Clubwhore (Devil's Renegade MC #1)(44)

“I just want you to be that man I met the first time you fucked me. And I just want to be Delilah,” I pant, while my mouth nibbles along his jaw. “When I didn’t even know your name. When it was just me and you hot sex…the best…fuckin’…sex…”

“Tell me how you want it, baby.” His fingers dig into my hips as he holds me to him. “Hard?” His tongue slides up my neck and I throw my head back to grant him better access. “Soft?” He pulls my earlobe between his teeth. “Fast?” His eyes meet mine—heavy and hooded with lust. Then he plants a sweet kiss on my lips, lingering so long my body seems to melt. “Or slow?”

“I want it all.”

Wrapping one arm around my waist, he stretches his other out to catch us as we fall on the bed. I wasn’t even aware he’d walked to the bedroom. But the ceiling is above me, I’m pressed firmly into the mattress below me and his lips are on fire when they collide with mine. His hand runs the length of my thigh, hoisting my knee around his waist. I can feel him hard and ready as he presses against me.

He takes his time kissing me as his hands roam my body—squeezing, touching, feeling every inch of me through my clothes. Reaching behind him, he fists his hand in his shirt, breaking the kiss just long enough to pull it over his head. Then his scorching chest is bare and against me—making me long for the feeling of skin-on-skin contact.

I’m breathless when he pulls away, and I watch him as he makes quick work of disposing me of my clothes until I’m completely naked and he’s looking down at me. There’s a new sense of appreciation in his stare. Like for the first time, he’s actually seeing me.

“You are so fuckin’ sexy.” And he’s just given new meaning to the term “eye fucked.” If he continues too much longer, I may come at the intensity of his stare alone.

In one swift movement, his jeans disappear—leaving him completely nude and me wondering if he’d went commando tonight. Crawling across the bed, I moan the instant his skin touches mine. It’s warm, inviting and smells so delicious I can’t help but lift my head and drag my tongue across his chest.

“Soft,” he whispers, forcing my head back to the pillow as he kisses a path across my collarbone. My legs are stretched wide to accommodate his massive body—making it easy for him to guide himself inside me. Then as promised, he softly kisses me while he slides in gently.

The feeling of him stretching me is nothing compared to the intimacy of his hands and mouth. He makes love to me like I’m the most delicate thing he’s ever possessed. And he does possess me—completely.

“Slow.” I moan at his word, hoping like hell he’ll continue to take his time, while another part of me begs to reach that euphoric state that is just out of my grasp. But he moves with a fluidity that’s just as pleasing and pleasurable soft and slow as it would be hard and fast. Seconds later, my back arches and my head falls back as I come.

He takes his time and keeps his strokes slow, steady—prolonging my climax until finally, I’m nothing more than a big pile of mush beneath him. Then his movements quicken, bringing me back to life as he pulls a nipple deep into his mouth and sucks hard—igniting the dying embers inside me once again.

“Hard,” he growls, and I hold my breath as he pulls almost completely out before slamming back inside me. Fireworks burst behind my eyes on every thrust. My mouth hangs open and I let out a sharp, high-pitched wail of approval every time his hips meet mine. An intense, tingling sensation spreads through me over and over as he collides with that sweet spot inside me.

My fingers claw at his back. My toes curl into the mattress. My tits bounce hard on every drive. Opening my eyes, I look up at him as he gazes down at me in a heated passion that’s just the push I need to send me spiraling over the edge again. I’m no longer moaning, I’m screaming in pleasure.

The sound rips from my chest and reverberates off the walls—completely drowning out his words. I want to hear what he says, but I can’t stop my shattering wails of pleasure, fueled by his powerful thrusts that drive me into a deep pool of ecstasy.

I’m still coming down from the high of my orgasm when he flips to his back, leaving me straddling his waist and clinging to his chest in search of balance. He’s deep inside me—deeper than he’s ever been. And I can’t focus on anything but how good it feels to swallow him completely.

I shift slightly and the movement causes his hands to tighten at my waist and his eyes become even heavier. We’ve covered every level except for fast, but now that I’m in control, I’m wanting to draw this out as long as possible. The sight of him beneath me—his chest heaving, his eyes glassy, his lips parted, on his back and at my mercy has a sense of power coursing through me.

“Tell me what you want, baby,” I tease, earning myself a look of warning. My hips flinch and he surrenders his control once again. I could get used to this.

Leaning down, I brace my hands on either side of his face. Moving just my ass, I lift myself a few inches before sliding back down over his cock that is wet with my release. My pussy grips him tightly—pulling a groan from deep in his chest.

I want to tease him. I want to take my time and fuck him in the same controlled manner he’s fucked me. But he has another idea. Gripping my ass in his hands, he easily lifts me up and down—raising his hips to meet mine, and making my body yearn for that final stage we never made it to.

Sitting back up, I regain control once again, and finally give us both what we want. Fast. Our bodies are so hot and my pace so rapid, I’m afraid we’d ignite a fire if it weren’t for the flood of my desire preventing the flames. His hands are on my ass, on my breasts, on my hips, my thighs and everywhere in between—feeling me as if the urge to touch me can’t be ignored.

I come hard, throwing my head back and relinquishing my power to him, as he grips my waist and thrusts roughly inside me—finding his own release just as I start to come down from mine. When his hands relax around me, I realize they’re the only thing holding me up and I collapse on his chest.

My hair clings to his arms and chest—the sheen of sweat covering him acting as a glue. We both fight for breath as we slowly regain the ability to speak and move.

“I had fun on our date,” he says, breaking the silence as he smoothes his hand down my spine.

“Uh-huh,” I grunt, still unable to form a coherent word. I feel his body shake beneath me on a chuckle.

“Good night, Delilah.”

“Uh, uh, uh…” I may not say it, but the smile on my face and the warmth in my belly proves there’s truth in my mumble.

It was a good night, indeed…even better than the first.

****



“What day is it?” I ask on a yawn as I pad into the kitchen.

Bryce hands me my coffee, lights my cigarette and lets me take a sip and a drag before answering. “Sunday.” I’m aware of his eyes on me, so I force myself not to react. But on the inside, alarm starts to spread.

“Okay,” I shrug, giving him a smile. “I’m going to shower.” He nods, but I can see the apprehension written all over his face. The moment I’m out of his sight, I let the panic settle inside me.

It’s not just Sunday. It’s late Sunday morning. I should be at my mother’s. I should have had her house cleaned. I should have had breakfast cooked. My brother should have already given me several warnings, and my mother should have already called me every motherfucker in the book.

You don’t need them, Delilah. You’re not weak right now. Your beast is caged…or is he?

He’s not.

I’ve had more physical pain this week than I’ve had in years. Everything is going right. Bryce is teaching me to deal. He’s helping me to cope. I don’t need my brother’s iron fist or my mother’s emotional abuse. And yet I feel restless, that familiar need, the darkness, rearing its head up again out of custom, habit or simply masochism. It’s there and it’s crawling all over me.

“Delilah?” I turn to find Bryce standing in the bathroom door. “You okay?” Concern. Sweet concern about me—the girl who is obviously damaged beyond repair.

Anger sparks inside me. It’s not directed at him, but I have no one to take my wrath out on—nothing to distract me. It’s just him and me in this tiny house that’s starting to shrink around me.

“Love,” he says, patience and understanding laced in his words. “I know something is wrong.”

“Well, look at you, Einstein. Nothing gets past that brain of yours, does it?” My outburst has me immediately feeling guilty, and my hand fists at the back of my hair.

“Cut the bitch act, babe. I—”

“It’s not an act!” I snap. “It’s not some ploy to get you to hit me.” My arms swing around the room dramatically. “I’m not acting like some whiny brat just for you to punish me. I need…” I inhale deeply, then exhale to try to calm myself.

His head tilts to the side—silently appraising me with mild curiosity as if I’m some kind of science monkey. It pisses me off further.

I lower my voice, and explain. “It’s like feeling like ants are crawling all over me. Like any moment I’m going to explode. For two years I’ve spent my Sunday mornings dealing with the shit in my life the best way I know how. Then you come along and fuck up my whole routine and I don’t know…” I start pacing. “I think I need to leave. I think I need my routine again, go to my mother’s.” I cinch my robe tighter around me. Fidgety. Nervous. Confused.