Breaking It All (The Hellfire Riders Book 3)

by Kati Wilde

  “Gunner,” she whispers, searching my eyes. Searching for truth.

  The truth is in the word she just spoke. “You know why my road name is Gunner? Do you know why Stone started calling me that in front of the other Riders until it stuck?”

  “Because you were a gunnery sergeant when you left the Marines.”

  That’s the reason everyone assumes. But I shake my head, my voice softening. She’s listening now. She’s with me. “Back then, he called me Zed. You remember?”

  “Yes.”

  “Right after I left the service, I had a vasectomy. And your brother started calling me Gunner because I was shooting blanks.”

  A little laugh slips from her. “That’s awful.”

  “Stone’s jokes usually are. But ask me why I had the operation.”

  “Why?”

  Gently I take her hand, bring it to my chest. Her gaze drops to our linked fingers until I start talking, then her golden gaze locks with mine again. “Because I only knew you for a goddamn week, but after that first visit, I couldn’t touch another woman. Four years later, your brother was heading home to Pine Valley—and I knew you were there, so I went, too. I knew my family would still be a danger. But I thought: If I can’t continue the bloodline, maybe they’ll let me go. Maybe I’d have a chance to be with you the way I wanted.”

  That wary hope shimmers in her eyes again. “You did?”

  “Yes. But Mama didn’t believe the evidence I put in front of her,” I say, and when Anna smiles wryly in acknowledgement of how unsurprising that is, I raise her hand to my mouth and press a kiss to her palm. “So getting snipped didn’t work. But I never once regretted it. Now ask me why.”

  “Why?” So quietly, it’s nothing more than a movement of her lips.

  Mouth grazing the soft skin of her inner wrist, I feel the wild fluttering of her pulse. “Because the only woman I wanted to be with couldn’t get pregnant. So what did it matter if I was shooting blanks?”

  Her eyes well with new tears, her trembling lips parting as she stares up at me, still so afraid to believe.

  Slowly I pull her closer. “You were the only future I ever wanted, Anna. You were the only future I could see for me, even if having you was impossible. But I figured if it ever became a possibility, and if we ever wanted kids, we’d adopt. Because both you and Stone were, and you had the best damn family. A family I wanted so badly to be a part of. So adopting our own seemed like a good option to me.”

  Tears dripping over her lashes, she tentatively raises her hands to my face, fingers tracing my jawline—and if that’s all she ever gives me, that small touch, that small hope, that small trust, I’ll take it.

  But I’m still going to fight for more.

  Though my movement mirrors hers, there’s nothing tentative in the way I cup her face in my big hands. Nothing tentative in the way I smooth my thumbs across her cheeks, wiping away her tears. Nothing tentative in the way I bring her closer, until her slender frame is flush against me and there’s no distance between us. A tremor races through her and she presses closer with a shuddering sigh.

  I lower my mouth to hover above her swollen lips, my voice roughened by my need for her—need for her body, her heart. “And all that time, I stayed away. Never alone with you because I wanted you so fucking much. Afraid I’d open my mouth and say too much and my family would come for you. Afraid you’d get hurt. But you got hurt anyway. And now I’m alone with you and can’t keep my hands to myself. Now tell me you don’t want me to stay away anymore.”

  “I don’t want you to, but—” Her fingers sink into my hair, halting the descent of my head. She’s panting softly, her quick warm breaths bursting against my lips. “What about Stone? Your family?”

  “Out there, it’ll still have to be the same. For now.”

  “And when we’re alone…we’ll be more?” A tinge of doubt colors the question.

  Soon, she won’t have a single doubt. “You’ve always been more, sweetheart,” I tell her gruffly. “So much more. I’ve belonged to you for such a damn long time.”

  And it’s long past time to claim her. To make her mine.

  I just need one word. “Tell me yes, Anna. Tell me you belong to me, too.”

  She shudders against me. And even as I’m on the verge of taking her, she gives me everything.

  “Yes,” she whispers. “I do.”

  26

  Anna

  This must be a dream.

  In real life, I must have fallen off his bike during the ride back to the hotel. I must be lying on the side of the road with my head cracked open, because Gunner can’t really be here, telling me I’m the only woman he’s wanted, looking at me as if I’m everything, carrying me to my bed and kissing me so hard, so deep. As if his entire life depended on this kiss.

  Oh god. This is the best dream I’ve ever had. And I don’t want to wake up.

  Fully clothed, he presses me into the bed, settling between my legs. Mouth devouring mine, he pins my wrists over my head with his left hand and braces his weight on his right, groaning when I arch beneath his strong body, pulling against his grip, desperate to touch him.

  With a cry of frustration, I turn my head. “Gunner, please!”

  “I’m not rushing this, sweetheart.” His voice is rough against my mouth for the length of a harsh breath. “I’ve waited so damn long. I’m going to take my time and do everything I ever dreamed of doing to you.”

  Then his tongue strokes between my lips again, sliding across mine in a slow, erotic taste. I can’t get enough of him. I can’t get enough, but he’s only giving me this kiss, his weight between my thighs, his rigid cock lodged against my pussy but with too many clothes between us. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted from him but I’m desperate for more, my body aching, my skin on fire.

  Hungrily I return his kiss, rocking my hips beneath his, trying to push him harder, trying to drive him wild.

  But whatever iron control allowed him to keep his hands off me for ten years must be serving him well now, because I can feel his desire, feel how hot and hard he is, but he still takes his time—sipping gently at my mouth before devouring me again. Groaning as I suck on his tongue and wrap my legs tight around him. Licking into my mouth, teasing, until I’m whimpering and chasing down his lips for another heady taste.

  Softly Gunner kisses my upper lip, then the fullness of my lower lip, before raising his head.

  His voice is gruff when he says, “I’m sorry for this,” and I don’t know what he’s apologizing for until he gently kisses my lower lip again, still slightly swollen and the split not yet completely healed.

  I shake my head. “It’s not your fault.”

  “It is.” Gently his mouth grazes the line of my jaw, then the sensitive tendon at the side of my neck. “I should have been with you. All these goddamn years. I should have been with you.”

  My heart swells and tightens. “You’re here now.”

  His dark head lifts, hot crystalline eyes meeting mine. “I’ll always be here.”

  I knew this was a dream.

  Still the best one, though he won’t let me touch him. Instead I can only beg in helpless frustration and pull against his grip on my wrists when he drags my shirt hem up over my belly, then higher, exposing my breasts.

  A shudder wracks his powerful form as he looks down at me, and I groan as the quake through his body forces his stiff cock to rub against my clit in delicious little tremors.

  “Shh, Anna,” he hushes my tormented moan, as if he’s the one being tortured here. Strain pulls his voice tight as he whispers, “Jesus, you have the sweetest fucking tits.”

  Abruptly he lets go of my hands. But I don’t have a chance to run my hands over his skin—only grab at him wildly when he suddenly sits back and bodily lifts me straight up, my legs still wrapped around his waist, his face level with my breasts. My fingers find anchor on the bunched muscles of his biceps just as his mouth opens over my right tit.

  I cry out as scaldin
g heat engulfs my small breast, as he sucks hard and draws back, his teeth scraping across my stiffened nipple before taking me deep into his mouth again—sucking hard and drawing back before biting my throbbing nipple in another soft pinch that I feel like an electric jolt to my clit. My fingers sink into his thick hair and I hold on, my head falling back, the world suddenly spinning. I’ve never thought my breasts were particularly sensitive, but he’s overloading my nerves with intense sensation, with shocking heat and gentle pain. And the sounds he’s making. God. As if I’m the best thing he’s ever tasted, and it’s driving me wild, until I’m writhing against the corrugated muscles of his abdomen.

  Suddenly he stills, his groan deepening. “You’ve soaked through your jeans.”

  Oh god. I have and I’m rubbing all over his stomach. But when I try to jerk my hips away, he just forces me back tighter against him, his forearm locked around my ass.

  “You’re so fucking wet.” His voice is a soft growl against my reddened breast. “Getting your pussy juice all over me.”

  Cheeks burning, I duck my head, but he’s staring up into my face, his eyes glowing with need. As he watches me, his lips close over my nipple and his cheeks hollow when he sucks hard on the sensitized flesh. Whimpering, my fingers clenching in his hair, I can’t stop myself from moving against him again.

  “Fuck yeah.” He quickly kisses my scar, then abruptly tips me back, my shoulders hitting the mattress with Gunner on his hands and knees over me. Amusement joins the heat in his pale gaze. “This morning, I got so damn excited, I came in my shorts when you kissed me—and I didn’t care. It just made it all wetter and hotter. So don’t be embarrassed, Anna. Because knowing you’re this hot and wet is all it takes to get me about ten seconds away from coming again.”

  “Ten seconds?” A breathless laugh shakes from me. “That’s a good thing?”

  His grin takes the little breath I have left. “Real good. Except”—all at once he pulls back, off the end of the bed—“maybe we can’t go as slow as I planned this time. Now take that shirt off.”

  I do as fast as I can, greedily ogling the flex of his triceps and the sexy crunch of his abs as he reaches behind his head to pull off his own T-shirt. In record time, he toes out of his boots while I tug the elastic from my braid and drag my fingers through my hair, pulling the wavy strands forward over my shoulders, the tips teasing my erect nipples.

  Then his hands go to his belt and I can’t hold back anymore. “Let me,” I tell him huskily, scooting forward to the end of the bed, my gaze fixed on the bulge behind his zipper. “Let me see, let me taste—”

  “Taste?” Groaning, he catches my wrists before I can touch him. “I won’t last even ten seconds if you do that.”

  “Then you can come again later.”

  With almost no effort, he pulls my hands up over my head, holding me captive. His pale eyes burn with need when they meet mine, but his touch is gentle when he presses his free thumb to my bottom lip. “Wrapping your mouth around me would only hurt you, sweetheart. This needs to heal up more first or you’ll start bleeding again.”

  From the split in my lip? I giggle. “You’re that big?”

  He grins again. “You’ll need to back up the length of the bed before I unzip.”

  A laugh bursts from me but I do, scooting back across the bed until I’m up by the pillows again, anticipation burning over my skin. Good lord, he’s gorgeous. From his tousled dark hair and those incredible eyes to the stubble on his sculpted jaw. His broad shoulders are wide enough to carry the world, his arms strong enough to hold it steady. And his stomach, god—every ridge of muscle so perfectly defined, with a dark trail of hair leading beneath his waistband. But it’s his big hands that I can’t look away from, his long fingers that hold me transfixed as he slowly unbuckles and unbuttons and unzips.

  His hands, as he pushes his jeans down his hips. His hands, as he fists his cock and slowly gives it a long, hard stroke.

  Oh god. He wasn’t really kidding. Not that I needed to back up—although maybe it’s good that I did, because I can barely stop myself from reaching for him now—but sucking on his length really might have split my lip again, because he’s long and thick, but simply rubbing against him before, I hadn’t realized how thick.

  So incredibly thick and hard and just as gorgeous as the rest of him.

  His big hand strokes his heavily veined shaft from balls to crown, and a soft moan escapes me when I spot the precum glistening at the broad tip.

  His voice is low and dark. “You like the look of my cock, Anna?”

  So much I can’t tear my gaze away. “Yes.”

  “You going to take this thick cock inside you?”

  My inner muscles clench hard, as if his explicit words were a touch and he knows just how they affect me. Oh god, I’m aching all over, shaking.

  “Yes,” I answer breathlessly.

  “How deep?”

  “So deep.” Desperate, I pull my knees up against my chest and slide my trembling hands between my thighs, squeezing them tight. The crotch of my jeans is soaked but I don’t care, because all that wetness will ease his way. “I’ll take all of you, Gunner. I need to. Except—”

  With the fluid ease of a predator, he eases onto the mattress and starts coming for me, that big cock pointing the way. “Except?”

  Licking my lips, I lift my gaze to his. “I know we’re tossing slow out the window—but maybe, at first, slow would be good. Because it’s been a really long time for me, too.”

  “I know.” Kneeling, he stops in the center of the bed, stroking his cock, gliding his thumb through that pearly drop of precum. His expression is sharp and feral as he looks at me. “Because you didn’t want to sort out the good guys from the useless assholes.”

  No. Because all I wanted was him. “Something like that.”

  “I just thank God you chose this useless asshole.”

  “Me, too,” I laugh, but it falls silent a moment later. Breathless tension tightens around me as his next words drop like stones between us, a hard command.

  “Lie back and take off those jeans.”

  Fingers trembling, I do, aware of his hungry gaze ravenously taking in every inch I reveal. Shucking my jeans and panties over the side of the bed, I lean back and boldly spread my legs, my feet beside each of his knees.

  But he’s not looking at my pussy. Instead he’s bracing his hands beside my hips and bending his head over my thigh—over the giant bruise—and gently pressing his lips against the edge of the contusion.

  “This, too,” he says gruffly, and I know he’s adding to his earlier apology, but I can’t even think. Not with him so close. Not with so much skin and heat.

  Pushing against the headboard, I shimmy down the bed, sliding my body farther under the muscular torso braced above me. “Gunner, please.”

  “Please?” He catches my hands again and avoids my seeking lips, his pale gaze locked to mine, his big body motionless over me. “Ah god, sweetheart. I’ve dreamed of this for so long. Tell me what you need.”

  Hoarsely I answer, “Just you.”

  For so long.

  Groaning, he captures my mouth. His steely thighs push mine wider, and I feel the length of his shaft sliding through my wet folds, hot and thick.

  Abruptly he stills and hangs his head, body shivering like iron struck by a sledgehammer. “Anna?”

  My fingernails dig into my palms. “Hurry.”

  “Tell me I can fuck you bare.” His voice sounds strangled. “Because I don’t have a single goddamn condom. But I was tested for STDs before my operation and I swear to God there’s been no one else since I met you.”

  No one for me, either. And I can’t get pregnant.

  “You can,” I say and all at once he’s kissing me again, claiming my mouth with deep, drugging thrusts of his tongue between my lips.

  Fucking my mouth. I need him fucking me.

  Kissing him back, whimpering with need, I arch my hips toward his. And suddenly can’t b
reathe when I feel the blunt tip of his cock parting my slippery folds, pressing against my entrance.

  Gunner breaks the kiss and groans against my ear, “You’re so fucking wet. Sweetheart, you feel so good and I’m not even in you yet.”

  And not in me isn’t enough. Desperately I push against him and his groan deepens. He shifts his weight, his back flexing but the pressure just builds and builds, until I’m panting in sobbing breaths against his mouth.

  “You’re so tight, Anna. So goddamn small.” But he’s not stopping, thank god, not stopping and he releases my hands to reach down and grip my hip, tilting me up at a new angle and bearing down.

  And I’m not small or tight—he’s just thick, so thick, forcing my body to stretch and yield to his, pushing inside and claiming me inch by inch, so slowly and completely that he’s utterly possessed me before I’ve taken half of him.

  He rears back, braced on one strong arm. His face is a rigid, beautiful mask above me, his glacial eyes blazing. Through gritted teeth, he grinds out, “Anna. Let me in.”

  I’m trying. But he’s so big all over, surrounding me with his powerful body and filling me with his heavy cock, and I’m tense and shaking and letting him in isn’t so easy.

  Then all it takes is a look—between us, at my thighs spread wide beneath his, at that thick gorgeous cock sinking into my pussy and all at once he slides deeper, deeper, until there’s nothing left for me to take.

  Another harsh groan rips from him and he claims my mouth, his body unmoving as he leisurely kisses my lips, as if letting me adjust to the feel of the massive length lodged deep inside me.