Raw and Dirty(41)

“Too long,” she says with a smile of her own blooming on those beautiful lips of hers. When she glances over at me, she finds me staring at her, my food long gone and my cock already hard again. If I spend all night fucking this woman, it won't be enough. I want more, so much more from her. I want to taste every part of her body, feel my naked cock inside her tight pussy. “But nice try.”

“I thought it had a good ring to it,” I say, reaching out a finger and trailing it down her arm. Lyric shudders and flicks her eyes up to mine, her brown hair hanging around her face as she picks at her food. “Told you you'd be hungry, and we're just barely getting started.”

I lean forward and reach a hand between her legs, running my finger up the center of her wet panties until she gasps.

“Not too sore to continue?” I ask and she shakes her head, pausing a moment and reaching her fingers up to her eye. Underneath the thin layer of makeup on her face, I can see the slightest coloring of a fresh bruise. Fucking Mia, I think as Lyric puts another bite between her lips and chews.

“A little, but I'm not done yet,” she says and then flushes pink, glancing over at me to check my reaction. I'm grinning again, sitting up and scooting closer, folding her tiny body against mine. Never in my life have I ever wanted so much from someone, wanted to touch and hold and caress them.

And the girl who happens to capture my attention like no other? The mayor's daughter, a girl with political ambitions who wears her pretty hair in a bun everyday and dresses like she's sixty years old.

Jesus Christ, help me please.

“Can I ask you a question?” she says, something obviously on her mind.

“Sure thing, sweetheart,” I say, breathing hot against her ear and enjoying the shudder I get in response.

“Why … why would anyone want to be someone's old lady?” Her question's as unexpected as it is interesting. “I mean, women don't exactly get a lot of say in club life, so why would anyone want to be a part of it?”

I think carefully about my answer, knowing in my heart that this girl right here, she'd probably never be satisfied with being someone's old lady. This is the type of girl that's a rebel, that wants to be patched in and sit as an officer in the chapel.

A smile teases my lips.

“It's not as bad as it sounds,” I begin, trying to put my feelings into words. “Sure, the system's a little outdated, but a lot of these guys are allergic to change. Still, their wives, they know they're cherished and treasured. For one of my brothers to take someone as their old lady, they're saying they'll take full responsibility for their wife and her actions. Anything she does, it reflects on him. And what reflects on him, reflects on the club. In a way, everyone that's involved in club life belongs to everyone else, makes us responsible for each other and the way we carry out our business.”

“Hmm,” Lyric says, obviously thinking over what I've just said, maybe remembering my words from earlier. It's a shame you're so prim and proper or I might be tempted to make you my old lady. I wasn't kidding when I said it either.

We sit in silence while she finishes her food and then stands up, plate in hand.

“I could use a glass of water,” she says and I nod, rising to my feet and following her out to the kitchen. The dogs have dotted the floor with muddy paw prints, raising their heads from their bed in the corner to stare at us. When it's obvious nothing interesting is happening, they relax, flopping back down with a sigh.

Lyric puts her plate on the counter and I lay mine on top, grabbing a glass and filling it with ice from the fridge. While I wait for the cup to fill up, I watch her as she slides the back door open and takes a deep breath of the cool, salty air, shivering a little as it washes in and mixes with the warmer air of the dining room.

“Here,” I say, setting her glass on the table and grabbing my jacket off the back of the dining chair. I help her slip her small arms into the leather, smiling as it engulfs her tiny frame. “Perfect fit,” I say as I hand her the water and she takes a sip, slipping out the backdoor and sitting down on the wood swing, her feet barely touching the wood of the deck.

“Don't you just love the air here?” she asks, lifting her head up to look at the thin sliver of moon in the sky. I keep my gaze on Lyric, the cold air teasing my bare body as I step outside and move over to sit next to her.

“No place else like it on earth,” I say as she turns to look at me, our eyes meeting as I reach out and slide a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Well, I've only lived here and in London, so I suppose I don't have a lot of room to talk.”

Lyric smiles.

“Well, you've got me beat. I've only ever lived here.”