Never Love An Outlaw (Deadly Pistols MC #1)(110)

God, he was hungry. I'd never been kissed like this. But then, no other man had kissed me after holding a knife to his heart before, baring everything, life and death and lust.

Brass growled, lowering me to the floor, reaching up to my long brown hair. He tangled several strands in one fist and ripped my head back, all the better to access my lips, shoving his tongue deeper into my mouth.

He licked the way I imagined he f*cked. Rough, fast, and totally dominant. There was no playful tease in these kisses, no gentle build. His teeth nipped at my bottom lip, holding me open for his tongue. He found mine and led in a fiery dance, licking against my soft, wet tongue until I had to follow him, kissing him the way he wanted.

No mistake: I wanted it hard. I wanted to kiss and feel and f*ck. I was done thinking.

It was the best alternative in the world to screaming and beating at his chest, crying like a broken fool on the floor. He saved me from all that – he saved me. Again.

All my blazing emotions shot to my heart, where they were ejected as pure lust, a powerful need to feel him all over me.

For once, Brass and I were on the same wavelength too. Our flesh sang in unison, tense and ready.

After a couple minutes on my lips, his free hand moved, starting at my knee and sliding straight up. His calloused hand kissed my thigh, on its way to the soaked black lace between my legs. He growled through his kiss as he shoved my gusset aside and rubbed two fingers up and down my slit, a short, rhythmic test before he pushed them inside me.

Fuck! Oh. My. God!

I grunted in his mouth as he worked through my folds. My * wrapped around his fingers and shifted each time he went a little deeper. His strokes were soft at first, but quickly grew faster and harder, dipping in and out in long jerks until his thumb pressed on my clit.

I broke the kiss, begging for air, feeling my lungs and everything below the waist turning to stone. Brass yanked on my hair and held me up to him as I sucked precious air, face-to-face. Lust incarnate looked back at me, pure desire formed from all the hate and want between us, finally set free.

“Do I need to stuff my hand in your mouth when you come?” He pushed his face closer, dragging rough stubble across my cheek. My thighs rippled together, locked around his hand, bucking for relief.

I realized he was talking about Jackie, asleep down the hall. Damn!

“No...I can't let her hear...I think I can keep it –“

Together? No f*cking way. A voice deep in my head laughed.

“Oh!” My lips formed a perfect circle and my vision blurred.

I gasped, sweated, pinched my thighs tight around his palm. Jesus, I needed him, needed him to finish kindling the fire he'd ignited in my core.

Brass' hand went mad, moving like clockwork through my folds, or maybe like a clockmaker who knew exactly how to wind my * up until I shattered. It felt so f*cking good, but I couldn't scream. I'd never forgive myself if Jackie woke up and came in here to find us like this.

I had to keep it down. I had to stop myself from –

Brass made sure I'd be screaming in his hand, and nowhere else. He moved it out of my hair and covered my mouth as his face moved down. He caught the edge of my shirt and tugged it up with his teeth, stopping the hypnotic circles between my legs just long enough to rip my panties down.

When I realized the only place he was going was down, I started to pant. Rough stubble and hard, sucking kisses danced along my cleavage, then rode my stomach, drawing me against his mouth.

His face pushed between my legs and took over where his hand left off. My body jerked against his, grinding into his hot hand. I thought his fingers were good, but his tongue – Christ! – I was finished.

Hot, long, godly licks steamed through my folds. He tongued my wetness eagerly, like my cream was the booze the men sucked constantly at the clubhouse, trailing his licks up to my clit. When he found it, my whole * sizzled on his face, ready to come apart.

Muscles tensed up and convulsed, small bundles across my body I didn't even know I had. He must've known I was about to burst because he shoved the edge of his hand into my mouth, forcing me to bite him.

I did. But it wasn't enough. I barely had time to beat my hands on his shoulders before the insistent, tight fireball in my womb exploded. My thighs locked around his head and I came, groaning against his palm, losing total control.

My eyes rolled back, lost in black and white and red. I never came so hard, flailing against him as he held me down, never stopping the wild, rhythmic tongue laps on my clit. He completely smothered it as I rode his face, my * convulsing around him, like he was breathing lightning through my nerves with every insatiable lick.

I came. I climaxed the pain and hurt of the last few weeks, the insanity of doing it with him, giving myself over to desires that were sick and taboo on a good day. Having him between my legs was so damned wrong, but my body told me it was right.

There was no doubting it. The saner, rational bitch I became to keep myself safe would've jumped through the roof in horror, but pleasure didn't lie. And pleasure won out in the end, overpowering my regrets, my fears, my doubts.

His tongue f*cked me until I couldn't even breathe, buried beneath a couple hundred pounds of huge, hard, tattooed muscle. I barely had time to worry about whether or not his hand stifled the carnal pleas ripping up my throat.

When I looked up, he was hovering over me, the two fingers he'd had inside me near his lips. The fire in his emerald eyes doubled when he stuck them in his mouth, giving them a good, long suck before wiping his chin.