by Raven Dark
“Thanks.” I open the bag and pull out a takeout dish that turns out to be a cinnamon bun lathered in white cream. “Wow. Yum.” I pull out the fork inside, sit down and dig in.
“There’s a place not far from here that makes those.” He takes out his, sits beside me and starts on his own delectable breakfast.
“I know. I remember them. My dad always picked them up when we’d come here for the summer.”
“There’s coffee, too.” He sets one of two tall cups of java he’s ordered on the table in front of me.
“Oh, you’re a God.”
He chuckles and leans over, snatching a kiss. “The words every guy loves to hear the morning after.”
It’s nice sitting with him having breakfast in the bright morning light, but my mind is spinning with doubts. Has his mind changed now that the heat of the night and our fabulous sex is over?
How many mornings had I sat like this with Skeet after we’d spent the night together? At a lodge on a ski resort, on a cruise, all the wonderful, extravagant places he loved to take me, paid for with his limitless funds? How many times had we done this only for things to turn out the way they did?
My heart squeezes with fear. I push it down and focus on breakfast, trying not to think too far ahead.
“Finish that, and then we’ll have a shower and I’ll get you some clean clothes. I don’t want you tripping on that robe.”
“We?” I smile at him, my stomach fluttering. “You mean together?”
It hits me how inexperienced and naïve my statement sounds, especially when he looks at me as if I’ve asked him if water is wet.
“Of course. You have a problem with that, sweetheart?” His eyes are alight with challenge.
“Uh uh.” I look at my knees until Gar rests his hand on one of them.
“You’re worried.”
Unsure how to explain, and not wanting to come across needy or pushy, I shrug.
“Sandra.”
I look up at him, picking up on the seriousness in his voice.
“If we’re gonna do this, you gotta talk to me. We have to communicate, okay?”
I sigh, looking at the ceiling.
His thumb massages my shoulder. “Are you worried about Sinclair, or us?”
“Us.” Thank god he’s taken the initiative instead of my having to say it. I love the sound of that, though. Us.
“Things are moving fast,” he surmises.
I nod, taking a slow bite of my cinnamon bun, though my stomach is roiling too much to enjoy it. “I just don’t know if I can be the woman you want. I don’t know how to do what you asked last night.”
“To submit?”
Another nod. There’s more to it than that, but this is the easier issue to deal with than the fear that he’ll break my heart.
He tips my chin up. “We have the whole weekend to explore that. But there’s more to it. You’re afraid of being hurt.”
Yet another nod.
Gar takes my empty dish and sets it down along with his, then pulls me into his lap. “I think I might know a way to help that.” His arms close around me.
“How?”
“My brother’s plans have changed. He’s coming home tomorrow night. I want you to meet him.”
I look at him, my heart leaping. “You want me to meet your family?”
The corners of his lips twitch. “Well, my brother, anyway. Maybe if you talk to Cal, it’ll help you trust me, hmm?”
“So you want your brother to talk you up and tell me what a great guy you are,” I tease.
He grins. “Something like that.” Then he takes my hands, putting my palms together and covering them with his. His hands are so much bigger, his fingers reach a good two inches above mine. “Sandra, listen to me. I’m not a saint, I won’t lie. I do what I have to for the club. And I’ve always been the decision maker in relationships. It’s the only way I know how to be. But I would never hurt you. Do you understand?”
I lean my head back on his shoulder. His promise wraps around me. “Yes.”
“I won’t try to change who you are or take your life from you. There are things you will have to accept about me, about life with me, but I will not give you more than you can handle, okay?”
The warmth, his need to protect me and make me happy fills my heart with joy, but it also terrifies me a little. I want to trust him, can feel myself falling into him wholly and completely. God, I could love this man. It scares the hell out of me.
Sighing, I kiss his palm. “Yes.”
He sets his chin on my shoulder. “Trust me?”
“Mm.” I’m trying to.
“Good, because there’s something else we need to talk about.”
I turn my head, looking up at him, worry niggling.
“About what you told me about Sinclair. I will protect you, and so will the club, but my Prez has to know what’s going on.”
I let out a long breath. I don’t like the idea of his club knowing about my past, but I get it. If they’re going to protect me, they need to know what they’re getting themselves into.
“Okay,” I say softly. “When will you tell him?”
“I tried to call him earlier, but he didn’t answer his phone. He’s with Cal. I’ll try him again later today. When he’s back at the clubhouse, you can meet him.”
I beam, somehow excited at the idea of meeting the leader of his club. I don’t know a lot about motorcycle clubs, but even I know enough to know it’s a big deal to be introduced to a man who leads guys as strong and tough as Gar. “I get to meet your president?”
“Yep. Only don’t get too excited. He’s not exactly the social type. Don’t take it personally if all he does is grunt and walk off.”
Suddenly curious about the Hell’s Heathens president, I refrain from asking too many stupid questions that will make me sound like a starry-eyed kid. Questions about what he’s like, what he’s away doing with Cal, and what Anne thinks of him. After a year with the club, she must have met him plenty of times.
“Are you finished with your breakfast?” He cuts into my thoughts.
I grab my coffee and down the rest of it. “I am now.”
“Good girl. Now, let’s get you cleaned up.”
We head upstairs to what turns out to be one of the lake house’s two bathrooms. The main bathroom is huge, with a spacious shower. We undress and take our time in the shower, washing and exploring each other’s bodies. Gar spends more time kissing me than he does bathing. He kisses me until he makes me wet, toys with my clit, but doesn’t fuck me. I expect him to demand that I satisfy him, particularly when I see how hard he is, but he doesn’t.
“Your self control is mind boggling, Gar,” I tell him when he stops kissing me. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
He bites my neck. “You’re a big girl, you can handle it.”
But I’m not so sure. By the time we’re done and he shuts off the shower, the urge to stroke myself right in front of him is almost too much to ignore.
After we dry off, he finds one of his brother’s shirts, a black one with a heavy-metal group on it. It’s way too big for me, going almost to my knees. When I see myself in the bathroom mirror, I laugh. “I look ridiculous. All I need is a belt, and it’ll make a nice dress.”
“You look sexy like that.” Behind me, Gar slides his hands around my waist. They take up my whole waist, his fingers and thumbs almost meeting.
“If you say so. I need pants, though.” Not to mention my panties, which are still in his cut.
“Not a chance.” He tugs on my hair. “I like you like this.”
I whirl on him, mortified, though I’m smiling. “Gar. That’s not fair. Let me put on some pants.”
“No.” His smile is wicked.
Okay, now I’m really beginning to get a grasp on his control thing. I can see it in his eyes, the authority that demands I remain exposed for him, giving him easy access. I’m not sure if I’m amused, pissed, or turned the hell on.
“You’re a shit, Ga
r. You might as well tell me to walk around in the nude!”
He hums in his throat and slips his arms around me. “Now there’s an idea.” His hands slide down to my ass, cupping both cheeks.
I draw back. “Don’t. You. Dare.”
His grin is slow and wide.
“Don’t even think about it, Gar. Pants. Now.”
His brow shoots up. He drops his hands slowly. Oh, boy. That look says it all. I’ve pushed a button in him, crossed some kind of line.
“Take the shirt off, Sandra.”
I cock my head. “Seriously?”
“As a heart attack. Shirt. Off. Now.”
“Okay, yeah, I get it now. I do hate you.”
He crosses his arms and waits.
“And if I don’t?” I challenge.
He steps closer, his silvery eyes all warning. “If you don’t, you’ll end up across my knee.”
I stare. He means it. Dayum. I should be telling him to go fuck himself, but there is something about what he’s doing that’s pulling up an urge, a need deep from within.
A need to satisfy him.
Jesus.
I make an angry sound and strip the shirt off. Exposing my nakedness in all it’s glory. Including my moist sex, and my nipples, which have turned so hard they hurt. “Happy?”
“Very.” He lays a soft, slow kiss on my lips. “I’ll be downstairs waiting. We’re going to have fun today, you and me.”
“You are an asshole.” I pick up the towel from my shower and throw it at him. He cackles and walks out.
Shit, this is going to be an interesting day.
An hour later, I can see that Gar is going to milk the situation for all it’s worth. For all that he brought me breakfast, at noon he has me make sandwiches and lemonade from his brother’s fridge, watching my every move. I’m still naked, and he won’t let me put on a scrap of clothing. He knows damn well it’s making me crazy hot, yet he makes zero move to alleviate my growing need, which has risen to epic levels.
By the time lunch is ready, I’m on the verge of begging him to give my pussy some attention, but I don’t. If I do, he’ll only make it worse.
While we eat, he sits on the stool in the bar style kitchen, and has me straddle him, slowly feeding him pieces of cut up pineapple and finger sandwiches.
“See, now, this is how I like you.” His palms run up and down my bare legs, then up over my bare ass.
“And what way is that?” I bring with a piece of pineapple to his lips but pop it into my mouth instead.
“Open and ready for me. Where I can see what’s mine at all times and take what I want any time I feel like it.”
Good God. Could this man get any sexier? He’s got me with my legs open, pussy right above the huge bulge in his jeans, soaking wet. I’m starting to see the appeal of this submission thing, but I’m not about to make it that easy and tell him as much.
“So, let me get this straight.” I feed him a piece of pineapple, watching his jaw work. “We’ll only do it when you want it? That’s so one-sided.”
“No. I’ll fuck you when we both need it. Not when you want it. Not when you whine about it, but when we both require it.”
I sigh, trying to understand. Right now, it feels like I’ll go crazy without him inside me. “I don’t get it.”
He leans down and plants a kiss on my breast. “Are you wet, Sandra?” His voice is low and husky.
“God, yes.” My heart leaps with hope for relief at last.
Gar cups my breast with both hands and sucks one nipple into his mouth. I moan and he sucks hard, flicking his tongue over the nub until it’s hard to the point of pain. I lean back a little, giving him access. He does the same with the other nipple. Then two of his fingers slip between my legs, stroking my clit. Wetness immediately soaks his fingers and he growls his approval.
I gasp at the riot of sensations that bolt through me, rocking my hips.
“Just think about how hot it will be when I fuck you later.”
“Later?” I squeak, horrified.
“Oh, yeah. I want you so ready that you think you’re going to go mad.” His fingers stroke faster and he treats each of my nipples to several long, delicious pulls that make me whimper.
“I’m ready to go crazy now.”
“Not yet. You will be.”
He lifts his head and takes his fingers away, licking my juices off of them.
The orgasm fades and I let my head fall against his chest. “I don’t suppose it will help if I beg for mercy, Gar? Bribe you, offer to sacrifice a small animal?”
He chuckles and massages my nape. “You’re so fucking sweet. I love it.”
God, I am going to die.
Later that evening, he surprises me by making me dinner. I would have expected him to watch me make him supper and serve it to him on a platter, but instead, he makes me an elaborate dinner of Chicken Cordon Blu. It’s delicious, the last thing I’d expect from a badass biker.
We eat late, so by the time we finish, it’s almost nine. It’s nice to take our time, enjoying the night without having to worry about anything, with only the two of us. After, he takes me to a small sitting room with a fireplace and a long leather chaise lounge. He’s lit the fire. I’m still naked, but so is he, leaving all of his gorgeous tattoos and sculpted muscles for my view. He really is a living work of art, a deity fallen to Earth.
Gar sprawls across the chair with his arms around me, and my head is on his chest as I listen to the slow, relaxing beat of his heart.
“I could stay here forever like this, Gar,” I sigh.
“Mm. Me too.” His fingers trail up and down over the curve of my back. “Did you have fun today, sweetheart?”
I nod and trace the harsh, jagged lines of an intricate tribal tattoo that’s splayed across the middle of his powerful chest. The night outside is cooler than it’s been lately, so the fireplace is cozy without making the room too hot.
The need that has been building in me all day is still there, but it’s simmering under the surface, waiting to be called up. It’s good just to lie here with him.
Until he lifts my chin up and captures my mouth with his. His tongue sweeps in tasting, exploring.
“Please, no more teasing, Gar,” I say when he pulls back. “I can’t stand it.”
His fingers stroke my lips. “Shut up and give me your mouth, Sandra.”
The need to please him is so strong it’s baffling. I sigh and swing my hair out of the way, sweeping my mouth across his. Hoping I’m doing it right, giving him what he needs.
Gar’s cock jumps in response against my thigh.
Guess so.
He growls his appreciation and his tongue teases mine, sending that faintly simmering desire up like an inferno. He grabs my hips, repositioning me so that I lie over him with my legs spread to either side of his. His cock presses against my sex, hard and ready.
I want to beg for him, but I don’t dare. Anytime I have, he only torments me, teasing and giving me just enough to make me crazy without offering relief.
Gar’s lips smile against my mouth. He knows he’s getting to me again.
“Good girl,” he says, massaging my hips, my back, my ass. “Wait for what you want. Trust me to give you what you need.”
The praise goes right between my legs, and deep into my soul, where some mysterious other part of me lives, some part I don’t yet fully understand.
“Oh, God, Gar.” I drop my head to his shoulder, breathing hard. “This is too much.” But I make no move to ask for more, simply lying there waiting. I have to, not because he wants me to, but because I know that’s what he needs. What I need.
As he kisses my ear and my shoulder, his palms skate over my ass, down to my thighs, spreading them wider. He lifts his hips, grinding himself against me so that his cock brushes my sex, teasing my sopping core. His teeth scrape against my shoulder. Wetness drips out of me, and I know it’s soaked him.
“So fucking good, Sandra. Such a perfect girl for me.
”
He rubs his cock against my core once, twice. Then he pushes me so that I’m sitting on him, his hips shoot up, and his cock fills me in one perfect stroke.
Pure rapture blazes through me in a white hot wave. My pussy clenches around him, intensifying the sensations.
“Ah! Oh, God!”
He groans and pushes deeper, hungry. I toss my head, lost. My hips rock wildly. Gar’s thumb massages my clit and I cry out, clawing at the leather cushion on either side of us. Gar’s hips buck up and down, fast and hard, driving in and out of me, delivering stroke after perfect stroke.
“That’s it, sweetheart. This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”
“Yes… Oh, yes, yes.”
“Fuck me, Sandra. Come on my cock.”
Supporting myself with my hands on his chest, I spread my legs wider, taking him deeper. Gar curses, his hips bucking a handful of times. I scream in pleasure.
Never in my life have I experienced anything so mind-blowing.
When I get close, his hand glides up over my chest to my throat, cupping it with his palm. He squeezes just enough to restrict my air. Euphoria shoots through me, intensifying the sensations tenfold. I let out a desperate whimper and thrash, frantic.
Then, just before I careen over the edge, he yanks my hips up and slides out of me. I pant, almost sobbing. Until he sits up and tosses me across the cushion in front of him.
In an instant, I’m on all fours, and he’s between my legs. He drives into me from behind.
My pussy clenches around his cock. “Shit. Oh, shit…”
He doesn’t slow down. Gar angles my hips the way he wants, one hand keeping them still, the other pressing my cheek to the cushion. He pounds me savagely, grunting his pleasure and giving me mine.
I claw at the end of the chaise, sobbing and screaming his name.
His palm thwacks my ass, a light sting at first, and when I whimper, getting wetter on his cock, he slaps the other cheek harder. I almost come.
He gives me a handful of thrusts and roars in release, pinning me to him. I crash over the edge, shuddering and bucking, milking his cock. We collapse on the chaise, panting. Gar kisses my shoulder and then pulls me into his arms so that we’re lying as we were before, with my head on his chest and my leg over his hip. His arms close around me, palms running over my sides and back.