A shaky breath escaped me as he ran those tatted fingers along the split of my pussy, and I swallowed as need walloped me worse than a fist to the solar plexus.
When he carried on moving down, down, circling my clit, I arched my back some, then grunted when he spanked me there. A hiss bellowed from me when he did it three more times.
“Where is it?”
I groaned when he rubbed my clit again, but though I was starting to slide toward that delicious space only he sent me to, I wasn’t that far gone that I didn’t have a clue what he was talking about.
“Nightstand.”
“I didn’t know you had a vibrator.”
“It’s new.”
His fingers struck again. Making me hiss, again. “I’ll introduce things like that.”
Though his words triggered irritation, something about them also made me wriggle my hips some more.
He surged to his feet, shocking me until I realized he was heading for my bedroom, not the front door.
Relief hit me because he was unpredictable, enough that I never knew what he’d do next, which always kept me on edge. He was quite capable of leaving me high and dry. Not because he was a bastard, but because I frequently misbehaved. Even though being good felt so wonderful, complying with his every whim made me feel like a trapped dancing bear, tethered to a pole, forced to dance for food.
Not that he made me feel that way, more like I made me feel that way. But around him, I was as normal as I could be, and like a brat, I tended to act out. If that didn’t make me realize I was a fool, I didn’t know what would.
Hearing the nightstand drawer opening then closing, shortly after, his boots clomped toward me again. He crouched at my side upon his return, dousing the area with his clean scent. Most people assumed bikers were dirty—like their jobs necessitated they stank. Dumb fucks.
No one smelled as good as Cruz.
Not even Nyx. Even if my bro did smell a little like he’d overdosed on aftershave.
Cruz was clean, scented of male. I could stick my nose into his armpit and die and go to heaven.
Not that heaven was for me…
“Hold this.”
The shocking pink vibe was shoved at me, and grabbing it, I waited for him to act. His hands moved to my waistband which he plucked. Realizing it was elasticated, he snatched the vibe from me and, tunneling his hand underneath my trunk, grabbed the waistband with his free hand and with the other, shoved the pink monster beneath it and between my legs.
“Good girl,” he breathed, and I hated that I blushed.
One of his earlier ‘orders’ was never to wear panties. Every morning, I argued with myself when I stood in front of my underwear drawer. Being bossed around pissed me off, but there was something I liked about going commando under my clothes. Something that made me feel deliciously dirty, and not in the way I felt on the regular.
Sullied.
Used…
Cruz never made me feel that way. If anything, he took those feelings away.
Was it any wonder he was addictive?
With no panties to protect me, the vibe was situated between my pussy lips, and with a little tussle with the strong Lycra yoga pants, he managed to turn it on.
A yelp escaped me even though I prepared myself for the buzz, but when he started switching through the settings until he hit the fastest one, I tensed up as the vibration felt better than I’d like.
Which meant I was wet already.
It kind of felt like a pencil being sharpened when I wasn’t—I’d tried that this morning. Then I’d watched a bit of porn, got myself lubed up and I’d tried to get off.
It hadn’t worked.
It never did.
I’d had to try though. Cruz’s cock wasn’t charmed; there was no reason why he and he alone should be able to get me off the way he did.
At least, that had been my working theory pre-vibrator.
Now I was less certain.
Orgasms and Cruz were like mac and cheese. Destined to be together.
God help me.
“Tell me why you bought this,” he rasped, his knees making an appearance in my line of sight.
It was easier to focus on the denim than it was on his eyes. Those green orbs saw far too much for my liking.
Even so, I didn’t answer, just let my mind fade a little as the vibe did its job.
Like it hadn’t done this morning.
A whistle warned me, and only the Lycra protected me from the sharp whack.
Shit.
The ruler.
It didn’t connect with my butt though… it hit my sit spots.
“Christ!” I squealed as the sensitive flesh protested the move, sending my pain receptors into overdrive.
Jerking and wiggling moved the vibrator which was a kind of torture in and of itself. Especially as I prepared myself for two more… only, this time, he didn’t stop at three. He carried on. The fucker. Up and down the backs of my thighs, only the Lycra stopping the sting but not the whack. I jolted each and every time, hating that with each jolt, it was like him moving the vibrator. My heart started to beat double time, quickening and quickening as my skin began to turn dewy in response. My mouth began to dry, my tits ached, my pussy grew wetter and emptier as the dull vibrations pounded through my sex.
I came.
It hit me out of nowhere, timed only with the regular pattern of his spanking me with the ruler he’d left in my nightstand drawer.
A howl escaped me as pleasure surged through my veins, and I writhed on my knees, uncaring that my joints were aching, uncaring that my body was starting to protest the position. I cried out when the pleasure dropped off but his spanks didn’t.
I knew I’d bruise.
I was glad.
“Tell me why,” he growled.
He tapped the vibrator with the ruler.
I squealed.
The pleasure turned to discomfort as my clit protested the constant vibration.
Eyes blurring, I whispered, “O-Okay.” I fell silent as he hit the vibrator again.
And again.
Three times total.
A shaky breath gusted from my dry mouth and I squeaked, “I wanted to come by myself.”
He stopped spanking me.
“Thought you found it hard to do that?”
He sounded confused.
I couldn’t blame him.
“Impossible, not hard.”
My sexuality and I were frenemies at best, nemeses at worst.
Masturbation did nothing for me. Porn got me jonesing for the normalcy of sex.
Before Cruz, I’d never orgasmed.
Not once.
And I’d slept around a lot.
A lot, a lot.
Back when I’d been apprenticing, especially.
Some could call me a slut. Some, in our world, might think me no better than a clubwhore, but when your sexuality was fucked up from childhood, taking ownership of it, retrieving it from the clutches of a predator wasn’t as easy as one, two, fucking three.
He slapped the ruler against the vibrator, jolting me again, but this time, pleasure cascaded through me.
I wasn’t sure if I loved or loathed that he could do this for me.
Shuddering, my shoulders bunched as I dealt with the tingles that traveled up and down the length of my spine.
“No using this without me around,” he rumbled, which, even worse than the spank, sent delight rushing through me.
I didn’t get how I could hate being bossed around, but when he did it, I didn’t automatically want to punch him in the throat.
Something didn’t make sense here, and I wasn’t sure if it was him, me, or just my body. A body that, sometimes, I felt sure belonged to someone else.
Maybe, just maybe, it was his.
The thought had me swallowing nervously, but before I could freak out, I tensed when his boots appeared in my line of sight as he got to his feet, and when the front door opened, I jerked as a gush of wind bellowed
between my legs.
“W-What are you doing?” I cried out, but I kept my head down.
“Figure I should let you decide if you need me or if this piece of silicone will do it for you.”
He sounded cold.
Calm.
At ease.
By contrast, I was overheated, stressed, and overwrought.
Goddamn, why was he so unpredictable?
Any other man, I’d know he wouldn’t walk out because he hadn’t gotten his yet. But Cruz was more interested in me getting mine than he was with his own release.
I’d learned that the hard way right from the very beginning.
“N-No, I don’t want you to go anywhere.”
“Then why buy it?”
“Because I needed to know.”
“Know what?”
“If I’d changed.”
More silence. But the door didn’t close.
“Have you?”
“No.”
“Do you want me to help you?”
“Yes.”
He hummed. “Your communication skills are lacking.”
I blinked. “They are?”
“Yes.” He closed the door. “You’re an attention seeker.”
Outrage filled me. “I am not.”
“Yes. You are.”
I frowned. “I’m not.” I didn’t care if he was holding that damn ruler or not. I so totally wasn’t a fucking attention seeker.
“It’s okay,” he said, sounding amused. “Now I know, I can deal with you better.” His hand went to my waistband and, out of nowhere, I heard the flick of a flip knife. My heart boomed in my ears as the cold metal tip pressed into my skin at the base of my back, not hard enough to penetrate but for me to feel the steel before he lifted it and ran the blade through my pants.
Within seconds, I could feel the air against my slit. And knowing the metal was so close to the molten hot heat of my cunt was enough to make me breathless.
The vibrator flopped out, falling to the floor as, with my yoga pants suddenly crotchless, he grabbed the slit he’d made and pulled it wider open. His knuckles brushed my pussy, but he didn’t make a noise, didn’t utter a sound as he registered how wet I was. The vibrations continued, the toy fluttering against the floor as if it was a dying fish until he picked it up and pressed it directly to my clit. It was one of those sucker ones, and how he unerringly found the right position had my eyes rolling back into my head.
“You have my attention, Indy,” he said smoothly, “what are you going to do with it now that you have it?”
I had no answer, but I knew he was waiting on one. I jerked up, my hips rocking high as I tried to fuck the toy he was holding, and he let me.
God, he let me.
Until I was coming again.
The air was stolen from my lungs, a flood of heat powered through me, and as I screamed out my release, he pulled the toy away so I was fucking air and switched off the vibrator.
He loomed over me then, getting to his feet as I caught my breath. “I want you on your hands and knees, Indy. You’re going to crawl on all fours into the bedroom.”
I should have argued, but I didn’t. Feeling drugged from the pleasure that was still rocketing around my system like a demented wasp in a cardboard box, I sluggishly righted myself, stacking my hands under my shoulders as I began crawling.
My knees ached the second they connected with the wooden floor, and I grimaced as, with each movement, my pussy lips brushed together, sending sparks through my system.
When I made it, I wasn’t sure what hurt worse. My joints or my pussy from how empty it felt.
Christ, I’d somehow managed to cockblock myself. That was definitely a feat.
“Onto the bed, on your knees, face to the comforter. Pussy facing the door.”
I did as bid, registering how unalike the furtive fumblings I’d had in the past this was, and when I assumed the position, I shivered when he said, “Show me that pretty cunt. Spread your lips wide, Indy.”
Gulping, I reached between my legs and slipped my fingers between my labia. Carefully pulling the petals of my sex apart, I bared myself to him.
“How much of my attention do you think you can handle, Indy?”
He always said my name.
I wasn’t sure if he knew how much I appreciated that.
“Indy?” he repeated.
“I-I want all your attention.”
“I don’t think you do. Otherwise you’d have called me instead of buying a vibrator.”
“I wasn’t cheating on you,” I rasped.
“No? Is your pussy easily replaced with one of the pussies at the clubhouse?”
Tension whipped at me. “No.” I knew my voice was stony, and for good reason. “But a vibrator isn’t another man,” I ground out.
He laughed, but I heard him moving about the room and it was damn hard to stop myself from twisting around to see what he was doing.
I bit my lip, feeling oddly exposed which shone a light on how liberated I felt.
There was no modesty permitted between Cruz and me.
And I fucking loved it.
When the chair opposite my bed squeaked, I tried to picture how he’d look, his legs crossed, one of his ankles hovering on his knee as he watched me.
He could do this for a while.
His patience was better than mine, and I worked on people’s bodies for a living. Inking lines and forming memories on their skin for hours on end. If anyone understood patience, it was me, but Cruz was different. He was capable of putting me in the spotlight for hours at a time.
Shit, maybe he was right. Maybe I was an attention seeker, because even if it hurt, there was nothing better than being in his spotlight.
“You want my dick all for yourself, hmm?”
I clenched my teeth. “It depends.”
“On? Whether I want your pussy all for myself?”
“Yes.”
“Jingles came on to me today.”
My eyes flared wide. “That bitch—”
“—was just doing her job. Especially as nobody knows about me and you, do they?”
Brow puckering because I wasn’t sure where he was going with this, I just asked, “No. They don’t.”
“You want to stake a claim on me, Indy, then a claim needs to be staked.” He sucked in a breath. “However, I want you to know something before you make a decision.”
“What?” I rasped, because whatever I’d expected him to say, it wasn’t any of this.
“Being with me means putting yourself in danger.”
He didn’t have to tell me that. Ever since that night when I’d had a nightmare, my heart had been in danger, and it sucked because I was that walking cliche I hated.
Going gaga for a guy, losing myself along the way. I’d always vowed to avoid that particular fate, but I’d failed.
Even worse, I’d fallen for a goddamn biker.
He wasn’t wrong about the danger. Just being with a Sinner was to invite a whole underworld’s worth of trouble my way. Being a sister to two of them as well? More than an invitation. I might as well have spread my legs for fate and begged it to come and fuck me now to get it over with.
“What kind of danger?” I asked. “The usual?”
“No. Very unusual.”
I licked my lips. “Is it council-sanctioned?”
“Yes. It is now.”
Meaning it hadn’t been.
Warily, I asked, “It is club business, then?”
“Yeah. That’s why I can’t talk about it.”
“Does Nyx know about it? And, if he does, would he kill you for getting me involved in it?”
He snorted. “Nyx would slaughter me if I was a missionary and was trying to solve world peace if it meant he knew about us being together.”
“True,” I conceded with a grimace. “But you know what I mean.”
“He does know, and he’d kill me but he’d have killed me if it wasn’t something I’d brought to the council’s
attention. As it stands… I’m not an enemy of the clubhouse.”
As I pondered that, I switched gears. “You want to brand me?”
“No. Not yet. You haven’t earned my brand yet.”
Christ, that shouldn’t have twisted up my insides, but it did. And not with outrage, either.
Every feminist sensibility in me should have been shrieking, but when he talked like that it hit me right between the legs.
“Do you want me to earn it?” I whispered, and the question was momentous because earning a brand was something I’d never wanted.
But Cruz’s?
Christ, I could deal with his. Only his.
“Yeah. I do.”
“What made you come to this decision?”
“Realized if any pussy was gonna have a say in my life, on my decisions, over my choices, I wanted it to be you.”
I blinked. “Romantic.”
“About as romantic as I get.” His laughter, however, told me otherwise, which made me wonder if he could be romantic, and how that’d look—mind-blowing, probably. “Especially as we’re having this conversation with you holding that pretty pussy on full display. You want my tongue on it? Sucking on your clit?”
Gulping, and knowing nothing was better than him going down on me which had gifted me my first addictive orgasm, I rasped, “I do.”
“Make a decision, then. It’s now or never, Indy.”
“W-What do you mean?”
“I mean that tonight’s the last night or the first night. The decision is yours.”
I didn’t even have to think about it.
A millisecond later, I told him, “First night.”
“Good answer.” The chair creaked as he stood up.
Anticipation washed through me, making me tremble.
I wasn’t sure what I’d just agreed to, aside from coming out to the Sinners, and to be frank, they wouldn’t give a fuck. Nyx would, but he was a miserable cunt anyway. Giulia had cheered him up, but that didn’t mean she’d given him a personality in part exchange for a brand.
The bed jostled as he leaned on it, and without touching me, he managed to stick his tongue in my slit.
“Jesus,” I moaned as he fluttered it up and down my pussy. Pushing my forehead into the comforter, I fought and failed to keep my hips still, knowing full well what would happen if I moved.
Cruz : A Dark MC Romance (A Dark and Dirty Sinners’ MC Book 5) Page 9