I Am Dressed in Sin: A Reverse Harem Age Gap Romance (Death By Daybreak Motorcycle Club Book 2)

by C. M. Stunich

  My hands smooth over the back of his vest, feeling all the rockers—aka patches—there. The eclipse image. The words Death by Daybreak. The one-percenter patch.

  My heart aches to take it off of him, to put it on, to let him fuck me in it.

  When I go to push it off of his shoulders, he allows it, breaking away from me and waiting as I slip it on, feeling the smooth, warm leather over my breasts and back. It’s huge on me, swallowing me up in his perfect scent.

  My hands find Crown’s belt in the dark. I can just barely see him with my eyes adjusted to the shadows, but he cuts an impressive figure anyway. A strong figure. A noble one. Worthy. He feels worthy to me.

  But … will he let me have him if he can’t have all of me? I can’t tell. I truly don’t have an answer for that, and it scares me. Can I live this life, be a part of the club, and see Crown with another woman? The wife he’s always wanted, his person to talk to, to make babies with.

  Ugh.

  It would slay me. Splatter my blood over the compound. Destroy me.

  I’m greedy. I want them all. Why can’t I have them all? We’re one-percenters. Outside the norm. Society’s fringe. Its shadows. Its poison.

  I take his belt off, like I’ve done twice before. That I hope I can do many times over. I take him into my hands, working him up as he stays above me, staring down in the dark. My thumb glides over his tip, smearing pre-cum, slicking him up so that I can pump my fist down his shaft. His body is hot, the sounds that spill from his throat like gems I want to pluck and put in my dragon’s horde of memories. Mine.

  I can feel his orgasm creeping up on both of us, threatening to spill his cum across my face and chest. He lets me get him close, so close that I wonder how he’s even holding himself together, and then he pries my hand away and brings it to my mouth, encouraging me to clean his pre-ejac from my palm with my own tongue.

  I do it, too, knowing that he’s getting off on the idea. I suck Crown’s fingers into my mouth, swirling my tongue around the tips, teasing him until he murmurs a barely audible curse and takes his hand away. He lifts up my right leg, finding my heated core in the dark like he’s drawn to it.

  My only regret is that I can’t see his face as he thrusts into me. I can feel him though, the way his entire body stiffens up and shudders, the feel of the cushion beside my head denting as he digs his fingers into it. He exhales sharply, like he’s fighting back the urge to come, and then he just waits there for what has to be several minutes.

  His breathing, my breathing, we’re connected. My body pulses in time with his, my heartbeat in my cunt, drumming along the length of his shaft.

  I sense that he wants to talk, to shatter this moment with meaningless words. I cover his mouth with my hand, and he bites me. A surprised sound of pleasure escapes me as he kisses down my palm, my wrist, nibbles at my pulse.

  Then he pins me down and starts to fuck, his hips pumping hard, pushing himself deep. He isn’t satisfied with anything less than balls-deep. Our combined pants fill the silence, mixed with an occasional moan, with the slick sound of bodies coming together.

  With as worked up as he is, it doesn’t take Crown long before his body is stiffening up, and he’s shoving himself all the way in, over and over again, tensing up before his release comes. Warmth fills me as I arch my back and fight his hold on my wrists, wanting all of his seed, but desperate for a release of my own.

  “Think of this as a test,” he whispers finally, his voice ragged. I almost hate him for daring to talk, but I’m curious about what he means by that. “Let’s see if you can really handle this much responsibility.”

  “The fuck?” I gasp out as he pulls away from me, standing up and letting me keep the vest before he walks over to the pocket door, slides it open, and slips out. Righteous fury fills me, but I tamp it down.

  Beast said to trust him, so here goes nothing.

  I’m still sitting there, propped on my elbows, when someone else walks in.

  Even from here, even in the dark, I can tell who it is.

  I’d recognize that cocky swagger in the void of space.

  “Cade.” The word hisses out of me, but I’m not entirely displeased. “Is this Beast’s gift to me? For y’all to run a train?”

  “You want four grown-ass men to yourself?” Grainger asks with a harsh laugh, one that consumes the entire living room in its menace. “Then yeah, I guess this is a gift. Enjoy, sweetheart.”

  I grit my teeth, but if he thinks I won’t enjoy it, that I won’t revel in fucking all of these men, then he’s never met me before. It would only take one word from me—one no—and I would be Beast’s, and that would be it.

  That isn’t what I want.

  I knew when I was sixteen what I wanted.

  It’s like, if you dose yourself with small amounts of poison, you can build up a resistance. But, if you stop taking it, then it consumes you, destroys you, eats you from the inside out. Time for another injection.

  “Maybe if you shut your fucking mouth, I’ll have a good time?” I quip back, just before he descends on me, smelling all good and shit. Ugh. It’s tempting to grab his junk and twist hard, just to hear him howl. Only problem there is that I wouldn’t get to use his dick which is, arguably, the very best part of him.

  Grainge takes my mouth like he owns it, plundering me with his tongue and sliding an arm around my waist. His big body settles between my thighs without a hitch, like he was meant to be there all along. I wonder if he knows that I’ve got Crown’s cum dripping down my ass cheeks?

  “You fucking taste like him,” he snarls after a minute, sucking on my lower lip and then biting me. I slap him, and he snatches my wrist in a rough hand.

  “I hope you like using Crown’s cum as lube, too, because that’s how it’s going to be tonight.”

  Grainger laughs at me, cupping my face in his hand. I wish I could see him, the way his mouth turns into a sharp edge, the glint in his eyes that promises that all of his I hate you statements are bullshit he’ll never admit to.

  “Mm. I don’t think so, princess.” I can feel him between us, undoing his pants. Whatever he has in mind, I’m sure it’s going to piss me off. My blood burns hot when he touches me, stirring up my anger the same way Crown stirs up this long-buried need in me for approval. Both things annoy me, but I allow them to take over for tonight, to rule me in the dark.

  “You don’t think so?” I snap back, wishing he’d shut up so that we could go back to that perfect darkness.

  “Nah,” Grainger says, leaning down and smelling my hair like a crazy person. I slap his face, and he hisses at me, but not like he didn’t enjoy it. So I slap him again, and he growls. “You little brat.” He retreats slightly, grabbing me by the hips and flipping me over. He pushes me forward, so that I’m balanced on the arm of the couch, my hands just shy of the floor.

  Before I can even begin to guess what he’s up to, he’s cracking me across the ass.

  “Damn, I needed that,” he breathes, and then he does it again. The sharp sting followed by the greedy caress of his fingers does all sorts of right things for me. “More importantly, you needed that. About time someone took charge of this ass.”

  Cade slides two fingers into me, and I gasp, gripping the couch for support.

  “Shut the hell up,” I breathe out, but my voice isn’t quite as authoritative as I wish it were. I’m too hungry for more, in desperate need of a release. My pussy throbs and aches, clamping around his fingers and trying to milk them as he fucks me nice and slow and deep, working up wetness onto his hand.

  With a satisfied grunt, he pulls his hand away.

  “Crown can have that pussy; I want your ass.” He teases a fingertip over my rear opening and then presses against it, demanding entry, waiting for my body to relax beneath his touch. At first, I tense up, because I’ve never even thought about anal before.

  Of course that’s what Grainger wants, to be the first man to fuck my pussy and the first man to fuck my ass.

&n
bsp; “Don’t hurt me,” I whisper, before I can stop myself. The words are a bit too raw, a bit too vulnerable for my liking. That seems to give Grainger pause, but only for a split-second.

  “Why protect you with my life then cause you pain? Don’t be stupid, Gidge.” He pushes a single finger in, and I gasp. It’s such a different feeling than I’m used to, like I’m being impossibly stretched, like I’m breaking all of nature’s rules but being rewarded for it at the same time. With a slow but exacting surety, he draws his finger out, pushes it in again, out, in.

  I exhale and relax, letting my muscles turn to jelly, allowing myself to fall apart. Still, my cunt aches, and I wonder if this will satisfy her neediness.

  Grainger doesn’t let me spend too long contemplating it, putting two fingers into my pussy without removing the one in my ass. He works me with his hand as I grind my pelvis against the sofa, stimulating my clit at the same time.

  As if he can sense the moment of climax approaching, he purposely withdraws his hand. There’s the sound of clothing rustling, the crinkle of a condom wrapper, and then he’s pressing the tip of his cock to my ass.

  “Don’t fight me on this, Gidge,” he warns me as I scratch my nails against the side of the sofa. “The more relaxed you are, the better this’ll be.” That’s the last bit of advice I get before he’s pushing inside, and I’m gasping, leaning forward instinctually until my palms hit the floor. “Oh yeah, that’s the angle right there.”

  Grainger takes his time, turning this moment into sweet torture, pushing his dick in inch by inch. Each time my body gives him resistance, he stops, waits, and then dives a little deeper.

  “Tell me I’m the first one to fuck this,” he commands, and even though I swear to God, I’m going to shave his eyebrows off in his sleep, I do it. I say it. Shit, I’m a sucker.

  “You’re the first,” I promise him, and he groans, gripping my hips hard and keeping me in place on the couch. His movements are slow, almost languorous, this lazy, confident motion that makes me feel weak, that makes my body tremble beneath him.

  But that isn’t me.

  I’m not weak. I use the side of the couch to push myself up, to shove my hips back into him until he’s buried completely inside of me. There’s a little bit of pain, the agony of a first time, but mostly it’s just pleasure. Awful, awful, ugly, pretty pleasure.

  “Jesus motherfucking Christ,” he says, which is as close to a compliment as we’re ever going to get. I take it. I hold myself up, giving him resistance to fuck me. It feels amazing, but there’s this emptiness inside of me, this begging need to have both holes filled at the same time.

  I could take more than one devil to bed. Would they like that? Are they all too possessive to learn to share?

  The orgasm is just out of my reach, and I know without a doubt that Cade isn’t going to let me get there. Instead, he uses me to please himself, stretching me and groaning, his fingers leaving bruises on my hips.

  My breasts sway as he moves in and out of me, his pace increasing just before he grabs onto the back of my borrowed vest. He takes the fabric in a fist and yanks on it, giving himself better leverage as he comes hard. The sound he makes is unbridled, the cry of a wild demon, one that doesn’t submit without a leash of hellfire.

  Taming Cade Grainger is going to be a big challenge.

  He slides out of me, leaving me to collapse against the couch, my skin sweaty, my breathing ragged. I feel like I might go crazy from need; I have to have a release. I have to. I fucking have to.

  “Sin …” I start, because he better be coming in here next. He better fucking be. Or else Grainger isn’t leaving.

  “You get screwed by me and then mention another guy’s name?” he snaps, cracking his hand across my ass. “You’ve got balls, Gidge.”

  “Ovaries,” I gasp out, and Grainger spanks me again.

  “Yeah, yeah, I’ll get your pretty blue-haired boy for you,” he sneers at me. I mean, I can’t see him, but the expression is apparent in his words. His footsteps recede through the darkness as I turn over. My entire body is an inferno right now. What I need at this moment is cool water, something to douse the flame.

  Not that I’m entirely sure Sin could be that for me.

  He could just as easily make me explode.

  For a while there, I sit alone in the dark, shaking and panting, one arm thrown across my sweaty brow. He better come, I think, mulling over his words in the basement. He never committed to anything. He still hasn’t. Of all of them, I feel like he’s the most likely to run, to pull away from me, to fight this.

  “Shit.” I do my best to relax back into the cushions, sliding my hand between my thighs. I’m sore in two places now, from Crown and Grainger. Ugh. If any two people were opposites, were truly black and white, it’d be those two. Closing my eyes, I imagine what it wouldn’t feel like to take them all into me at once. One in the ass, one in the pussy, one in the mouth, one cupped in my heated palm. I groan and slip two fingers in, working my clit with the heel of my hand as I pump slowly in and out.

  I must be too deep into it to recognize the sound of Sin joining me. The next thing I know, the couch cushions are denting, and I feel an extra finger slip in beside mine. Rather than open my eyes, I relax into it, enjoying the easy way he matches my rhythm. Slowly, I remove my fingers and Sin replaces them with his own.

  My pelvis grinds against his knuckles as I bring my hand up to cup my own breast, squeezing and kneading and pinching my own nipple. Wishing it was Sin’s hand. Wishing he’d touch me more. Kiss me.

  “I’m never going to kiss you again, Gidge. It’s too risky.”

  He said that to me once. But he lied. He fucking lied, and then he kissed me in the kitchen that day with no excuse. No goddamn excuse at all.

  Then he lied for me again and saved my life.

  “Lie to me and say you’re okay with this,” I breathe out, and the motion of his hand slows. “Tell me you’re glad I’m here. That you’ll share me with Beast. That you always wanted me to be a part of the club.”

  “Gidge,” he says, his voice a clear warning. Sin slides his thumb over my clit with a curse of his own, rubbing the swollen flesh and making my body feel like it’s coming apart. It all feels too good. I want too much. I’m shattering.

  A climax tears through me in a dangerous, violent way, like I’ve consumed far too much of that poison, the one I was supposed to be building an immunity to. I’ve become toxic. Subsumed by it. Drowned. I’m shuddering and thrashing and quivering, making these horrible noises. My cunt squeezes Sin’s fingers and refuses to let them go.

  He yanks away against my body’s will, leaving me empty as the orgasm stabs me straight through the heart. And then he’s there again, finding his place between my legs, and driving into me while I’m still in the throes of it. With my body’s natural urge to pulse and clamp, he has to fight his way in, past strong muscles and violent throbs.

  “Fuck, Gidge.” Sin’s thrusting hard and fast now, driving into my body even as the sparkles fade, and the feel of him moving becomes almost too tender to bear. “I’m glad you’re here,” he lies, and oh, what a pretty prevarication. He’s full of shit, and I’m loving it. “I always, always, always wanted this life for you.” He slams his pelvis into me with each repeat of the world ‘always’, giving form to monstrous untruths that I’d trade damn near everything in this world to make reality. Sin puts his lips near my ear, that sharp mouth of his threatening to cut me as he lies again. “I’d love to share you with Beast. Take turns every night. Walk you down the goddamn aisle.”

  Sin lifts me up by the ass and then lets his body fall back into the couch so that I’m on top of him.

  “Bounce,” he says, and the word is low, dangerous. It’s fucking fire, is what it is.

  Wrapping my arms around his neck, I do as he asked, sliding my body up and down the length of his dick and feeling a second orgasm threaten me. It hurts so bad that my eyes prick with my tears, but I don’t stop. If I stop now,
I’ll find myself stranded back in the grittiness of reality. If I stop now, this entire night of fantasy ends.

  Two weeks until the wedding. Reba is missing. Gaz is a traitor.

  If I fuck hard enough, fast enough, love hard enough, want enough, then I make it all go away for just a split-second.

  Sin helps by cupping my waist and then sliding his fingers down to grope my ass, kneading my cheeks and spreading them so I can get deeper with each bounce. With my head thrown back, he has ample access to my throat, licking and sucking and biting me in just such a way that I know I’ll be marked tomorrow. Claimed. Just like he did in the basement.

  It makes me excited thinking about it, about how the others might dislike that, how they might dislike it enough to try to put their own mark on me … And also how I might mark them in turn.

  “How many groupies have you fucked recently?” I ask Sin, slowing down, letting jealousy burn through me hot and bright. I once saw him doing a girl on the hood of Gaz’s sportscar. And I hate that. I hate it. I wish they’d all come to me and only me. But then, maybe that would make it harder for them to share? “Lie to me and say none.”

  Sin pauses, sliding his hand up my back, holding my nape and bringing our mouths together.

  A kiss with him is like … it’s like being fifteen and standing in a graveyard while ash rains down. It’s like making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and then dropping it on the floor because his mouth cuts like a garrote. Just daring enough to get away with. Just poisonous enough to swear off of.

  “Gidge, I haven’t been with a girl for a while,” he growls out, getting frustrated with me. “You know that. You know why kissing you was a risky thing. You have the power to make me hate everything about this life. Only you. You’re the only person who could make me consider destroying every friendship I have, ruining every alliance, risking my life.”

  “Keep lying to me,” I choke out, and I start to slide up and down his shaft, creating delicious friction that’ll blur all the lines. Is he lying to me? Is he telling the truth? I have no idea. I literally have no fucking clue. Either scenario is just as likely.