by V. Theia
“It’s my bed!” she fired back just to make a point. The point being she didn’t even know and hated this conversation even more now. All she’d wanted was a pile of pasta and maybe a Disney movie, she still had Frozen saved on DVR to watch, how had this night turned so sour so quickly?
“Our bed.” he amended with a dirty smirk on his face.
“We don’t live together, Rider!” her tone was fuming for a blast of a second, even as she said it she knew she was wrong and just lashing out. “You told me you’d give me space.”
“That’s what you want?”
No. It’s not. Zara did her own slow exhaling and took those few seconds to breathe before they got into an unnecessary argument. Too late.
"That’s what you want? Gotcha. Then what am I even doin’ here, Zara? fuck this walkin’ on eggshells waitin’ for you to see what’s clearly in front of your nose, and fuck you. You want me gone, sweetheart, watch me fuckin’ go."
“Rider. Dammit…”
And with that Rider charged out in the coolest way she'd ever seen before, he’d grabbed up both his shirt and jacket, his long legs striding so fast he practically left skid marks on the tiled floor. The door slammed behind him.
A second later she heard the purr of his bike starting up.
She sucked in a stunned breath. Blinking a few times staring at the back door.
Did that just happen?
Of all men…Rider would have been last on the list of suspects to ever cut and run in that way. She giggled unexpectedly, eyes rolling, her tizzy attitude drained in that one laugh.
She never realized before. Blind really. Despite all he’d done for her, she should have recognized the signs, even his boys had told her so. Until right that second it became crystal clear, a bolt to the temple. That man was in love with her. Real love. So much love that the snapped words had hurt him. And rather say something hurtful back to her he’d left. She’d hurt him. Damn.
Zara’s ears twitched, sure enough, there he went, his bike roaring down the street, the distinct purr was Rider's pride and joy and he was probably abusing the poor thing to get away fast enough.
She wondered if he knew he'd rushed out of his own house.
And the silliness was, despite her cruel uncalled for words they were living together. No long drawn out conversations had been needed. Rider wanted to be with her and Zara most definitely wanted to be with him, why was she kicking up such a stink about wanting space? when all Zara wanted was to be fused to Rider’s side. Forever. Relationships were hard to figure out without a map. All she knew was, Rider made her happy, and she never felt more ultra-feminine than when blue eyes were raking over her from head to toe, fucking her with his gaze.
They’d just had their first couple fight. She sighed.
It was kind of romantic, really. Well, it would be if he ever came back.
Shrugging, she unglued her feet. A woman had to eat, pasta waited for no moody man, and she’d probably ring his cell phone any minute now to come back home but first she had burgers to grill.
Instagram-worthy coming right up.
"I hope you starve, you, idiot. It would serve you right." She muttered to herself still amused at his antics. I mean, really, Rider. Big Idiot loved her.
Love. God.
Forget the emotionally abuse from her captors, that right there was some pure bonafide scary stuff.
Humming along with the radio, taking care of food preparation, she was heavily into cooking when … Ahh, her hearing picked up a noise. It wasn't necessary to call Rider back after all. That same rumble of an engine pulling into the garage port. Her heart began to swell in her chest, above the noise of her pulse banging wildly to realize he'd come back. She heard the heavy steps as he took a couple of stairs up to the back door, and the scuff of his boots on the concrete mudroom floor leading to the kitchen and then ... he was inside.
When life was stripped bare, it was just this left. Him and her. Details didn’t matter, not really.
She rounded her shoulders, placing the last glass dish she'd used for the melted garlic butter into the dishwasher, she dropped in a dish tablet and closed it over, setting it to boil wash before saying. "You left..." It was meant to sound accusatory but came out breathier than she'd wanted.
She felt his heat along the length of her back as he approached.
His sigh was audible right before his hands spanned her waist, dragging her body to stand flush with his. That same hand traveled up her stomach sending shivers through her body until it circled the front of her throat. Holding her gently in what anyone would call an aggressive move, it was anything but to Zara. His thumb worked along her hammering pulse.
"It was five minutes, Icy. I left for five fuckin' minutes, didn't even get halfway down the block before I circled back like a fuckin' halfwit unable to leave you."
Enveloped in warmth and love Zara smiled when those gorgeous lips she adored skimmed her bare collarbone. It was too hot to wear anything fancy, but she'd wanted to look decent for him tonight so had worn a new strappy vest top that A-lined out around her belly but clung to her breasts. It was a renewed sensation to want to feel feminine again.
Lips moved against her neck, Zara tipped her head back wallowing in his touch, leaving it against his shoulder. She supposed she could forgive him. "You looked cute as hell flouncing out. I thought for a second you were going to pack your teddy bear in a little suitcase and drag it out behind you." No stopping her fun, she giggled uncontrollably when he growled against her skin, scraping his teeth as she assumed a punishment. The bite felt nice. Of course, she laughed again to have a little more. Rider didn't disappoint.
"It was not cute, dammit, Icy. You piss me off and make my dick ache all at the same time. I don't know whether to murder you or fuck you stupid half the time." She felt the dangerous tension slip through them. It melted her. His candor was always something she admired in Rider, the way he could and did just say what he wanted, no fear of consequences. If he thought it, he said it. His arms wound tighter around her waist, his crotch ground to her ass. She doubted murder was on his mind right now unless that was a very large throbbing hammer he was hiding in his pants.
Turning in his arms, he kept her exactly where he wanted her and Zara was fine with that. Cranking her head back to look up she saw so much swirl in his eyes. Her Rider so pensive. She stroked his stubble, leaving her hand there.
"My handsome runaway."
"You don't even have the grace to be furious that I left. Didn't even throw one fuckin' dish against the door. You're here laughin’ your butt off burnin’ food like I haven’t even ruined you." Rider scowled.
God. His handsome face did funny things to her insides. Her belly began to ache, not in a bad way. In a hot, wanting to fuck hard way. Her heart giving one heavy lazy thump.
"I do not burn food, biker man!" just in case, she sneaked her hand around him and flipped the stove off.
Zara grinned one of those rare wide grins that slowly was coming back into her life. Into her soul.
All thanks to him.
She ran fingers against his pinched brow until the creases smoothed out once again giving him back the most beautiful face she'd ever seen. She giggled as he leaned down and nipped her lower lip, held it in his teeth. His pissed off was veiled, but bristling beneath his surface. Everything came alive in Rider when he had a burr under his hat. He'd never been sexier to Zara.
Using both hands around the back of his neck she encouraged him to bend forward, he caught onto what she wanted and crushed her mouth, sealing together in a kiss so hot it boiled her blood causing dampness to flood between her legs. Rider always kissed her like it was the end of the world, their contact was a blaze, never giving her time to follow the patterns of just where his lips would explore next, she held on, opened to the thrust of his tongue, all logic and stubbornness falling away, it was only her and him and their devil-hot kiss. After long minutes, he gave one last provocative pull before drawing away. His eyes all
over her lips still.
She could feel the vibration from his deep, shaky inhale. Body to body.
"Am I? Yours?" A dare for her to deny it.
The tension came back just like that, not because she feared the question, but it suggested as though it was the first time they'd been real with one another, actually saying the words and the complexity of this bad biker actually wanting to know if he belonged to her didn’t pass her by. She felt its full meaning and what it must cost him of all men to ask it.
Zara held her breath, watching how silently he watched her. Her patient Rider had been nothing but accommodating with her this entire time, waiting weeks and weeks for her to catch up to where he already was, to accept them together, only gently pushing back against her when she tried to deny what they were.
Oftentimes you didn't see perfection right in front of you for the mist of anxiety in your way, as her therapist explained it to her.
She was seeing Rider.
Her lips puckered, his eyes narrowed but as she knew he would he cranked his head down and lay his lips to hers, briefly, already she missed them when he rose.
He waited again for her answer.
"I suppose you must be. If only to keep you from running away from home again. The streets are no place for someone so pretty and our bed is too big for just me. I mean, I was about to make missing person posters. I nearly called your boys for a full-scale search. I was planning to make sausage link rolls with a side of BBQ chips or pita chips and tofu burgers for the vegans. I saw a good recipe on Martha Stewart's website. People always search better on a full stomach, don't you think so, Ambrosio?" With every word the humor built in Zara until she felt as though her belly would burst if she didn't laugh.
The darker his scowl, the bigger the urge.
He moved fast.
Rearing back so he could toss her over his shoulder fireman style. She squealed, her hands reaching out to balance on his hard butt dangling like she was a slab of beef he was carting home from the market. She’d never felt so wanted. Lust fizzled between them, making the air thick syrup.
He took long steps, purposeful strides down the hallway, past the living room, Zara laughing the whole time. "I demand you put me down, Ambrosio. YOU left, you don't get to be a caveman about it. You're not my president to throw your weight around." Bouncing on his shoulder, he gave her ass a firm palm holding her steady.
“No. But you’re my fuckin’ old lady and you’re laughing at me, Icy, you need a firm hard fuck.” He took to the stairs as though she weighed nothing, he didn’t even have the audacity to huff hard. Destination was crystal clear, she moaned a little.
Exhilarated. Turned on. Her spirit light, Zara laughed when he kicked open the last door on the end of the hall tossed her onto the large unmade bed. We're only gonna climb back into it later. Was always his excuse when she complained he never made the bed. She was falling in love with a hobo.
Sprawled on the white bedding, she braced her hands and lifted her torso. No intentions of moving, not when she was far more interested in what the big bad biker man was going to do now. She watched him inhale slowly .... fists on his hips, breathing through his flared nostrils stood at the bottom of the bed like a dark avenging badass. His cut came off first, tossed on the chair over in the corner, next he kicked his boots off, left them wherever they landed. "Really, Rider, can't you tidy those away..." she taunted with a slow-growing smile.
It had the desired effect as he bared his teeth growling. Eyes heated and pinned on her.
Her heart rate increased. Places began to throb wanting to be filled by him.
"Really pushin’ it, baby. I'd shut it while you're ahead."
"Or…else?"
That did it.
Body soaked ready and begging, she watched him with the hunger of a woman wanting to be fucked by the right man as he prowled himself across the bed, all muscle and sinew moving together beneath his denim and wife beater, crawling right over her until she was caged in by that much larger body, he kept coming until he’d forced her back up against the headboard. She purred, hands going around to hold his waist, her foot hooking against his ankle, locking him in place just as he held her down, his weight was so incredibly good, she pumped up her hips for any kind of friction.
"Or else your man won't fuck you stupid. He won't fuck you until you're hoarse from screamin'. Your man won't fuck you until that pretty little fuckin' pussy is shaking from the inside, drippin' for me.”
When he dirty talked, she dissolved into a puddle. Like a bomb has been waiting for the right opportunity to go off, she enjoyed the spiral of heat.
She shut it.
And Rider fucked her stupid.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
“A badass biker man loves me. So, what's your super power?" - Zara
"My girl is too thin. I need to feed you up." Fingers played around her ribcage, stroking, tempting her though her body was in that sated status.
"Like the fatted calf?" she laughed. "Is that something a scary outlaw would say, sounds a little sexist if you ask me. But look who I'm saying it to, the walking breathing stone-age biker-man. Let me introduce you to the twenty-first century, don’t be afraid, biker man." She smiled flirtatiously. Largely because Rider had his other hand on the rise of her butt just right where the base of her spine dipped in, fingers splayed caressing her. It felt so nice she wiggled a little. She’d been wrecked by sex, a sopping wet mess, juices leaking out of her even now while her bones rebuilt themselves from the hard pounding he’d given her.
Warm, curled against a gorgeous man who had just fucked her brains out twice, and he was telling her she was thin. If he offered her fat-free chocolate she was going to declare it the perfect day.
"Not sexist if it's true, Icy. The first time I got hands on you, you were all these sexy as fuck curves and dips. My girl is too thin now, scared I’ll break you when I get into that pussy I own."
“If you wouldn’t drag me off to bed before I can eat dinner, that might help.” she smiled in a saucy teasing way, playing her fingers over the span of his chest feeling his heart rap steadily.
“I'm shoulderin' the blame, am I?” was his smirked reply. Adding as he stroked fingertips around her hip to keep her planted firmly over his crotch. “Beautiful. Too thin, though. I’ll make it better.”
"I don't need a white knight."
"Nah, you need a Rider. Fortunately for you, baby, I'm right here. Now gimme that mouth." He encouraged with his voice turned up to smokey and the same hand rubbed the length of her spine right up to her nape which he palmed. Zara’s purr went nuclear.
"You want my mouth?"
"Yes. Gimme your gorgeous mouth up here, baby." His voice was thick with sin.
Against his chest, her smile grew. Not making a move to shift up his body, his chest bare and golden brown her mouth watered, Zara easily snuggled into the hardness of his torso, kissed over a nipple, grinned when he growled, she squealed, abruptly finding herself rolled beneath him.
Nothing pleased her more than seeing the dark hungry look in his eyes.
It was one thing to be taken by that kind of man, and another to see it gazing down with no filters whatsoever, just right there for her to see.
Sexy as hell.
He prowled up over her, pushed open her thighs settling between them, his hands braced on either side of her head.
He'd had her every which way in the last couple of hours yet she could see he was far from finished.
She hummed excited low in the back of her throat, a needy sound when he pressed his lower body into the cradle of her hips, rubbing his cock until he could slip into her wetness. It drove her crazy when he wouldn't slide further inside. She needed him deep.
Whimpering his name, undulating her back in hopes of pushing him inside herself, didn't persuade him otherwise, Rider simply held himself still pressed down over her.
He did that hip movement again drawing out more of her throat moans as her pleasure began to reviv
e with every gentle nudge on her sensitive flesh. She'd thought all those orgasms were enough, that surely, she couldn't have any more this week, this month, but her body begged to differ. Crawling her hands around Rider's waist, hooking her leg to his, Zara snuggled down into the bed, pumped her hips up, or tried to.
"Rider...." his name drawled every letter in a hot whisper.
"I wanted your mouth, baby. Didn't I tell you gimme that mouth?"
God. Now was not the time to tease her.
Scowling up at his wicked smile stretching out his lips, made sexier with his hair hanging free around his face tickling hers when he leaned down, providing a small canopy for them, he sampled a whisper kiss to her lips, drew back when she arched for more.
His cock slid against her clit. One wet slide before he retreated leaving her on a precipice of wanting to kill him. He’s so fucking intense she can’t stand it.
She pulsed from within and clutched his waist digging her nails to get him to come down even further. Rider only grinned unfazed like it was a day out at the park for him. Ugh. Is it right that I want to punch him? Asking for a friend.
"What do you want, baby … need my cock inside you?" Jesus Christ. Give the man a coconut! face flush, she was trembling, dripping and wanting him like a deranged person on the edge of sanity, her hand caressed down to his butt, urging him in.
Yes, yes, yes.
"Yes. Why are you teasing me?"
Rider had other ideas she soon found out. "Just like I wanted your fuckin' mouth."
Oh. My. God. "You're really withholding your cock because I didn't kiss you in a timely fashion?" her eyes blazed ready to punch the smile from his gorgeous face.
"Timely fashion ... my fuckin’ cute articulate girl." his voice held humor. Back and forth, hard and slow, Rider slid the head of his cock against Zara until she thought she'd die. He grunted every now and then, his upper body flexing, each muscle giving and releasing ... if she could just ... her hips lifted the same time as her hand on his tight butt pulled him down. Damn his strength. He resisted frustrating the hell out of her. She huffed, glaring up.