Page 5 of Craving Her

“Thank you.” He slammed his dick in. Gluing his groin to her ass. Melting into her back, his torso shuddering along her skin. Was he finished? That was damn disappointing. And awkward… “Um, is that… Are we done.? I mean you?”

He soared up. His back jerked as straight as a lover’s paddle. “Hell no,” I was just getting started. The first thing you do when you get a new bike. Is test the seat. “

Both hands kneaded the curve of her ass. Squeezing as if they could milk more juice from her pussy. “Good, she groaned into his starting thrust. “I would have been so disappointed.”

He froze mid-piston. “Wouldn’t fit your fantasy, Miss Hannigan?” The sneer had returned. He’d been mad at her for not speaking. But this was the reason why. She didn’t want to make a mistake and fuck up her fantasy. Was that so wrong?

“Is this what you want, Miss Hannigan? A rough biker to slam into you and own you?” Hell yeah, but she was guessing that wasn’t the right answer. So, she locked her lips when he slammed into her again. Reseating himself in a pussy that wasn’t complaining. He pulled out and rocketed back inside. Thrusting in full throttle in and out. Slamming her thighs against the edge of the table. She rocketed up. Bracing herself on her arms to push back against his rock-hard thighs’ relentless assault. “Is it, Miss Hannigan? Is this your fantasy? Am I doing it for you? Am I giving you what you want?” He slammed in again, lifting her ass up and pushing her body straight up the table.

What was wrong? Something she said through him off the rails, but hell how could she think. She’d have to figure it out later. Cause ooh yeah, she couldn’t think. Was this her fantasy? Hell yeah. Her head bobbed which each corkscrew punch. “Okay, damn. Too much. Too much. I can’t…”

“You can’t what, Miss Hannigan?” He gave a double corkscrew and lurched her forward. “This is what you wanted. The big bad biker having his way with you. Just like in those books…”

Wait what, did he know about her books? The books she wrote or the ones she read? How? Wait? What? Shit? Stop? She should be trying to put it all together. But he corkscrewed his way back in with one powerful shove. She grabbed as much breath as she could, while he throbbed in her passage. His frenzy dying down. Maybe she would live after all. But no, he started slow licks along her enflamed canal. His dick expanded. A living breathing giant growing inside her walls and tickling her cervix. Each mini thrust as powerful as his full lunges had been. But he was slowing down. At least he hadn’t wrecked her. Maybe she could still get out of this with a few pieces of her soul. She was still shoving gulps of air down her throat when her butt clenched like an alarm. He’d taken a thumb full of her juices. And shit, where was he going with that? He trailed a nail over the skin. Taking his time to the valley between her cheeks. Spreading them slowly, before using the flat of his thumb to tease her dark rosette opening. Dripping her juices drop by drop along the wrinkled trail. Her whole body tensed. Her chest was heaving, struggling to survive against the fatal sensations. His other hand wedged its way to her clit. She shuddered. Breath impossible. As he started pressing on both spots in alternating rhythms. Using his thumb to fire up the rim of her dark mouth without entering. It’s like he had three hands as he used his dick to feel inside of her. Finding her spot and rubbing from the inside while the other two hands rubbed from the outside.

‘Renegade, I can’t take it anymore. I’m coming.”

“Don’t you dare. You better fucking wait for me. You wanted me to treat you like a club lay. Club lays don’t come until their man is satisfied. Until he’s done. And I’m not fucking done yet” He corkscrewed her again. Drawing back his hands to rein her hips. “You better fucking wait, if you want to ever do this again.” He threatened, his rough growl penetrating her haze. “If you want my dick in you again, you better fucking wait.”

But it was too damn late. Shit. She saw the finish line and she ran like the last damn sprinter on earth. Flying past everybody on the team, even the guy holding the baton and going for it. Going for the win on her own. Fuck team spirit. Sometimes you had to go for it. Her heart pounded faster and faster. Her vision shimmered as her body vibrated in time to her racing pulse. She lost track of him and what he was doing. Focused on getting to the end of the race. She hadn’t won a race in so long. She would have leaped in the air like an Olympic athlete. If his pounding hadn’t held her to the table when she finished crossed the line. He galloped in and out of her pussy, but it was too late. He could only play catch-up because she won.

He collapsed on her body. His sweat-drenched chest cooling, the hot dessert of hers. Before he stood up. Taking his cooling energy with him. She looked up. He wore his granite face again. And now she didn’t need his cooling anything. The temp in the room had dropped cool enough. Dipping because he was a huge block of ice chilling everything. He stared at her long and hard as he re-dressed. “I guess you didn’t’ want to do this again. No problem. See yourself out.” And then he picked up a towel and left.

“What the hell?”

Chapter 7

He was lower than a piece of shit. He’d been an asshole for the way he treated her and now he was a stalker asshole. Watching from across the street as the cars filed out of the school’s parking lot. The light from her classroom glowed like a beacon. Calling him home. Damn, if only that shit was true. It should have glowed yellow and been covered in caution tape. Warning him away. He couldn’t see her moving about but he could damn sure picture it. She wore knee-length skirts to work as if that made her sexy ass seem more professional. But when she’d turned to the board her plump cheeks had summoned every eye. If she were his woman, he’d dress her tunics. No man should view that treasure and live.

But she wasn’t and probably never would be. Not after the way he’d dismissed her. It had taken her a minute before she left the room after he’d vacated it. Her stormy eyes reaching his across the shop before she gave a short nod and left. The kicked puppy look in her eyes had earned him a glare from Rector. When he’d stormed out of the room, he’d grabbed the first client waiting and got to work. The fact that it was another woman probably stung her even more. The bubbly blonde chatting him up and damn near shoving her breasts in his face. Demanding a chest tattoo but asking for something more. Another potential club lay.See honey, he’d wanted to shout.If I wanted to get a clublayI could find one faster than I can blink.She’d flattened her lips when the blonde wiggled some more and didn’t meet his eyes again. Instead, she lifted her gazelle neck and rolled her shoulders back. Lifting her perfect tits. Making him want to dump the blonde out of the chair and settle her in it instead. Mark her up with his ink. Stamping mine, so no one would be in any doubt. But after another nod, her eyes cut away and she was gone.

She’d encouraged him to write. To express his feelings. Get shit out and down on paper. He’d started out, putting any bull shit down. But then she’d returned his work with the note. “Dig deeper.” And so, he had. He was inked from head to toe. So it fucked with his head that he enjoyed spilling his story with a different type of ink. It helped that she never gave a personal comment. Her notes were about the quality of his work. Never the content. Notes like good use of similes had messed him up. He described beating a man to within an inch of his life and then leaving him for dead. The anger, the violence, the regret, and then the secret joy in knowing the man had lived. And all she had to say was nice similes. So, he kept spilling more. Hoping to shock her into seeing him. And his words became his confessional. She was his priest. Except when he looked at her, he didn’t feel like a monk at all. His dick swayed in protest every time she passed between the student rows. Her butt sometimes brushing against his arm as she walked through the tight confines. Her lavender and Elyse scent trailing behind.

He’d entered the confessional again with his pen and journal. Fuck, if she was going to keep him up all night, he might as well write about it. Maybe putting the shit down on paper would help him sleep at night. But looking at his words, was like looking through the cloudy glass of a crystal ball. And when the fog cleared all it showed him, was how big of an ass he’d been. And yeah, he got that message loud and clear. But he’d been so hurt. And that was the kind of wussy ass shit she had taught him to think and feel. He could picture the red note on his journal. “And how did this make you feel?” It hurt. Dammit, it hurt worse than skidding across concrete on your face.

She’d walked in Skin Sins. More beautiful than ever, with her jeans like leggings glued to her shapely ass. Wearing a silky flowered top that was so fuckin her. Soft, feminine, and bold. Saying the words he would have killed for. She saw him. And then she fucked it up by admitting he was just a damn fantasy. She didn’t see the man at fucking all. Or did she? He didn’t fucking know. And that’s what the crystal ball had shown him. That he didn’t fucking know what she thought or felt. He wasn’t going to go another fucking day without knowing. And if she admitted it was just another lay. Then he’d crash and burn. But at least he’d fucking know.

“Ms. Hannigan, you good? I’m locking up, for the night.”

Elyse put the last mark on her stack of papers, without looking up. “Thanks, Earl. I’ll let myself out.” She responded to the burly-voiced janitor. Shifting the papers around to the right folders.

“Don’t worry, I’ll see her out. She shouldn’t be working late and alone…” Her head shot up at Renegade’s voice. Her heart kick-starting like a motor that had been waiting to be primed.

“…Man, tell her not me. I’ve been trying to get that into her thick skull. There’s only so much help an alarm and a security camera can give you when you’re a woman working alone. I try to hang around as long as possible but I gotta get home some time. Or my wife’ll kill me.”

“I’ll talk to her.”

‘Her’, was looking for her voice while they were talking. It must have left with her breath. Because she couldn’t find that either. But it didn’t stop her heart from racing through her body like it had found its home in NASCAR. What was he doing here? No, she didn’t care. He needed to leave. But by the time they’d finished their chat about her, Earl was gone. Leaving her alone with, ‘him’. Maybe it was a good thing Earl was gone because her breath came scorching back in a fiery storm. Ready to incinerate Renegade, and she didn’t need any witnesses. “Nothing to talk about. Maybe there might have been when I first started calling you. But since you couldn’t be bothered to take or return my calls. I guess we said everything.”

“Elyse, I…”

“Get out.” The use of her first name only kicked the blaze higher. It was too damn late for that. Was he trying to humanize her? Make her believe that he saw her as something other than a dick warmer. He’d used her oh-so-willing body and then kicked her out without a backward glance. Moving on to the next woman before she’d even left the shop. But she’d tried to call anyway. In case there’d been some horrible understanding. But no, his silence cleared everything up. Since she’d been the one who’d misunderstood. “I have nothing to say to you. Nothing. Get the hell out.”

“Maybe I have something to say to you…”

“I don’t want to hear it. I would have listened at first. I shouldn’t have but I would. But now three weeks later. Three damn weeks of silence. And now I don’t care. I’ve moved on. Like you did.”

His eyes blazed. His hands clenching into fists and his eyes narrowing. “That better not mean what I think it means.” He growled.

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