“You’re all mine, angel,” he hisses into my ear as he drives his big gorgeous cock into me. “All fucking mine.”
My mouth finds his, and I kiss him hard as I start to fall. He slides deep, hitting me in all the perfect spots, and I lose it. I scream into his lips, clinging to him and raking my nails across his muscled back as he grunts and buries his fat cock in my tight, creaming pussy. He throbs, and I moan as I feel him follow me right over the edge. My orgasm rips through me as his cock pulses and his heavy balls begin to unload inside of me. His hot cum pumps deep into me, making me whimper into his lips until we both stagger to a stop.
We stay like that, my arms and legs around him, my back to the door, and his lips glued to mine. Slowly, we come apart, and he gently slides out of me to set my feet back down. I giggle, leaning into his chest and kissing his skin.
“We need a bed.”
He laughs deeply and wraps his arms around me, and I know I’m in trouble.
I know I’m lost.
I know I’ve fallen for a man I can’t have, and I’m not really sure what comes next.
Chapter Eleven
Oliver
“Hey.”
I glance up from my bike to see Shepherd standing in one of the open bay doors of the Lost Devils garage. It’s not as expansive and well-stocked a place as Mountain Steel, but Ryker, along with Axe and Stone—two other former Lost Devils members from the first version of the club—helped set this place up pretty nicely.
“Oy,” I nod at my best friend as he leans against the wall, arms folded over his chest just under the “President” patch on his cut.
“El Presidente,” I grunt, grinning up at him. “How’s it hanging, mate?”
He frowns. “Good.”
One word answers from the one guy on earth who talks as much as I do is never a good sign.
“What’s up?”
He clears his throat. “You got a sec?”
“Shoot.”
Shep nods gestures with his head to follow him out of the garage. I shrug and get to my feet, following him out and over to the fire pit next to the clubhouse. Shepherd slumps into a chair, and I pull one up.
“You okay, man?”
He wrinkles his brow and looks at me intensely. “Are you?”
I shrug. “You know me.”
“Thought I did, man,” he growls. “But apparently I don’t. Or, not as well as I thought I might.”
My jaw tenses. “Meaning?”
He rolls his eyes and looks away. “C’mon, Oliver. Like I wasn’t going to hear about it?”
I swear. “Shit. Ryker spilled, huh?”
Shepherd laughs. “Ryker? That guy wouldn’t spill shit on anyone. But thanks for going ahead and confirming what I was just guessing at.”
I scowl. Fuck. Walked right into that one.
“What are you into, man?”
I smile. “Thought you had me all figured out.”
“I don’t know the details, but I know you’re into some shit and only getting deeper. I know you’ve been driving up to Dark Water Falls for those bike races.” He frowns. “This guy Barnes who runs them… I’ve heard he’s real dipshit.”
“Yeah, he’s a cunt,” I shrug. “It’s just some races, Shep. Me blowing off steam.”
“Heard he’s heavy into the loans game too, and the bets on those races.”
I nod, not saying anything.
“Oliver, I’ve known you for a long damn time.”
“And?”
“And the day you don’t bet on a race you can bet on is the day I grow fucking wings and fly to the moon.”
“It’s just races, man. Just a spot of fun.”
“Oh, so I’ve heard,” he growls. “You’re getting a reputation in the street racing circuits.” He rolls his eyes at my scowl. “Oliver, if you wanted to keep a low profile, maybe stop winning every fucking race.”
“Who says it’s me?”
“Yeah, you’re right. It’s gotta be some other heavily inked bearded motherfucker who talks like Downton Abby.”
I snort. “I don’t talk like those twats.”
“Well, you’re winning every race, so word gets out. About you and that sweet little Ducati Panigale 916 you’re roaring around on, apparently.”
Shite. Double shite.
“Oliver, that’s a forty-five-thousand-dollar bike.”
“Yeah,” I wink. “And this one’s customized too.”
Fuck it, when it’s already blowing up in your face, might as well lean into it.
Shepherd chuckles and looks away. “Buddy, where the fuck are you getting that kind of cash?”
I shrug. “Like you said, I’m winning.”
He rolls his eyes. “Dude, it’s Dark Water Falls with a bunch of knuckleheads like Bryce Barnes, not Daytona. C’mon, man, just level with me.”
I know I should. I know keeping shit like this from Shep and the rest of the club goes against the whole reason we even formed this group up in the first place. This isn’t a group of solo dudes who like bikes, it’s a club. It’s a brotherhood. Or at least, that’s the idea. But I know this shit I’m in is my own doing, which means it’s my mess to clean up.
“It’s just racing, brother, that’s all.”
“You in deep with this Barnes guy?”
I shake my head. “Nah. C’mon, I’m not that stupid, am I?”
Yes. Yes, I am, apparently.
“The guy is more dangerous than people give him credit for, Oliver,” Shepherd grunts. “I’ve been asking around about him. He’s a dipshit, but he’s not someone I’d willingly fuck with. It’s not an accident that he’s running the show over in Dark Water Falls.”
“It’s just a bit of fun, okay?” I growl.
Shepherd frowns and nods at my neck. It’s been five days since the Rosebud, and making Delphine come on my cock in the bathroom. Since then, we’ve met at the diner four times when she was closing, the parking lot of the grocery store in downtown Dark Water Falls twice, over my bike on the side of a road somewhere about a dozen times, and one cheeky time in the garden outside of Barnes’s house.
And what can I say? Delphine gets… physical. If we keep this up at this rate, I’m going to need to start wearing football pads on my bloody neck.
Shep clears his throat. “That a ‘bit of fun’ too?”
“Obviously.”
He laughs and shakes his head. I grin back, but it’s to cover the tension in my jaw. Delphine is not just a “bit of fun.” She’s so much more than that that it actually scares me. It’s been less than a week, and I’m bloody lost with this girl. Twisted, shook, royally fucked. It’s a disaster waiting to happen, and I can’t fucking stop.
“Oliver.”
I look up to see Shep looking at me curiously.
“Dude, where’d you go just now?”
“Huh?”
“You got that hardcore look on your face you get sometimes.”
I shrug. “Mate, you don’t know what you’re—”