by Lynn Burke
“Oh, I am so going with you.”
I squeezed her arm. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“And if he’s hotter than Austin, I just might make his day,” she said with a smirk.
I laughed for the first time in days, lighting a part of me that had dimmed. Seeing my plan through to completion would explode brilliance like a rainbow back into my life. I hoped like hell for that exact outcome.
Chapter Eight
Bowie
A fucking week passed. The lounge rocked, the women danced, but I ached like a motherfucker for my woman. I had a lot of explaining to do, a lot of lovin’ to give, as a spitting-mad Avril told me.
Properly chastised, I sat in my office, head in hands, my head splitting open with pain like my heart in my chest. I grabbed my cell from my back pocket and dialed Gunner.
“I’ve gotta go talk to her,” I said by way of a greeting. “Can’t fucking wait any more.”
He chuckled, the sound in the background evidence he sat out in the lounge. “What you need to do is get your ass out here.” He hung up.
The fuck? I stared down at my cell. A shot of adrenaline rushed through me as I thought of the FBI raiding again even though Gunner hadn’t sounded worried. I hurried out of my office and down the hall, my hand itching for the blade shoved in my boot sheath.
I pushed into the lounge, ready to rumble, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Men flocked around the bar and the stage, all usual for a Friday night.
The thumping music filtered through the ringing in my ears. Skin…
I jerked my head toward the stage again, my focus zeroing in on the angel in white approaching the pole.
“Fuck.” I clenched my jaw and fists at my sides as my dick shot to attention.
“Go get her, Bowie,” Austin said from his station beside the door I’d thrown open.
“Fucking little minx.” I strode toward the stage, and the second her gaze landed on me, pink infused her cheeks, and her lips parted. Goddamn angel… my angel. She’d come back without telling me, to tease the ever-loving shit out of me, dancing for a bunch of lustful men reaching for her satiny skin.
I growled and clasped the shoulder of whoever sat in my chair.
Gunner stood and slapped my back, but I couldn’t tear my gaze off my woman. Did she still want me? Did I even have a shot of groveling before her, kissing her feet, and begging forgiveness for what I’d done?
She stared at me with those luminous eyes while dancing, only looking away when spinning her back toward me. Always, she returned her focus on my face, and as the song drew close to the end, rather than put that fucking hat between her teeth, she crawled toward me, hurt and want warring in her gaze.
Give me a chance, Angel…
She rose up to her knees, slipped her fingers in the sides of her thong and shimmied the scrap of satin low.
The sight of black ink tattooed right above her pubic bone caught me before I could fly into a rage over the fact she thought to bare her pussy to someone other than me.
Property of Bowie.
“Fuck. Me.” I groaned and climbed onto stage, yanked her into my arms, and crushed my mouth to hers. One hand wrapped in her long hair, I tugged hard, and she wrapped her long legs around my waist. Fucking dick throbbed. Balls pulled up tight. I wanted to be buried inside her tight pussy with a need that bordered insanity.
Something clicked inside my head, like the final piece of puzzle I hadn’t realized was missing in my life. I realized as my angel kissed me back with fervent passion that it wasn’t madness I’d inherited from my father, but insecurity that had led me to think about knifing whoever touched her. Hannah belonged to me; she’d inked that fact on her fucking skin, laying all doubt to rest in my head.
Catcalls followed after me as I stumbled across the stage toward the curtain, eating at her mouth and trying to watch where I walked at the same goddamn time. I stepped beyond the edge into the dimness backstage, and tore my mouth from hers.
“You’ve got some explaining to do,” she said before I could form a single goddamn word.
“Been dead without you,” I murmured, kissing her again, breathing in the scent of cotton candy, tasting the sweetness of her lips.
She ground herself against me, and I palmed her ass, squeezing.
Someone cleared their throat, and I tore my attention off Hannah to find Avril watching us, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised. “Private rooms are upstairs.”
Avril hated PDA with a fucking passion. Never knew why since I wasn’t one to pry.
“This is a business,” Avril continued, “not a sex club where people expect to get an eyeful of actual fucking, thank you very much.”
“Upstairs or back to my place?” I asked, turning my attention back on my woman.
“Upstairs. Now.”
Grinning like a fucking idiot, I swept past Avril and headed toward the stairs. “I’m sorry, Hannah,” I said. “So goddamn sorry for lying, for hiding what we planned to gain from your coming here. Shouldn’t have done it.”
“No, you shouldn’t have.” She yanked on my hair, and I hissed at the pain, my dick jerking inside my jeans. “Why didn’t you come for me? Why haven’t you called?”
“Gunner ordered me to wait until things calmed down,” I explained while taking the stairs two at a time. “I was going to go get you tonight, but you showed up before I could take off.”
I pushed in the door and kicked it shut behind me, attacking her mouth again while shuffling across the room. I had to peel her body off mine. “On the bed.”
She obeyed without hesitation, sprawling out in the middle, thighs spread, showing me the soaked the satin hiding her tattoo and heaven from my gaze.
“Take them off. Take it all off,” I said, yanking my black T-shirt overhead. She unclasped the tiny bra and tossed it aside, and my focus honed in on her hands as they slid the thong down over her hips, revealing what every fucking patron in the club had seen -- the top of her slit and the tattoo naming her as mine. I didn’t even give a fuck that someone had touched her to ink her skin. My property.
“Fucking mine.”
“Yes. Hurry.”
I couldn’t kick my shoes off fast enough. Couldn’t get my goddamn jeans off my legs without stumbling around like a goddamn fool, but her giggle cut short when I crawled between her legs.
“Mine.” I shoved into her pussy and claimed her mouth in one move. She bowed beneath me, gasping against my lips, her fingernails digging into my shoulder blades. Whimpers bled from her as I sucked the air from her lungs -- fucked into her like a wild, rutting boar. Rough and hard, exactly how we both liked.
She lifted her hips to meet my thrusts, the slapping of our skin battling the moans and groans rising between our mashed lips. I held her head in my hands and kissed her as though life’s end lay two minutes ahead, every drag of my cock against her inner walls like liquid fire rushing through my blood.
I burned. Fucking sweated.
Her breath caught twice, and I ground my pelvis against her. “Come for me, Hannah, my angel. Coat my dick with your cream. Scream for me.”
She obeyed, her head tipped back, mouth open as she cried out my name.
I thrust in a few more times, but wasn’t anywhere near done claiming my woman.
Before she settled, I pulled out and flipped her over, yanking her up onto her knees. “Going to take your ass.”
She groaned and arched her back, her heart-shaped ass rising in offering. Lube sat in the bed stand, but I couldn’t bear to leave her side for one fucking second. “You’re fucking soaked in cum.” My voice shook and dick jumped as I shoved my fingers into her tight as fuck pussy and smeared the slick mess up over her puckered hole. She relaxed and pressed back, and my finger easily slid past the ring of muscle.
“God.” Hannah groaned and moved back to meet me as I pulled out and pressed back in with two fingers. “So good. Please, Bowie.”
My dick swelled to the point of pain, and I tigh
tened my jaw to keep from impaling her with one hard thrust like I’d done with her pussy. “Need to stretch you first, sugar,” I managed through my clenched teeth.
She moaned and thrashed her head from side to side as I worked her ass with my fingers, readying her to take my much bigger cock.
I stroked down my length with my other hand as she fucked herself on my fingers, a week’s worth of pent-up cum simmered in my balls, making my dick an oozing mess of pre-cum.
Wetness dripped from her pussy, and I gathered more, adding it to my slickened length.
“Ready?” I asked, pulling my fingers from her ass and wiping them on the sheet.
“God, yes.”
I grasped her hip and used my other hand to press the tip of my dick against her puckered hole. “Relax and push back.” I pressed forward, teeth clenched as I slid past the tight ring of her muscle.
“Fuck, that burns!” she whimpered, but didn’t pull away, and I settled both hands on her hips.
“I’ll go slow, angel, but I’m not stopping. This ass is mine.”
“Yes.” She panted as I pushed in another inch.
“So fucking tight.” I groaned while pulling out without popping my crown from her hole. A flex of my hips buried my cock half-way in her ass, and she moaned, arching her back even more. Offering herself to me -- submitting to my claiming.
I pulled out, and with a growl, shoved in fully, her ass swallowing every inch of my throbbing dick. “Fuck.” A few more curses flew past both our lips as I pulled out and pushed back into her tight heat.
“Every goddamn inch,” I managed past teeth gritted against busting a nut sooner than I wanted to. “Mine.”
Hannah shoved back against me. “Yours.”
* * *
Hannah
The initial burning pain morphed into a pleasure I hadn’t expected -- and quickly found myself addicted to. Bowie stretched my ass, buried so damn deep I could barely breathe. I loved it almost as much as having him in my pussy.
My climax hovered just beyond reach, every stroke of his cock inside me taking me to the edge over and over. Heat rushed through me, covering me in a sheen of sweat. Hair plastered to my damp cheek as I panted, eyes clenched shut.
“Need,” I heard myself say on a groan as he bottomed out inside me, balls resting against my empty, dripping pussy.
“I know what you need, sugar. Trust me.” A few more slow thrusts, and I whimpered, begging him to help me. “You’re going to come so fucking hard.” He pulled out and sank back in. “Cum is going to gush from your pussy and coat my balls.”
“Yes. Oh, mercy, please.”
Bowie released his bruising grip on my hip and reached between my thighs. “Come for me, angel.” He pinched my clit so hard I saw stars -- and tumbled into a climax so damn strong I shrieked.
“Fucking Christ, Hannah.” Bowie shoved into me over and over as I convulsed in the throes of an earth-shattering climax. “Such a good little girl. Your cum is dripping off my balls.” His low voice turned all gravel and sex, and he pinched my clit again, sending me headlong into another before the first ended.
“Fuck.” He gripped both my hips and slammed into me, banging the headboard, his animalistic grunts like delicious music to my ears. Buried deep, fingers bruising, he let loose, heat jetting from his cock as he hollered and swore, coming inside me.
All my doing. I smiled while still gasping for breath past my dry, parted lips.
“You’re so goddamn perfect, Hannah.” Bowie leaned over my back as I sank into the mattress, and I loved the weight and heat of him against me. Still buried in my body, he gathered my mass of hair behind my head to place a kiss on my neck.
“Pretty damn perfect yourself,” I whispered, eyes closed and wiped out.
He nudged into me with his softening cock before backing out. Cum leaked from my ass, and as with our first time together, he smearing his fingers through the sticky mess and rubbed it into my skin. “Did I hurt you, sugar?” he asked before placing another kiss on my lower back.
“No.” Even if he had, pleasure still coursed through me, tingling my fingers and toes. Soreness might make itself known later, but in that moment, I’d never felt better.
“I’ll get a towel to clean you up.”
A heavy sigh shuddered through me, and my heart rate began to slow. Bowie had blown every expectation from my mind. Every hope, every dream I’d had over the years, wondering what a man’s body would feel like pressed against mine, rutting into me out of sheer, uncontrollable need. Another tingle thought to waken between my thighs, but I ignored it, knowing it would be a few days before we’d be able to have sex again.
I expected he’d be taking the final first from me in that time, but he would have to teach me how he liked getting his cock sucked. My mouth drooled at the thought.
Bowie returned and wiped me off, his hands and the hot towel soothing against my skin where he’d gripped me. “We can stay the night,” he murmured, tossing the towel aside.
“Good, because I don’t think I can move,” I muttered against the mattress.
Chuckling -- a sound that filled my heart -- he tugged me under the blankets, pulled against his side, my cheek on his chest. “I would have come for you that night, but Gunner wouldn’t let me.”
“I wouldn’t have wanted to talk to you anyway.” I ran my palm down over the rippled muscles of his stomach and back up. That tingle wanted to wake again, but we had things to discuss. “I needed time to process. Time to talk out the issues in my head over the whole situation.”
“Cadence?”
“And Avril.”
“Ave?”
I nodded against his chest. “I called her a couple days ago, and when she said how you’ve been moping --”
“I wasn’t moping,” he grumbled like a petulant child.
I tweaked his nipple with my teeth, and he groaned, sliding my hand down to his hardening cock.
“Knowing you were just as miserable as me,” I said, lifting my head to look into his eyes, “I couldn’t not come back. I went to the tattoo place Darling owns and got him to ink me.”
“How’d you know Darling inked people?”
“I asked Avril where the brothers went, who they trusted. Who you would trust to touch me in that way.” I smiled and gripped his hard length in my hand until he groaned.
“That tattoo is fucking perfect, and he’s the only one allowed to touch you.”
Light laughter escaped me.
“I’m serious. You’re mine.” He held me trapped in his caramel-colored eyes, the intensity and honesty of his words solidifying in my soul, causing the old fear of imprisonment to raise its ugly head in my mind.
“I belong to myself first,” I said, needing him to understand.
“I won’t ever let you go, but I sure as fuck won’t hold you under my thumb like your parents did. I might get cranky as shit, swat your ass when you deserve it, but you have the freedom to control the dynamic between us.”
“Dynamic?” My brow furrowed on its own. “I don’t understand how I could possibly be the one in control.”
“Meaning” -- he rubbed his thumb over my lower lip -- ”if you don’t want my hands on you, they won’t be. If you don’t want my cock for whatever possible reason, I keep it to myself until I persuade you otherwise.”
I huffed a snort.
“I’m serious.”
A small giggle escaped me. “That was an ‘as if I would ever not want your cock in me’ snort.”
He grinned, the dimple in his cheek melting my heart. “You’re mine, Angel, but you own me. My mind. My heart. My soul.”
I leaned in and gently brushed my lips across his, lingering against the soft pillow of his mouth. “So that means you’ll go sky diving and learn to fly with me, right?”
“Fuck, no.”
“But you’ll let me do those things, won’t you?”
A muscle jumped in his jaw, but he nodded, instantly easing the tension rising in my shoulder
s. “I want you to live your life -- safely. Just make sure you’re in my bed every night for the rest of our lives.”
“I already expected that,” I said with a smirk while caressing my hand down to fondle his balls.
“Little minx.”
“I tattooed myself with every intent of growing old and gray with you.”
“In the meantime” -- his eyes glinted -- ”I’m going to make love to my old lady while she’s young. Enjoy every curve, every smile, every grind of her hips against my dick.”
I pulled myself up onto his chest, settling his cock against my pussy. “Right now?”
“I’m up for it if you are.”
I snorted again and he leaned up to kiss me while filling me with one thrust.
Sucking him off for the first time could wait. So could learning the things about each other normal couples did before agreeing to spend their lives together. An ex, kids, even if he didn’t have his own place, I didn’t care. I was Bowie’s angel, and nothing on earth would ever change that fact.
Lynn Burke
Lynn Burke is a full-time mother, voracious gardener, and scribbler of hot romance stories. A country bumpkin turned Bay Stater, she enjoys her chowdah and Dunkin Donuts when not trying to escape the reality of city life.
Lynn at Changeling Press: changelingpress.com/lynn-burke-a-209