That’s the saddest damn thing I’ve ever heard.
“Don’t look at me like that. That’s my whole point. I don’t want to do you like that. You’re—” He loses steam and his shoulders slump. I want him to finish that sentence so bad, but I’m afraid if I drop this thread, I’m never gonna end up in those worn but clean plaid sheets he’s sitting on.
“So…how do you usually get off?” I ask.
My pussy pulses. Part of me hates talking about him with other women, but that hungry, nasty part of me wants to hear every little detail. I want to know this man inside and out, all of it, everything he’s ever done.
“Really?” He cuts me a look of disbelief.
“If we’re gonna do it, we should be able to talk about it.” I sound prim and preachy, like my health ed teacher.
“I don’t know. Get my dick sucked. Fuck her in the pussy. In the ass.”
Whoa. I’ve never done that before. In the ass.
I’m actually not that experienced. I only ever slept with two guys, a dude named Dean—huge mistake—and this guy Evan. He was the only guy in show troupe. He was like my lab partner, but for sex. The summer after high school, we just went crazy. I felt guilty, but Nickel was in the wind, and my curiosity won out. Nickel growls, apparently uncomfortable with how long it’s taking me to reply. I shake the memories away. Where were we? Oh yeah. In the ass.
“What positions?” I ask.
He shrugs his hands. “You really want to talk about this?”
“I really want to talk about this.” My pussy’s so wet I can feel it leaking past the elastic of my panties.
“Doggie. Her on top. Whatever works. Usually space is an issue.”
“Why’s that?”
“Bathrooms are tight. Back seats are tight.”
“You don’t bring women back here?” A little flame flickers to life in my chest.
“I don’t let anyone in my space.” The little flame flares and warms me to my toes. I’m in his space. I’m all up in it.
“So how do you get a woman off?” I make myself focus back on the conversation.
He’s clearly uncomfortable, but he’s humoring me, and I love that he’s doing it for me. After thinking too hard a little too long, he says, “Get out of the way so she can play with her clit. Lick it if she don’t cum before I do.”
Wow. I don’t know what to say. My naughty, wild-child, hippy brain, the one that gets a kick out of dancing on the stage at The White Van, is turned on, but I also feel sad.
The sex Nickel’s talking about sounds like when I trade shifts with Jo-Beth. This for that. No emotions allowed. (Bitch does not care if you’re sick or if your car broke down. She’ll trade if she wants to, and if she doesn’t, too bad, so sad for you.)
I think sex should be a dance. Fun and sweaty, body-exhausting and soul-warming. If this was a cartoon, a light bulb would be flashing over my head. I grin wide, and Nickel looks very worried.
“What?”
“I have an idea.”
His brow furrows, and he seems to be puzzling something out. “All right, baby. I’ll eat you out if you want.”
I laugh, suddenly sure of myself again. I stand and twist at the waist, stretching my arms above my head.
“What are you doin’?” Nickel’s lookin’ at me like I’m nuts.
“Stretching.” I grab my phone and open the music app. “You don’t have to worry about anything. You stay right there. I got this.”
I scroll through the Os and the Ps until I hit the Qs. This’ll be perfect.
“Story?” He’s getting to his feet, and that’s not gonna work for me.
“Sit back down. You’re so worried about making it good for me? Then just sit. I know how to make it good for me. You want it to be good for me, right?” My voice is husky, seductive. It’s not how I talk with customers, but it’s not my usual voice, either.
Nickel nods, swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing amid the cords of his neck. All of his muscles are straining; his sleeves so tight over his biceps you can see the definition. He’s so built.
He’s amazing, this man. As hard as rock, thrumming with pent up energy, his stark and beautiful face entranced. By me. I feel powerful. Sexy. Happy.
I hit play, male voices harmonize a capella, and I tug my tank tap slowly over my head, fluff up my hair, and with a little flair, I drop my shirt to the floor. For a moment, Nickel is frozen, and then he bursts out laughing.
“Is this ‘Bohemian Rhapsody?’” His eyes are watering.
Was this not a good choice? No. It’s awesome. It’s a great song. Six minutes long, guaranteed sing along, guaranteed good tips.
“You have a problem with it?” I play like I’m put out, but the truth? Hearing Nickel laugh? Worth a million dollars.
“Not at all,” he grins. “Go on.”
He leans back, his gaze shifting down to my chest, and he licks his lips. I sashay toward him, letting my hips swish and my tits bounce. I usually have six-inch heels on when I do this, but I slipped my shoes off earlier. Good thing my ass is big enough it bounces even when I’m barefoot.
I come to a stop between his knees, resting one hand on his shoulder. I run the other between my tits, over my belly, and then I pop the button on my jeans. He groans.
I slowly pull the zipper down, and then I shimmy my hips, but these pants were not made for stripping. “A little help?”
I rest both hands on his shoulders, and he gently tucks his thumbs into my waistband and tugs my panties down with the jeans. I step out of them and kick them aside. He groans, and heat floods my pussy.
He doesn’t know where to look. His gaze flies from my face to my tits to the V between my legs. I shift a few times, loving the feeling of my slick lips rubbing together while Nickel watches me, his eyes darkening.
I run my hands down his hard chest, and then I drag his shirt over his head. He raises his arms to help me, and I sink to my knees.
“Scooch back.” I push on his rock-hard pecs. He lays back on his elbows, still watching, and I unzip his pants and drag them down, boxers, too.
“You like me like this?” I ask. “On my knees?”
“I like you,” he says. “Any-which-way.”
His dick is bobbing between us, hard and thick. The tip is angry red, and a vein runs down the shaft. My mouth waters. He’s huge. Like, call-a-friend, take-a-picture-or-it-didn’t-happen huge.
I want to try that. I want to take all of that in me, and he’s going to let me. I feel a surge of pure power, and I rise and climb up his body, dragging my tits along his chest, my nipples aching from the friction. I whimper.
He raises up to take my mouth, and I think he’s going to try to eat me like he did before, but he doesn’t. He sips instead, and then coaxes my lips apart, slipping between them and tangling his tongue with mine. He raises a hand to cup my neck, and he’s gentle and it’s wonderful and…not him.
It’s like he’s pretending to be a guy on a soap opera or something. There’s no way Nickel Kobald fucks like this. I want more. I want real.
I go looking for it, spreading my knees wider until that throbbing cock slides along my folds, back and forth, not penetrating, nudging my clit with the ridged head.
I moan, and he stiffens. He’s even more restrained now, but it feels so good, I don’t want to stop, and so I rock, smearing my cream all up and down his shaft. He’s looking, so I look too, and we’re both mesmerized by the sight of his cock glistening with my juices.
“You’re so fucking perfect,” he breathes, stroking his hands up my thighs so softly the callouses on his fingers almost tickle. I don’t want to be tickled. I want him to grab me so hard I have bruises tomorrow. Touch me like he needs to hold on tight so I never get away. I almost growl in frustration. I want him in me, so bad. I don’t care if he’s being weird and careful.
We need a condom.
“Be right back.” I smile, hop off, and make for my purse.
Oh, shit. Some prospect has my purse
. I glance around the room. No help there.
“In my wallet. Back pocket.” Nickel’s chest is rising and falling like he’s run a mile, and he’s dug his fingers into the bed sheets. He’s strung so tight, his grimace looks like pain.
I fumble in his wallet, pull out a foil wrapper, thanking the period gods that my monthly friend just took off. If this all went down two days ago, well…it would’ve been awkward.
When I get back to the bed, Nickel has scooted up, propping himself on his pillows, and I saddle back up, unrolling the sheath down his dick. We both watch my hands work, and I reach under to cradle his balls. He hisses, and his chest jerks forward, but then he stills.
I glance at his face, and there’s a war going on. The wildness that I love, the crazy energy that reminds me so much of how I feel when I dance, is there, sparking in his black eyes, but the control has it locked down. His body is stone-like with the effort of keeping himself in check.
This isn’t what I want. I don’t want him controlling himself for me. I want him to lose it over me. I always have.
I lean over, take his mouth, nip at the tongue that searches for mine. I grab his hand, guide it to my tit, hold it there while I glide his cock along my pussy, rocking ever so slightly, teasing, pushing, pushing. I want him to break.
I want him to give me all of himself, not whatever he thinks is worth something, but every piece.
“What are you waiting for?” I goad him. His hips pump, seeking my entrance, and then he stops so quick I imagine brakes squealing.
“Come on, baby,” he groans. “Give it to me.”
“This?” I slide, let the head of his cock notch at my opening, and then I back off, pulling forward to raise a tit to his mouth. “Or is this what you want?”
He leans up, pulls my nipple in his hot mouth, suckling and flicking with his tongue. I almost give up, sink down on his hard shaft, soothe the ache beating a rhythm between my legs. But I’m the strong one. I just need to hold out a little longer.
I crawl closer, far enough so his cock can’t touch my pussy without him really moving, and I straighten my back so my tit comes out of his mouth with a pop. I slip a finger into my slit, swipe it through the juices that are leaking down my thighs.
“If you want this—” I run my finger over his lips then slip it into his mouth. “You have to take it.”
And then I freeze, hands on my hips. Waiting. I don’t have to wait long at all.
He almost roars, an animal sound that sends jolts of adrenaline down my spine, and then he twists, rising from the bed, pulling me under him, dragging my arms over my head and pinning them with his rough hands. He doesn’t speak, one look at his face tells me he’s past words as he lifts one of my knees and slams home, stretching me so bad I whimper from the brief pain, as he makes me feel every inch. Then he pulls out, and before I can even draw in a breath, he slams into me again, bottoming out.
Over and over again, he thrusts, grunting, nipping at my neck, clasping my ass and dragging me up so he can go higher, deeper, battering my G-spot like he’s a piston, not a man. I want to chase the pleasure gathering low in my belly, but I can’t move. He’s holding me in position, mastering my body with each frenzied stroke. He makes a false move, misses, and the head of his dick grazes my clit. That’s all it takes. My pussy clenches, and the first wave of heat unfurls in my belly. He doesn’t stop. He fucks through my pussy walls spasming around him, sending another orgasm racing through me, priming me for another.
I’m keening on an endless loop, so loud there’s no doubt people can hear. It feels so good, I can’t keep it in, and he’s going so hard my voice vibrates from the thrusts. All I can do is hold on. He’s got his head tucked into the crook of my neck, so every feral sound he makes echoes in my ear.
Minutes, maybe hours later, he raises up and tilts the knee he’s still holding wider. He stares down where he’s pummeling my pussy.
I want to see, too. I struggle against his grip, and when he finally lets go, feeling rushes back to my fingers. I push up on my elbows.
He slows, not much, but enough that I can catch a breath. I watch my swollen, red pussy lips cling to him as he strokes in and out, his six-pack rippling as he fucks me like it’s his job.
He’s braced on one arm above me, and I glance up, wondering if he has the same dopey look on his face that I must have on mine. I expect him to still be watching my pussy take his cock, but he’s not looking down. His gaze is riveted to my face.
The wildness is there, but he’s not mindless with it. He seems different. Intense, but in a whole new way.
“Can you do it again?” he gasps between pants. “Please?”
“Do what?” I’d do anything for him right now.
“Cum on my cock. You’re so fucking beautiful when you cum.” A wave of warmth that has nothing to do with what our bodies are doing fills my chest.
I want to see him cum, too. I am kind of amazed at his stamina. He’s almost thirty, so I guess it’s true about older guys being able to last longer. I don’t know how much more I can take. Each orgasm has wrung me like a washcloth.
I don’t know if my body can do it again, but I can’t tell him no.
“Give me this.” I grab his hand, suck on it, and then I tuck it between us. I guide his fingers to the raw nub pulsing with each slow thrust. “Be gentle. It’s really sensitive.”
“Like this?” He brushes the rough pads of his fingers over my clit, and I squirm.
“Yeah. Do circles, too.”
He does, light and slow, and an urgency builds in my belly, giving me energy to raise my hips, to take him deeper. He smooths my hair away from my face and dusts kisses across my forehead and my cheeks, leaning back to gaze into my eyes.
“Beautiful girl. Give it to me. One more. Come on. This is all I ever wanted. Give it to me now.”
His words are all it takes; I tumble over, heat pulsating, belly fluttering, my thigh muscles totally giving out. He rides my orgasm, battering my cervix once, twice, a third time, and miraculously, he drags another spasm from my core. I collapse, put-a-fork-in-me done. He shouts, and his body jerks as he cums inside me. I imagine I can feel the heat.
He pulls out, falls flat on his back, and about two seconds later, I hear a soft snore. I don’t want to laugh, but I can’t help it. Of course, Nickel Kobald passes out after sex.
To be honest, I’d like to pass right out, too, but I have the presence of mind to reach between my legs. The condom got stuck, and Nickel’s cum is leaking down the crack of my ass. It’s easy to fish out, but when I go to tie it up, I notice it’s ripped, too.
Well, we did try. I’m not too freaked out. I just had my period, and it looked like most of it didn’t get inside me.
I’m going to tell myself that Nickel’s most likely clean. His dick looks fine. I am totally not going to think about anal and bathrooms and backseats right now. I’m not going to let anything ruin this moment. The man of my dreams is snoring beside me after giving me the best sex of my life.
I go to the bathroom to drop the condom in the trash and wash up. My body’s tired, but I can’t stop my feet from dancing on the way back to the bed. There’s a massive wet spot, obviously, so I wedge myself in on Nickel’s other side and let myself drift off, a stupid grin on my face. Everything’s finally going in the right direction.
Nickel let me in.
There’s no going back now.
CHAPTER 14
NICKEL
Story’s asleep when I wake up, so I creep out of bed and pull on my jeans. She’s all the way on the edge, her hair fallin’ to the floor like Rapunzel or something, and I can see why. There’s a huge wet spot in the middle of the bed. I wonder if she squirted. I didn’t feel it, but at the beginning there, I was out of my head.
My skin feels tight, and uneasiness prickles down my spine. She don’t look hurt. She’s got a silly smile on her face, and I grab at that, hold onto it like a life raft.
When I lost it, when I started poundi
ng into her, she didn’t say stop or nothin’. And she would have if I hurt her. Wouldn’t she? I scrub a hand across my face. No. She probably wouldn’t. That girl has been doggin’ me for years, thinkin’ I’m some kind of knight in shining armor. I kissed Danielle in front of her, and she didn’t even yell at me.
No way Story wanted me to bang her like an animal. She laid there and took it, and I was so gone she needed to tell me to rub her clit. The ugly rears its head and my stomach knots. I ain’t made for this. I need to get out of here.
But she’s so perfect lying on her belly, the huge globes of her spectacular ass sloping down into those sweet thighs. She’s got her legs parted, and I can see the swollen pink peeking out. My dick is raw, but it’s hard in an instant, chafing against the denim.
What do normal men do after they fuck? Spoon, I guess.
I want to; I want to gather all that softness to me, feel her rib cage rise and fall as she breathes. Know she’s safe. But I don’t feel safe.
I lost it. I was doin’ fine, and then I lost it, and I fucked her like a whore. I think it turned out okay, but what if it hadn’t? I could have hurt her. For all I know, she’s bleeding internally, right now.
Fuck. That’s crazy. I’m crazy.
I need a beer.
I duck out, shut the door quietly. Hopefully she’ll sleep till morning. I do know I’m not supposed to nail and bail; I’m not a complete asshole. But that uneasy feeling…it’s creepin’ up my throat. Chokin’ me.
When I get downstairs, I realize I ain’t gettin’ peace and quiet in this clubhouse tonight. We’re on lock down, and all the brothers are here, along with the old ladies and club pussy and kids. ‘Cause this is an MC, even if we’ve gone legit, someone’s tapped a keg, the jukebox is blarin’ Skynyrd, and the prospects are tryin’ to slide up on Jo-Beth and Angel like it’s slow skate at the roller rink. Dizzy’s boys are sneakin’ around, polishing off empties.
On a couch in a corner, Charge is cozied up to his new old lady Kayla. Kayla’s kid is asleep across them, his head resting on his mama’s tits, his feet dangling off Charge’s lap. Kayla plays with the kid’s hair while Charge whispers shit in her ear. She’s smilin’, and he’s only got eyes for what’s beside him. My unease wars with a new urge to go back to Story. I’m stuck in place, playin’ Peeping Tom, when I hear my name.
Nickel's Story: A Steel Bones Motorcycle Club Romance Page 12