by Celia Crown
A sudden pull of firm grip on her neck causes her to force her hand to move to favor the rough skin under her cold hands.
She feels thick fingers curl around her neck even tighter and she struggles to breathe as her back is pulled onto a heated surface of what she assumes to be her assailant's chest. Honey tries to wedge her fingers under his palm to pull it away and touches a part of his hand that is a bit denser and rough, she figures it was a scar.
She attempts to pry the hand from her neck as she feels him tilt her head towards the forearm of similarly rough skin. A growl of warning reaches her ears when she strains to inhale as much as her lungs would take.
A brief remembrance of killers in Halloween movies comes to mind as she senses the man’s hand remain tight enough for her to slowly lose her strength and black dots clouds her sight. Maybe she should have given those self-defense class advertisements a try, she makes a noise in her throat as her hands go slack and vision blacken immediately.
In an act of mercy, he lets go of her neck enough for her to gasp for air. Sharp prickling sensations poke her lungs with every breath of oxygen, her throat sore with coughs.
Blurry vision takes in the flickering streetlight, cloudless black sky, and the ghosted presence of the town.
She thinks he’s scanning the area too and locks his big hand over her elbow to guide her into a secluded area. The walls structured in a way it gives them privacy and he would notice anyone intruding immediately.
Her eyes adjust to the light change while he hoists her up by the waist, forcing her to scramble to lock her legs around his hips and arms around his neck.
Too intimate for strangers, he leaves no room for her to pull her squished breasts from his thick chest. His jean-covered cock aligning snuggly against her pussy, she can feel his heat through her thin panties.
He feels big, and she squirms at the invading impure thoughts.
Honey gazes up at him through thick lashes before casting her eyes away as her cheeks flood with color.
Affirmation on matching better than what her conjured picture of this man looks like.
He’s so tall; towering over her and the socially acceptable height for an average man. He’s anything but average.
His hands are warm and firm on her hip and thigh, steadying her weight where her Halloween makeup almost smears on his shirt at how fast he moves from the open sidewalk to the darken alley.
His brown hair lightens at the side in the dim streetlight, creating a halo effect on his body. A body that’s so fit to the point she thinks professional bodybuilders would be jealous.
Hell, she’s jealous.
Then his eyes, a shade she couldn’t describe; some variation of poetically melted colors. Deep specks of brown and glowing swirls of emerald, a blend of beautiful colors creating hazel eyes.
Also, tattoos. Her kryptonite. A full sleeve of tattoos running up his wrists to his arms, disappearing into the cotton shirt that expands across his broad chest and shoulders. It is awfully erotic, and she should not be thinking how far the ink travels on his muscled body.
“Who are you.”
It’s a confirmed pattern now, he doesn’t ask questions. He talks like he will get answers one way or another, which with how dangerous he looks, he would no doubt stare hard enough and people will spill their darkest secrets to him.
Don’t say it, her mind begs.
Her lips had a different agenda, “Honey.”
He regards her for a moment and squeezes her thighs, she’s half convinced he’s trying to fuse his palms on her.
“What were you doing with my bike.”
“Nothing.” a hurried answer raises suspicion in his eyes, but his face remains impassive, “I wasn’t trying to steal it.”
“What were you doing with my bike,” he repeats, closing the distance between their faces.
That action leads to his cock rubbing firmly against her pussy, wetting the rough jean material through her panties.
She moans breathily, cheeks coloring with embarrassment and shame that her body is reacting to his touch when he’s still composed and calm.
He applies pressure directly on her throbbing clit with a firm thrust, her nylon stockings feel tight and coarse on her tender thighs as a cry flies out of her mouth.
“I won’t ask again, little girl.”
If he stops distracting her with strong rolls of his thick cock on her sensitive pussy, then he would get his answer. Though, he seems to be more interested in her pleasure and pleading eyes as his hard muscles swell with the strength to rock more forcefully, dragging her clit on the fabric of her panties.
Every breath laces with a hint of lingering cigarette and indications of bleach, but the most dominant scent is a rich aroma of sandalwood.
He pulls another wanton whine from her lips, she bites down to keep silent as her legs tremble with pleasure and straining spasms.
The man clamps his teeth over her neck in a split second between her broken whimpers. He licks tenderly at the reddened flesh, sucks with vigor to mark, and bites the delectable curve of her neck in possessiveness.
A shuddering heartbeat later, a tingly satisfaction follows closely as her hips push back against his big cock, dragging her clit over the bulge to climb the heightened sensation of euphoria.
She can feel it, so close as she rocks her hips harder and frantically, heaviness settles in her bones as she quivers.
He tightens his hold and bends down with a kiss that stole her breath away, he tilts her head back and devours her little noises greedily.
Honey kisses him back with the same intensity, tongue curling around his.
Her heart shudders against her ribs, she gives a low moan when he shifts his leg and pushes relentlessly on her heated pussy. Pleasure climbing higher and higher, each thrust creates a strong spark of toe-curling desire.
“Wait—” she breathlessly breaks apart, unwilling to stray from him as he taps his forehead to hers.
Honey was a good girl, she shouldn’t be doing this. Especially in a dark alley with a stranger, but she feels an instant attraction to him. He makes her feel alive, breathing air under bottomless ocean waters.
It’s never happened before, and she wants him.
He closes his eyes, body leaning heavily on her as he breathes her minty scent from toothpaste. His control struggles to be tamed, the hands that are still holding her thighs want to rip the stocking off her smooth legs.
His hazel eyes open with grander determination as he devours her lips and thrust his hips as if he is sliding his thick cock into her tight, pink pussy.
She imagines his tattooed arms, holding her up against the wall while thrusting his big cock into her virgin pussy. She sobs in pleasure with every orgasm he pulls from her while feeding her with his thick cum. His hand would trap hers above her head when he pounds her sore cunt, other hand smacking her ass.
She comes, and he kisses her again, body twists in rapture with hands fisting the back of his shirt for control. Her drenched panties lay on her throbbing clit, wet cunt pulses in need for his cock to split her tiny pussy open, and she wants to feel the sick burn of accommodating his thick girth.
Face contorts in overwhelming pleasure; hazy blue eyes watch his pupils dilate at her debauched beautiful face. He doesn’t look wrecked; the only hint of their scandalous time together shows in his eyes.
Gleaming predatory hunger reflects in the gorgeous shades.
“My name is Kane, remember it because I’m not done with you.”
Chapter Five
Kane
Kane knows the girl isn’t from town.
People talk; they gossip to one ear and details get jumbled through the other unreliable ear and get thrown out by fabricated words. People would notice a clear example of a city girl walking around town, and words would get back to the gang.
A head full of wavy blonde hair, sharp blue eyes, and plump lips. The laced corset forming a set of perfectly round tits, an air of delicacy and inno
cence weaving through her veins.
Rosy cheeks burn brightly on fair skin and the more he stares at her, the more it spreads on her face and down to her neck. Wearing his mark while she stands there shuffling her feet nervously, he sees her rubbing her thighs together.
His cock throbs with flowing blood, he’s hard and he wants to fuck her against the wall.
He watches her gather her thoughts, no doubt thinking back on the partial fucking when heat flares up again. Kane knows she wants to ask what that was and why did he do it, even when she was just as compliant as he was.
Unfightable attraction and an instant connection that has him drunk on her wanton moans.
She asks him with a soft murmur about where to find the bar his gang hangs out at.
A bar filled with assertive alpha males and healthy sexual appetites, he growls possessively.
Honey is his.
He knows his brother would never pursuit her if he stakes claim, but it’s the thought of her going there and see other men makes fury coursing through his veins faster.
She asked him about the bar, and he needs to know if she is here to meet someone.
“Someone important,” she says with a blinding smile.
Jealousy rears its ugly head at him, he hates how she ignites a flame of ownership in his gut.
In a short amount of time, she can make him want to keep her forever.
She’s different.
Women at the bar hang there to get fucked, nothing about their tight leather pants and low-cut shirts catches his attention. They walk around with dramatic makeup and conceited attitude because they were fucked by one of his brothers.
Or, multiple brothers.
He doesn’t want to know and sees no value in entertaining aggressive women.
They truly believe that associating with the Noir gang by casual sex give them power over women who have not been fucked by them.
Women in the bar typically have one designated man, at least they understand loyalty, even if it’s not the kind that runs in his family. There is some whose appetite is stronger and needs more, they go around flapping lashes and swaying full hips everywhere.
Catfights happen, most of the time no one stops them. Unless it was one of the brother’s girls.
He doesn’t clean up after the broken beer glasses and broken chairs, he deals with rival bikers after one of his brothers swipes the floor with them.
Swift and certain, he does a damn wonderful job at it.
He avoids unnecessary fights with the rival gang unless they are causing too much trouble with Noir that the police get dragged in, then he will break their bike over their head.
Disposing of unconscious and bloodied bodies is normal for him, he’s done it so many times that he’s desensitized by it.
Men, women, and sometimes elderly people don’t get a pass—he will get rid of anyone that messes with his family.
Kane pulls the girl out of the alley; her legs are weak with exertion as she struggles to keep up with his long strides out in the open road. The sky is darker, and the temperature drops unnaturally quick for the last night of October.
His black jeans cool with her cum on his cock, relentlessly thick and pushing against his pants. He walks in silence, keeping Honey to his side and glancing down on her occasionally.
Their eyes meet a lot, she always looks away first with flustered eyes and twirling fingers. She’s nervous, he can see through her inexperienced innocence when she pulls down her tight skirt for decency, but the fabric won’t stretch.
His thick cock hardens more at the thought of her pink pussy being under that flimsy costume. Adrenaline still rushing in his blood from their game of hide-and-seek, the animal in him is clawing on the surface of his control.
“I wasn’t stealing,” she sheepishly smiles up at him.
Kane raises an eyebrow, “A girl alone at night, dressed like a fool, leaning over my bike.”
Her round ass in the air and ripe for taking, he only had so much control when he found her over his motorcycle.
He couldn’t see any distinguishable features when her back was turned, but there’s this defenseless vulnerability in her posture that has him racing after her.
“Well, when you put it like that,” Honey cast her guilty gaze away, “Let me explain.”
“Then explain.”
His bike is still parked pristinely on the side of the road, sleek black gleaming without a speck of flaw. The obnoxious orange glow from the plastic pumpkin is a sight for sore eyes, it causes a dissonance between the dangerously dark tension and a childish ambiance.
Honey is too trusting; to follow the man who hunted her down in a game of cat and mouse, wrung an orgasm from her, and kissed her breath away. He shouldn’t feel the slightest hint of exhilaration, but he nearly purrs from the trust she has in him.
She’s too gullible, she didn’t question who he is or have any hesitating doubts on his motives, or if he’s really taking her to the bar.
Whatever the case may be, she trusts him.
Stupid girl, he thinks, swinging his leg over the seat.
A frantic of words tumbling out of her luscious lips in panic, “I know it looks bad, but I have my reasons!”
“They better be good.”
She crouches down to grab her basket of sweetened treats, small hand digging around the content noisily to find something.
He waits for her to continue while she emits a happy sound when she fishes out a phone.
“Okay, you have to promise you won’t get mad.”
“That alone warrants concern.” he wills his cock to calm the fuck down, but her ample tits is exactly at his eye level with each bounce synchronizing with her words.
“It’s not that bad, do you promise?” her pretty blues gleam in anticipation, fingers rubbing each other again.
“What did you do?”
Honey grins, hugging the ugly pumpkin to her chest. “You’ll understand it better if I start in the beginning.”
“Cut the theatrics.”
“No!” she whines, taking a step forward and meets his eyes defiantly. “I need to build up my story! You won’t understand my motivation for stealing your bike!”
She crinkles her nose before laughing anxiously, toying with the groves of the basket.
“Wait, that’s not what I meant,” Honey quickly corrects herself, “I wasn’t stealing! Swear on my collection of limited-edition ramen!”
Kane wraps his long fingers around her wrist to force her to walk closer to his bike, she doesn’t seem to mind his actions.
“There’re seven neurosurgeons working in the hospital, I thought the chairman would understand that vacations are good for the body. There are psychology experiments that show a clear link between happiness and rests.”
She drones on, and he follows along with a tilt on the corner of his lips.
“I asked him at work, but he said no. With a mean frown and thirteen forehead wrinkles too, yes, I counted. It’s probably unprofessional to cash in my vacation days through a post-it note, but he’s allergic to technology, so he left me no choice.”
He clamps his big hand on her hip, circling the curve of her waist with his thumb.
“Besides,” she giggles prettily, rocking on the balls of her heels, “He has other neurosurgeons on call, so it’s okay. He knows I like to leave a lot.”
“Leave?” his palm jerks her to him, thighs pressing on the bike.
She nods in confirmation, “We have mandatory psychological evaluations at the hospitals, and my psychologist calls me flighty with commitment issues.”
“Do you?” he turns her ass to him and makes her sit down on the bike, “Have commitment issues?”
“I don’t think so.” she shakes her head, blonde hair tickling the tattooed arm around her waist.
Honey twists her body to the side and peers up at him, “Sometimes things come to mind, and I can’t control my impulses. Everyone in the hospital knows I leave spontaneously and return a
gain when I finish the thing from my bucket list.”
The thought of her leaving and going back to the city makes him clench his jaw in discontent.
“Anyway, that happened,” she said, scooting into his welcoming warmth as a cool breeze brushes her arms.
“Among other things,” she adds with a grimace.
Kane turns his nose down and buries his face in thick blonde hair.
Floral shampoo and a touch of sage, his brows knots in confusion.
What an odd combination of smells. He doesn’t know what to think of it, but he breathes it in again.
“I was trick-or-treating when I saw your bike,” she recalls with a rise of pitch in her voice, “Well, I didn’t notice it at first because I was trying to get a candy wrapper open, but it held on like burnt cheese on casserole.”
She huffs angrily, blue eyes narrowing in dismay, “Then it ripped apart! Time stops, and I can see the wind carrying it away like a feather—”
“I’m still waiting for the part about you stealing my bike.” he hides his smile behind her ear.
Honey squirms and nudges his face away, she jerks her head up to his and pouts.
“One must not interrupt the storyteller.”
“It’s only considered storytelling if there’s a story in that melodramatic speech.”
She gasps, arms crossing over her chest with the pumpkin on her laps.
“What—” Honey lifts a finger and waves it in front of his face, “Fine, I was stealing your bike.”
He growls low in his throat; the timber tone sends tremors down her arms and hazel eyes unblinkingly scowls at her.
“Really.” he hums.
Rosy lip tucks under her white teeth, he hooks his fingers on her neck pulse and he orders her to repeat what she said. He tilts his chin up and glares coolly down at her.
As expected, her words are jumbled snippets through her recollection of what had happened earlier. Her candy fell in his motorcycle and she was only trying to get it out, so it doesn’t damage the bike, and she also doesn’t want to get wiped off the face of Earth by his hands. She explains that she didn’t hear him behind her, and when he did make his presence known, she was terrified and just ran.