by West, Naomi
“Little toast grandkids, even?” Cutter asked, laughing.
Yeah, he thought. Things might work out after all. She might be okay.
Chapter 13
Liona
They stayed up for a little while longer after they finished eating, and Cutter introduced her to the rest of the guys who lived at the clubhouse. He'd been right, they were rough around the edges. Coarse was a good word to describe them. But, even if they said some things that were inappropriate in polite company, or spoke in voices that were a little louder in volume than normally acceptable, she felt safe with them. They were straight forward. Honest.
Around Wyland, and even his friends and family, she'd always felt as if she had to be on guard. Something always lurked behind his eyes, something fundamentally dishonest and mercurial. What she thought was the right thing to do one day, may not be the right thing tomorrow, or the next day. With the Vanguard, she knew there was just one right thing to do: respect them and the club. Seemed simple enough, Liona figured.
A little before midnight, most of the guys that had to work the next morning began to turn in for the evening. They all had to be up early, she realized. Most of the time, she'd just gone to bed when Wyland had. She hadn't wanted to wake him up in the middle of the night, especially not if he had work in the morning.
Cutter walked her back to his room. Rather, her room, for the time being He shut the door behind them and leaned back against it. “What'd you think of the guys?” he asked.
She smiled. “They're nice,” she said with sincerity. “Smalls's sweet.”
He smiled, seemingly happy that they hadn't been too much for her. “Yeah, they're all good guys.”
“You turning in for the night, too?”
“Probably should,” he admitted.
There was a pause, and Liona's nervous heart began to beat a little faster.
“Yeah, I need to,” he said, shaking his head. “Smalls's gonna open for me tomorrow morning, but I'll still have to be up early. Got a breakfast date with our lawyer.”
That hadn't been exactly what Liona had wanted to hear. No, she'd wanted him to come over and take her into those caring work-strong arms of his. She wanted to feel his full lips crushing hers. Clearly, though, that wasn't going to happen. She quirked up the corners of her mouth.
“If you need anything,” he said as he touched the door handle beside him, “I'll be out on one of the couches. Alright?”
She did need something: to feel a kind touch, a reassuring warmth, a loving hand for once in her life. She simply nodded at him. “Yeah. I'll let you know.”
“Cool,” he said before turning to let himself out. He stopped before he left. “Night, Liona.”
“Night, Cutter,” she said, his name making her smile a little as it left her lips.
He smiled back and shook his head, before closing the door and heading off down the hallway, back to the rec room. Liona sighed again. She should have said something. Done something. What was that quote? “If you don't make a choice, life will choose for you?” Something like that, she thought. But, whatever the quote had been, her choice in that moment had been made for her, whether she liked the decision, or not.
# # #
Cutter
Cutter bedded down in the rec room, just like he'd decided a while ago. Heading off to bed early didn't help him with getting any sleep, though. Liona's face, smile, laughter, and the sound of her voice filled his mind as he tossed and turned on the overstuffed piece of furniture. When he closed his eyes, all he saw was her naked, beautiful body. It didn't matter that she'd been hurt. She was still Liona Copeland. He lay there, his head propped up on the scratchy pillow, eyes wide open and staring off into the darkness. Silence covered the clubhouse like a heavy down comforter, wrapped him in its embrace. The only thing it couldn't silence, though, were his thoughts.
Once, he imagined he'd gotten over her. Had finally forgotten how her touch felt. Had finally put her infectious grin behind him. Apparently, he hadn't. He sighed and rolled back over to face the back of the couch, pulled the covers tighter around his shoulders. The urge to just walk back into his room, to crawl into bed with her and pull her into his arms, was almost too much to control. Somehow, he managed to control himself, but in the end, it was only for her sake. He'd loved Liona once. Loved her like the air he breathed, or the roads his bike took him down. He'd spent years pulling that love out of his heart, ripping it out by the roots and throwing it as far away as he could. She'd been with Wyland, and forever out of his reach.
...Now she was within his reach but if he tried something and got shot down like he had before, he wouldn't know how to handle it. Could he take that kind of rejection again? Or, would it wreck him just like it had all those years ago?
He sighed and rolled back over, put his hands behind his head, and stared up at the ceiling. No, he couldn't risk the hurt. No matter how much he needed to. A heart was a fragile thing, like a soufflé or a bike's gearbox. You toyed with one at your peril. Cutter, though, was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't hear the soft footsteps as they padded down the hall and into the rec room. Even in the thundering silence, he was too focused on himself, only his own memories and mental arguments. He was so absorbed in his own echo chamber that he barely reacted when the soft, slender hand slipped over his mouth, and the perfectly shaped lips next to his ear whispered a quiet shush.
“Come with me,” Liona said, her soft, sweet breath tickling the inside of his ear. “I want to show you something.”
Chapter 14
Liona
Liona could feel the stubble on his chin beneath her fingers, and his skin was soft but weathered. He was so different form Wyland, different in every way she could imagine. Wyland used lotions on his face, moisturizers with SPF. She knew Cutter didn't. She'd been in his bathroom, after all. He was only wearing his boxer briefs as he slept on the couch, with a light quilt thrown over him. Wyland, though, refused to sleep in anything but silk pajamas.
She could tell from this close, too, how different they smelled. Wyland had smelled like expensive cologne and other pampered fragrances. Cutter smelled like motor oil, exhaust, and a little spiciness she couldn't quite place. Liona glanced down his body, allowing her eyes to travel over his broad chest and the tattoos and scars covering his flesh. She wanted to reach out to him, to feel his imperfections and old injuries. She wanted to kiss his tattoos, to let her lips travel down his naked body....
She couldn't believe she was doing this, throwing herself at this man whom she hadn't seen in so many years. And yet, here she stood, clad in only the panties she was supposed to get married in, and an oversized bike rally tee shirt she'd fished out of his dresser drawer. But, there was something liberating about these feelings. She wanted this. She wanted to explore her urges, instead of just subjecting herself to someone else's wants and desires.
Cutter turned to face her and she could feel him smile a little. His eyes, though, were saying something else entirely. In his eyes, she could see the smoldering desire. That same want, that same need they shared. He reached up and took her hand away from her mouth and went to sit up from where he lay on the couch. All she could feel was the blood pumping through her body, and the desperately intense lust she felt for this man. She stood up, her hand still in his. She gently pulled him up from the couch and turned to lead him back down the hallway, back to his bunk. Together, half-naked, they walked through the pitch-black halls of the Vanguard MC's clubhouse. They crept past the sleeping men's bunks, barely making a sound, sneaking through the corridors until they reached Cutter's room.
She glanced back at him as they reached his door, and her breath nearly caught in her throat. He looked even more sultry in the hallway than he had on the couch. Even more than when he'd been on his bike on the side of the road, riding to her rescue.
Cutter reached out to her, and she felt herself tense in expectation of his touch. He reached past her, though, and grabbed the door handle. His body brushed ag
ainst hers as he turned the handle and pushed the door open. Heat came off of him in waves, so much so that she felt as if she was standing next to a furnace.
She tilted her parted lips up to his, her breath heavy, her heart racing. Her hands came up, seemingly of their own volition, and wrapped around him. His skin was hot to the touch, his muscles like iron or stone. He put an arm around her waist, gently pulled her into him. He brought his soft, full lips down closer to hers. Still, though, he didn't kiss her.
The wait was too much for her. She stood on her tiptoes, pressing herself more fully into his body. He pulled her tighter, closer. He leaned down, pressed his lips to hers. His kiss was intense, deep, like that of a long-lost lover. Just like the one and only kiss they'd shared all those years before.
A little thrilling shiver went through her body as she tasted him for the first time in so long. He felt just like she remembered, but less timid and more confident than when they'd been kids. He opened his mouth and brushed his tongue over her lips. She parted them for his tongue, darted her own out. They kissed like that in the hallway for what seemed like an eternity, their tongues dancing and lashing and exploring.
Cutter's strong insistent hands began to explore. He lifted the hem of her pilfered shirt and slipped a palm down over her panty-covered bottom. He grabbed a tight hold of her, filling his hands. She groaned a little at his touch, arching herself into him as he kneaded her supple forgiving flesh. His calluses brushed over her skin, tantalizing her as she ground herself into him.
Panting, he broke off the kiss for a moment, pulled back. “Bedroom,” he whispered so quietly she could barely hear him over the sound of her own heavy breathing.
She nodded and backed through the doorway, dragging him along with her. She tried to not move too far away, lest he lose touch with her body. She hadn't felt this way in years, not since back in college. She'd always been with Wyland, never with another man, and she wanted to explore every part of the experience possible. He shut the door behind them and allowed himself to be dragged to the edge of the bed. He pulled her into his arms, gently embracing her. They continued to kiss, enjoying this newly found experience.
His hands roamed higher, up her back, between her shoulder blades. His blunt nails dragged along her skin, leaving a fiery trail behind them as they trekked down her body. She bit his lip and sucked on it till he pulled away. He reached out to her, but dropped his hands when he realized what she was doing.
She took a deep breath, steeled herself. “I've never been with another man besides Wyland,” she whispered.
He nodded, seemingly understanding despite his face being almost entirely hidden in shadows. Cutter had probably been with loads of women, she thought. Girls would throw themselves at a man like him, with his rippling abs and bulging biceps. And, shit, he could cook, too.
“It's okay,” he said. “I'll be gentle.”
She reached down, grabbed the bottom hem of her shirt, and pulled it up and over her head. She stood there in front of him, her body on display for another man for the first time. She took a deep breath, her breasts rising and falling. “It's okay,” she whispered back. “You don't need to treat me with kid gloves.”
He grinned a wolfish grin, then. He reached out, pulled her into his arms, suddenly brusque. She nearly squealed as she felt his lips on her neck and his steely grip on her body. His hands massaged her flesh, grabbed her ass again. She pushed back into his hands as she flattened her breasts into his wide muscular chest.
His lips found hers again as he turned her back to the bed and moved her towards it. He pushed her back onto the foot of his bed as his tongue plunged into her mouth. She closed her lips around his tongue, sucking it for a moment before pulling back and grazing her teeth over his lower lip, nipping it lightly. Still standing over her, he cupped a breast with his hand and rubbed his rough palm over her nipple.
Pleasure radiated through her body and she arched into him. She groaned as she leaned forward and began to kiss him again. He was hard now, and his length pressed into belly. He touched her shoulder and began to push her back onto the bed.
She resisted him, shaking her head. “Not yet,” she chided as she reached for the waist band of his boxer briefs. “I want to see what I missed all those years ago.”
He touched her cheek with the back of his fingers, dragging it down her soft skin. She leaned into his hand, kissed his fingers. Then, she tugged down on his boxers to reveal what they hid. He was beautiful. Not too big, not too small. Goldilocks would have been ecstatic. His underwear pooled at his feet, and he stepped out and kicked them away.
She wanted to touch him, this first new one in her life. She looked up into his eyes. “Can I?”
“Thought that's what we were here for,” he said.
Over the last few years, sex with Wyland hadn't been like this. It hadn't been ...fun. He'd just come into the room, or start pawing at her if they were already in bed, and pull her pajama bottoms off. Then, with no foreplay, no preliminaries, he'd force himself into her.
She reached up, wrapped her fingers softly around him. She rubbed her thumb over his tip, gathering up his pre-cum, and rubbed it softly over the head. She looked up at him as she began to work her hand up and down his shaft. “Tell me if I do anything wrong, okay?”
“You're just fine,” he breathed, groaning lightly as her other hand dipped down to his heavy balls.
She could feel how excited she was getting by the dampness in the front of her panties. She wanted to feel him inside her, to feel his hands on her again. But, first, she wanted to thank him properly for what he'd done today, for the risk he was taking for her. She touched him, squeezed him slightly, as she worked her hand up and down his shaft. He touched her face again, pressed his thumb to her lips. She turned her head to the side, opened her mouth, and closed her eyes. She took his digit in and began to suck gently on it as she continued to stroke him. She swirled her tongue around his finger, imagining what he would taste like. He pulled his thumb from her mouth and moved his hand into her hair.
She looked up at him as she moved her head forward. The head of his cock loomed in her vision as she brought her lips closer. She gently pulled him closer and began to tongue him, swirling around his head, licking up his salty-sweet pre-cum. His head rolled back as he moaned. He didn't grip her hair tightly, not like the other man in her life had. Instead, it was there as if a reassurance.
She pressed her lips to the underside of his engorged head, running them down his shaft as her hand continued to work on him. She pulled back and looked up into his eyes. The same heat she felt was reflected in his gaze. He touched her face again, the tips of his fingers nearly burning her. With her eyes still locked on his, she leaned forward and took him into her mouth. She tasted him, really tasted him for the first time. She continued to look up at him, gauging his pleasure. Returning her gaze, he moved his hips forward a little, thrusting into her mouth. She felt him begin to move and opened her mouth a little wider, pressed her tongue down. She could feel him already beginning to go. She gently squeezed his balls with one hand and continued to stroke him with the other.
“I'm close,” he breathed. “So close. You might wanna ...”
She shook her head, his length still in her mouth. She locked her lips tighter around him and began to suck, began to swirl her tongue around his length. His hand tightened in her hair a little, but not painfully, as he threw back his head and moaned more loudly. He still didn't move her head along, or hold her in place. She bobbed her head forward, matching the pace of his hips. She groaned as she felt his cock pass her lips, his soft skin passing over hers. Funny thing was, she'd never really enjoyed this too much with Wyland. With Cutter, though, it was different.
“I'm – Oh shit,” he said, his hand tightening in her hair.
She felt him hit the back of her throat. She almost gagged, but kept her mouth closed around him, swallowed whatever he could give her. She took every drop, moaning as his salty sweet nectar filled h
er mouth. She kept him in her mouth, continued to tongue him as he softened slightly. She dropped her hands from him finally, reaching around to grab his firm, tight ass.
He pulled his hips back, sliding himself out of her mouth. “Damn, that was amazing,” he said, touching her cheek again as he leaned down to kiss her.
She kissed him softly on the lips, smiling against him. “That was better than I thought it would be,” she whispered between kisses.
“Yeah?” he asked. “How good do you think this will be, then?” he asked as he pushed her back onto the bed.
She didn't resist his pressure this time, and just let herself go with the flow. She laid back on his rumpled covers, thinking about how she'd been here just a few hours earlier crying her eyes out to this man. He grabbed her legs and pushed her back onto the bed, putting as much effort into moving her as he would moving a feather. With her legs half hanging off the bed like that, he dropped to his knees and reached for the waistband of her sheer panties. She arched her hips up off the bed, and he dragged them down her long, slim legs.