Stay Vertical (The Bare Bones MC #2)(42)

It was almost as though he felt that love. Suddenly some intense and frantic libido took hold of him. Bending at the knees, he scooped my ass into his palms and carried me to the bed. He tossed me like a load of laundry and I bounced, my arms splayed above my head, wide open for him. I knew I was smiling when he stripped that wifebeater from his sculpted torso. I could have easily stayed there for a century watching him lift his arms over his head, the stylized eagle rippling as it wrapped around his shoulder.

But Lytton didn’t have all the time in the world. Last time I’d been with him, he’d been a generous, sensitive lover, putting my orgasm first. He hadn’t even seemed to care about whipping his cock out and finding release. Now, though, he was all about unbuckling his belt in a flash and finding satisfaction.

I wasn’t prepared—I didn’t exactly wander around Arizona with old expired condoms in my wallet—but I knew it was the safe time of month. At the moment, to be honest, safety wasn’t first on my mind. When Lytton shoved his jeans around his thighs and his long, fat cock leaped free, I was his willing receptacle.

I knew Lytton wouldn’t make me pay for my meal, or bring his fishing pole on a romantic vacation, or measure the spice in the curry jar. He’d never had his retainer tossed onto the school’s roof—for better or worse, he’d been the bully giving the swirlies and purple nurples to the nerds. Lytton was a larger than life renegade, a survivor of an impoverished upbringing. He was tough and courageous, with a fiery spirit that could not be kept down, and right now he was sinking himself balls-deep in me while I cried out with a soul-splitting wail, begging to be filled.





CHAPTER TWELVE




LYTTON


He ploughed into the woman with more vigor and enthusiasm than he had in a long time.

Lytton had just made June his old lady. “Girlfriend” sounded juvenile and “old lady” fit the bitter, hardened biker’s veneer he’d adopted of late. He wanted to stake his claim to June, to put a stamp on her so one of these random bikers wouldn’t jump her.

Especially if he was going to be working downtown at the Entwistle Drive location of The Buddy System, competing with and bugging the shit out of The Bare Bones and their Joint Effort clientele, he needed everyone to know to keep out of his shit, and that meant June. For the first time since Tina had ventured into space and out of his life with NASA, Lytton was overwhelmed by that painful surge he used to know as “love.”

He didn’t want to love June. He was too busy with life, had too many things to do. He was starting a new company and taking down the brother who had murdered his father. That was a lot on a man’s plate. Still, along the way, if he could lay claim to a faithful, monogamous old lady who would be his and no one else’s, all the better.

He knew it would involve giving up his other slaves. He’d screened calls from at least ten of them each day the past week, not calling them back. He told himself they just wanted his famous weed, but he knew they wanted his cock too. He was actually well-known in the area. There was at least one BDSM club in Flagstaff where Master Hawk was sought after.

Now, as he swiveled his hips and held his cock still, throbbing deep inside June, it didn’t bother him to never enter that club’s premises again.

He hadn’t intended to take her like a f*cking wild animal. It had just happened. When she promised to submit to his guidance, to belong to him, Lytton had just lost his shit. The last woman he’d bothered to collar had been Tina. While he wasn’t prepared to go all head over heels yet, he saw June had potential. She was trainable.

That shape. Her curves went on forever, yet she had that innocent aura about her. Lytton knew she had never f*cked anyone with as much grit and gumption as him. As he drove into her, he wanted to cover her with his dirty outlaw pheromones. He knew the good girl had never been debased by a twisted half-breed who liked to paddle bound women’s asses with a leather riding crop. He hoped she wasn’t slumming it, just taking him between her thighs because he was the Flavor of the Week.

But as Lytton f*cked her, intense emotion welled to the surface. Her high-pitched little sighs when he slammed into her, the way she flung her arms above her head as though her wrists we cuffed when they weren’t, the way her ample boobs rippled with each thrust of his hips, everything came together at once. Something contracted in his chest, and he realized it was his heart.

“You’re a fine, beautiful woman, June,” he gasped. His balls drew up hard and close to his body and he knew he had only seconds before erupting. “You were made for me. Our bodies fit together perfectly.”

He was pounding her mercilessly, but her face was placid, almost serene. “I’ve never been f*cked so good, Lytton. Do it. Do me. I want to feel you coming inside—”

He managed to grind out, “I can’t—”

As quick as a flash, he pulled out and straddled June’s chest. Grabbing the back of her head, he plunged his spurting prick down her throat. She swallowed eagerly, just as she had that day in the greenhouse. Her lapping tongue, her greedily sucking mouth surrounded him as he choked on his own groans.

He fell quickly into the orgasmic trance where his mind was an utter blank. Consciousness was gripped by bliss, pure and simple, as he fed June his come. Energy flowed between them, the connection his prick in her mouth. He f*cked her mouth until he gasped, his eyes popping open. Everything seemed so clear. It was almost as though he was in a lucid dream, everything making utter sense, yet a scary clown might dart into the room any second, letting him know it was only a dream.