Her body thrummed with desire. When they had been together, she’d wondered if he could actually bring her to orgasm with just his words and the seductive tone of his voice. Now, she was pretty sure he could.
The first notes of Danzig’s “She Rides” tugged her lips into a smile and for the first time since stepping into the clubhouse she felt some of her tension slide away.
“You remembered.”
His eyes glittered. “I remember everything about you.”
Twenty minutes and several repeats of “She Rides” later, Lana posed at the foot of the bed, breathless, wearing nothing but her stockings. “Last thing,” she murmured. “Play it again, James.” She couldn’t believe how easy it had been. Maybe it was the alcohol still in her system, or maybe it was the music, or maybe his obvious enthusiasm and encouraging words had broken through her reserve.
“Leave them on.”
She looked up slowly, gazing over the muscular chest, his corded neck, his jaw dark and prickly with a five o’clock shadow, and his firm lips curved into a smile.
“Please don’t tell me you have a fetish for milkmaid stockings with big black bows.”
“Too fucking sexy to take off.” He pointed at the wall behind her. “Over there. Hands against the wall. Legs apart.”
Caught in his gaze, her heart pounded. “You gonna frisk me, Officer Hunter?”
James pushed himself off the bed. “I’m gonna do something to you, babe, and it’s not frisking. Now run.”
Lana ran. Heart racing, she took the required position. A drop of liquid arousal dripped slowly down her thigh and she lowered her hand to brush it away.
“Don’t move.”
He gathered her hair into a ponytail and dropped it over her shoulder. One hand slid around her body to cup her breast and he rolled her nipple gently between his thumb and forefinger, sending zings of pleasure through her veins. His other hand feathered down her neck and along her spine. By the time he reached the cleft in her buttocks, violent trembles shook her body. She drew her thighs together, seeking even the slightest sensation to ease her aching clit.
“Mine to touch,” he breathed in her ear. He gently kicked her legs apart and she whimpered her pleasure.
His hands glided over her skin, skimming over her shoulders, curving around her breasts, in and out of her waist, and over her hips. He slid his fingers into the elastic of her stockings and followed them around her thighs, his fingers cool against her heated skin.
“Won’t last long if I have to look at you in those fuck-me stockings.”
Her breath caught in her throat and everything below her waist tightened. “Fuck-me stockings?”
“Every man’s wet dream. Ryder must have had a fit when he saw you dancing on the table.”
Lana turned around, dropping her hands. “They don’t look very sexy to me.”
“You’re not a guy. And on you, with those legs… Christ. I can’t believe the Hades crew wasn’t all over you.”
Lana smiled and ruffled her hand through his hair. “I like it when you talk dirty.”
“Hands on the wall,” he barked. Lana spun around and he covered her with his body, pressing himself against her as he positioned her hands. His thigh pressed between her legs and she angled herself to rub her throbbing clit against his jeans.
He fisted her hair and tugged her head back against his shoulder. “What did I say?”
“Yours to touch,” she whispered as moisture flooded her pussy. “Please…James…touch.”
“Not yet.”
She grunted her displeasure. “I thought you were supposed to strip for me.”
He pressed his lips to the sensitive skin of her neck, his hands cupping her breasts, fingers pinching her nipples, his thigh pressed tight against the curve of her sex. “You want me to stop and strip, babe?”
Lana’s head fell back and she groaned. “No. Yes. I want your clothes off. Now.”
“Turn around then.” He backed away and she spun in a slow circle to face him. Her skin heated under his quiet perusal, her sex tightening as his gaze fell to the red curls at the juncture of her thighs, and then back to her face.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he rasped.
“And you’re still dressed.”
He gave her a wicked grin. “How do you want it?”
His words sent a tremor of excitement through her and suddenly she couldn’t wait. She wanted him with a desperate ache that seared her to the core.
“Hard. Fast. Now.”
He rumbled a laugh and tugged off his T-shirt, baring his lean, muscular body for her viewing pleasure. His fingers found their way over slim hips to the waistband of his jeans. With a quick yank, he unfastened the buttons and peeled them open. Lana’s heart skipped a beat. Oh God. Now that he was a biker, he was going commando. No wonder he’d switched to a button-fly.