“Ummmm.” Jo blinked up at him, her mind already fuzzy and blank. “Maybe?”
“Huh. That sounds like a challenge.”
She grinned at him, marveling at how much fun it was with him, how hot and sexy the teasing was.
“Challenge on, querido.”
“So you’re not going to beg?”
“Nope.”
“I think you’re wrong,” he said quietly. “Very, very wrong.”
She was about to say something smart – God knows what, really – but then he lowered his right hand and stroked her pussy and she arched into his touch with a moan, all coherent sassy thoughts long gone. He traced her lips slowly, feeling her heat and wetness rush out to meet his fingers.
“My God, baby,” he said, spreading her honeyed arousal around and around. “I don’t need to hear a single damn word. You’re begging with your body.”
Again, she opened her mouth to retort something clever and again, the words stuck in her throat as Zeke make yet another decisive move. This time he kneeled down in front of her, brushing his fingers over her again and she twisted in pleasure, her back pushing into the cool wall. He held her eyes as he leaned forward, parting her pussy lips, his tongue just skimming her wet heat, so lightly that she barely felt it. She stopped breathing, every nerve in her body tensed in anticipation.
Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.
Her hands tightened in his hair in a silent plea, but she didn’t say a word and he didn’t move any closer. They just stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, staring at each other, and Jo suddenly understood that his aggravating goddamn self-control and patience were back. If she wanted more, she was going to have to ask for it. Beg for it.
To hell with winning this game. She was going to forfeit. To have this man’s mouth on her was going to make losing worth it – because she was actually going to win.
“Zeke,” she said, not even recognizing her own voice as it reached her ears. “Zeke, please…”
“Ahhh,” he said softly. “There we go.”
“Please.”
“Not good enough,” he said, his breath blowing hot on her aching pussy. “Try again.”
“Please!” She gasped as his fingers pressed on her swollen clit, pulled back. “Oh God, please! If you don’t kiss me, I’ll – I’ll die right here and now, right on this spot. Please… please just do it. I need –”
“Good girl,” he said, the two words turning her on more than she’d ever thought possible. “I think it’s time for move number four.”
She threw her head back against the wall in sweet relief. “Jesus Christ –”
That was all that she had time to utter before he was on her. He settled his whole mouth on her begging center, his tongue moving on her clit, slow and gentle. He rolled the hard bud between his lips, teasing and loving it, then licked her full length, lapping at her sweet moisture, greedy and wanting more.
Jo’s knees shook wildly as he feasted on her, unhurried and controlled, every small movement designed for maximum pleasure. Her hands were tangled in his hair, but no way he was letting her guide him: he was calling the shots here, and every flick and lick told her that. All she could do was hold on for dear life, moan and beg – and remember to keep breathing.
His tongue moved inside her now, thrusting in and out in a maddening rhythm, and Jo gave a cry of want, of need. She was right on the edge, she knew: one more touch with that amazing tongue and she was a goner. Zeke looked up at her, his eyes burning with lust.
“Any idea what move number five might be?” His voice was pure dark sex, his fingers framing her pussy, cradling her quivering thighs. “Tell me what you want it to be.”
“Inside me,” she panted. “I want you inside me. Move number five is you inside me.”
He got to his feet, cupped her face in his hands. Kissed her so gently, so tenderly, then drew back and gave her the most evil smile ever seen on a human face. “Beg.”
“Oh my God!” she cried, almost beside herself with frenzied need, abandoning any presence of calm or pride or cool. “Please! Please! In the name of Jesus Christ and God above and all the legions of angels, please!”
“Well, why didn’t you just say so?” he murmured. “No need to shout.”
Her mind short-circuited and she wanted to both smack him and kiss him, but she had time to do neither because he rolled on the condom and then in one strong movement, he lifted her. Without a second of thought, she wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms around her neck, her back pressed hard against the wall. Holding her gaze, Zeke rubbed his cock against her slick entrance, his other hand under her ass, holding her steady.
“Yes?” he growled. “Tell me yes, baby.”
“Yes,” she sobbed, so close to coming, so close to promising this man her eternal soul if he’d just fucking fuck her. “Yes please, please now.”
Without another word, he pushed inside her in one strong, fluid movement. The force of it was so perfect, so amazing that Jo stopped breathing for a few seconds, the pleasure so good that it was almost pain. The best damn pain she’d ever known, better than anything she could ever have imagined.
“Ana?” he said, his free hand on her cheek, stroking her hair back. “You breathing, angel?”
“Barely,” she quavered. “You feel so good but… more. I want more.”
He grinned. “More I can do.”
She groaned as he moved impossibly deeper, stretching her in the most delicious way. He was so hot, so hard, and her insides burned and ached as he slid in further, closer. He kept pressing until he was all the way inside her quivering body, farther than anyone had ever gone before, then he paused, giving her time to get used to the sensation of being so filled, so taken. He held her carefully, his large hands supporting her as she fought to calm her ragged breathing.
Zeke kissed her, whispering that he loved being inside her. Her whole body was shaking, and she was absolutely mindless putty in his large hands. Without even realizing it, she started to move on him slowly, getting used to the sensation of being so deliciously trapped between his body and the wall.
He groaned aloud and she felt a savage triumph that he was maybe starting to lose control now. She sped up her hips, thinking that maybe she could take the lead, but Zeke proved her wrong yet again. He pulled back and out, then thrust in to meet her downward stroke, impaling her on his cock, nailing her to the wall. Her eyes widened, and he did it again.
“Zeke…”
“Shut up, baby,” he said in a voice that brooked no resistance. “We do this my way.”
He started to plunge inside her gently, then more roughly as her hips rose and fell in rhythm with his. Jo watched his face, loving how good it felt to seduce and take this strong man with her body. She felt her muscles tensing and releasing on him, a wave of pleasure starting to swell and she gave a low moan.
“I’m close… I’m so close.” Her pussy throbbed and she gasped, clawing at his shoulders, desperate for the release that she craved. “I’m almost there…”
“Come for me now, Ana,” he said, his voice rougher than anything she’d ever heard. “Come hard, baby.”
At his words, the coiled tension deep inside her started to unravel. Her body was reaching, straining, fighting to release the taut, agonizing need. Her climax approached fast and huge, rising and growing with his every plunge and she couldn’t do anything except feel Zeke in her, on her, all around her.
He must have finally decided to give her what she needed and to stop playing with her, because he drove into her harder and harder, pushing her mercilessly closer and closer to the edge of completion. She went over now, went tumbling over the precipice, screaming and convulsing around him and he let himself follow her over the knife-edge of bliss. She heard his groans, felt his massive body shudder against hers as he started to come. She clung to him fiercely, loving th
at she’d been able to do this with him, for him.
Time passed somehow. Dimly, Jo was aware that Zeke had dropped his head to her shoulder and his harsh breathing was hot against her throat. His one hand was braced on the wall next to her, keeping him from collapsing to his knees, the other arm was curved under her ass, still holding her up. She stirred and started to unhook her legs from his waist so he could set her down and relax.
“Don’t move,” he growled. “Not until I say.”
Jo went still in his arms as he moved them both to the bed. He sat on the edge and Jo stayed all wrapped around him, he stayed buried deep inside her body.
“So,” he said, his eyes locked on hers as he gave her a tiny kiss on the end of her nose. “How do you feel about attempting move number six? After a serious damn rest, I mean.”
Jo laughed and agreed, secretly thinking that move number six couldn’t be better than anything so far.
Over the next two hours, she was proven very wrong about that with move number six – and moves seven through nine.
**
Ana turned in his arms, as soft and sweet as a kitten, her golden beauty bathed in silver moonlight. He gathered her to his chest, marveling how she just slipped so perfectly right into the space around him and closed its emptiness, just filled it with her curves and light.
“Zeke,” she murmured, already slipping into an exhausted sleep after coming on his cock for the fourth time. “Zeke…”
Suddenly, he hated that she didn’t know his name, that she’d spoken and whispered and moaned and screamed the fucking wrong name all night long. He fiercely wanted her to know him, to know who the hell he actually was, to know one fucking true thing about him.
Starting with his name.
“Silver,” he told her now. “My name’s Silver, baby.”
But she was completely out and she heard nothing, and his heart seized up with regret that she didn’t know what he’d just told her.
That was when he realized – with shock and horror – that he’d just been compelled to break one of his strictest rules with this woman: a casual one-night-stand that he’d picked up the fucking Roaring Red just a few hours earlier.
That was when he knew as sure as the sun was going to rise the next day that he was in more trouble with Ana than he’d ever been with a woman in the whole of his forty-two years of existence.
And for the life of him, Silver didn’t have the first clue what the fuck to do about it.
Chapter Five
Three hours later, Silver glanced at the clock on the bedside table. Four minutes past six, pitch black outside, the winter wind howling around the snug little cabin. Ana was still sleeping sweetly in his arms, looking like a precious angel fallen to earth – and he was slowly but surely losing his goddamn mind. Still. Some more.
At long last, though, Silver what he was going to do. He knew with every fiber of his being that it was a shitty, selfish, cowardly thing to do, it was something that went against every single damn thing that he held dear and believed in… but he was going to do it anyway.
He was going to sneak out on Ana, and he was going to do it within the next ten minutes.
He had to.
He had to because even just the thought of waking up with her and seeing those brilliant eyes gazing up at him scared the actual life out of him, scared him in ways that he didn’t know he could be. When Ana looked at Silver, he just knew that she saw him at his best, the way that he had always wanted to be and never could. Not with his past and his present.
She saw him as he could have been, if he hadn’t gone to prison, hadn’t entered the MC life. If he’d carried on with his military career maybe, or gotten serious about his karate and taken it to competitive levels. Maybe he could have opened his own dojo and taught kids the beautiful discipline, respect and humility of the martial art. He’d dreamed about being a teacher once upon a time, the kind of guy who saved up for a motorcycle and worked on it at the weekends while drinking beer with his buddies from the local pool hall. If he’d just been Zeke for the whole of his life.
Instead he’d gone to jail, met Cole who convinced him to prospect for The Road Devils when he left prison. And sure enough he’d done exactly that, patched in as Silver… and he’d become a drug smuggler, a gun runner.
A fucking killer.
The night before, it had been easy enough to forget all of that while caught up in his little fantasy world of make-believe with a hot stranger in a bar. He’d been Zeke from Arizona on a business trip sourcing parts for a client’s custom motorcycle job. He’d been teasing and flirting, he’d smiled and laughed.
It had been him of course… but it wasn’t him.
The approaching dawn was going to remove that tissue-paper-thin layer of protective division between Zeke and Silver. It was going to force him don his cut again – even metaphorically – and how could he let Ana look on him when he was that man?
How the actual hell was Silver supposed to kiss her awake, hold her by her tumbled hair, and take her again? Make her a coffee in the tiny kitchenette, chat with her about their upcoming day’s plans? Then watch her pack her bag, walk her to her car, wish her well and say ‘thanks for last night’? Cheerfully wave her off to wherever life was taking her next?
How could Zeke come back and do any of that when Silver was front and centre? It would all be a giant lie and he was done lying to this woman.
But even as he had this virtuous and self-congratulatory thought, he knew that he was full of shit. Oh sure, he was right that he’d lied to Ana by commission and omission (mostly by omission and very careful truth-telling), and that wasn’t sitting right with him. But really – if he looked at his real reason for high-tailing it out of there without a word – it was because he was a goddamn spineless chicken-shit working pretty hard to avoid facing certain feelings. Namely, that he even had feelings.
He didn’t want feelings for any woman, especially one who he’d misled and lied to basically from the second that he’d opened his mouth. Just how the hell was that supposed to work, all that maintaining of the lies and judicious truth-telling, even if he could get to New Mexico a few times a year?
Because the whole truth was that Ana was damn special, so much so that he was already aching at the thought of leaving her… and in all his years of friends with benefits, he’d never felt this ache. He liked his female friends, he valued his time with them, he respected them as people – but leaving them was never a struggle.
He was struggling here and now. Struggling hard.
Silver didn’t believe in love at first sight. Screw that romantic crap. Lust at first sight, sure, he knew that pretty well. He didn’t even believe in love at second sight, or tenth, or even hundredth; he didn’t think it possible to love someone right away or after years and years of knowing them. Love was a complete crock and he’d made his peace with that long ago, decided that it wasn’t for him and nothing that he needed or even wanted. He’d been made vulnerable and helpless just once in his life, and it had nearly destroyed him. That time of hell on earth had sealed up his heart nice and tight as a bank vault – and nobody, nobody, was going to pry it open.
So whatever was going on here in this warm bed, this wasn’t love. He knew that. But it was something, something new and inconvenient and fucked up – and he also knew that he wanted no part of it.
He suspected that if she opened her eyes this very second and looked up at him from the warm cocoon of his arms, then he’d be lost; he also suspected with everything that he was that if she whispered his name in that sultry molten voice and smiled that smile at him, he’d never let her go. He’d blurt out everything, everything.
He felt his nailed-shut heart starting to crack open – just a bit – but even that was too much. That was fucking unthinkable.
Move, man.
He shifted a bit, held his breath. Ana didn’t move
even an inch, her breathing stayed slow and steady, and Silver knew that he had a chance now. Still not breathing, trying to move his bulk like a ballet dancer, praying that the sheets didn’t rustle. He could move quietly when he had to, but that was on his feet, not on his back and with a woman passed out across his chest.
Firmly in stealth mode, Silver slid his hips sideways, stuck one leg out of the bed to brace his weight on the floor. Then he executed this weird shimmying move with his upper body until he was free and out. He had a quick and horrifying mental snapshot of just how ridiculous he had to look right in that moment, and shook his head.
You look like an asshole and that’s OK, because you are an asshole. You have your reasons, but still and make no mistake here, boy. You’re an asshole. Complete and total and utter and huge.
He swung his other leg to the floor now, sat up. He stifled a deep sigh, then turned a bit to look at Ana one last time.
She was curled up on her side facing him, her hair tumbled loose and lovely around her heart-shaped face. Those rosebud lips were slightly parted, soft, sweet. Silver flashed to how they’d felt under his own lips, how they’d felt wrapped around his cock.
They’d felt better than anything he’d ever known.
The bedsheet was crumpled around her lush body, giving him a tantalizing glimpse of those amazing breasts, and he could see the curve of her hips through the material. She looked so peaceful, so gorgeous. Silver drank her in like a man who’d just crossed the desert, committing her golden beauty to memory.
She was already the biggest regret of his life in some ways. Silver knew that despite barely knowing her, he’d miss her; he’d curse what might have been with her; he’d hate himself for doing what he was about to do to her.
Hell, he already missed her, even just sitting here next to her sleeping form. He already cursed the brief glimpse of what kind of man he could have been, what kind of woman he could have ended up being with if he’d stayed away from the life. And fuck knows, he already hated himself, because the thought of what she’d assume and believe when she woke up alone was killing him.
The Devil's Silver (The Road Devils MC Book 2) Page 9