Outlaw’s Kiss

by Sophia Gray

  He worked in and out of her, rubbing against her soft, slippery folds, his cock growing harder by the second. She braced herself against his chest with her free hand. As he worked her, she grew more and more frenzied until she was squirming in front of him, squeezing her thighs closed every time he pushed into her.

  He withdrew his hand and let her other wrist go. She moaned in frustration. Falcon just chuckled and helped her pull her shirt over her head before stripping off his boxers. When she stood naked before him, her pert breasts once again bared to his gaze, he took a moment to just admire the sexy, soft curves and slopes of her body.

  His dick was throbbing hard, and his balls were almost aching, even though they’d barely started. He couldn’t wait to bury himself inside her again, to feel the heat of her and claim her again.

  He restrained himself, though he yearned to just drive into her. Instead he met her lips in a soft kiss, reveling in the texture of her lips, as his hands rose up to cradle her breasts. He rolled the weighty flesh against his palms before repositioning his hands so his thumbs rested on the tips of her hardened nipples. She moaned against his mouth as he circled her rosy areolas before flicking the little buds.

  Falcon moved from her breasts to explore the rest of her body. He stroked along her downy stomach, sweeping over her hips to the small of her back. He loved the warm, velvety texture of her body and the feel of her dips and valleys under his caressing hands.

  As he explored her, her hands wandered over him. Her nails raked lightly over his chest, grazing along his abs and down over his stomach. The slow, agonizing sensation pushing him to new heights of arousal. He thought she would stop short of his cock, but he was wrong. Her warm hands stroked down the length of his shaft and back up, not hard enough to satisfy but with just enough force to tease. She continued to stroke him, occasionally running a thumb over his tip, causing his erection to twitch reflexively.

  She was unhinging him. He couldn’t take much more. If she continued like that, he would have ended up bending her over the sink and burying himself in her just to find his release.

  It took a herculean act of willpower, but he forced himself to catch her hands and still them. He met her mouth in another kiss—this time more possessive, more animalistic. He caught her lower lip in his teeth and pulled at it before pressing his tongue deep into her mouth again, all the while drawing her back toward the shower.

  The small bathroom was already humid and filled with steam, coating their bodies with extra moisture. They entered into the shower together, him pushing her directly under the showerhead and pinning her back against the wall so he could crush his body against hers. His erection dug into her stomach as his hands glided down her sides and to her thighs.

  Bridgette ran her hands up and down his back, once again running her nails over his skin. The sensation was incredible—just the barest suggestion of pain mixed with a heady spike of pleasure. Her hands gripped his ass unexpectedly, drawing his crotch even harder against her. He ground his hips against her instinctively, needing the friction to alleviate a little of his borderline painful erection.

  “Shit,” he muttered, stepping back a little from her. “I need a condom—“

  “I’m on the pill now,” she groaned, dragging his hips back forward. She’d spread her legs wide so he could see her glistening pussy. The water running down her body from the showerhead flowed over it in rivulets. Bridgette took his cock in her hands and guided the tip to her entrance; an invitation he couldn’t refuse.

  Falcon pulled her wrists up and pinned them above her head against the wall of the shower, grinding his tip over her entrance and through her folds. He wanted to savor this just a moment longer—the sight of her soaking wet, her red hair hanging around her face in heavy damp locks, her breasts two silky globes capped with her puckered, rock-hard nipples. God, she was beautiful.

  Falcon pulled his cock away from her pussy and bent forward to bury himself between her breasts. He lapped lightly at the skin, tasting her and the hot water of the shower, running his tongue over the flawlessly soft flesh of her breasts. From his position he could feel the catch in her breath and the rapid beat of her heart. Her arousal was rising to a fever pitch, and it was music to his ears.

  He pulled back and flipped her over so her breasts and stomach were pressed against the wall. He captured her wrists and pulled them up again as he lined himself up with her entrance.

  His cock throbbed too badly, and he was too far gone in his own haze of primal need to even consider teasing her any longer. He impaled her in one long, powerful thrust, his cock pushing easily into her soaking wet pussy.

  “You’re going to feel this tomorrow, baby,” he growled into her ear.

  She cried out as he buried himself deep, all the way to his balls, before pulling back. He thrust in and out, slowly at first, trying to find the rhythm of her inner contractions. She was spasming around him, clenching and unclenching desperately as his cock withdrew.

  As he built up his tempo, he found himself aligning with the instinctive movements of her own body—the small thrusts of her hips back against him, the tightening and untightening of her channel. As he built to his climax, he could feel every part of her building toward hers.

  It felt as if their bodies were melding together as they drifted into a realm of rapture. Falcon pumped faster and harder, his body taking over beneath him until he was no longer aware of any conscious decisions—only the intense pleasure radiating from his cock and her glorious body.

  Bridgette toppled over the edge first. She cried out as she came, pumping her hips furiously against his shaft as she tried to ride him through the waves of pleasure. The intensity of her body’s reaction was enough to send him over, too. His world narrowed until it was nothing but the sensation of pleasure and relief. He pushed deep inside her one last time and came deep within her.

  They stayed like that for a few seconds after as they both came down from their highs. Bridgette seemed to be leaning hard into the shower wall, bracing herself for support. Falcon was leaning against her, pressing into her back and letting part of the shower’s warm spray course over him as he shrank inside her.

  After a while, he pulled out and backed up enough so she could turn around.

  She did so slowly, her eyes still a little glazed from the experience.

  Falcon leaned down to kiss her again, then moved back to admire his handiwork. She half-smiled up at him, her body relaxed, her expression deeply satisfied. There were still dark circles starting to form beneath her eyes, but she was looking a hell of a lot more relaxed now than she had when he’d first come home.

  “Not bad, huh?” he murmured. He ran his hands lightly through her damp locks, smiling to himself when she relaxed into the gesture.

  “Not bad at all.”

  “Guess I’ll just have to keep you distracted for the next few days,” he teased her. “Since it seems to work so well.”

  Chapter 16

  Bridgette

  Bridgette paced back and forth anxiously in the backyard. Kyle would be returning soon. He hadn’t called yet, which he’d promised to do as soon as they found anything. Which likely meant more bad news and another day of “lying low” at the house, watching inane shows and movies and generally trying to distract herself from the nerve-wracking reality she faced.

  It had already been three days since Kyle and the guys had started tearing her basement apart in search of the elusive stash. It was hard for her to believe there was even anything left for them to look through.

  They’d torn out everything, barely even leaving the walls intact—which she didn’t like in the least because she was sure that more than a few of them were load-bearing. They’d stripped the drywall apart, dug into some of the concrete filler that separated the buildings, and even started breaking apart the cement floor, as if something could have been hidden there. And all to no avail.

  The lack of success had made Kyle nearly unbearable. The first day hadn’t been so
bad. He’d been pissy and temperamental when he’d first gotten home, but that had melted away after their hot and heavy shower, and the rest of the evening had been relatively pleasant. But with every day that passed that they didn’t find the stash, Kyle grew less measured until they couldn’t even exorcise their mutual aggravation through lovemaking.

  The day after that, after spending nearly ten hours with the guys in the bakery, he’d returned to the house seething. Every little thing seemed to set him off—even her asking about what they were doing for dinner. Things had come to a head in a protracted episode of bickering, but the passion of their argument transformed at some point to a heated tumble between the sheets.

  Lying in bed beside him afterward, Bridgette had hoped this “distraction,” as Kyle had put it, could work two ways—that it could function as a much-needed release valve for all the stress both of them were under. She wanted to believe he was still figuring out how to get a handle on things and he would adjust soon so she wasn’t taking on the brunt of his temper.

  But that didn’t seem to be the case. Bridgette sensed the air wasn’t fully cleared. The tension between them lingered—thick and uncomfortable. And the day after, it seemed things had somehow grown ten times worse.

  She knew he was under a lot of pressure, and that the strain of everything was probably getting to him. But his moodiness coupled with the fact that she was also uneasy and on edge meant that prolonged conversations between them were bound to become testy, if not explosive. So she tried to occupy herself with bad television and romance novels she downloaded to her phone, especially while he was still around in the morning.

  It felt like they were growing apart again. She knew that was ridiculous. She was in no position at the moment to be building a real relationship with him and knew she was only sleeping with him because it felt good in the moment. But, still, the distance after those first couple passionate, if combative, days was painful.

  It was just the current situation, she knew. But part of her wondered if, for all the feelings she still had for him, they were incompatible on some deep level.

  She tried not to overthink it. She had enough on her mind already.

  Especially the situation with Gabby. Marcy had been extremely gracious, she knew, but every day she had to call back and ask if Gabby could stay for yet another day, she heard that graciousness erode a little. Bridgette knew she was imposing majorly on Marcy.

  It was the least of her worries at the moment, but she knew she was damaging a friendship. Not only that, but Marcy was the gossiping type, and that meant she was likely getting a reputation as that single mom who just couldn’t get her shit together. That was going to have an effect on her social life and her professional life. Reputation was everything in a small town, and if people talked too much, it might just be enough to sink her business. If it weren’t already sunk, that was.

  As if that weren’t enough, she knew she was doing irreparable damage to her relationship with her daughter. She was more tempted every day to just pop over and check on Gabby, even if she couldn’t take her home. But she didn’t dare risk anything, though she was pretty sure Kyle was exaggerating the risk of her being seen with her daughter. She wasn’t about to take any chances with Gabby, even if it meant that she had to make do with phone calls that grew more tepid with each passing day.

  Gabby would be getting out of school soon. She’d told Marcy she would probably be able to pick Gabby up today. She’d naïvely banked on Kyle finding the stash today.

  She reasoned they had to—there was nowhere else they could look. They’d even gone through the upstairs and the kitchen just to be safe, even though the guy who’d attacked her had sworn up and down that it was stashed in the basement.

  But she had a sinking feeling that wouldn’t be the case today. She stopped in front of the slider door that led to the backyard and pulled her phone out of her pocket. Shit, she hated this.

  She drew a deep breath, then called Marcy again. The phone rang twice before Marcy picked up.

  “Bridgette? What is it?” Her voice was tired and a touch cold.

  Bridgette’s throat had constricted. She cleared it before beginning hesitantly, “Marcy? How are you doing?”

  “Fine,” Marcy replied dryly. “What do you need?”

  Bridgette started pacing again. She couldn’t do this. She hated how fucking needy she sounded right now. “Marcy, I hate to ask this again, but things have still been crazy over here, and I was wondering if you could possibly take Gabby for just one more day. You’d be doing me a huge favor—“

  “Listen, hon, it’s been over five days now. I don’t know what’s going on in your life, but I know that police reports don’t take almost a week to file. We love having Gabby over, but Bridgette, this is getting ridiculous. She wants to go home. I know being a single mom must be tough, and I sympathize, I really do, but you have responsibilities. I know it’s hard, but you have to make it work, you know what I mean? Maybe Gabby has to go into work with you. Maybe you have to pay for a babysitter.”

  Marcy’s admonishing words were like a dagger straight to her heart. Bridgette couldn’t help but feel like she had failed as a mother, and Marcy was trying to find the nicest way possible to tell her she was doing a really shitty job. She had to bite back the tears. “Of course. You’re right. I’ll figure something out. Thanks, Marcy.” Her voice quavered a little as she spoke. She hoped to God that Marcy didn’t notice.

  “I’m not trying to be mean,” Marcy said, adopting a placating tone. “I’m just trying to be straight with you. Gabby needs her mom. She needs you in her life.”

  Bridgette could barely swallow past the lump that had formed in her throat. “You’re right. Thanks again for everything, Marcy. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you watching Gabby.” She couldn’t bear to listen to Marcy’s response, so she hung up before the woman could reply.

  Bridgette wiped the tears from her eyes. There was no time for self-pity now, she told herself. She had to figure out what she was going to do with Gabby.

  She’d have to go home. She could lay low there, too. She’d just stock up on groceries and stay in the house with Gabby while Kyle figured his shit out with Martin. It wasn’t like there were any guys showing up on Kyle’s doorstep trying to break in and take her. She’d be safe at home, too, and at least there she could be with her daughter.

  Kyle wouldn’t like it. Not that she gave a flying fuck about what he thought. She wasn’t acting stupidly anymore. And he wasn’t the boss of her. She would do whatever she needed to do.

  She heard the roar of a bike down the road. It was growing closer and closer. She’d been able to hear his approach every day. The streets were quiet, and his ride made a lot of noise.

  Bridgette took one final calming breath before heading back inside and toward the front door. She would need all the calm she could get if she was going to get through this discussion with him.

  Kyle walked in the front door just as she entered into the hallway. Half of a glowing cigarette dangled from his mouth, and the movement of his body as he kicked his shoes off sent showers of ash and ember all over the carpet.

  “I thought you weren’t supposed to smoke in the house,” she greeted him.

  His hard, irritated eyes shifted up to her. “Fuck Hawk and fuck his rules. Fucking pussy anyway.”

  She followed him into the kitchen. She thought he’d head for the fridge like he usually did, but instead he went for the cabinet. He pulled out a tumbler and a bottle of Jack Daniels and proceeded to pour himself a generous glass of liquor as he puffed away on his cigarette.

  She watched him for a while as he finished off his smoke, alternating between that and hearty sips of his drink. He’d nearly finished his first glass by the time he dropped his cigarette butt into the sink. He immediately refilled his glass from the open bottle before sticking it back in the cupboard.

  “No luck today, then,” she surmised at last.

  “You’re a regular
fucking detective, aren’t you?”

  “Don’t pull that shit with me,” she warned him. “I’m not going to put up with it.”

  Kyle smiled at her, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Of course you aren’t, baby. Sorry. I should have said no, we didn’t, since I didn’t call you and I didn’t say a damned word when I got home. But I know how much you love to state the obvious.”

  She was about to call him a jackass, but she stopped herself. She didn’t need to needle him any further, not when she was about to tell him that she was headed home. Though she guessed that, given his current state, he was going to be an absolute joy to deal with.

  “So,” she began, “I was just talking to the friend who’s been keeping an eye on my daughter…”

  “And?” Kyle snapped.

  She lost her courage and shrugged weakly.

  Kyle snorted derisively. He shouldered past her, drink in hand, and headed for the living room.