American Street Kings: The Complete Series

by Bella J

  Biting his bottom lip, he traced his finger down my stomach, and I cursed my body for responding to his touch. This wasn’t something I wanted, yet my body made no secret about the fact that it was exactly what it wanted. And Granite knew that. He was so confident because, as he had claimed before, he knew me. He had been a part of my life long before I was even aware.

  As his touch stopped just above the waistband of my tights, his gaze cut to mine for a second before he looked down again. “A woman’s body has a voice of its own, Alyx. It can tell a man exactly what it wants.” The tip of his finger teased across my skin, threatening to dip beneath the fabric. A part of me wanted to push his hand away, but another part of me urged him to touch me lower. It was utterly insane how my body burned for him, flames promising to incinerate me while my skin hungered to feel his warmth. I tried to fight it. I tried to remain strong, to not succumb to the desire he so easily stirred within me. By the way lust pooled between my legs, I knew I was losing the fight.

  “What do you think I’ll find when I touch you…there?” Fingers dipped in beneath the waistband, dangerously close to where it ached.

  “Nothing.” I swallowed hard, the lie feeling like gravel in my throat.

  “Let’s find out, shall we?” He moved his wrist, and a single digit slipped through my sensitive folds, and I couldn’t stop the moan from escaping me.

  “Ballerina girl, it seems your body is weeping for me.”

  “Screw you.”

  “Soon.”

  A finger dipped lower, pushing against my entrance, and my hips bucked.

  “Jesus, Alyx. Your body is just as desperate as your pussy is wet.”

  “Stop.” The plea lacked desperation but weighed heavily with longing.

  The pad of his finger brushed against my clit, and I arched my back, an electric current surging up my spine.

  “Granite, this isn’t right.” My voice was soft, too soft, lacking conviction.

  With leisurely circles against the bundle of nerves, he pushed me toward an edge no man had ever taken me to. But I got yanked away from the edge when he pulled his hand out of my pants, the elastic of my tights snapping against my skin.

  Rapid breaths caused my chest to rise and fall, and I closed my eyes, desperate to get a handle on myself, to will my body into fighting. If I had to succumb, if I had to submit to him now, I’d be lost forever. It would be a reckless mistake I’d never be able to come back from. I knew with every ounce of my being that if I allowed him to possess me once, he would never let me go. And I wouldn’t want him to.

  Something cold pressed against my ankle, and I jerked. “What are you—” My shoulders ached as I tried to lift my head. Looking down, I saw a knife glinting with evil intent as he pressed it against my skin. “Jesus, Granite. Stop.”

  Fear thundered against my ribs, and I tried to thrash.

  “Lay still, Alyx. We wouldn’t want this blade to slip, now, would we?”

  “Granite, please stop. You’re scaring me.”

  “Yet your pussy is still wet for me.” With a yank, he cut through the ropes around my ankle before leaning over me, freeing my other foot from being bound to the bed.

  My first instinct was to kick him in the face, but it proved futile as he grabbed my ankle. “Play nice, or I swear to God I’ll tie you up in a way that leaves that virgin pussy of yours exposed and ready for me to desecrate in a way that won’t be fun,” he grinned, “for you, anyway.”

  “I hate you.”

  “No, you don’t.” He let go of my leg then reached for the hem of my shirt. “You and I both know this moment has been a long time coming.”

  I flinched as he ripped my shirt straight down the middle, fabric falling down my sides.

  Tears prickled my eyes, knowing I was exposed. No man had ever seen me like this, regarded me in such a sexual way. And this wasn’t how I imagined it. Ropes, and knives, and tears were not part of how I imagined my first time would be.

  “Please,” I whispered before his warm lips enclosed my nipple. The sensation swooshed straight through to my belly, and I moaned involuntarily. Tears finally escaped, slipping down the side of my face even though my body responded to the way his tongue lapped against the hard bud, making leisurely circles just like his finger had done earlier against my clit. How was it possible to hate how this was happening, yet I didn’t want it to stop? It was like my mind and my body were at odds with each other, one trying to fight while the other was eager to surrender.

  My back arched when his lips let go of my nipple with a pop. Rough, warm hands touched my hips, and I had no idea what he was doing…until he pulled the tights from my legs, my feet slamming down on the mattress.

  “Granite, please stop.” More tears poured down my face, and my belly started to ache. There were too many conflicting emotions, feelings running rampant inside me, and it was starting to tear me apart.

  “I told you,” he started. “I warned you the next time you kiss me back, I won’t leave until I’ve made you bleed.”

  “Jesus,” I cried, feeling like I was drowning in panic. “You’re a fucking savage.”

  “Shhh,” he cooed, and his gentle touch started at my left foot, slowly brushing across my skin as it moved upward. My body shivered, my legs squirming above the sheets. “I’m going to make you feel good, Alyx. Why do you think I’ve kept men away from you all this time?” His touch stopped as it reached my hip, fingertips teasing my skin.

  My sex clenched, knowing how close he was to touching me there. I wanted him to touch me there. Yet I wanted him to stop. Fuck!

  A single finger traced across my skin, settling just above my sex, and my hips moved, my body’s desperation for pleasure taking the reins.

  I pulled against my restraints, crying out while pinching my eyes closed, hating yet loving every second of his torture.

  “I made sure your innocence remained because I wanted to be the one who corrupted it.”

  “Granite—”

  “Think about it, Alyx. Think about all those times you touched yourself, imagining it was me.”

  “No.” I shook my head and licked my lips.

  “How did I do it? How did I make you come?”

  “Fuck you.”

  He laughed, the sound something between amusement and malevolence.

  “Did I spread your pussy lips like this?” He slipped two digits between my folds, and I moaned out loud as he spread them wide. The cold air teased across the wetness of my arousal, and the sensations that possessed me was like nothing I’d ever experienced before.

  “Did I play with your clit…like this?” With his other hand, he used the pad of his thumb, gently rubbing against that one sweet spot.

  I bucked as pleasure zapped through my gut, slamming against every bone in my body.

  “Feels good, doesn’t it, ballerina girl? That tiny little clit of yours open, unhooded, and just waiting to be worked.”

  My mind scattered while tears still slipped down my cheeks, but they became less and less, pleasure slowly smothering my fear.

  His fingers kept its rhythm. “Did touching yourself ever feel this good?”

  I shook my head again. Because the truth was, nothing felt as good as it did when he touched me there. I’d given myself countless orgasms thinking of this moment, thinking of him. But judging by the way my body burned, my insides ready to burst into flames, I knew no orgasm I’d given myself would compare to being pleasured by him.

  “Did you imagine my mouth between your legs?” His hand grabbed my inner thigh, spreading my legs while his fingers kept my inner lips parted and open. When I felt the warmth and the wetness of his tongue on my clit, I cried out. The pleasure was so intense, it was almost painful, my muscles tremoring and quaking with possession.

  “That’s my girl,” he whispered against my sensitive flesh, the warmth of his breath moving inside me. “I’m going to make you come, and then I’m going to take what is rightfully mine.”

  “Granite, th
is isn’t right.”

  “Well, it sure as fuck ain’t wrong either.” With a moan, he sucked my clit into his mouth, teasing the tip of his tongue against it. He groaned like a starved animal finally able to sate his hunger. And the harder he licked, sucked, eating me out, the higher my body climbed.

  I balled my fists, tugging against the ropes, my head falling back as I arched myself off the mattress. The pleasure was too intense, too raw, and it ached, causing me to involuntarily close my legs. But Granite yanked my legs apart without fucking up the rhythm of his tongue against my pussy. Then he stopped abruptly. “What the fuck?”

  “What?” My voice was nothing but a rush of air.

  He pulled my thigh, twisting my flesh. “You have a tattoo.”

  Fuck. Embarrassment spread like a hundred-and-ten-degree summer day up my neck and into my cheeks.

  “The skull,” he said as he traced a finger around it. “You got the Kings skull.”

  He looked up at me, eyes more determined than ever. “And yet you still argue the fact that you belong to me. You inked it on your fucking skin, Alyx, proof that you knew you were mine long before I fucking took you.”

  “Granite—” But his tongue claimed my sex again. This time it was hard, greedy, and unrelenting. More and more, harder and harder. All my body could do was surrender to the toxic mix of pleasure and pain that had every inch of me knotted in ecstasy.

  “Granite…God. It’s too much.”

  He didn’t stop, his tongue lapping down to my entrance, and then back up to my clit.

  It started at my toes, the current moving up my legs, my thighs, and I knew it was about to erupt.

  “I’m going to come.” The words left my mouth unabashedly, and my shoulders complained as I pulled against the ropes. He slipped a finger inside me, and that was the last push my body needed before pleasure exploded in my core. A scream ripped from my throat, his tongue not stopping, determined to carry me through every second of pleasure. The ripple of ecstasy crashed against every bone, my legs and arms quivering with an orgasm so strong I was sure it would crack me wide open.

  “Jesus Christ. Your come is so fucking sweet.” Lapping at my entrance, licking all around my sex, Granite didn’t stop until my body went lax on the mattress.

  There was no way I was able to control my breathing, my body still electrified from the most intense pleasure I had ever experienced. My mind was in a haze, too many different sensations running rampant in my body. There wasn’t a single feeling I could focus on. Not a single coherent thought.

  His hands wrapped around my ankles, my legs too weak to fight. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m tying your legs again.”

  It took every ounce of strength I had left to lift my head off the pillow to see what was happening. “Why? Why are you tying me up again?”

  “Because once I start pushing my cock inside you, your legs will want to close, feeling that kind of pressure for the first time.”

  My heart beat so fast, and I wasn’t sure if it was because of the pleasure that still lingered in my bones, or whether it was from the vague threat of pain in his words.

  “Are you going to hurt me?” My voice shook, my stomach suddenly twisted in knots.

  “Yes,” he answered simply without hesitating. No remorse. No guilt.

  I swallowed hard, my throat nothing but sand.

  Granite stood straight at the end of the bed, and he slowly unbuckled his belt before slipping off his jeans. Even if I tried, I wouldn’t have been able to look away. Naked, he looked even more powerful, dominant…beautiful. Tattoos covered most of his body—different shapes, different images that were too hard to make out under the flicker of candlelight. But among them was one I could see clearly, an eagle across his chest. It seemed as magnificent as him, strong and majestic.

  My gaze dropped to his cock, hard and proudly standing at attention as the head almost reached his navel.

  He eased onto the bed, slipping his tongue against my leg as he moved up my body. My head fell back, new desire blooming inside me like flowers waking after winter. Up and up he went, and I felt the head of his cock brush against my leg.

  As he moved, he slid his hand between my legs, dipping a finger inside me. “We need to make sure you’re still soaking wet for this, ballerina girl.”

  No doubt, I was still wet, and with a satisfied smirk on his face, he lifted up and settled between my legs. Feeling his weight on top of me, the warmth of skin against skin, it was nothing like I imagined it. It was better—like two bodies molding together to become one. I never understood that analogy, of two bodies becoming one. But now I knew it wasn’t something to understand, it was something that could only be experienced. Two souls merging together, doing what our most primal instincts urged us to do.

  I bit my lip, my heart about to explode when the head of his cock nudged against my entrance.

  “I’m not going to lie,” he started, pushing forward just half an inch. “It’s going to hurt. A lot.”

  Another tear trickled down my face. I’d be stupid if I wasn’t scared. Granite was a big man, and I was nothing but a tiny ballerina. My body would never survive his. We were like one giant contradiction, the two of us.

  Gently, he wiped the tear from my cheek with the back of his hand. “But then I’ll make it feel really good afterward. I promise.”

  “Don’t…do this.” It was a last attempt, my last try to stop him. I didn’t think I was ready to sell my soul to the devil, but he thought otherwise.

  His hand wrapped around my jaw, and he forced me to look at him. “Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t want this.”

  Green eyes studied me, scrutinized me, searching my face like he could find all his answers there.

  “Tell me this isn’t what you’ve wanted since the first time you looked down at me from your bedroom window.” He moved his hips slightly, a blunt pressure pressing between my legs.

  “Tell me, Alyx.” His eyes never left mine, and I couldn’t stop looking at him. No matter how desperate my mind was to convince myself that this was not what I wanted…it was. This was what I wanted, what I’d fantasized about. Maybe not in this way or under these circumstances, but in the end, this was what I wanted. Because I wanted it with him. No one else. Granite was right. I had been his all along. From that very first moment our eyes met, it was him. It had always been him. There was no use denying it anymore. No use fighting it. Fighting what I could not change was tiring and pointless. So I succumbed.

  I nodded, and his face softened as if a veil of relief fell over him.

  “Just…I have one request.” I bit my lip before scraping together my courage. “Untie my hands. I want to touch you. I want to be able to wrap my arms around you, you know…when you do it.” I didn’t ask him to free my legs. He was right. It would lessen the struggle, and hopefully lessen the pain.

  It took him a few moments. Thinking. Contemplating. Never taking his eyes off my face.

  He moved, and with his big frame, he didn’t need to lift much in order to reach for his knife on the bedside table and then my wrists.

  One by one, he cut the ropes. “Easy,” he cautioned as I slowly brought my arms down, my shoulders aching and complaining.

  As he settled between my legs once more, I cautiously placed my hands on his shoulders. The instant I touched him, he closed his eyes and sucked in a breath. I felt a shiver spread down his body, and it was surreal to see what effect my touch had on him. A single, simple, soft touch, and this big, strong, dominating man seemed disarmed. Could this moment be just as powerful for him as it was for me?

  He moved, and his hips bucked forward, causing more blunt pressure between my legs as his cock started to enter me.

  My eyes pinched closed, and I gripped his shoulders tighter.

  “Breathe,” he whispered. “Just breathe.”

  Deeply, I inhaled, opening my eyes, and he pushed further.

  “Jesus.” His head fell forward, long hair bru
shing over my skin, caressing my breasts. “I knew your pussy would be tight, but this is just,” he drove in deeper, “this is just…fuck.”

  Sweat beaded on his forehead, and I saw the strain on his face. It was agony for him to go so slow. For a man who was hellbent on taking me—whether I succumbed or not—he was torturing himself in order to make it easier for me.

  The protector.

  The guardian.

  I placed my hands on the sides of his face. “Kiss me.” Our eyes searched one another. “Kiss me, and then take everything you want from me.”

  My lips were already hungry, wanting to feel his kiss, and I brought his face down. Granite kept still, his lips hovering over mine, as if there was a decision that needed to be made here. A decision that had the power to change both our lives. It was surreal how this started out with a man determined to spread my legs, whether I wanted him to or not, and now ended up being something bigger than either of us could have expected.

  With a lot of effort, I managed to move my hips, forcing him inside me a little more, and we both moaned when his mouth slammed against mine. It wasn’t soft or gentle. It was a frenzy of lips and tongues as we devoured each other.

  The pressure against my inner walls became more and more as his girth stretched me, straining to go in all the way.

  Tears pooled at the back of my eyes as the ache spread from between my thighs to the back of my spine. It was a kind of pressure I had never experienced before, and if it wasn’t for my legs being tied, I knew instinct would have had me wanting to close them.

  Granite kissed me once more then lifted himself up on his arms. He was shaking, face red and hungry. “Say it.” He didn’t move. “Say…yes.”

  This was the part where I gave up fighting. This was the part where I made peace with how fucked-up all of this was, because I realized this was how it had to be. This was him. This was who he was. He wasn’t a romantic Prince Charming who wanted to spend happily ever after with his princess in some far away land. He was Granite, President of the American Street Kings, a ruthless, savage motorcycle club who ruled the underground of New York.