Running Free (Woodland Creek)(16)

“Fuck me, Gun. Please.”

He chuckles and the mere vibrations nearly cause me to orgasm. “Baby, I’m going to be inside of you soon enough. And when I finally do get the chance, it won’t be in some bar breakroom where we’ll have to rush.”

His hand slips back down my belly and between my legs through my jeans.

“No, it’ll be in my bed where I can taste and worship you for hours through the night. One time won’t be enough, baby. I’ll want it over and over again like a f*cking drug.”

I moan when he presses his middle finger against the seam of my jeans into my throbbing clit. The pressure he applies is the perfect amount and curls of pleasure twist through me in a painfully delicious way.

“Don’t stop,” I whimper.

His lips are back on mine, his finger never quitting. I grip onto his shirt for dear life as he assaults my sex with his finger and my mouth with his tongue. Soon, my panties drip with my arousal and a long overdue orgasm ripples through me.

As my release splinters through me, blinding white light explodes in my vision. Warm tentacles of my very being stretch out from deep within and thread themselves around the soul before me.

Pictures of a future flip through my head like pages of a book.

Marriage. Babies. Puppies.

Love.

My little heart which only beats part of the time grows exponentially and throbs uncontrollably for another.

The high is almost too much.

I’m weak.

And strong arms hold me close.

His heart and mine.

Shit, shit, shit!

I think I just imprinted on Gunnar Mason.





Gunnar

I stare down in awe at the woman before me. Her body still shudders with the aftershocks of the orgasm I gave her. She’s the hottest damn woman I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing but that’s not what draws me to her. I like that she’s an enigma. Layers and layers of stories that I can’t wait to peel back. I’m eager to dive inside and discover her true self. The vulnerable woman who hides beneath.

And then I want to protect her and take care of her.

“Oh my God,” she hisses under her breath, as if the orgasm I just gave her was painful instead of pleasurable.

Sliding my palm to her throat, I tilt her chin up with my thumb. Her mocha-colored eyes find mine. What swims behind them baffles me.

Guilt. Anger. Sadness.

“What?” I question, my brows furrowed in concern, “Did I hurt you? I swear I thought you were enjoying it.”

Her lip quivers for a second but she bites down and stops it. “No, uh, it’s nothing. I need to get back to work.”

She attempts to leave my grasp but I hug her to me and kiss the top of her head. Her sweet shampoo infiltrates my senses and I inhale it deeper into my lungs.

“I want to give you more of those,” I murmur into her hair, my fingers drawing circles on her back. “So many more.”

Her sigh is one of resignation and I hate the sound of it. “Gun, I don’t know—”

Gripping her hair, I tilt her head back so I can see her face. “Don’t say it, Frankie. I can tell you’re panicking. I get it. You don’t date much. I’m not asking for your hand in marriage. I just want to wine, dine, and sixty-nine you.”

She giggles and wriggles out of my grasp. “Well, when you put it that way… ”

I seize her waist with my hands and haul her back to me. My lips find hers and I kiss her with an undeniable hunger. Whatever reservations she had fly out the f*cking window as she practically climbs me like a pole.

My earlier thoughts of taking her in a bed slowly dissipate as I consider taking her against this very wall instead.

The door blasts open though, and we both jump away from each other like a couple of guilty teenagers.

“Luca,” Frankie squeaks out.

His hungry gaze passes over her once before he eyeballs me. Rage ripples from him and his massive shoulders quake with fury. They have history together — that much is fact. I can see it in his eyes. The jealousy of her with another man. The regret of not holding onto her himself. And finally, the anger at me.

He stalks toward me, hands fisted, as if he might kick my ass. Luca may be a big motherf*cker, but he’s not kicking my ass. I’m the one with a f*cking gun around here.

Squaring my shoulders, I take a step toward him. I’m not letting this idiot scare me away. Frankie belongs with me, not some horny biker.

“She’s mine,” he growls as he approaches, stopping just inches from my chest.

“Luca, stop.” She’s pissed at him which only further causes my hackles to rise. I want to protect her from him.

“Frankie’s a big girl,” I snap, “She doesn’t belong to anyone.”

He bares his teeth at me like a goddamned dog and I smirk at him. Apparently in his stupid motorcycle gang, this is how he intimidates people.

Well, he’s not intimidating me.

“Luca… ” Frankie warns and wiggles her way between us, her back to my chest and her palms on his. “You need to go home.”

Her scent calms me and instinctively, I wrap an arm around her belly.

His eyes never leave mine but his hands do cover hers. The gesture has a growl rolling out of my own throat back at him.

With a tiny shove, she pushes him away from us. He drops his hold on her hands and shakes his head.