by Celia Loren
“Go ahead.” I whisper.
He thrusts up into me as I ease my weight back, the slow penetration shooting chills and sparks throughout my body and curling my toes. He fills me to the brim, the size and hardness of his cock making my inner muscles clinch over him.
I’m sitting on top of him looking down, and the view is spectacular: muscles, tattoos, and his serious, handsome face.
My palms spread over his firm pecks, and I let my fingers run along the outline of his tattoos as I begin to slowly rock over him, enjoying the smooth sensation of his skin and fine body hair under my hands.
There’s an intricate tattoo sprawling over his arm, I trace along the outline and kiss it, slowly grinding my hips against him. I feel his cock moving inside me, his hands digging into my ass and thighs.
“You’re amazing,” he smiles, closing his eyes as I buck my hips against him.
I lean back, letting my eyes close and my head and shoulders roll in abandon as my rocking momentum on Bane’s cock builds to a faster pace. I can feel my clit rubbing against his hips, too, and press harder into him. My nerve endings fire with intense pleasure that makes me moan and suck in my breath. He’s deep inside, spearing me with his hardness.
Suddenly I feel his thumbs and fingers close over my nipples, twisting and pinching. He latches on and won’t let go, tugging a little harder each time I rock. It feels so fucking unreal, something I never knew I liked. It unleashes me and I stare down at him in amazement as I feel a warm wave of gushing cum between my legs and realize it’s mine.
“Yes!” My hands fly overhead and I’m digging into my own hair, toppling over the edge. “Fuck!”
Bane squeezes my nipple and then spreads his fingers over my breasts, kneading me. I love being in his hands, am shocked by the pleasure of his claiming that part of my body.
“That’s it,” he groans, “Give it to me. Cum for me baby.”
More heat, more gushing, and we are both groaning and grinding together. I roll my hips and feel him piercing deep inside me. I let my hand fall to my clit and stroke myself.
“Yes! Bane!”
“God I love watching you do that,” Bane murmurs.
“Oh god!”
My body is out of control and I am one big fucking wave of climax breaking over Bane. I throw my head back and wail. His hands release my breasts and land with a smack on my ass, again and again, spanking me and reaching his cock further in until the stinging of my skin urges me even further into the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had.
“Bane! Bane!”
“Good girl.”
“Oh my god, Bane, baby, yes! Oh god!”
He spanks me again before his hands dig into my flesh and travel up to my waist. His grip is powerful, authoritative, and he uses it to angle my hips and move me back and forth on his cock.
“Oh Ava, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum!”
His breath catches and he groans, his fingers digging into my skin and his cock thrusting massively deep and stopping at the apex. I’m shuddering over him, mouth open, moaning in ecstasy. His head and shoulders rock up from the bed and his body wraps around mine in a fierce embrace. I feel him shake and release into me.
“God, wow!” He whoops.
We are panting and laughing together, his cock still throbbing inside me. His fingers twine in my hair and he pulls my head roughly down to meet his kiss. His tongue flicks under mine, and he tips me until I’m crushed beneath him. He pins me down and squishes me with his weight, and I certainly don’t mind being his captive—in his territory.
He chuckles, a deep and sated sound, as he nuzzles against me and kisses me like he means it.
He pulls his head back from the long, wet kiss and stares down at me, dark eyes glow with animal, carnal satisfaction and possessiveness. Thrusting his cock slowly one more time just for the hell of it, the pressure makes us both squirm and moan before he pulls out.
Bane collapses his weight back over me, burying his head in my breasts.
“Jesus woman,” he grunts. “Who the hell are you?”
I chuckle, stretching luxuriously beneath him.
“Actually, don’t answer that,” he says. “We’ll make up an answer together today. I’m taking you with me to meet Blair and get our fake passports.” He cocks an eyebrow playfully, accusingly. “You’re not gonna try and run away on me again, are you?”
I smirk at him. “Tried that. Didn’t go well.”
He chuckles. “You can say that again. Got a new name you want to try out for your new identity? Medusa? Beetlejuice? You gotta have a monster name, if you fuck like a fucking monster.”
“Hey, asshole!” I tug his hair in vengeance, making him laugh. “I’m the one fucking a Beast.”
“It takes one to know one.”
He playfully bites my nipple for emphasis, making me jump and laugh. He growls, wrestling me down, but I give him a good fight that ends with another deep, prowling kiss.
“You make me pretty crazy, you know that?” Bane grunts when he finally pulls up. He pushes to sit and rolls up to his feet on the side of the bed, glancing over me. “Cray-zee. Get up. Come on. Let’s go. Time’s a wastin. If we’re not fucking, we’re making hay.”
I laugh. “Making hay? What are you, from Kansas?”
“Newark.” He struts over to his dresser and pulls on a pair of boxers before smacking himself in the head. “Shit, clothes. I don’t have any clothes for you. I can get some from Tink.”
“No!”
Surprised at my own vehemence, I turn a little pink when Bane arcs an eyebrow at me.
“You wanna go in your birthday suit?” he asks.
“No.”
His poker face is on. “Then what’s the problem?”
Now I’m bright orange and feeling a little humiliated. I remember Amy, the blue-eyed slave from the clubhouse, telling me about all the sweetbutts vying for first place in Bane’s bed. Coco. Trinity. Tink.
And now me, I guess.
Bane’s eyes grow harder as my silence stretches out, but I can’t quite bring myself to say out loud that I don’t even want him talking to any of the sweetbutts. And the thought of him borrowing clothes for me from another woman he fucks makes my stomach turn.
I try to tell myself that Bane is not exactly a one-woman kind of guy. Sure, I conveniently forgot that last night and this morning, lost in the fantasy that my own feelings for him were reciprocal. But after all, he never said this wasn’t just sex.
“God dammit Ava,” Bane growls, “You’re gonna have to say what’s on your mind. I’m not gonna play twenty questions with you.”
He steps into his ripped up jeans and buttons them, his back to me. I watch a tight gray t-shirt swallow up his Death Layer tattoos before he stomps back over to sit next to me, the bed dipping under his weight as he pulls on socks and shoes.
Now he’s fully dressed and I am fully naked. Which is just fucking perfect, because it’s just how I feel. Bane stares at me impatiently, that cold calculation back in his expression. Shit, he can sure go from tender to terrifying real fast.
“Um,” I stall.
I swallow, desperately trying to think of something believable I could say other than the truth. But my brain is blank. I force myself to meet his eyes and see a flicker of amusement.
Fuck! He’s toying with me, probably reading me like a goddamn open book.
“Can’t I just wear one of your shirts?” I plead. “Exercise shorts?”
He shakes his head deliberately, his expression unchanged. “Try again.”
Frustrated, I drive my fist into the bed. “God, don’t patronize me!”
“Then don’t act like a fucking baby.”
Scoffing, I turn away but Bane grabs my shoulders and forces me to look him in the eye.
“Hey!” He shakes me lightly, staring me down. “Don’t bail on me here. What do I have to do to fucking earn your trust, huh?”
I stare, open-mouthed.
“I-I do trust you,” I st
ammer, knowing deep down it’s true. I’m clearly not acting like it, though. I’m being a total pussy, afraid to admit my feelings. But hey, who ever said feelings are logical?
Bane rolls his eyes, his jaw working and his voice husky. “Come on. Let me in, damn it. I’m not going to ask again. All or nothing, Ava. That’s the deal.”
My pulse gallops nervously in my throat and I frown at him. “All or nothing?” I say. “What do you mean, all? My all or your all?”
Bane growls. “What the fuck are you talking about? All means all! Nothing means nothing!”
I growl right back. “What are you talking about?”
“Jesus.” Bane rubs his hand over his face. “Why are you acting like this?”
Okay, now I am miserable. Admitting the truth can’t possibly be worse than trying to keep it in.
“Because I’m fucking terrified, ok?” I shout, exasperated. I point at the bedroom door. “Outside this room are a bunch of psychopaths who want to kill you and rape me. And the women—fuck—the women all want to rape you and kill me! And you’re just going to go ask one of them to lend you a, what, leather bra and maybe a fucking g-string? Maybe they should model it for you first. Maybe they already have!”
This makes Bane laugh until tears leak out of the corner of his eyes.
“That’s pretty accurate,” he chuckles, wiping his eyes. “That’s pretty good.”
I’m not amused. “I don’t see what’s so funny.”
“You are, Red.” He leans in and kisses me lightly, still laughing. “You can’t even admit you’re jealous.”
Seething, I pull back from his kiss and clench my jaw. “I’m not jealous.”
“Yes you are.”
I fume. “I’m not jealous!”
Bane is enjoying this too much. “You are one green-eyed, snarling jealous beast.”
“Fine. Maybe I’m a little.” My face burns neon pink with shamed embarrassment and my voice becomes a tiny squeak that makes me wince. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”
Now Bane’s face is serious and his fingers knead my shoulders. His voice grows softer.
“Ava, I don’t make it a habit to risk my life for pussy, though yours is pretty grade-A. Do I have to spell it out for you? I killed Smokey because he touched you and it made me insane. I went into the ring, gladly, to keep you out of it. You think I would get you a fake passport and take you with me just for the hell of it? What do you think all this is, what happened between us last night? When I asked you if you wanted all of me, what did you think I meant?”
I stare at him, blushing, and he winces.
“Oh.” He nods, comprehending. “Ok. I do have to spell it out for you.” He draws me closer, gathering me up into his chest. He kisses the top of my head. “Ava, sex is one thing. It’s the easy part. I’ve wanted to fuck you pretty much since you got here, because you’re fucking gorgeous and I’m a man. But you’re more than that. You’re…brave and funny and smart. You don’t give up. I think I fell for you when I found you in that alley, shivering and torn up and you smacked me with a pipe. Remember that little episode?”
I laugh, nodding, and Bane strokes my hair.
“You said last night you wanted to be with me,” he says, “And I took that to mean more than sex. But I’m asking you now, to be clear, more than sex: do you want to be with me? I mean be with me.”
“Aren’t I with you right now?”
He rolls his eyes. “I mean be my woman. I’ve never asked a woman that before. Like, I feel like you could be an actual fucking partner, you know? I told you I want out of Death Layer, this life. I’m done with it. I wanna start over with you. OK? That clear enough for you?”
I crane my neck back and gaze up at him. Smacking him in the chest with my fists, I tease, “Now was that so fucking hard to say? Really? Are you always going to be such a pain in the ass?”
“You brat,” he laughs, tickling me. I yelp and squirm away but he catches me and tosses me back on the bed, throwing his body over me and kissing me. “I’m gonna get you for that.”
Chapter Seventeen
It takes us another hour to get out of bed, at which point Bane relents and lets me just wear my old bra and one of his white workout t-shirts, which hits me around the knees, and a pair of his under armor shorts.
“I look like an alter boy,” I mutter.
Bane studies the effect and snorts. “I’ve never been more attracted to you.”
“Gross.”
I shoot him a look, and follow him downstairs. When we get to the first floor landing, I see that someone’s mopped up the blood and removed Smokey’s body. But I still shudder as we pass over the spot, as if it’s haunted. Bane grimaces, takes my hand and pulls me forward into the front room of the first floor.
This is the Death Layer building entrance from the street-level, and my curiosity is finally quenched when I see what it is. It’s an innocuous auto parts shop covered in dust, with a bright blue motorcycle in the window. Judge Jefferson, who looks a little hangover, is manning the service desk. He snaps his newspaper down below his nose, nods at us, and raises the paper to continue reading. Bane shrugs at me and leads me through the door and out onto the street.
“That was weirdly easy,” I say once we’re outside.
Bane nods. “JJ is an alright guy. Like I told you, he doesn’t feel good about all this D.L. club stuff either. He’ll cover for us if anyone gets nosy. We should be able to disappear for an hour or two before anyone gets suspicious.”
The thick orange sunlight and garbage smell of New York City summer hits me in the face and I drink it in, euphoric. It’s the first time the intense smell of Manhattan’s famous summer scent of baking piss has made me feel happy.
It is the first time I have felt the sun since Mr. King dumped me here. I subconsciously slow down to a standstill on the sidewalk, relishing the feel of outdoor air. I’m trying to get my bearings on the neighborhood. It’s a narrow, twisty cobblestone street that smells like fish.
“Chinatown?” I ask Bane.
He gently pulls my hand, bringing me back into step with him. “Two Bridges. That’s why the club got the building so cheap.”
Bane leads me back into the alley entrance behind the Death Layer building, where his motorcycle is still leaning on its kickstand.
“Might as well meet my other girl,” Bane says with twinkling eyes. “Ava, meet Pearl. Pearl, Ava. Pearl’s a 2013 Harley-Davidson V-Rod Muscle. She’s got a 1250cc Revolution engine that can produce 122 horsepower. Which means she can kick ass and take names. I’ll start her, then you hop on behind.”
My eyes glaze over. He might as well be speaking another language.
“Hop on?” That’s the only part I heard. “Just hop on, just like that, huh?”
Bane is already squatting on the motorcycle. He revs the engine and shoots me that wicked grin of his. I have to admit he looks fucking fantastic aboard the leather and chrome monster, his handsome face simultaneously inviting and challenging. I feel something just south of my belly quiver and flush.
“Yeah,” he shouts. “Hop on.”
“Right,” I holler back, “Because I totally know how to hop on a motorcycle! I do it all the damn time!”
“Figure it out!”
Biting my lip, I stare at what seems like the absurdly tiny strip of leather behind Bane’s hips that must serve as the passenger seat. There’s a black and chrome backrest sticking up, and the question is how to get my ass between that and Bane without overshooting and winding up on the exhaust pipe.
“Here goes nothing,” I mutter. Taking a deep breath, I launch my leg over and amaze myself by fitting in just right. It’s actually comfortable. Bane glances over his shoulder, winks at me, and pulls my arms around his waist.
“Good girl,” he shouts “Now hold on good and tight, like you can’t get enough of me.”
“That’s easy.” I laugh.
We lurch forward and zip onto the street, careening around pedestrians and par
ked cars. The wind is whipping through my hair. I can’t deny that the feel of the powerful bike vibrating between my legs is turn-on, and having to wrap myself tight around Bane makes it even better. I can definitely see why he loves bikes.
Bane veers through a few lights and onto Bowery, which is bustling with bicycles, buses, people, and carts. My wild smile stretches to a squeal.
“Holy fuck!” I screech, laughing. “We’re gonna die!”
“Relax, I’ve done this before!”
I can hear Bane laughing as he weaves the bike dramatically through traffic. He’s totally doing it on purpose, freaking me out for fun. I squeeze onto his back as tight as I can, and get a whiff of his scent through the air. My heart is pounding pleasantly and it feels a lot like freedom.
We follow Bowery up to Hester Street, and then turn on Mott. I know we’re somewhere around Little Italy but honestly could never find my way through this area to save my life even on a normal day. After what feels like a trip down the rabbit hole, Bane pulls his bike up to the curb.
“Hop off!” he shouts.
I wish I could say I did so gracefully. I trip over to the sidewalk and watch as Bane duck-walks the bike into a parking spot. Finally he balances it on a kickstand and joins me on the sidewalk. He nods at another motorcycle parked a few yards away.
“Blair’s here,” he grunts. “Business time.”
I follow his gaze. We’re in front of a Laundromat, and quite a shitty-looking one at that. There’s a rusty awning and the “Wu’s Landry” sign and walls are obscured by graffiti.
As Bane and I stroll through the open doors together, I see that the interior isn’t much better. There are water stains on the ceiling and walls, and the room makes me think of 70s b-movies for some reason. The pimply guy behind the counter definitely has a 70s b-movie haircut, and an odd expression. He looks like he stepped right out of a Godzilla movie and hasn’t quite calmed down yet.
The place is pretty empty. I only see a big fat guy in tank top with deep sweat stains under the arms playing Sudoku next to the dryers, but Bane leads us past him and around a row of washing machines. His mouth twists to a grin and he points.