Unbeautifully (Undeniable, #2)(28)

…until her thighs clenched and her fingers began creeping down his abdomen, to the edge of his T-shirt where she paused, fingering the threadbare material.

His dick went rock solid. Probably punched a hole straight through his leathers; he was that hard.

No. No, no, no. Not now. He had to get her to the club before Deuce called again. If she kept this shit up, he was going to throw caution to the wind and be inside of her in about three seconds.

No? Who was he kidding? He was so f*cked. Done for and completely f*cked.

He wasn’t going to make it to the club. He wanted that * so bad he could f*cking taste it. And he couldn’t keep pretending this was just about * either. It was more than *. It was Danny. Her *, yeah, and there was something else.

Ripper had been walking around life pissed off, not giving a shit about anything, until he’d made the mistake of f*cking a girl he’d never given a second thought to before and everything had changed. Suddenly he cared about what was going to happen next, wondering when Deuce was going to find out, whether he was going to get killed or not, wondering where Danny was when she wasn’t at the club…what she was doing, if she were hanging out with some other dude, and feeling murderous at the thought. Wondering if she were going as motherf*cking crazy as he was.

He wasn’t pissed off anymore, either. He was something else entirely. He was…

What the f*ck was he?

Fuck it. Whatever he was feeling, he didn’t want to ignore it. He wanted more of it; he wanted to own it.

Right. Now.

Fuck that black bitch; f*cking threatening him. Fuck lockdown.

He wasn’t losing this.

Caution met wind and he pulled off the dark, deserted highway onto a patch of grass and cut the engine.

Neither of them spoke.

Or moved.

They just breathed.

Hers, quick and short.

His, loud and heavy.

Just breathing.

“Ripper?” she whispered.

Aw, Jesus, that sweet, sweet voice…

…and the angelic face and the f*cking body that owned that voice.

“Yeah, baby?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

Her hands slipped under his shirt, her nails dug into the skin on his stomach, and he stopped breathing altogether.

“Please,” she whispered.

Ripper moved fast, jumped off his bike and hopped back on facing her. She pulled up the material of her dress and he yanked open his leathers, lifting her over top of him, moving her underwear to one side and positioning himself at her entrance.

There was just some shit you didn’t get a say in.

He knew that better than most.

He’d lost his parents at seventeen, his only family.

At twenty-seven he’d been captured by Frankie, tortured for twelve hours. He’d lost his eye, a lot of f*cking skin, and pretty much all of his self-respect.

Both of those events had drastically changed the course of his life, each one a wrecking ball that had come crashing into his world, forcing him to watch as everything around him shattered and fell to pieces at his feet.

That’s how this shit was with Danny.

It was an accident, a mistake, it was the wrong place at the wrong time kind of shit that had quickly turned into a catastrophe of epic proportions.

If she’d just been *, if he’d f*cked her at the lake then forgotten about it…

But Danny was different.

A game changer.

She wasn’t *, she was damned beautiful and everything he’d ever wanted in a woman but hadn’t realized until he held her in his arms.

She was the reason his world was about to shatter again.

“Ripper…oh my god.” She pushed back against him, trying to take all of him inside of her in one thrust.

Yeah, she wanted him, the looming wrecking ball.

And f*ck him, he wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anything else, and the wrecking ball swung.

So he took her, grabbed her thighs, and slammed her down onto him…and that wrecking ball came crashing through.

God, sweet f*cking Jesus; it was better than he’d remembered. She was tight, wet, and warm and fit him like a f*cking glove, kissing him and touching him as if he didn’t have scars, not avoiding them, not lavishing attention on them; he was starting to think she couldn’t see them.

She was making him feel whole again.

Yeah, no way was he losing this.

“Ripper,” she cried. “Ripper…” Her head lolled to the right and her eyes rolled back.

Knowing she was about to come, he gripped her hips, digging his fingertips into her backside, and began slamming up into her, harder and harder, rocking against her faster and faster until her body locked up tight and her cries turned into breathy, panting whimpers and her * clenched around his cock, again and again. He kept going, hard and fast, milking her orgasm.

And…ah, god, she was coming again, her muscles were contracting around him, the incredible feeling spurring him into increasing his already ball-breaking pace.

That’s when it happened.

His hair was soaked with sweat, his jaw locked, his teeth clenched, his grip on her bruising, his hips powering back and forth, his cock slamming up into her, again and again.

It was so motherf*cking good; she looked like a goddamn sex angel, face flushed and breathing hard, whimpering and crying as he took her hard and fast and she felt like heaven, tight and soft and smooth.