Never Love An Outlaw (Deadly Pistols MC #1)(40)

Not like there was much choice either.

He barely let me come up for breath as my climax faded. His face looked more intense than ever, rivulets running off both of us. He power f*cked me straight through it and kept going, working his cock deeper.

The fire his friction kindled seemed almost endless. A minute or two after I'd come once, the ache in my womb was building again, and this time I wanted to feel his release too.

I dug my nails into his neck and rode him harder, jerking my body up and down in mad waves, begging for his come before the words even left my mouth.

“Make me come again, Skin. I want to feel your cock explode inside me. Don't let me come alone this time. Come with me. Please. Please. Please!”

His face twitched when I begged the last time. He jerked my hair harder, growling as his hips picked up speed, taking me so fast and hard it probably would've hurt if we hadn't built up to the perfect tempo together.

“You think you know what you do to me, babe? You don't know shit,” he growled, his voice darkening more with every word. “I'm gonna f*ck you senseless. I'm gonna f*ck my balls dry all damned night. I'm gonna give you something to remember when you're home in your mansion, one good memory to cherish, so f*cking incredible you'll frig your clit to me even when you're married to some boring, white collar chucklef*ck. You're mine tonight, dammit, and my come's about to be yours.”

Please do! I thought, right before everything in my head turned to static.

Please, Skin. Please. For f*ck's sake, please!

My body raged. My muscles turned to iron as I locked onto him and rode him for all I was worth, panting and moaning the whole time, becoming his vessel.

He f*cked me like a madman for at least another minute. Neither of us could make a sound except for the ragged, savage grunts spilling out of us.

Then he plunged into me one last time, holding himself against my womb, swelling so big I felt the torrent for a split second before it began.

“Fuck!” Skin roared first.

“Oh. My. God.” I was right behind him.

We came. Savagely, relentlessly, wildly.

Our pulses mingled and our bodies rippled with carnal delight. His fire tore through me, a blaze set by the molten seed he spilled inside me. His cock jerked inside me over and over, rooted so deep, filling me until I overflowed around him.

I'd lost it with him a couple times before, but this...this wasn't even on the same planet.

Climax swept me up in a tsunami of heat, skin, and his feral curses. I took one last glimpse at the dark, violent ink seething on his chest before my eyes pinched shut.

My orgasm throttled me, caused my * to tense around him, sucking greedily at his cock. The begging wasn't over, even though I couldn't speak. Every inch of me wanted more from him.

More, more, so much more.

I didn't know how I'd walk out of here with my sanity intact. Hell, Ricky and his Johns had shattered it long before I ever heard the name Skin. But the biker's name was all I could feel in my soul now, filling the holes torn wide open by the pimp and his bastards, as surely as he filled my flesh.

I opened my mouth and tried to scream his name one more time. It didn't work. Nothing more than a squeak came out while we were frozen in bliss. When the firestorm lifted and I could finally breathe, he buried me in another kiss, wiping away the new fears and obsessions he'd planted in my head.

Tonight was ours, and I was okay. Hell, I was good, something I hadn't been since the last year at university.

I ran my hands up and down his chest, owning the moment. I had to stay here, every precious second, one with Skin and the night.

It was all I could do to stay happy. I ignored the foolish part of me that wanted him to own me forever.





VI: Conscience (Skin)


I couldn't shake the whole night f*cking her. My eyes were still sore as I sat there in church, waiting for the Prez to get his shit together, listening to the steady thud-thud-thud of Joker slamming the knife on the table next to me.

The Veep's place at the table had about a thousand little cuts from all the years where he'd put his hand down flat on the old wood, stabbing his switchblade between his fingers. For some reason, it seemed weirder than ever today, watching him lost in his own tortured world 'til the Prez put a hand to his mouth and let out a sharp whistle.

“Fuck!” Sixty snarled next to me, covering his ear. Loud noises got his f*cked up ear, ever since he'd been too close to a grenade going off a couple years back.

Joker stopped trying to take his fingers off and looked up at the Prez. Dust gave him the same dirty look I'd seen a thousand times before.

Same old club. Same old shit.

What wasn't the same was the way I'd f*cked that sweet, wounded woman sleeping off the sex in my bedroom right now. It was twisted, it was playing with the last fire on earth I should, but damn if I regretted a thing.

No. No way. Fuck no.

My cock throbbed, wishing I'd kept her up for another hour. But then I wouldn't have gotten a lick of sleep at all.

Shit. What the f*ck are you gonna do?

The question kept tossing in my mind. If only the incredible sex was all I could remember. Too bad f*cking her brought these other feelings, this need to treat her like more than a piece of meat and a hostage.

“Let's get on with it, shall we, boys?” The Prez said darkly, training his dirty look on me next. “Your turn to brief us first, brother. The whore's your business, like you promised. You've had plenty of time to cook up a plan to get what we're owed. Spill it.”