by M. N. Forgy
“Take it easy, Rookie. I don’t have any expectations tonight. I’ve already crossed the line with what we did today, I don’t intend on making myself a hypocrite, and a traitor in one day. I just want to talk, and when I’ve said what I need to say, you can tell me to get the hell out.” My curiosity piques. If he’s not here to finish what we started earlier, what could he possibly have to say that is so important? I’m a little relieved yet saddened that he doesn’t want to ravish me.
“Alright,” I mutter, my hands still crossed in front of my chest.
Stepping around the coffee table, I try to sit on the far end of the couch, but Zeek is so big I pretty much end up right next to him. His body heat is radiating off him in waves, the smell of him poisoning my reason and reality. Regardless of why he’s here, this room is filled with sexual tension.
Jinx meows, running into the room, and Zeek instantly tenses.
“What the fuck is that!?”
Jinx jumps on my lap, turning in a circle before falling on his side.
“This is Jinx, my cat.”
Zeek palms his face, his hand stopping at his chin as he stares at Jinx like he’s a mighty panther ready to strike at any moment.
“You can’t tell me you’re afraid of cats?” I nearly burst at the seams with laughter.
“No, I’m not afraid of cats. I just… I don’t see them much, so he startled me.” He shrugs, his body relaxing some.
It takes everything I have not to pick Jinx up and hold him in Zeek’s face, asking him if he wants to pet him.
“What did you want to talk about?” I change the subject, placing Jinx on the floor.
Zeek looks behind him, watching Jinx run off into another room. Yeah, he’s afraid of cats. I’ve heard many people are afraid of them, I just never met someone before who was, and I sure as hell never thought a biker would be.
“A lot, really.” His voice sounds strained. He scoots to the edge of his seat and rests his elbows on his knees, his head hanging in his hands.
Nerves strike in my chest again. “Like what?”
“I don’t know. The fact that I know messing around with you is going to get me toe-tagged, yet I still find myself thinking about the way you taste. The way your body would feel wrapped around mine.” He shakes his head, like hearing it out loud is absurd. “What the hell am I thinking?” he murmurs. Both hands pull at his hair in frustration.
His words make my heart rate accelerate. His confession that he thinks of me, that I can relate to the constant obsession of him swimming in my mind. He looks up, his face showing so much emotion.
I open my mouth to speak, but turn my head before something I can’t take back spills.
“If anyone saw us today it could not only get me killed, but you, too.” The words come out calm and collected, unlike the rest of him.
My eyes widen, and my heart stammers. “Why me? I mean, I could lose my job, but I wouldn’t be killed.”
He grunts. “Do you know anything about living as an Outlaw? If I’m screwing a deputy, my men are going to think you and I discuss shit. That would put them at risk, so they’d eliminate those involved.” My head is still stuck on him screwing a deputy—me.
“Tell me you understand what I’m telling you.” His voice comes off sharp, his eyes piercing mine.
I blink rapidly, trying to clear the sexual thoughts. What he’s telling me is nothing new; I know us being together is stupid for everyone involved. It’s not supposed to happen. An Outlaw and a cop together… it doesn’t happen. Yet here we are, defying the way the world works.
He grabs my nape roughly, his nostrils flaring. “You can’t speak a fucking word about us to anyone. Do you understand?”
I swallow and nod slowly.
“What about Alessandra?” I whisper, fear taking over my attraction.
Letting go of my neck, he drops his hand and relaxes. Well, a relaxing posture for him, anyway.
“I made sure she knew the consequences if she opened her mouth to anyone.” That angers me, yet also comforts me, oddly enough.
Fingers graze my cheek tenderly before resting under my chin and pushing my head upward. His hold on me is strong, controlling, but gentle all at the same time.
“I think you’re sexy as hell, and I don’t want an inch of your skin to go untouched.” His words come out strong and throaty. My eyes grow heavy, my breath picking up its pace dangerously. “I want to feel every inch of your body, taste every part of you and savor the taste of your innocence.” His hand slides to the back of my head, tangling in my hair. “I need you to realize what I’m risking to explore this fucking infatuation I have for you, Jillian,” he whispers, his brows pulled together with purpose. My body is so alive, my mouth watering to taste him just one more time. His fingers inside of me today, the orgasm he brought me to… I came alive on the side of that highway, and I don’t think I can walk away from him so easily anymore.
Before I can process what I’m doing, I pull myself onto his lap, straddling his legs. My blood rushes so hard with my impulsiveness, I feel dizzy. My heart beats with such intensity I can feel it in my temples.
He gently grabs the sides of my face, and my hands rest on top of his as his lips hungrily take mine. His tongue darts into my mouth, and when our tongues meet, he moans with satisfaction. A bulge that is growing by the second presses against my sensitive sex, and I rock against him on my body’s own accord. Closing my eyes, his lips leave mine and skim across my jaw line, suckling and kissing. His lips work magic against mine, devouring my very existence.
His scruff leaving a delicious burn across my skin, he pulls on the back of my hair, causing my head to fall back. His lips skim up my collarbone, his tongue licking up my throat. He groans as if he’s physically in pain, and a strangled whimper vibrates in my chest.
Fingers dig into my hips, and he suddenly pulls himself from me. My eyes slowly open, everything blurry.
His face is pulled tight, his jaw ticking. Reality hits me like a bullet to the chest, regret burning my lungs as if I’m underwater.
He suddenly grabs my legs, lifting me upward and off him.
Standing, he runs his hands through his hair.
“I think you should go.” The words leaving my mouth are so quiet I’m not sure if he heard them. I clench my shirt, trying to hide my erect nipples. My head echoing the thought that I’m a traitor over and over again. I clench my eyes shut, willing the thoughts to go away.
“Okay,” he murmurs, his words strained and throaty. Lines of uncertainty stretch across his forehead. “I think it’s probably best.”
My eyes fall to the large bulge in his jeans. Wow, it’s really big. Huge! My thighs squeeze together tightly in protest, but my sex is throbbing with dirty thoughts of its own.
Awkward silence fills the room as we try not to look at each other. Eye contact makes us weak, irrational.
“See you around, Rookie.” He strides to the door, sees it’s raining pretty hard outside, yet he still leaves. My heart falls, and my body pouts in frustration and unsatisfied need.
My eyes land on the donuts; I can’t believe he brought those. Grabbing the one I had before, a loud knock slams on my door, startling me. Opening it, Zeek is hunched over, hands braced on each side of the door with rain pelting off his leather jacket. He’s soaked.
“I know I said I’d leave, and that I didn’t have any expectations.” He looks up from under his wet lashes. “But I fucking lied.” He barrels through my door and picks me up, his wet body soaking my clothes. His mouth crashes against mine in a carnal fury, the donut in my hand falling to the floor. I grip his face, moaning into his mouth. He kicks the door shut from behind him and Jinx meows loudly, scurrying into the kitchen with haste.
“I have to have you now,” Zeek mumbles into my mouth.
That small piece of sanity I was trying to hold onto, trying to do what was smart and rational?
It’s gone.
What sits outside these walls, isn’t there. The gu
ilt, rules, and judgement. All checked at the front door. It’s just me and Zeek lost in this moment. A brief encounter that will leave both of us with regret, but the satisfaction the most sought out of the two.
Gripping the bottom of my shirt, I pull it over my head, my nipples pebbled, ready to be manhandled. As if Zeek could read my mind, his mouth encases my left nipple, his warm, wet mouth sucking on it hard. A spark races down my body, building a wave of pleasure in my lower half that is nearly unbearable. My fingers lock into his wet hair; it’s soft and thick, making me want to tug on it more. So I do.
“Bedroom?” he questions, the word barely audible from our kissing. I point to where it is, and he takes off that way like a madman.
“Good, ‘cause I’m going to need a whole bed. I plan on spreading you out, and not stopping until you’re too weak to moan my name.” An unrecognizable sound escapes my mouth; just hearing him talk dirty to me has me nearly ready to come undone.
We bounce off walls, knocking down my college degree and random décor before he finally finds my room. He tosses me backwards onto my bed and eagerly starts taking off his jacket, his jaw tight, eyes gazing at me hungrily.
His shirt is soaked, clinging to his chest and outlining his pecs and abs. His jeans are drenched, making them hang even lower, revealing that V shape you only see in magazines.
“Jillian.” My name comes out husky across his lips, and my eyes sweep to his. His head is lowered, his wet hair hanging in his face. Those eyes shine like an animal’s caught in headlights. It’s almost scary, but attractive. “You keep looking at me like that and this is going to go quickly. I don’t want it to go quickly.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, blinking rapidly.
He grins, rubbing his hand up and down his toned stomach beneath his shirt.
“Do you want me?”
I swallow, watching him closely. He looks dangerous, sexy, forbidden. Gripping his shirt, he brings it above his head, my eyes landing on his washboard abs and menacing tattoos. Holy mother of God. He is the definition of a bad boy.
He crawls onto the bed, his eyes never leaving mine.
“Answer me. Do. You. Want. Me?” Each word comes out slow and strong, laced with erotic promise. Reaching forward, he grips the back of my neck as he sits on his heels, his strong hold bringing me to my knees. “I need to hear that you want me, that you want my cock.” He pulls my head forward, my lips nearly touching his. I lean further into him, trying to bring my mouth to his, but he pulls away. His mouth is parted in a cocky way, his eyes smiling.
Not kissing him, not touching him—it’s agonizingly painful.
My body begins to sweat, sensitive to touch.
“Not until you say it,” he counters. “I want to know that you want me as much as I want you. That we share a common risk.”
Biting my bottom lip, a million responses cross my mind. But I feel drunk, lost with lust and ardor, and words spill from my mouth before I can filter them. “I want you so fucking bad, it hurts,” I whimper, my body wracked with withdrawal. My voice choked, and my breathing out of control. I just need to touch him, feel his heat against my body.
“You dumb woman.” The words come out so breathy I’m not sure I hear them right.
Like a match striking its flame, he falls in to me, our bodies pulling to each other like a magnetic force. Lightning strikes and thunder roars as we give in to what we want. Guilt and second thoughts gone with what the world has told us to feel, told us to think. We don’t care. I don’t care.
His palms wrap around my tits, and a sigh ripples through my chest. His mouth catches my cries, divulging my thirst for more contact. I rest my hands on his hard chest; it’s beaded with sweat to the touch. The warmth from his skin against mine makes me want to skip this whole foreplay stuff and just have him inside of me already. I have never felt like this, so out of control. The crush I had with Deputy Quick Dick is nothing compared to this.
This is obsession.
This is infatuation.
This is addiction.
It’s raw, real, and is going to destroy me in the end.
My hands find his damp jeans, my fingers fumbling with the button and zipper. His hand leaves my swollen tit, grabbing the back of my head, his grip claiming me as his, controlling me in every way that he wants.
Finally getting his pants undone, I shove them past his hips and grab his firm ass cheeks with both hands. The act is so brazen and foreign to me, but rewarding. They’re smooth and muscular, my strong grip making him moan. He slowly pulls his mouth from mine and nips at my jaw.
“Lie down,” he rasps, his tone giving away how affected he is. My eyes open lazily, finding him staring at me, his own eyes hooded with desire. “Do as I say, baby.” Not wanting to give in so easily, I do what he says anyway and lie back on the bed.
. Laying back I see his jeans are lowered over his ass cheeks, slightly showing the patch of pubic hair that exceeds down the front of his jeans, the peak of his shaft barely visible.
He backs off the bed, his head lowered; he’s looking at me with passion and longing. Pulling his jeans down further, his cock pops out at full attention. My eyes widen, and I can’t help but sit up. It was beyond big when it was hard and trapped beneath his jeans. But now… It’s really big. Colossal. Monstrous. The girth of it makes my body tense at the thought of it going inside of me.
He fists his cock, his own hand barely able to fit around it. He strokes himself, watching my reaction. I’ve heard of men who are hung like porn stars, but to actually have one standing in my bedroom? It’s almost as terrifying as it is enticing.
He steps forward and my panicked eyes dart from his length to his eyes. He kneels on the bed, kicking his boots off then his jeans.
“You okay?” he whispers, the corner of his mouth raising. I nod a little too quickly and swallow. “You sure? We can stop.” He tucks an errant strand of hair from my face. Who is this man? Where is the evil man society deemed unredeemable? It’s as if he’s a different person when around me, not at all the man I was taught to despise.
“I’m sure.”
“That was your save point. There’s no going back now. I won’t stop, won’t be able to.” He shakes his head, and I smile. There’s my bad boy.
He straddles me, the head of his cock pressing into my thigh. My mouth parts and my breathing picks back up. His hand slips under the waist of my sweatpants, and I close my eyes.
“Open your eyes,” he murmurs. They pop open automatically, finding his looking right back at me. Dexterous fingers slide under the material of my panties, and my legs widen to allow him to go further. His mouth opens as the pads of his index and middle fingers slip over my clit and brush against my wetness. My body bucks with pleasure, my eyes roll into the back of my head.
Gently, he presses a finger into my pussy and a mewl vibrates through my chest. Pleasure soars up my legs, resting right at the tip of his finger as he slowly thrusts it in and out. My hands fly to my sides, my nails digging into the sheets for strength. My body pulses with the urge to plummet into ecstasy. Just as I think I can’t take any more, his finger withdraws. Panting, I lift my head, irritated. I find him climbing off the bed.
“Not just yet.” He slips his finger into his mouth and looks around my room casually. “You a virgin?” he asks nonchalantly.
“What?” The question takes me by surprise.
“Are you a virgin?” he repeats. Sitting up, I close my legs.
“Does it matter?” I rebut.
He glares at me before a smile flashes across his face.
“Yes, it fucking matters. You’re tight as hell, and the way your body responds to my every touch, it’s…” He shakes his head. The way he says it, it makes me sound alluring, but the way I see it, I come off inexperienced. Something I doubt is very sexy.
“No, I’m not a virgin.”
He looks at me with confusion, so I explain. “I had sex once, with a guy who was—” He holds up a hand, his jaw flexed and
eyes closed like my words pain him.
“I don’t need the details. Otherwise, we won’t ever get to what either of us really wants, ‘cause I’ll be out there killing some bastard.” I can’t help the smile that instantly fits my face, a laugh bursting at the seams of my lips.
He smirks, running his hand through his hair.
“That funny?”
I shrug. “He was kind of a jerk.”
He steps forward, his hands fisting the sides of my sweatpants and panties.
“Did someone break my poor rookie’s heart?” He jerks them down my legs, revealing the little bit that was covered. His eyes sweep up and down my body unforgivingly. My pubic hair contrasts against my skin; I should have shaved, or waxed—something.
“Fuck me,” he whispers, his words hitting me hard. My down-to-earth appearance seems to turn him on, which is confusing. I am so different from the girls I’ve seen at his club. Everything I thought I knew about him seems to be wrong. Tilting my head to the side, my hair falls in my face.
“You’re not what I expected, Zeek.” The words escape from my mouth before I can stop them.
He crawls onto the bed, his fists supporting his weight.
“What did you expect? A cold-blooded killer? Someone who doesn’t believe in forgiveness? An animal incapable of mercy? Someone who likes to fuck hard and leave his mark?”
Shrugging my right shoulder, my eyes not faltering from his, I say, “Actually, yeah.”
He scoffs, looking down briefly before hitting me with gorgeous dark eyes. “I’m all of that, baby, but I am also a man who can’t lock down his emotions, who has desires that are irrational. And you, you hit every one of those faults.”
I smirk at the idea that he thinks of himself being human is a flaw. Reaching out, my nails scratch under his chin, the whiskers rubbing against the pads of my fingers.
“You’re broken, but you’re human. The world paints your picture in permanent failure and fear, but I don’t believe it.” He stalls, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “I see something more in your canvas of chaos.” Seconds later, he’s crashing into me, his mouth on mine. My knee bends as his callused hand slides up it, resting on my hip. His knee spreads my legs apart, his teeth grazing my bottom lip. The head of his cock skims across my wetness and I suck in a sudden breath, butterflies filling my stomach. It’s going to be painful, like last time. But with him, it’ll be worth it.