One Hundred and Thirty-Six Scars(96)

“Yes,” I answer with a grin. “I think I do.”

“Jesus,” he whispers, shaking his head. “You’re fucking incredible, do you know that?”

I laugh, shoving into his side. “So incredible that you want to agree to me owning a bike?”

He laughs, shaking his head. “Definitely not right now, but yes. I’m all over that shit.”

I walk through the clubhouse and straight to the bar. I’m wearing my property patch that hugs me tightly with skinny jeans and my boots that go over my jeans. It’s surprisingly comfortable for something so skimpy.

Layla pulls out a stool next to me with a smile. “You are such a babe!” She’s glaring at me up and down when Asha pulls out the seat beside her. Let’s just say, she was the worst hostage ever.

Taking a sip of my drink, I scoff. “Hardly. What are you two doing? Is it your day off?”

Layla nods her head. “Yeah, it appears so. Although, I’m not sure where Hella is.”

“I can ask Beast?”

She waves off my comment. “Don’t worry, someone else can take a fucking from him.”

I cough in my drink, something nagging my chest. “What does that mean?”

“It means…” she begins, throwing back the rest of her drink, “…that he likes it hard. And when I say hard, I mean he will destroy you so much in half an hour that it will have you struggling to sit down for a week.”

“Shit,” I whisper in shock.

She giggles. “Oh please, he’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“Yeah,” Asha agrees. “That’s why he always comes back to you.”

Pulling my attention away from the talk of Hella and his ability at disabling women with his dick, I bring my attention to Beast, who’s sitting on the table. Picking up my drink, I excuse myself from the girls before walking to my man.

“Are you okay?” he asks into my hair, pulling me into him.

“Yeah,” I whisper. “I’m going to be more than okay now.”





Later that night, we ride home and undress in record time. Despite the fact that we’re both dead on our feet, I still want to ride him like a rodeo horse. Walking across to him, I push his chest onto the bed and crawl up his monstrous form, keeping my eyes locked on his. A sheepish smile forms across his face as he follows my movement. Picking up the remote control for the dock station that sits beside our bedside table and his skull bike mask that sits in the top drawer, I throw the mask at him and smirk. “Put it on, I want to play.” His smile turns into a grin as he pulls his bottom lip into his mouth and wraps the mask around his mouth. His eyes turn dark as I stay standing on the bed.

Pushing the remote control on, Marylin Manson ‘Sweet Dreams’ penetrates through the sound dock and he laughs, shaking his head. I begin swinging my arms up and he spreads his legs wide, stretching his muscled body out across the bed.

I slowly inch down my shorts, pulling my thong down with it, his eyes turning dark and his jaw clenching under the mask. My nipples zip to life as my hips sway to the guitar. His hands grip onto my hips, pulling me down to the bed and flipping me onto my back. He pushes himself in between my legs, and I look up to him from my position, penetrating his eyes with my stare, the mask covering everything else and the muscles in his forearms bulging out under the pressure he’s putting on them by holding himself up. He slowly grinds himself into me in one circular motion, my head sinking back into the bed and my eyes roll back.

He rips my shirt off roughly as Breaking Benjamin ‘Dance with the Devil’ starts playing. I may or may not have made our own playlist. He pushes the mask over his mouth to sit it around his neck and I moan out at the sudden cold brush of air that swipes past my nipples. He brings his mouth down to them, drawing his tongue out and running it across my nipple roughly, keeping his dark eyes locked on mine. I prop myself up onto my elbows and watch him closely. After he runs his tongue across ever so slowly, he sucks it into his mouth and his hands dive down to the front of me. Rubbing circles around my clit, he slips his finger deep inside me and pressing against my soft walls that weep for his touch. Drawing his finger back out, he runs his tongue over his finger, cleaning me off him before bringing his mouth down to mine, owning my tongue in a hungry, starved race against time.

Inching my feet up, I’ve decided I’ve had enough of playtime and now I need him. I push down the waist of his shorts until they have slid down his legs, his cock throbbing against me. Gently I rub myself over his length and he lets out a predatory growl before pulling back and slamming into me in one tight thrust. Arching my chest into him, I raise my nipples to his mouth and he hooks his bulky arm around the arch of my back, pulling me to his mouth, sucking each of my nipples into his mouth. I peer down at him as his cock moves in and out of me, pleasuring me, fucking me raw.