Hopeless: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Damned Devils MC) (Broken by the Biker Collection Book 2)

by Nina Park

  “You the type of guy who falls asleep with the TV on?” She toed off her shoes, calculating what, exactly, she’d wear to bed now that the two of them were locked inside this room together.

  “Nah. But nothing beats shitty motel TV,” he said, his gaze flicking her way. She shimmied out of her jeans, tossing them aside, trying to feign nonchalance even though her heart thumped against her ribs.

  “I’ll take a good nineties movie if there are any on,” she said, tugging off her t-shirt to reveal a tank top straining over her bra. She undid the bra without removing her tank top, slipping it out and tossing it with her jeans. She looked up in time to see Bastard watching before he jerked his eyes back to the television.

  “Noted,” he said, clearing his throat. She settled back on her bed, puffing up the pillows behind her. Let him ogle all he wanted. She’d ratchet up the sexual tension until there was no mistaking what she wanted.

  “Or a porno,” she blurted. “You know, classic Skinamax.”

  He smirked, his gaze fastened to the murmuring news channel. “You want soft core?”

  “Some of that stuff is far more entertaining than regular tv,” she said.

  “Entertaining,” he repeated. “Sure. If you like plastic dolls moaning for no good reason.”

  For some reason, it pleased her that he wouldn’t be into watching shitty porn with her. Probably he preferred the real thing, with real women…like her. So why wouldn’t he look her way? “Yeah, you’re right. Besides, all you get to see are enormous, perky, round breasts. Who has tits like that in real life?”

  Bastard’s jaw flexed. His gaze darted her way. “Well, you do.”

  Her mouth fell open, unable to hide the grin. “Aw, really? You think so? These old things?” She cupped her breasts through her tank top, jiggling them slightly.

  Bastard dropped the remote, rubbing at his face. “Jesus, Peach.”

  She was getting to him. Exactly as planned. She ran her tongue over her bottom lip. “Listen, if you liked them, you’re gonna have to tell me again. I don’t really remember much feedback.”

  He hefted with a soft laugh. “Yeah. I liked ‘em. Liked all of you.” He swung his head to look at her, the green of his eyes sizzling through her. Her breath disappeared for a moment and all she could do was stare at him.

  “So?” She played with the strap of her tank, letting it dangle down her arm. Sauciness flared inside her; something about this man made her feel feral. “Not enough to go for round two?”

  His nostrils flared and he turned the tv off, tossing the remote. “You want round two?”

  She nodded, letting both straps slide down her arms. “I want to remember every detail this time.”

  His eyes flashed. “Come here.”

  Kit pushed off the bed as he sat up, swinging his legs off the side, widening them to welcome her between them. She rested her hands on his beefy shoulders as his palms smoothed over the swell of her hips.

  “Thought maybe you weren’t into it,” she whispered as his fingertips trailed down the sides of her legs. Goosepimples flared in their wake. “Maybe you got what you needed last night.”

  He pushed his fingers beneath the lace of her panties. Her thighs tensed, and she dug her fingernails into his shoulders.

  “Well I got something,” he said, his thumb grazing the silky fabric covering her pussy. “But it wasn’t quite what I wanted.”

  She creased her brow, pulling back. “Jeez. That’s sexy, I guess.”

  He gripped the soft roundness of her ass cheeks, sending a bolt of desire through her. “Trust me. It was sexy. I just prefer my women undrugged.”

  She scoffed. “Yeah. Well, same here.”

  “Trust me, it was great.” He pressed his lips against the swell of her low belly. She shivered. “But it makes me think you didn’t want it.”

  She drew a shaky breath as his lips skipped a moist trail over her skin. “I wanted it. I had enough of that drug to feel it, but it didn’t mean I didn’t want you inside me.”

  His gaze settled on her, heavy and animalistic. His thumb grazed over the tight peak of her clit and her knees wobbled. Bastard slipped his finger beneath her panties, dipping into the wetness between her legs. Her breath caught in her throat as he stroked her, his gaze burning through her.

  “You want me inside you again, Peach?” He pinched at her clit, rubbing in between his fingers, his touch rough but knowing.

  “Mmhmm.” Her voice came out strained. Her eyes fluttered shut. “So bad.”

  Bastard eased his middle finger inside her; it slipped inside easily, and soon the insides of her thigh were damp from her own moisture. A strangled moan escaped her. Bastard’s grip on her hips with his free hand tightened, his fingertips digging into her flesh.

  “You like that?” He slipped another finger inside her and she keened low, her head lolling back. “God, you feel so good, Peach.”

  Heat prickled through her; his mere touch was driving her toward orgasm faster than any other lover in her life. That was frightening; something about Bastard was different than anyone else. It was like he was carved out of pure sex appeal and muscle. He took a small bite of her low belly and she gasped.

  He reached up and tugged her tank top down, letting her breasts spill out. He let an appreciative moan, tweaking a nipple with his free hand while he pumped two fingers in and out of her.

  “Ohhhh my God,” she moaned, hardly able to keep her eyes open. Her knees buckled and he steadied her.

  “Sit on top of me.” His voice came out gruff. He tugged her panties down and she stepped out of them while he made quick work of his jeans, shoving them down to his knees. His cock strained against the fabric of his boxers. He yanked those down too, the veiny shaft of his cock straining tall and proud.

  “Oh, my God.” Her voice came out a reverent whisper as she caressed his bulging cockhead. Yeah, she would have definitely remembered this if she’d been of sound mind that night. It seemed wrong to allow something so gorgeous slip into oblivion.

  Bastard growled, tugging her by the hips onto his lap. She slipped on top of him, his cock settling against the damp folds of her pussy. She inhaled sharply when the tip of his cock nudged against her swollen clit.

  “You ready to take this?” His breath bit hot and gravelly at her ear. She swallowed hard, nodding, rocking her hips against him to feel the heat of his cock against her pussy.

  “You have no idea,” she said, digging her fingernails into his shoulders as she lifted slightly. Bastard fisted his cock, aligning himself so that the head pressed at her entrance. She gasped, loving the stretch as she lowered onto him slowly, taking it inch by precious inch.

  “Peach,” he moaned, squeezing her ass cheeks while she sunk lower. “You feel fucking amazing.”

  She couldn’t even talk; amazing didn’t cover half of it. Her chest heaved as she wiggled her hips to find the final few inches, so he was buried to the hilt inside her. Bastard was a big boy, and just being filled with him pushed her dangerously close to the edge. He groaned low, as though echoing her thoughts.

  “You’re so big,” she said breathily, feeling a million miles away yet somehow grounded to this exact spot, this exact moment.

  “Too big?” He lifted a brow, snagging her taut nipple between his lips.

  “No. Not too big. Just…fucking perfect.” She rocked against him, prickles of pleasure already making a whirlwind trek through her body. He cupped her breast while he suckled at her nipple, his eyes lasered up at her.

  “Don’t stop that,” she breathed, starting a slow, jerky rhythm on top of him. The sensations combined had her teetering on the edge. And that would be a record in her world. Most hot guys were only interested in their own pleasure…could give a fuck about pussies, or whether she got off. But Bastard knew exactly what buttons to push…seemed like he knew exactly what she wanted.

  “You’re so wet, Peach,” he murmured around her nipple. “You feel so fucking good.”

  “It’s al
l you,” she said, her head lolling back. Fireworks churned in her core; it was no use trying to prolong this. She was on the fast track to orgasm. “God, Bastard, I’m gonna come.”

  He growled, something low and animalistic, and pumped her from below as she rocked on top of him. “Come for me.”

  Her breath came out a strangled moan as he increased the friction to a dangerous level. Moments later, the dam broke, and bliss trickled out to every last cell of her being, flooding her with warmth. She clutched at Bastard, tightening her arms around his neck as she came, her pussy quaking around him. But he didn’t relent beneath her, steadying her at the hips while he slammed into her. A shriek turned into a moan as the pleasure mounted to a level she could barely grasp. It was too much, too good—she tensed, unsure if she could take more.

  Bastard grunted, slowing beneath her until he stilled, his whole body going tense beneath her. She panted into his shoulder, and then a moment later felt something warm and wet hit her ass cheek.

  “Nnngh.” His chest rose and fell quickly, and the two sat breathing together, letting the aftershocks of the orgasm coat them.

  “Holy shit,” she finally said.

  “Yeah,” he said. “About the only holy thing there is in life.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Bastard woke slowly the next morning, becoming aware of the warmth against him before anything else. He turned his head, finding Kit nestled into his arms, breathing softly into his side. Burrowed like an animal in winter. He cracked a smile, watching her for a moment. This was nice. And nice was something he didn’t come across too often.

  He stayed there against her as long as his bladder could hold out. But finally the urge to pee overrode his desire to stay in bed. He slipped out of bed as quietly as he could, leaving her covered in the sheets. She stirred, grumbling.

  Bastard yawned while he peed, alertness slowly working its way through him. Staying in bed with Kit seemed like the best course of action, but they needed to hit the road. The Damned Devils L.A. chapter was expecting him by the day after next, which meant his little road trip with his sweet Peach couldn’t take any longer than if it were just him solo.

  His sweet Peach. He flushed, the phrase cycling awkwardly in his head. They’d fucked twice, only once which she remembered clearly. Did that make her his?

  He knew better than to think about shit like this, which was precisely why he never did it. But it was easier with other girls; somehow, some way, Kit got under his skin. Probably because he’d never felt a woman come so hard on top of him before in his entire life.

  He went to the sink, splashing water on his face. His cock twitched at the memory, even though they’d fucked until the wee hours of the morning. Seemed like that should be enough by now. But yet…

  Kit sighed from the bed. He peeked around the corner, finding her looking around the room slit-eyed.

  “Morning, Peach.”

  She yawned. “Morning, Bastard.”

  He brushed his teeth, watching through the mirror as she came up behind him, pure curves and creamy skin. She disappeared into the bathroom for a moment, and when she came out, she peered up at him with one eye pinched shut.

  “How are you awake so early?”

  “Had to pee. And we gotta hit the road.”

  She sighed, grabbing for her own tooth brush. “I thought bikers weren’t early birds.”

  “Nah, I just can’t sleep most times. Even though last night was the best sleep I’ve had in…I don’t know how long.”

  She grinned, her voice muffled through the toothbrushing. “I fucked you that good, huh?”

  Bastard coughed as he spit out his toothpaste. “Yeah, Peach, you did.”

  “Fucked the insomniac outta ya,” she said before spitting out the paste.

  They shared a sweet smile, one that made Bastard feel like they’d known each other for way longer than forty-eight hours. Kit had that about her though. An intimacy she wore like a perfume. He wondered if she was that way with everyone.

  “You’re the first who can say that,” he said, and the words made his chest tighten. She sent him a flirty smile before smacking his bare ass cheek, the crack echoing through the room.

  “Just to make sure you’re awake,” she said with a giggle, but it turned into a shriek when he launched after her, chasing her across the room.

  “You’re the one who needs the wakeup call,” he said, tackling her easily on the bed. He boxed her in with his knees, laughing over top of her.

  “Oh yeah? I know what your wakeup call is. All nine inches of it.”

  He slid his hands under the hollow of her back, sliding her closer to him. “Act like you don’t like it.”

  Her giggle ripped through the room just as the phone rang. He glared at the intrusion, but reached over her to get it.

  “H’lo?”

  “Sir, this is your wakeup call, at nine a.m. as you requested.”

  He stifled a laugh and set the phone down, sending Kit a flat look. “That actually was our wakeup call.”

  “Perfect timing,” she cracked.

  The two of them packed their things relatively quickly between all the horseplay and laughing. Even though they had checked out by nine thirty, Bastard knew they’d be getting a late start overall once they did breakfast. Anxiety gnawed at him distantly, but he couldn’t focus on it. Not with Kit around.

  As they headed for the highway to find a breakfast joint en route, Bastard’s mind wandered over the hum of the bike between his legs. What the fuck had possessed him to take Kit back to L.A. with him? If she’d been anyone else, any other lay, the answer would have been hell no. As a Nomad with the Damned Devils MC, he had business in Olympia. And even though L.A. was one of his sort of-homes on the west coast, this whole trip was business. A strict task with a start and an end date…which he had to show up by, come hell or high water.

  Bastard’s saddlebags were stuffed with stacks of hundred-dollar bills, but Kit didn’t know that. She wouldn’t find them if she tried, either. Bastard was too professional to let something like that slip through the cracks. But still, he knew the president would take issue with the fact that he’d invited a stranger to sit on top of ten grand in hundreds, no matter how hot she was.

  “There.” Kit raised her arm against the wind to point out a dingy sign on the side of the highway advertising a diner. “Breakfast!”

  He maneuvered off the highway, glad at least for the ten or so miles they’d gotten under their belts already. They could still make it in time, as long as he pushed…and she didn’t distract him too much.

  “Hell yes, breakfast!” Kit nearly leapt off the bike, shaking her hair out of the helmet with such precision that it made him stop and watch. He stored their helmets and they walked inside, grinning at each other like teenagers.

  “What are you gonna eat? Seems like you’re the type of girl who knows exactly what they want beforehand,” Bastard said as they pushed through the tinted glass doors of the diner. Inside, coffee and pancakes reached them, the clinking of mugs and silverware forming a familiar cadence.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” she said breezily, tossing a smile to the hostess who led them toward a table. “Probably just two waffles with blueberries and extra butter on the side.”

  They were led to a booth along the front wall of darkened windows. Overturned mugs awaited them on plain paper place settings. Kit eased into one side, her sultry sex kitten look from the night before replaced with something innocent and excited.

  “You must really love waffles,” Bastard said, thumbing through his menu.

  “I love breakfast,” she clarified, skimming the laminated pages. “And anyone who doesn’t shouldn’t be trusted.”

  Bastard’s lips twitched as he fought a grin. Plenty of times he forgot to eat when he was on the road, or holed up on a gig. “I usually skip it.”

  “That’s not good for your health,” Kit tutted.

  “I’m doing just fine,” Bastard shot back.

  Her ga
ze traveled over him, lips pursed into a curious smile. “Yeah, I guess you are.”

  When the waitress came for their orders, Kit ordered exactly what she’d promised, alongside a black coffee. Bastard asked for sausage and gravy and once their menus were cleared, Kit watched him with a strange light in her eye.