“Skull…”
“Do you feel that, Beth? Do you feel how we fit? How everything stills around us when we connect? You are everything I have ever wanted,” he tells me, and the tears begin again, but for a different reason this time.
He kisses them away one by one as his body slowly starts moving. I angle my body to the right, trying to get more friction, but it doesn’t make him go faster. If anything, he goes slower, more deliberate. I bring my legs up, wanting him deeper, unable to get it.
“Skull,” I cry because he’s smiling and I know he’s enjoying torturing me. He reaches beside me, grabbing his pillow. He uses his hold on my hip to lift me up and slide the pillow underneath me. I gasp as he sinks deeper inside, filling me almost to the point of pain.
“Do you feel that, querida? Feel how hard I am? How I’m so fucking hard I stretch your tight pussy, marking it, stretching it so that it’s made only for me, only for my cock?”
I whimper. I can’t get words out. I squeeze him tight inside of me and I can literally feel how his dick shudders with the action.
“Mierda!” Skull groans, bracing his hands on the mattress, on either side of me. “Wrap your legs around me, mi cielo. This is going to go faster than I wanted.”
I do as he says, wrapping my legs above his hips, locking them together and pushing up to meet his thrusts. I pull myself up so I can run my tongue over his nipple. My tongue pushes down hard on the small barbell he has there before I suck it into my mouth, worrying it.
He slams into me so hard, I wouldn’t be surprised if the entire bed scraped across the floor with the force of his thrusts. When he reaches down with his fingers and manipulates my clit in time with his thrusts, I know I’m done. I cry out as my orgasm tears through me. I lock my body into place, tensing up, unable to do anything but moan. Then, I plunge over the cliff and I come so hard, I literally feel my cum streaming out of me, bathing his cock and leaving me weak.
Skull keeps fucking me harder and harder, pushing into me, then pulling out only to slam back in. It only takes a little bit though, and he’s yelling out his pleasure as he finally joins me.
“Te amo, mi cielo. Te amo,” he groans, as the last of his cum leaves his body, scalding me and branding me as his.
Our bikes pull in together to Ruby’s. The place is dead. Then again, I expected that. Tucker most likely made sure of it. We switch off our bikes and stare at the place for a minute. Neither one of us are in a hurry to see what is on the other side of that door.
As much bad blood as there is between the Saints and the Blaze, it’s kind of hard to judge what it might be. I never really dealt much with Tucker, but if Viper took after his old man, I definitely have problems coming my way.
“We loaded and ready, boys?”
“You trust this fucker to stick to the white flag?”
“Something tells me yes, but we have the surprise just in case, right?” I ask Beast, and I’m talking about the grenades each of us are carrying. I’m not sure we’d manage to get out of the mess, but they sure as hell wouldn’t. Life’s a risk. “Go big or go home” seems to be my motto lately, even if I am getting damn tired of it.
“I’m loaded,” Torch says. Beast grunts, which I take to be an affirmative.
“Let’s get this the fuck over, then. If nothing else, maybe the fucker will help us find Colin.”
We walk together towards the bar. There’s a big guy about the size of Beast standing at the door.
“Weapons,” he says, and the guy is smoking crack if he thinks I’m about to give up my firepower.
“Forget it, esé. I’ll be keeping them or this meeting isn’t happening,” I tell him.
Apparently he’s hooked up and monitored because I see him hold an earphone in his ear for a second, then he backs away and holds the door open. I see Torch flip the man off out of the corner of my eye. When we clear the door and I give him a look of reprimand, the bastard winks.
The room has been cleared. All the tables are pushed out of the way save one in the center of the room. There’s five men at the bar and they’re all older. None of them are the Saints crew I’ve dealt with before, but their cuts proclaim them to be part of the club. At the table are two men, one of them being Tucker.
“Beast,” I call.
“Got it,” he says, and then he stands in front of the men at the bar. He’s not blocking their view of the table; he’s just guarding our backs. I’m not going out like a punk with a bullet to the back and I don’t put it past the Saints not to try and pull that kind of shit.