Never Love An Outlaw (Deadly Pistols MC #1)(152)
“Shit! That feels so good...”
And that was only the first lick. It was somewhere beyond amazing by the third or fourth time his tongue pushed into my wet *, lapping cream and readying me for the ecstasy he promised. I tensed, pivoting my fingernails on his scalp for support, the only thing that would keep me from toppling over while his tongue work quickened.
My heartbeat spiked with the rising pleasure. My knees started to shake around him, but he only tightened his grip, looking up at me with hungry eyes. His tongue smothered my clit and rolled, circular and delicious, its energy shooting straight to my very heavy head.
You'd better f*cking come for me, babe, his eyes said. Keep f*cking my tongue. Don't stop 'til you squirt. Have you forgotten who whose * this is?
I heard the answer throttling in my head just as I squeaked out one last breath, before the fire overwhelmed me.
Mine.
He burned the word into my flesh, wild and wicked as the first time he said it, everything I'd ever be for the rest of my life. My muscles convulsed. I pinched my fingers tighter through his hair and screamed.
My ass climbed the wall several inches before rocking into his insatiable mouth again. Bucking, grinding, f*cking the man I'd given myself to, loving his sweet control. It was total, overpowering, and sweet, even when he had his face between my legs.
Hot breaths and the cool rush of air where he'd been woke me out of my stupor. I looked down and saw him wiping his mouth, then he stood and began to loosen his belt.
“Get your pretty ass over to the bed.”
I nodded, trying to shake the orgasmic tickle out of my legs as I went. The room was a total luxury with padded beds, decorated like a palace. So was the adjoining one we had for Jackie. I almost felt guilty laying down on the big bed, naked and exposed. It was a far cry from the dirtier, duller places we'd always f*cked before.
“How does it come so natural for you here?” I whispered, admiring his naked body.
The bed sank down as he settled between my legs, catching my hair in one fist. “You talking about these digs? Shit, babe. I wouldn't think twice about f*cking you in the Taj Mahal. If you think this place is too good for us, think again. I haven't begun to give you what you deserve.”
“Yeah?” I reached between my legs for his dick, already poised dangerously close to my * lips. “Show me.”
His eyes practically burst into flames and melted out of their sockets. He f*cked his way right through my hand and swung his hips down, pushing his way inside me until my fingers couldn't hold him anymore.
“Fuck!” Brass growled, his beautiful tattooed chest swelling as the fire danced lower. “I got no problem handing out reminders when you're this tight and wet. Stop thinking, babe. Turn your head off and f*ck me as hard as you can.”
He kept his thrusts slow. Hard. Intentionally teasing me with rough, long, steady strokes until I began to buck back, the itch in my womb exploding inside me.
Amazing what a little sex could do to clear the mind.
All the worry and doubt eroded, stroke by stroke. Soon, I had my arms and legs wrapped around him tight as he f*cked harder, desperately rising to meet his thrusts, every part of me winding up in the sheer need to –
“Come!” Brass growled. “Let it f*cking go for me. I wanna feel fireworks around my dick.”
His wish, my command. My body couldn't say no to the mad heat roiling my clit, his fullness rocking and thrashing inside me.
I ground my head into the mattress and exploded. Coming with Brass the second time always felt better, longer, sweeter for some reason. I gurgled pure pleasure and rolled my eyes on black and red, sweating and clawing at his back, dying and coming back to life on his dick.
And coming was the keyword above all else. I came until it felt like my own soul left my body and then slammed back into these exhausted bones.
Of course, he wasn't done. It was never that easy.
His rough hands tugged at me, rolling me around, setting me on my hands and knees.
“Right there, babe. Let's see how f*cking hard this fancy bed shakes when my abs are slapping your ass.”
Oh, God. The thought made me horny all over again.
He sank into me, holding me up by the leather shoulders. I couldn't see him behind me, but I knew his eyes were glued to the brand on the back, PROPERTY OF BRASS written in white on black, the light to all the darkness we'd fought through together.
“Fuck,” he grunted, thrusting his cock deeper, finding a rougher tempo in his favorite position.
It was quickly becoming mine too. Something about the slap of his balls on my clit really set me off. Soon, the fireworks he wanted flew through my blood again, colorful star bursts becoming screaming meteors.
We f*cked hard and fast. The bed shook like it was the middle of a great earthquake, and my hair flopped all over the place. I hoped there'd be time for a shower later to hide the sex hair from Jackie – though my sis knew damned well what was going on almost every night since I'd gotten this jacket.
I was his old lady, and I didn't hide it. I didn't dare dream of anything else besides screaming his name, loudly and gratefully, an echo for the whole world to absorb.
The leather formed a sweet, sultry cocoon over my flesh. I roasted inside and out, sticky, but not even caring. The greatest heat was still a few more minutes away.
Brass slowed his thrusts just long enough to grab my hair and hold me up, reaching one hand past my naked waist. He pinched and rubbed my clit, vicious little strokes timed to match his new rough thrusts.