She rises up and hooks her arm around my neck. “You feel so good. I love your cock. I love the piercings,” she gasps on a heavy breath.
She’s out to kill me.
I spin her around, keeping us locked together, and bite her bottom lip. I’m fucking angry with how much I want her. I’m not close enough. This isn’t enough. I growl as I let go, then, like a savage, seal our lips. I fall to my haunches, grip the meat of her ass, and use the new leverage to grind her against me.
She whimpers, and I moan; her sounds are a symphony playing down my throat. She groans with every rock, every thrust.
And I come.
My body becomes rigid, and I toss my head back and shout, relishing in every spurt coating her insides. She falls against me just as her inner muscles spasm, and her teeth lock onto my shoulder as she stifles her own cries while she orgasms.
I don’t stop either.
I fuck her through it and hold onto her tightly, letting my forehead fall against her chest with every up and down motion of her pussy.
I can’t lose this. I can’t lose her.
I wake up in my bed, and if it wasn’t for the soreness between my legs, I would have thought last night was a dream. I can’t remember how I got here, but I’m not going to question it because the night I had with Knives is something that can never be explained, just felt. The intensity we shared, the passion, the sweat…
I’ve never been so slick in my entire life
I yawn, stretching my arms over my head, and groan when certain spots on my body hit me with a pinch of pain. I’m definitely bruised.
It was worth it.
I sit up and notice I’m alone. His side of the bed is cold as I lay my hand against the pillow. He’s been gone a while, then. I’m not too sure how I feel about that. Waking up alone after the night we shared, I don’t want it to be devastating, but it is. Maybe I was just another girl to him, after all?
“So stupid.” I fall backward and sink into the pad of my mattress. My eyes burn, and I press my palms against my eyes to hold back the tears. I should have known better. A biker like Knives doesn’t do relationships. He has club whores and anyone he wants, really. Not that the club whores are something to be worried about right now, since none of them are around. It’s been too dangerous, and they don’t want to risk getting killed like their friends.
I thought they were my friends too, but the moment things got rough, they bolted, and I realized I’m nothing like that. Sure, I ran away after dealing with my dad, but that’s different. I would never run away from my family. My real family. Whores aren’t family, are they? That’s why none of the guys ever touched me. I was more to them than that, and it makes me happy knowing I had a place to call home this entire time I was trying to find a home.
The only person that’s been missing is Becks. She has been gone a while now, but at this point, I’m starting to wonder if she’s ever coming back. She seems like the nomad type, not to stay in place for too long because she gets restless. I miss her, and I hope she’s doing well since I haven’t heard from her.
“Hey, what’s wrong?”
I put my arm down from my eyes and gape at Knives, who is holding a tray of food. The smell of coffee and bacon has me sitting up, clutching the blanket to my chest. “I thought you left.”
“I did leave,” he says, tilting his head in confusion. “I wanted to make you breakfast. I can’t say it will be good. There might be an eggshell in the eggs, but I tried.”
I love him. He’s so different from what I thought he was. “You didn’t have to do that,” I say, scooting over to make room for him on the bed.
“I wanted to,” he says, placing the tray on my lap. “You deserve breakfast in bed.” He pushes my hair off my shoulder, then tucks it behind my ear before tapping the tip of my nose with his finger.
“Well, if I eat an eggshell, I’m sure it will taste so good.”
“Aw, I hope you choke on it.”
I gasp, taking the fork and pretending to stab him in the arm. “Brat.”
“I’m kidding. There is only one thing I want you to choke on, and it sure as hell isn’t breakfast,” he lowers his voice.
I shove his shoulder, and he slips off the bed, landing on the floor with a hard thump. “Oh my god, Knives. Are you okay?” I move the tray to the side and slip off the edge of the mattress. I land on his lap, straddling him, and lean down to give him a kiss. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to shove you off.”
“Sure you didn’t,” he grunts, laying his tattooed hands on my hips.
“I really didn’t. What can I do to make it up to you?”
He opens one eye, the intense color of ice freezing my veins as he deliberates. “Well,” he starts to say, before rocking against my sore center. I moan suggestively when I feel his erection, right as my damn stomach grumbles.
“That’s embarrassing. Way to ruin the moment, right?”
“No. My woman needs to be fed. I think we might have skipped dinner last night, but make no mistake, when you’re done, I’m fucking you, Hellraiser.”
I bite my lip, then slide off his lap and climb back on the bed, swaying my ass in the air to drive him crazy.
“Don’t tempt me,” he growls, slapping my ass to get me to sit down, but that only makes me hotter. “You’re going to be the death of me. Eat your food.” He picks up a piece of bacon and shoves it in my mouth. I moan in appreciation as the salt bursts over my tongue, along with a hint of maple.
“There you go again, making those fucking noises. Is the bacon really that good?” He takes a bite and nods. “Okay, it’s debatable.”
I laugh, scooping up a spoonful of eggs, and just swallow. I don’t want to risk biting into an eggshell. If I do, I might not be able to eat the rest of my breakfast. We fall into a comfortable silence, eating our food, and enjoying small touches between each other. Every now and then, he will place his hand on my knee or feed me a grape, and those little gestures, the small ones that everyone overlooks, are everything to me.
A man like Knives doesn’t give his touch away to anyone, not like this.
“When you said you thought I left, you really meant that you thought I left.”
I take that moment to bite down on a damn eggshell. But I don’t make a face, I don’t gag, I hold my breath and swallow, because he took time out of his morning to make me food. I grab the coffee and sip, washing down the hard bits and pieces of the shell. I nod, then push the eggs around the plate. “I know, I shouldn’t have, but I woke up, sore and happy, then I felt for you, and you weren’t there.”
He places two fingers under my chin and forces me to turn my head. “Listen to me,” he says, his hair wet from a shower. He is out of his onesie now, dressed in faded blue jeans, a t-shirt, and his cut. “I’m not going anywhere. I need you to believe that.” He slides his hand over mine, and I love the differences. My skin is naked compared to his. He has a large red flower on one hand; his knuckles are decorated in traditional stars and letters.
He’s so different from me on the outside, but we are the same on the inside, and that’s all that matters.
“You’re used to a certain kind of woman, Knives,” I tell him.