wasting not a second as he used his fingers to spread my pussy open, his mouth clamping down on my clit.

I let out a yelp of surprise, and then a moan of utter relief mixed with pleasure as he lapped at me with his tongue, circling my clit. He kept me held open and brought his other hand up to push two fingers inside me.

I brought one knee onto the bed, opening myself even further, and rocked against his face as he curled his fingers, finding that one sensitive spot that drove me mad.

“Fuck, Luke,” I moaned, riding his face without a shred of humiliation, with utter, complete abandonment.

He pumped his fingers in and out of me, the sound of my arousal clear for everyone to hear. But there was no shame to be found. Instead, he murmured his appreciation each and every time, his lips vibrating against my clit.

I moved one hand from the bed and gripped his hair, sinking down onto his face harder. He moved one of his own hands and grasped my ass, pushing against me, encouraging my movements.

He tapped my other leg, and I brought my knee up to his shoulder, making it so I was crouched over his face, giving him unlimited access to my pussy. With both my legs bracketing his head, and him leaning back on the bed, I found a rhythmthat drove me wild, bucking against his face as though my life depended on it. His hands were holding my ass, encouraging me to take what I needed, to fuck his face without a care for his needs, and my fingers were gripping his hair so tight my knuckles turned white.

But still he didn’t stop. Still he continued lapping at my clit like a man starved. His tongue swirled, his lips sucked, and his teeth grazed, all of which drove me mad, drove me to distraction.

My legs began to shake around his head, and he chuckled darkly, his fingers digging into my ass he rocked me faster. I was lost to him, lost to the sensation, unable to do anything other than take advantage of what he was offering.

“Luke,” I moaned again, feeling that delicious pleasure in the pit of my stomach. “Oh, God, Luke, I’m so close.”

There was nothing dignified in the way I cried out. I moaned, gasped, and screamed, all of it feeling too much, and yet not enough.

And then it hit me. Stars flashed behind my eyes, my head tipped back, and I moaned his name over and over, rocking against his face as though my life depended on it.

And he relished every moment, wringing every last bit of my orgasm out of me, not satisfied until my entire body was jerking and shaking, my clit beyond sensitive to his actions.

I climbed off the bed, almost shaken by the force of what I had just felt, and looked down at Vienna, who was grinning like a madman, the evidence of my orgasm still fresh on his face and beard.

“Now that is every biker's fantasy come to fucking life,” he said, reaching out for me and pulling me down onto his lap.

I straddled him, my legs still trembling, the jacket hanging open between us. His hands found my waist immediately, and I could feel how hard he was beneath his jeans.

“You’re still dressed,” I murmured, my fingers going to the buttons of his shirt. “Let’s do something about that.”

He caught my wrists gently. “Look at me.”

I did. And the expression on his face made my chest constrict painfully.

“I need you to be sure,” he said quietly. “Because once I have you like this, once I’m inside you wearing my cut, I don’t know if I’m strong enough to let you walk away after.”

The honesty in it gutted me. He wasn’t playing games. He wasn’t trying to manipulate or control me. He was simply telling me the truth—that this would break him in ways neither of us could take back.

I leaned forward until my forehead touched his, my hands sliding up to frame his face. “I’m sure,” I whispered. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

Something cracked open in his expression then. Relief, pain, and want all bleeding together until I couldn't tell where one ended, and the other began. Then his mouth found mine again, softer this time but no less desperate, and his hands moved to his belt.

The sound of the buckle coming undone sent a fresh wave of heat through me. I helped him with his jeans, lifting slightly so he could shove them down his hips, and then there was nothing between us anymore. Just skin and history and years of wanting.

He gripped my hips, positioning me over him, and I felt the thick head of him pressing against me. Our eyes met, held, and in that suspended moment before I sank down onto him, I saw every version of us that had ever existed—the kids we'd been, the people we'd become, the life we might have had if the world had been different.

Then I lowered myself onto him, and coherent thought scattered.

The stretch of him was almost too much, pleasure bleeding into pain and back again until I couldn't separate the two. I gasped against his mouth, my fingers digging into his shoulders, and he groaned low in his throat, his hands tightening on my hips hard enough to bruise.

My pussy felt unbelievably full, and I had to shift slightly, getting used to the unfamiliar sensation, feeling each and every last delicious inch of him.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his mouth dropping to my collarbone. “Gabriella, fuck—”