by Nicole Reed
Her eyes shut on their own accord at the feel of his lips tentatively caressing her face. Their mouths met and melted into one another. Shyla feared that he could feel the beating of her anxious heart against his own chest. His tongue thrashed against hers, ushering an intense wave of pleasure to warm her body. Her pussy clenched with need.
One minute she wore Hold’s shirt and the next he ripped it over her head. It dislodged their mouths for only a second, before he found hers again. His hands were everywhere all at once, relieving her breasts from the lace bra that bound them in place, exquisitely pinching the tips of her nipples. There was a quiet desperation in his touch—it both excited and frightened Shyla. He was moving so fast and she wanted it, but she was terrified that she’d lose herself in the hectic pace. She feared him, but she needed him as much as he did her.
“Hold,” she struggled to utter his name, the sexual heat radiating from his body promising heaven.
Not heeding her, he worked her jeans down her legs along with her plain cotton underwear. His own breaths seemed to rush out in pants. Shyla followed his lead, stepping out of her clothes, giving him what he wanted for the moment. His intense need was directing him. She could see it within the shine in his eyes, feel it in his urgent touch, and taste it in his hungry kisses.
It took only seconds for Hold to remove his boots and strip off his jeans, all the while pressing his lips against hers, touching her, and commanding her body, forcing her quickened response.
“Slow down,” she begged against his mouth, spreading her fingers across his sculpted chest. She slid them up and over the hard muscle. He was moving too quickly, the fiery heat between them burning her too swiftly, threatening to consume Shyla. And she wanted to remember everything about their first time together.
The sweet pressure of his lips slowed. “I can’t,” he murmured between them. “I won’t hurt you, Shyla, but I can’t.”
“What happened, Hold,” she started to ask, but he moaned softly against her mouth, the motion vibrating and tickling her sensitive lips. Damn! It sent seismic impulse waves throughout her already sensitized body.
“Please,” he begged, letting the tips of his dark eyelashes hide his eyes as they shut.
Shyla’s soul quivered when she watched the first tear escape the corner of his closed eyelid. Hold rested his forehead against hers as more ran in silent rivulets down his face. He sharply inhaled and his chest heaved, both of his hands tightly gripping her arms, preventing Shyla from moving or touching him. The searing sorrow he drowned in extended its way into her heart. Tears leaked from her own wide-open eyes, mingling with Hold’s when she lifted her face to briefly rub her cheek next to his.
He started to speak, but whatever he said was lost inside a muted sob. The tips of his fingers dug into the flesh of her biceps.
“I don’t know who I am anymore,” Hold brokenly whispered underneath his breath. “It’s all a goddamn lie.”
“No,” Shyla cried, her hands balled into fists at her sides. It was heart-wrenching to see him struggle with something tearing his world apart. “You’re the realest person I’ve ever met, Hold.”
“You don’t know me,” he mumbled, with a faint snort of his nose. “I don’t know me.”
“I know you,” Shyla said, her heated words whispered over his soft lips. “I think I’ve always known you.”
Hold’s tightly shut eyes slid open. The pools of endless blue rippled with self-doubt and it humbled Shyla to be allowed to witness the open honesty he rarely shared. It also completely shredded the last vestiges of her resistance for whatever Hold wanted, however he wanted it.
“Let me have you.”
Shyla nodded, lost to anything else but the vulnerable king standing before her. She knew he was geared to run the club and he already ruled her heart—Hold wouldn’t accept anything less between them. It felt different with him, old emotional ties stripping away before binding them tighter together.
She heard his breath release, felt some of the tension leave his body. Did he think she would turn him away? What had happened after she left the clubhouse? He grasped her hand, and drew her toward the bedroom. It all felt surreal to Shyla.
The soft afternoon light washed over her bed, and across his strong face, highlighting his arousal that he barely held in check. They ended up beside the bed. Hold tugged her against his nude form, her body pressing intimately into his. Shyla shuddered, loving how her body fit solidly with Hold’s. Her sensitive nipples pressed into the skin covering his muscled chest.
“You taste so sweet,” he said, tracing the edges of her lips with his tongue. “So goddamn sweet, Shyla.”
It took her several minutes to realize that he had listened to her and slowed down. His mouth moved lazily against Shyla’s, his hands caressed her sides, skimming over her ribcage, and back down. Their eyes locked on to one another. Each knew what the other needed, not wanting the lust to burn too fast, otherwise they took the chance of losing both of themselves.
His head lowered. She closed her eyes at the feel of his warm tongue against the tender tip of her nipple. With one swift suck she bowed her back, arching in to him, forcing more into his mouth. A soft, heated chuckle heated her breast.
“Now who’s rushin’?” he asked, daring a glimpse up at her. His long dark eyelashes covered most of his cerulean irises.
“Hold,” Shyla quietly begged. She could feel the smile lifting his mouth at her chest.
“Shyla,” he replied, kissing his way to her other breast. “It scares me how much I need you at this moment.”
She was too in tune with Hold. Shyla stared down at him, watching his tongue swirl around her other nipple, and lapping at the center. Her hand brushed over his shaved head. Gently, she cradled the back of his skull, watching him devour her, and riding the exquisite pressure filling her. Sweet Jesus, he was using his teeth on her engorged nipple.
Her head fell backward, her knees buckled. Hold caught her around the waist with one arm. He supported her, his free hand traveling her thigh, covering her mound.
“Fuck,” Shyla cried, her body creaming with need.
“I plan to,” he growled, nibbling at her mouth while his hand deftly played her pussy, each slide of a finger more slippery than the last.
Hold stared at her, watching her jerk hungrily in his arms, twisting to allow him deeper penetration. His gaze never wavered from hers. Her cheeks felt overheated, as she fought her release, wanting him to be with her, the sensual intimacy passing between them deepening their connection.
Regaining some semblance of sanity, she slipped her trembling hand between their sweaty bodies. He gasped when her fingers trailed over the hardened tip of his cock. The sound made her heart swell, near to bursting with happiness. He thrust against her hand and Shyla’s fingers curved around his thick member, gripping him tightly with every up and down movement.
His mouth lowered to hers. “Need you,” Hold whispered against her lips.
He laid light kisses down her chin, covering her neck, before moving back to her open mouth. Shyla couldn’t wait another second. She raised both hands to cradle his face so she could place her lips to his. His fingers continued to glide through her secret folds, caressing her throbbing clit.
She almost screamed his name. His eyes widened, then darkened at the pleasure he knew he gave her. Her heart had never been so in sync with her body. He was building the climax, claiming her body, but at the same time, something else was growing inside Shyla. It threatened to spill from her heart.
“I need you.” The words escaped from her along with a single tear rolling silently down her cheek.
Shyla watched his eyes follow the lonely drop that slowly descended her face. His tongue darted out to catch it, drinking her in. It was the most erotic sight. Her body clenched when his finger slid into her hot embrace and the muscles within her tightened around him.
“Now,” she demanded, watching him watch her intently.
Hold pulled his tense b
ody slightly back. He pushed her gently to the bed beneath her. The fall to the mattress was short, but she still felt like she was freefalling like an airplane, gravity claiming her. However, no ground rushed up to greet them. Instead, he crashed into her.
“There’s no turning back,” he uttered.
It sounded desperate even to her ears. She wasn’t quite sure what he meant, but it didn’t matter.
“There never was,” Shyla answered, arching against him. His cock heated the curve of her belly. She needed it elsewhere.
He nuzzled her neck with gentle kisses, belying the torment in his eyes and tension in his body. Shyla moved her legs to cradle him between her thighs. He instantly maneuvered so that his cock nudged her entrance.
Hold had never experienced the level of need that consumed him at this very minute. He almost blacked out at her words. He needed to hear them desperately, more than she could ever understand. For once, someone wanted him, for him, knowing who he truly was when even he didn’t.
She was real beneath him and he wanted only her. He spoke the truth. His fingers swept through her blonde hair, tangling in the short strands, twisting them around his hand. Her body moved against his, lodging the tip of his shaft in her wet cunt. He hissed at the sensation of heat blasting from her body, warming him from the outside in.
Her hands moved up to grasp his shoulders, her nails biting into his skin as she bucked, trying to draw him into her. Hold knew he was a goner with that first thrust. It was white-hot heat enveloping him, welcoming him home. The ecstasy only grew. He filled her with his flesh, possessing her with every deep plunge.
The pale blueness of her eyes widened when he briefly retreated, leaving her empty, and she’d whimper when he would impale her again and again. Their bodies moved in tandem, reacting automatically to each other. Hold could feel her pussy spasm around his cock—little orgasms building to something bigger. He tried to hold off his own release.
He rose over her, doing his best to keep their bodies connected. Hold loved the feel of her naked flesh rubbing against his with every slide. He leveled himself on one hand, bracing himself against the bed’s wrought iron headboard while the other lodged in her hair. It was easy to tilt her head back and sip at her lips. He tasted her, damn near loving everything about Shyla.
His hips pummeling her faster, he buried himself to the hilt. Her writhing and moans of pleasure drove him. She tightened so hard around his cock that pleasure mixed with pain and he groaned, knowing it wouldn’t take much more to send him over the edge. He opened her legs wider and held them further back.
Shyla’s hips shifted, lifting to meet his every thrust. She gave an involuntary cry, signaling her release, and gushed all over his cock.
And he matched her. The orgasm ripped through Hold, like nothing he’d ever experienced—he’d never come so easily in his life. His body spewed cum inside of her and Hold chanted her name like a prayer. Her flesh greedily pumped him dry, tightening further down on him.
“Don’t,” he begged, grinding his hips against her to stall Shyla’s movements.
Her heavy breaths slowly leveled. Neither moved. It’d been so long since Hold had wanted more from a woman, and he needed it with Shyla. She somehow calmed the demons inside of him, holding them at bay. He experienced an unprecedented quiet peace, his body and mind completely relaxed—something he was wholly unused to feeling.
“That was amazing,” she said groggily as he slipped from her body.
He shifted to lie on his side next to her, noticing the small smile curving Shyla’s beautiful face. Her eyes remained closed. Hold leaned down to feather her temple with kisses. She’d witnessed his tears and the torment that ripped his world apart and Shyla did not waver. She’d offered solace and a safe haven. It gutted Hold and brought more damn water to his eyes.
Part of him wanted to bury his face against her chest and never move, but the other already wanted to escape her bed. He’d sworn off this type of relationship after Hels, not wanting to let someone so close to him. He rolled over onto his back.
“Hold?” she asked, beside him.
Old habits were hard to break. Hold sat up, naked, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He glanced back to see Shyla staring up at him.
“Hmmm?” Hold answered, noting the worried gaze she didn’t hide.
“Nothing,” Shyla whispered with a shake of her head.
His breathing finally calmed within his chest and he found comfort in the silence that existed between them. The day’s repercussions vehemently returned, haunting him, forever changing his future. There was no way to explain his thoughts and feelings—everything in his life was hard to bear, except the woman lying next to him.
“So is this your M.O.? Wham-bam-thank you, ma’am?” she asked smiling, but her eyes said something altogether different.
“Did it feel like a wham-bam-thank you, ma’am?” he asked, ignoring her hurt, which he couldn’t put into words at the moment.
“It definitely did not,” Shyla answered, sitting up to reach for a blanket that’d been pushed to the edge of the bed. “Do you want to talk about what is happening?”
“With us?” he asked, watching her shake her head.
“No. We don’t have to rush us. I mean with the club.”
He surprisingly needed to—it was always like this with her. Ever since Hels left years ago, he’d lost his sounding board. And even then he’d watched everything he said, in fear of how Hels would’ve reacted. With Shyla he didn’t feel any restraint on being truthful.
“I don’t feel like I’m livin’ in my skin anymore. I’m confused about what I’m fightin’ for,” Hold said, reliving old conversations in his head. With Ward… with Sage… with Hels. Hell… with everyone. He stared into space, not seeing her sparsely decorated bedroom. The rage clawed its way back inside of him.
Hold needed a cigarette to calm the pressure gathering in his chest. He wanted to punch holes in the wall, break something, or kill everyone who’d ever hurt him. The need to scream his frustrations was only silenced by his sheer will to keep everything under control. He was seconds from his world shattering and his mind splintering again with the ugly truths that scorched his existence. Had the repercussions of today been hastened by the crimes he’d committed during his life? Was he now paying for his sins?
“Tell me. What’ve you been fighting for?” she asked.
The bed barely moved beneath him, but he knew she shifted to sit at his back. Her hand lightly caressed the top of his shoulders, silently giving him much-needed comfort.
“My family. My brothers. The Hell’s Highwaymen has been my salvation. My religion,” he answered, not turning to look at her. Hold lowered his head, cradling his skull in his hands. “It’s who I am. All I know.”
Her fingertip traced the Hell’s tattoo on the top of his arm. “It’s not just ink, is it?”
“No. It’s Hell’s ink. It’s a declaration. A lifestyle. No… a choice,” Hold said, mainly to himself. The words reverberated through his mind. He may’ve been born into Ward and Sage Dawson’s family, but he chose to be part of the Hell’s Highwaymen Motorcycle Club. Hold chose it.
He represented the brothers who choose to believe and follow him. Not Ward. Blood-born or not, Ward had groomed him to be his successor, to lead this MC into the future. And by God, that’s what he would do. With or without Ward—it’ll be the old man’s choice. Because they all make them. And Hold’s had always been the MC, to be the president of the club, a leader of men.
Hold raised his head, turning to glance at the three-piece-patch tattoo on his arm that branded him. Claimed him. Only club members and their old ladies were allowed to wear it. It was a symbol to be admired and reckoned with, a show of brotherhood that should be revered and feared. An announcement of family.
“It’s not easy bein’ a leader’s old lady,” he said, staring at her surprised face.
“It would be if he loved her,” Shyla answered, tugging her bottom lip with
her teeth. “Otherwise she’d just whip him into shape.”
“Really?” Hold couldn’t contain his smile at her uncanny ability to lighten his mood. “Like with leather and shit?”
“Why, Hold Dawson, are you getting a hard-on for handcuffs and chains?” she asked silkily, her eyes widening in mock surprise.
Shyla’s words, uttered in a sexy voice and fuck-me smile, plain out did it for him. She was just one more reason to get his shit in order, to save the club before it all crashed and burned.
“Hell, yeah,” he answered, turning to kiss her lips. Hold pushed Shyla back down onto the bed to lose himself inside of her once more before all hell broke loose.
“Go straight to Badger’s house. Don’t stop anywhere. Got it?” Hold asked, standing beside Shyla’s car outside of Hard Ink.
Shyla nodded, eyes cast downward before answering him. “Got it.”
He couldn’t help pulling her close one last time and kissing her now well-used swollen lips. Damn, she was beautiful. And his. All his.
“Please be careful. You’ve got my number so call me if you need anything,” she said, tugging on his white t-shirt that she’d given him back. He’d promised to return it to her later.
They stared into each other’s eyes, knowing any day, any second, could be their last.
“You need to think about some things,” he said, their mouths only inches apart.
“Like what?” she asked, puckering her lips to lightly kiss his.
“Like once all the shit settles, maybe staying for good in Harmony. You up for it?” Hold watched the happiness light her face.
“Yeah, I think so.”
“Okay,” he answered, barely touching his lips with hers one last time. “It’s dark. You gotta go.”
Shyla stepped back and into her car. He didn’t miss the tears gathering in her eyes, but damn if he didn’t admire her more when she kept it together, showing strength instead of emotion. That shit got you killed. Strength would keep you alive. He tapped the car’s trunk as she drove off in goodbye.