Clubwhore (Devil's Renegade MC #1)(47)

“Stop!” I scream, my voice carrying across the wide river—bouncing off the trees and echoing around us. His mouth retreats. “Just stop…I can’t handle it.” I’m breathless, wanting and needing the pleasure of his mouth and the pain of his hand… his belt…one of the logs floating in the river.

“Tell me what you need, Love.” He’s so calm and controlled, while I’m falling to pieces—the only thing holding me together is the rope that binds me.

“I…I need you to spank me, Bryce. Please!” I add, in a desperate attempt to persuade him.

“I think you need something else.” His hand trails up my thigh. “Look at me, Love.” I do. I don’t want to, but dammit, I do. Those eyes… Those motherfucking eyes. They shine with the same hunger I feel in my groin.

Thick, calloused fingers spread the lips of my pussy. His eyes darken at the feel of my slick folds. I whimper, aroused by his touch and confused by it all the same. “You tell me to stop, but your pussy is wet for me.” He trails kisses up my jaw to my ear. “Soaking. Fucking. Wet.” His accent is strong. His words pronounced. His hand unrelenting as he continues to tease me—making my body convulse when his fingers brush my swollen clit.

“Stop,” I breathe, but it’s weak…so weak. I feel my beast weakening too. Bryce’s hands on me wearing him down. My head hurts with the pressure of what to do. I’m teetering on the edge of shark-infested waters—knowing if I fall I’ll either be swallowed up whole, or ripped to pieces. Lose, lose. One outcome as dangerous as the other.

“I hate this.” A tear rolls down my cheek. I can’t stop it. My discombobulated state pushing me toward disaster. Pleasure… Pain… Do I even know the difference at this point?

“Think of me, Love. Relax your mind, and think of only me,” he whispers, pulling his hand from between my legs to catch my tears. I can smell my arousal on his fingers. “Think of me kissing you.” He presses his lips softly to mine. “Licking you.” His tongue dips into the hollow at my throat. “Fucking you.” His hips press against mine. I can feel his stiff length on my belly—throbbing in need even through his jeans.

“I can’t—”

“Shhh…” His finger covers my lips. “Don’t talk. Just feel.” And I do. His mouth is everywhere—trailing kisses along my collar bone. My shoulder…my chest…my nipple—nipping at the sensitive flesh, before moving lower. His hands slide down my hips as he licks and nibbles his way down my belly—to my exposed sex. His tongue dips between my folds, teasing my clit with one…two…three…feather-light strokes before he pulls away.

“Eyes on me.” I raise my heavy lids to him, but they drop to his waist when he reaches to unbutton his pants. I watch as he releases his stiff cock from the confines of his jeans. The long, thick length is large, swollen and appearing just as big in his massive hand as it does in my small one.

“I’m going to give you a choice, Love.” He’s so close I can feel his heat, but he doesn’t touch me. “I can spank you.” My eyes move to his. He’s serious. “I can hurt you. Make you cry. Watch you crumble. And when it’s over, I’ll be here to hold you. I’ll take care of you. Just like I always have.”

The war in my head rages once again—charging toward the arousal with guns blazing. Why does he have to be so confusing?

He pumps his hand harder, the motion making me avert my eyes to cock. A bead of pre-cum leaks from the tip. I run my tongue across my bottom lip. “Or I can fuck you. I can make you feel good. Make you scream. You’ll still crumble, but it will be from pleasure so powerful, it’ll make pain seem dull in comparison.”

He steps closer, rubbing the head of his length against my pussy—smearing his pre-cum over the smooth surface. “And when it’s over, I’ll still hold you and take care of you, Love. Let me take care of you.” Dipping his head, he brings his eyes level with mine.

“Nothing feels as good as you,” he whispers. “Tastes as sweet as you…smells as divine as you…” Something shifts inside me. The dirty admission along with the deep tenor of his voice has want surging through me.

No.

Not want.

Need.

“So what’s it gonna be, Love?

The war between my emotions is over. The victor has been announced. And the glory goes to this man—this deliciously, sexy, awe-inspiring man who ultimately owns me.

My whole world is centered on him.

I smell only him.

Taste only him.

Breathe only him.

Want…need…crave…only him.

“I want you to fuck me.”

His nostrils flare at my decision. The vein in his neck thickens with the rush of blood. Reverence and pride ignites in his eyes—the emerald greens luminous even in the bright light of the clear afternoon.

The heat of his mouth consumes me as he crashes it to mine. His tongue dances with fervor, desperately caressing mine in an erotic kiss filled with a passion he’s never shown before. His hands work feverishly to untie my bonds, never breaking our connection. The moment I feel the rope fall away, my hands are on him.

Clawing his skin…

Marking him…

Staking my claim…

I need to be closer to him. On him. Inside him. No more Bryce. No more Delilah. Us as one—feeding off each other’s hunger.

I push his shirt up his body, desperate to feel the heat of his skin. He breaks the kiss long enough to rid his shirt in one swift movement, then his hands are cupping my face again—claiming my mouth.

My hands lock behind his neck, gripping him tight as I climb his body. One arm slips around my back, holding me to him while the other lines up the head of his cock with my pussy that throbs in anticipation of him.

Gripping my ass in his hands, he pulls me to him as he thrusts his hips—burying himself completely.

It’s savage.

Raw.

Brutal.

Fucking perfect.

I cry out, he roars, our voices primal and filled with animalistic rage. He fucks me hard, ruthless in his drives. The viciousness of his impalement barbaric and merciless.

Beastly.

My womb quivers. My walls contract. My pussy spasms with every jerk of his hips. I feel it…building and building inside me—threatening to desecrate me entirely when it erupts.

“Give it to me, Love.” Bryce’s voice rumbles through me—rattling my insides. “Come for me.”

His demand sets off the bomb inside me. I detonate around him. The explosion is devastating—rendering me speechless. I don’t breathe. My heart doesn’t beat. All I see is green, and all I feel is him.

He is my rapture.

I’m weightless. I leave this world and soar on the wings of euphoria to that Elysium he promised me. The release is not only sexual, but mental.

I scream with pleasure that pain can’t compare to. The surge of white-hot bliss coursing through my body is only a fraction of the reprieve I feel in my mind. Then I’m crumbling. He’s watching. I fall apart and he puts me back together—one shattered piece at a time.

Just like he always has.

Just like I knew he would.

Just like he promised.





Moments pass slowly. One minute blends into the next, while he holds me to him. My body and mind are both liquefied. Neither of us speak. I’m not sure of his reason, but mine is simple—I don’t think I can. I’m exhausted.

My eyes close. My breath deepens. I’m so close to sleep, curled comfortably in his arms. When he speaks it’s so startling, I jump. He, in turn, laughs.

“Not funny,” I murmur, nuzzling further in his chest when he starts to pull away.

“We need to get back, babe.” Babe. The word alone is enough to snap me back to reality.

But my reality is actually pretty damn perfect. After today, we’ll return to the clubhouse. There I’ll have everything I’ve ever wanted. My independence…my job… I’ll still be free to do who and what I want—all the while knowing that Bryce will be there to catch me if I fall.

Thirty minutes ago, I was “Love.” In this moment, I’m “babe.” Tomorrow, I’ll be “Delilah.” I’m nothing more. Nothing less. And I’m good with that—better than good.

But him? He will always be who he’s always been.

Devil’s Renegades SA Bryce, Hattiesburg, Mississippi.

And I’m good with that too.





CHAPTER 24

The ride back to the house was better than the first, but not as exciting as I’d hoped. I wanted speed, wind and adrenaline. It’s hard to get that at thirty-five miles an hour.

“You promised me a ride, you know,” I say, clambering off the bike and stifling a yawn. I point to my mouth. “See? That’s how boring it was. Like riding a golf cart.”

He smirks. “Why don’t you take a nap? I’ve got some shit I need to handle.” I’m too tired to argue, not that I would’ve anyway. A little distance might be a good thing. I need to start preparing myself for when we go back to the clubhouse. I can spend the alone time processing everything that happened.

But when the bed comes into view, I don’t even bother undressing. I fall face first on the mattress and close my eyes. Within moments, I’m asleep.