by Kiki Leach
I chuckled and nodded at her. "Thanks."
As our feet lifted from the ground, only to fall back down on top of piles and piles of peanut shells with every twist and turn we made, she shoved herself against me in a way that made me start to wonder just how long it had been since she was this close to a motherfucker before. Was my brother that much of an asshole, even more than what I had originally thought, that he couldn't even stand to hold his girl this close to himself? From the way she moved and dragged her fingers up and down the back of my neck, then up into my hair while releasing a soft moan, I couldn't help believing that the shit was true.
"This feels nice." She paused and swallowed hard. "You feel nice." Her hand lowered from my neck to my shoulder, then down to my chest where she stopped directly in the center of it, feeling the speed of my heart as it pounded between the both of us.
Jesus, I just wanted to take her right then and there, shove her up against a flat surface and drive my tongue directly between those soft lips as my hands cupped her bare tits and she slid her hands down inside my pants. But I held back and instead yanked her closer to me, grunting as her hips and groin grinded into me as if we were naked and on top of each other in bed. "You feel nice too, darlin'." My voice deepened and I gulped while looking down at her, into those eyes that sucked me in, forcing every thought in my head to evaporate on cue like a strike of lightening breaking through a goddamn cloud. "You feel real fuckin' nice pressed all up against me like this."
"Oh, I can tell." She dipped her head back and laughed, exposing her throat to me. I licked my lips in anticipation of just how soft it was, how good it would taste tugged between my teeth and against my tongue. "Every inch of you is just so...damn...big." She sucked down on her bottom lip again and deeply inhaled. "My God."
After a few seconds, she lifted to her toes and opened her mouth. My gut said she wanted a deep kiss from me, one that curled her toes and made her moan with pleasure; one that made her tits swell against me and her skin feel like it had just been set on fire by the heat from mine. She wanted to feel good, better than she had before we left Culver City and maybe ever, and I was determined as hell to make it all happen for her tonight no matter the cost. I dipped my chin and leaned into her, preparing for it. But instead she dragged the tip of her tongue across my bottom lip, then curled it around the top and teased me like a motherfucker by darting it inside my mouth, pulling out the minute she felt my own tongue collide with it. Blood pumped south, swelling my balls and the head of my cock as it rose and shoved against her soft stomach.
She leaned away from me and gasped, and I watched as her eyes went wide with a need for more of me, for more of this. There was a shine in them as her pupils dilated and a light glisten on her lips from her own tongue as she swirled it around them.
"Come with me," I told her.
"Where are we going?" she asked, a hint of excitement in her voice.
I jutted my chin toward the back of the bar and took her by the hand. Once we were around a corner where we could barely be seen by anyone else, I leaned against the wall and stared down into her face as she looked up into mine. Perfect and angelic as always, but there was something different about her look this time; a hint of fire that never seemed to exist when she stared at my brother; it was something, I was convinced, that she had tried like hell to keep hidden, or like a bright burning flame, he had often tried like hell to put out.
"What are you looking for from me tonight, darlin'?" I asked her. A small smile formed on those full lips and she moved closer to me. I knew what she wanted, she knew it too. But I needed to hear the words from her first, even in this clouded frame of mind. I needed to be sure that if we did this, she wouldn't have a single regret about it in the morning. I needed to know that if I had her, when we woke up beside each other or with her in my arms that she wouldn't lose her shit on me for it or go running from me and this, leave everything we had ever been together before now all behind. "Darlin'." I raised a hand to her face and caressed her cheek.
"I..." She stopped and reached down for my pants, then slid her hand up and down the length of my shaft from the outside; her skin against the fabric caused a sudden friction between us that forced my cock to jerk against the inside of my zipper and against her palm. Her smile deepened the minute she felt it. "I'm looking for everything," she said, sounding damn near out of breath. "I want this... I want you, like always..."
"You're sure?"
"Yes... Yes, I'm sure." She moved in even closer to me and closed her eyes. A flood of heat surged straight down to the tip of my cock the longer she continued to stroke me. I was on the verge of exploding but needed to feel the softness of her hand wrapped around me first. Or her mouth; that soft, sweet mouth with plump red lips and a tongue that tasted like strawberries and whiskey. Just the thought of my cock sliding back and forth against it as she swallowed every drop of my come made it stiffer than a bag of concrete. "You feel so damn good," she said in a quiet voice. "So unbelievably... So damn good against me. God." Her breath was warm and sweet as it hung in the air between us.
I slid my hands around her waist, then down to her plump, round ass. She yelped as I squeezed her cheeks and gave her a nice hard smack. Then she spread her legs and hiked her thigh around my waist, opening herself up to me. "Touch me," she said, grinding the lower half of herself against my cock again and damn near forcing me to release inside my jeans.
"Fuck," I groaned.
"Please touch me."
"Babe," I rasped.
"Please. God, you just don't know -- you just don't know how much I so badly need this from you. To feel you, for you to feel me..." Her voice lowered and her eyelids fluttered. I had never realized until that moment just how long her lashes were. Beneath a dim red light that was on the verge of blowing out for good and the haze of tequila swirling around inside my head, she looked even more beautiful to me than she ever had before. And she sounded like a motherfuckin' dream, one I sure as fuck had no desire to ever wake up from again. "Please." Before she even had the chance to ask me again, because I was never one for turning down a woman begging for me to touch or taste her, especially one I wanted, I crawled my fingers between her thighs and lightly pinched her skin. She let out a sharp moan and shivered, falling against me. Her other hand went crawling up my back, past my neck and back into my hair. Her fingers massaged my scalp and as she whimpered against my ear, opening her mouth and snagging the tip of it between her teeth, I growled and rubbed against her, needing her to know the taste and feel of every inch of my cock before it burst right through my jeans. "Touch me." The tip of her tongue outlined the base of my ear and I moved my hand even further up inside her skirt. But before I could even reach that soft, sweet slit hidden behind her insanely wet panties, she pulled back from me with her eyes closed even tighter than before and muttered, "Please, Jeremiah. Please..."
And that's when shit got fuzzy.
A knock from the other side of the bathroom door immediately pulled me away from the sink and out of my thoughts about her and last night. I rubbed my hand back and forth across my mouth a few times, then turned to reach for the knob, unlocked it and pulled back. She stood in front of me with her arms folded across her chest and a scowl on her face that remained in place until her eyes lowered to the bulge inside my pants. I watched as she slowly pulled her thighs together and rolled her tongue across her lip. Christ, what the fuck I'd still give to know the feeling of it swirling around the swollen head of my cock as she cupped my balls in those soft warm hands of hers. Last night was just a tease of everything I knew she could do, everything I knew she wanted to do with me and only me, regardless of Jeremiah's name spilling out of her mouth during that drunken haze. My own mind had gone to complete shit right after, but the feeling of her hand pressed against my cock for the first time is something that'll no doubt be burned into my memory from now until forever.
'Til death do us part.
"Did you get your shit together?" I asked her, my vo
ice gruff as I watched her mouth twitch.
"What?" She brought her eyes back up to my face and swallowed hard after taking in a breath. Then she knit her brows and stared blankly at me as if she couldn't even remember why the hell she had started banging on the door in the first place. "Um..." She cleared her throat and unfolded her arms, then after a few seconds of what looked like her trying to get herself together, she said, "I've got my things together already, yeah. It's not as if I brought much with me considering I had never planned on staying overnight in the first place."
I nodded my head and leveled my eyes with her tits. Still fat and heavy as they sat behind that tight, black, tank, I could see her nipples becoming hard and pressing against the fabric. I dragged my tongue between my lips at the thought of finally having a taste of one just as my cock started pushing against my jeans. "Listen, I, uh..." I took a few steps forward into her personal space, hoping to just breathe her in. I was expecting her to take a step or two back but she didn't and remained in place, tilting her head back to focus those perfect brown eyes up on my face again. "I know this shit isn't exactly something that you're looking forward to, but it happened and I'm gonna need you to accept it as is."
"I could maybe learn to accept it a hell of a lot better if you ever bothered telling me the how and why behind it all happening in the first place," she said.
I grinned and she parted her lips to suck in a breath. "Look, when the time comes, you'll know just as much as I do about all of this shit, alright? 'Til then, why don't you get cleaned up so that we get the hell outta here and start heading back to town."
Chapter Three
Colette
Within less than five hours and hardly any traffic at all, we made it back to Culver City in one piece. After pulling up in the driveway just outside of Roman's house, he cut the engine on his bike and dropped his feet to the ground. I took a deep breath in and loosened my grip from around his stomach, then leaned back and removed the helmet from my head.
He turned halfway to look at me from the corner of his eye and arched his brow as he took it from me. "You alright?" he asked, his voice solid and gruff. The entire time we had spent riding, I couldn't help wondering what it would sound like with his mouth pressed against my clit, tongue deep inside me with his fingers gliding over every inch of my bare body, forcing me to shiver against him. I tried like hell to keep my mind from going there again, but given the vibration of the seat and the humming between my legs that couldn't help but be felt because of it as I kept them tightly wrapped around his hips, I didn't have all that much of a choice in the matter.
Well maybe I did, but in truth, I wasn't all that sure I wanted another one outside of what I had already chosen; much like I had done in choosing to stick with him.
"I'm fine," I finally told him, trying to keep my voice steady as I clutched the strap of my purse and lifted my leg up and over the seat. I stood back from the bike as he yanked the keys from the ignition and stood up for himself. Then he dropped his keys inside his pants pocket and with the helmet tightly clutched between his hands, started making his way up the sidewalk and to the front door. "Hey," I called out to him. He stopped and glanced back at me over his shoulder. "Is there any chance of Jeremiah being in there? Or if he's gone, coming back anytime soon?" I stopped to release the air I had been holding inside my chest and swallowed. "Because if so, I don't think it's a good idea if I--"
"No. He, uh..." He knit his brows and narrowed his eyes while lowering them to the ground. It was as if he was purposely trying to avoid even a second of solid eye contact with me now in comparison to before, which meant that whatever came out of his mouth next was going to be full of complete shit. "Motherfucker let me know that he was taking off and didn't know when the hell he would be coming back," he said.
"Really?" I stepped closer to him and shrugged. "Taking off where?" I asked him, dipping my head and attempting to refocus his gaze. "And when?" He finally turned back to me and glowered. "When did he let you know all of this? Was it before I showed up at the club to see you about him last night? Right after? While we were in Vegas? This morning before I woke up -- what?"
He reached his hand around to scratch the back of his neck, not as if he was confused by what I was asking and all at once to boot, but as if he was annoyed with the questions in general. "Look, why don't we start moving all of this shit inside, babe, alright?" He dragged his hand around to the front of his neck and cleared his throat. "My neighbors become nosey as shit the minute they see me roll up and I've still gotta get out to the club for church in a few. If I'm not there on time, Prez will have my ass." He turned from me as quickly as he possibly could and continued toward the door. But I remained in place and folded my arms over my chest.
"Why the hell did you bring me back here in the first place instead of taking me back home like I was expecting?"
He stopped in his tracks and leaned his head back, then after a few seconds, spun around on the balls of his feet to face me again. "This is something you maybe should've thought about asking me about before we left."
"Maybe I would've asked you about it before we left if I hadn't been expecting you to kidnap me first."
His mouth dropped and his brows lifted in shock. "Kidnap you?" He chuckled in what sounded like a load of disbelief that I even allowed the words to come out of my mouth, and shook his head. "Jesus Christ, Colette. What the fuck are you talking about now, babe?"
"I'm talking about you bringing me out here to your place instead of taking me back home first, or at all."
"Babe, this place is your home now, alright? My place is yours because you're gonna be living here with me now as my wife."
Wife.
The word sounded so completely ridiculous and yet strangely natural coming from between those nibble-worthy full lips of his. And for someone who at one point or another during various conversations with me over the years often said with more pride in his voice than a roaring lion in the jungle that he had never planned to settle down with just one woman for the rest of his life because he didn't think his cock would be able to handle it, I was stunned as all hell to say the least.
"We'll get the shit with your house settled soon enough, alright? Work out all the details when we've got the time; now's not it. Now let's get inside," he continued.
"Wait, I..." I started. He stopped again and turned back to me. "Regardless of all this, I still feel as if I should've been able to at least head back there first to pick up a few things I might need."
He made a face of confusion at me and lifted his head. "What are you gonna need?"
"I don't know, clothes maybe, another pair of shoes. The heels on these Mary Janes are worn out and my feet hurt after holding them up on that bike. Not to mention, I'll need to get my things for school in the morning, for both the classroom and my students."
He dragged his eyes up and down my body and pinched his lips aside. "Yeah, alright," he muttered. "We can head off to your place and get all of your shit later when we've got time."
"Wha..." I opened my hands in question while moving closer to him. "Why the hell do you keep saying that?"
He rattled his head as if he had water lodged between his ears and glared at me. "Saying what, darlin'?"
"That we can handle things with my house or make it back there when we've got time. All it tells me is that right now, we're not on my time or even our time, we're on your time. You have to make it back to the club for 'church' so it's all about you right now. Meanwhile, you want me to hang around this place and do what until you come back? Twiddle my thumbs while laying out on the couch? Stare at the wall or the television set? Clean or cook your dinner?"
"I'll probably eat something at the club," he said in a clipped voice just before turning from me again. "Maybe out of a goddamn paper bag." He made his way up to the door, then ripped a separate set of keys from the inside pocket of his black leather jacket, which read in big, bold, red letters on the back WILD REAPERS just a few inches below the
collar, while CALIFORNIA sat beneath a giant emblem of a skull with a knife smashed through the crown of it; drops of blood dripped from the pointed tip jutted out from beneath the chin.
After shoving the door back and making his way inside, I followed in closely behind him and darted my eyes around the giant living room; one so large that it could practically fit my entire house and maybe even a few others around his neighborhood. The last time I had seen it was just a few weeks ago with his brother, yet everything from the 54-inch flat screen TV hanging high up on the wall, to the wrap around black leather couch lined up against another wall on the opposite side, along with the few pictures of him and his brother together at the club, and some with their father and MC brothers that sat on top of an old school black stereo, managed to look completely different. The sloped high ceilings with wooden beams appeared slightly dusty; the normally white carpet was somewhat beige and covered in random sets of footprints. The plain white walls appeared dingy and in need of both a washing and a new paint job, and the blinds covering each set of windows all around were bent and worn.
As Roman reached around me to close the door, I moved across the room and sat my purse down on top of a long wooden coffee table, something I had never seen before now, seated in front of the couch just opposite of the television set. He placed his helmet alongside it, then removed his jacket and carelessly flung it across the room onto an old chair made of sticks that he once mentioned having put together in a high school shop class.
"You want anything to drink?" he called out to me as he started making his way toward the kitchen. He looked over his shoulder at me and peered. "Beer is all I've got. And tap water."