"Need you, baby girl, need you, always fucking need you," he chanted, his desperation penetrating the air much as that weird smell did, making me high on it, high on him.
His hands shaped me, but with none of the cherishing that I was used to. There was no tenderness here, only raw need. It branded me in a way his usual touches didn’t, and that was how I knew something really was going on with him. Even drunk, he’d never touched me like this.
When his fingers went between my legs, I let out a sharp cry because he didn’t caress me and tease me, he plundered. He stole. But it felt good. So good. The tips moved over my clit with all the finesse I was used to, but it was different. So different and so wonderful.
In no time at all, he had me gasping into his mouth as I came, orgasming from the hard touches and his possessive hold on me. Exploding faster than I ever had before, and Storm wasn’t exactly a slouch in the bedroom.
I clutched at nothing, at everything, stirred and ravished as well as ravaged. Stunned by his manner, yet not overwhelmed. Just hurled into the eye of the storm and enjoying the adrenaline high.
He grabbed my pants, tearing and tugging at the waistband, not stopping until I was bare from the waist down, then, he climbed off the bed.
At first, I thought he was leaving me, about to abandon me because he thought he was being too rough only, he didn’t drift away.
No, he grabbed a condom from the nightstand, handling his dick more aggressively than anything he’d done to me. He held his cock as if it were a snake and he was terrified of them, but as he covered himself up, he clambered back onto the bed and fell between my thighs.
As his dick found its way home, I let out a soft scream as he moved into me, fast and hard.
And though he was blowing my mind, I recognized the difference—Storm didn’t make love to me. He was screwing me.
I should have felt dirty, used, but it was too good for that. Too good to feel ashamed when he worshipped me like I was a pagan goddess instead of an angel.
I cried out again, but his mouth stopped me, his tongue plunging into me, grinding against mine, making my heart race even harder as my body burned when he set me alight.
"Need you, baby girl, need you," he chanted. "My home, my everything." The words were feverish, filled with a rapture that had my heart soaring. "Always. Always, baby girl."
His fingers found my clit again and he tweaked me there before he did the damnedest thing—he pulled back, grabbed my hips and hauled me higher into him, allowing a globule of saliva to drop down so it splashed against my clit, and he used that to get me off faster.
Not just that, but harder too.
I screamed again, loud and high, as he took me somewhere he never had.
He worked me like he was an animal in full rut, and I’d never even known that I needed that before. That I needed him to break, for his control to be lost, thrown to the wind.
When I came the second time, it shuddered through me with the power of the elemental force he was named after.
My climax tore me apart and built me back together again, but that was nothing to when he tipped back his head, all the veins and cartilage visible as he roared out his release.
"Keira!"
My name seemed to reverberate in my head, echoing and echoing like we were in the middle of a mountainous valley, before he slumped on top of me.
His dick ground deeper inside my pussy, and he arranged me so that I was half covering him, but there was enough force to keep me clasped around him. Then, he hugged me so tightly that my eyes bulged a little, and his mouth burrowed against my throat as he broke down.
As if, after the pleasure, he could allow his tempestuous emotions to rumble free.
He cried.
After that insane display, he cried, and like that, even though it was racing a mile a minute because of what we’d just done, my heart broke for him.
He never cried, but it fit that Rene’s death would trigger this.
I swallowed back my own feelings and held him through the emotional deluge that battered him.
"Asher, baby, it’s okay. It’s okay," I soothed, holding him tight, loving him for letting down his guard with me, rocking him as he dealt with his grief.
He didn’t say anything, just let me care for him, and eventually when he fell asleep, I almost did too, but unlike him, my brain was wired, my body still humming in the aftermath.
I asked myself why this was the first time I’d seen him act like this. Then, when that thought occurred to me, I pondered if I satisfied him. If the way we made love pleased him. He never complained, but, would he? He loved me. I knew that. But this was…
Night and day.
Did he seek this out with other women? Did he…
I swallowed as I thrust the thought away.
I didn’t want to know.
Mom had said that men had dirty, depraved urges but I’d never imagined that I’d like those urges.
That I’d want them.
Maybe, if he’d asked me, I wouldn’t have, but having seen it, experienced it? I knew I needed more. I just wasn’t sure if I could handle it.
Did I want to be fucked? Or did I want him to make love to me?
What would I be inviting into our lives if I unlocked that door? Would it break me, and ultimately, tear us apart if I realized I couldn’t give that to him?
Then, of course, a noise from downstairs had me feeling selfish. When someone slammed a door and I heard the sounds of sobbing, my brain shifted gear once more.
I could only imagine what Rex and Bear were going through, and that they needed me too resonated strongly. I was different than the other Old Ladies. I was Storm’s wife. My kid was their grandkid. We all acted like it was biological, not just by choice.
After a good hour of letting my mind race, I tugged at Storm’s grip on me, and he was so deeply asleep that he actually let go, curving onto his other side and relaxing as I gently clambered off the bed.
Flushing when I saw my pants strewn on the floor like they were trash, I grabbed them and reached for a tissue from the box on his nightstand.
I could have showered but he needed the sleep, and I… well, I needed to get out of here. I didn’t want him to wake up while I was still around, while my mind was whirling like a hurricane.
I felt like a coward, but there was a reason the old adage existed—best to let sleeping dogs lie.
So, shoving the tissue between my thighs, I dragged on my panties then my pants, and fussed with my hair in the vanity in the bathroom. When it no longer resembled tumbleweed, I stepped out into the hall, which was where I found Link sitting on the top step of the staircase.
When he saw me, he shot me a sad smile. "Hey."
Link was the nicest of Storm’s brothers. Whenever they came to the house, he was the one who always played with Cyan, never left crap on the coffee table, cleared up after himself, and somehow managed to remember I wasn’t a servant.
I slipped onto the step at his side, and turning to him, asked, "Is everything handled?"
"Bear’s drunk. Rex destroyed the office and went for a ride yesterday—" He sucked in a breath. "Not sure what we’re gonna do without Rene, Keira. She kept Bear together."
Had she?
Bear always seemed so strong. Just like Storm, I guessed. Although… he’d just cried for her.
Was that how powerful a woman Rene was?
That all these men, these mean bikers who’d make the Reaper Crew look real friendly, would sob and breakdown and mourn the Prez’s woman, messed with my head.