My head bobbed as warm air staggered past my lips. “I can put them back on.”
He smiled down at me, his green gaze glittering as our shadows danced on the wall behind me. “You think I’m that patient, baby?”
I didn’t have to think my way through the question at all, his eyes and the hungry way he bit his lip told me everything. I shook my head just as he unthreaded the button on my jeans. He pulled the zipper down then forced his hands inside, his palm flat against each hip.
I took a ragged breath in as I realized this was really going to happen. Callan Tilley was going to strip me naked and...
The thought snagged inside my head. I didn’t want to think or care about whether this would be lovemaking or raw sex. We were on the run and any feelings we might have been nursing before yesterday we had kept to ourselves. Not once in all my fantasies of Callan had I forced the word “love” past his lips. He was an outlaw, even if he wasn’t anything like the other outlaws I had encountered. Keeping that word buried had kept me safe, not only from Callan but from my own need to please those I loved, or had once loved, at any cost. If I let that word in now, I would be powerless and I didn’t know if I could trust Callan beyond the next few hours or days.
Wrapping my arms around his neck, I pushed against him, my body cresting upwards as I sought his ear and gently bit at the lobe. “Fuck me, Callan.”
A groan shuddered through him and then he threw my arms off his body and spun me to my right. The dresser stood just a few feet from the doorway and he bent me over it. My jeans and panties were around my knees a second later.
My stomach lurched at just how ready Callan was to bend me over and take me. Even with the words I had used to encourage him, I expected something slower.
He dropped to his knees, his breath curling along my exposed labia. With my flesh burning for his touch, the air felt cool and I jerked when it hit me.
“Baby, you’re so wet.” His fingers traced a line down each hip, his hand never venturing toward the dripping center of which he spoke. He already had my knees weak from wanting him, but he traced a line along their backs, the gentle touch more than enough to make them bend.
When my bottom dipped down, I knew why he had done it -- to bring my wet lips closer to his. I heard him inhale, then felt just the tip of his nose as it brushed against the red, silken hairs covering my sex. His mouth touched me at last, but not where I wanted.
He planted a kiss at the top of each thigh, just below the fold where they joined my bottom. I shifted my legs, hoping I could take a wider stance, but the jeans and panties around my knees kept my legs close together.
“Impatient,” he teased.
I snorted. “This coming from a man who couldn’t wait while I changed into different pants!”
He kissed me again, both sides and just a little higher and closer to the center. “That’s before you let me see this, Avery.”
The back of his fingertips brushed the wet hairs, the flesh beneath so sensitive that I tightened immediately. Pinching my swollen labia, he separated them and blew softly against the melting flesh they had shielded from his view.
“This isn’t something a man should rush.” He punctuated his words with an open kiss against my sex, his lips wide and his tongue questing. The tongue found my hole while one of his thumbs found my clit. Gently rubbing that hard spine, Callan pushed his tongue into me as far as it would go. Firmly embedded, it began to wiggle.
What was left of my sanity popped like kernels in a microwave.
Grabbing the edges of the dresser, I pressed my face hard against the cool surface of the wood. I needed to scream, the pleasure was that great. I’d only had my own hand before this, my attempts frustrated as often as not because I didn’t want to be alone.
I had wanted Callan those nights I touched myself, and now I had him.
“Please,” I begged. I’d never heard a sound so plaintive or genuine pass my lips. I would beg him as much as it took to get him to finish, to make me orgasm and then fill me with his cock.
His tongue retreated and he returned to kissing at the periphery of my aching cunt. His hands moved down my body to help me out of the jeans and my bottom clothing. Then he had me spread my legs wide. I wondered then whether he would stand and unzip his own jeans, but he wasn’t done teasing me.
One thumb pushed inside my pussy. With his own legs spread to where he all but sat on the ground, he angled his face up, allowing his tongue to flick and slurp along my clit. I moaned another plea and he just chuckled at me.
“I’ve never been a fast eater, baby.”
My cheeks heated at the joke. He really was eating me, making a full meal, his teeth nibbling at the tender, swollen labia before his tongue would return to tracing a hard line up and down my clit. Keeping his thumb hold on my cunt, he made sure I couldn’t move or control the encounter. He made me his to devour and he was taking his sweet time, bringing me to the edge, measuring my gasps and moans and how hard and often my pussy tensed before he backed off, softly laughing at my wailing need.
My release ungranted, Callan stood. I waited, certain he would take me now, that I would hear the slide of his zipper any second. Instead, he scooped me up like a rag doll and took me to the bed furthest from the door. He placed me sitting at the edge. Taking a spot between my open legs, he drew my denim jacket down just enough to trap my arms against my sides.
His mouth covered most of one breast, the t-shirt and bra blocking the contact of our flesh but not the sensation. He bit, lightly, and brought my nipple to full attention. I squirmed against him, trying to free my arms while I rubbed my wet pussy against his chest. Our clothes grew saturated, my t-shirt from his sucking at my breast through the fabric and his shirt from the heavy flow of my juices as he made me want him more and more.
When his hands finally went down to his jeans to unfasten them, I impatiently stripped my jacket off and reached for the bottom hem of my t-shirt to pull it over my head. He stopped me with a growl and the upward, predatory slant of his gaze.
I blinked, eyes watering with frustration. He wasn’t done teasing me -- not by a long shot.
Callan stood, lifting me off the bed and molding my legs around his waist. His damn jeans were still on and the cotton briefs beneath, but I could feel the fat top knob of his erection poking at my sex.
“Is that sweet pussy going to drool all over my underwear, baby?”
I whimpered. If he kept talking like that, I would flood the damn carpet before he allowed my climax.
Chewing lightly at my neck, he slid one hand under the back of my t-shirt and unhooked my bra before he braced both arms around me for support.
“Take this shit off now,” he commanded.
All I had left were the t-shirt and bra. I stripped them away, my body completely naked while he had only removed his jacket and unzipped his jeans.
He shifted me higher up his body, my legs hugging his torso. My pussy pressed hard against the top of his abdominal muscles while my breasts heaved level with his face. He captured one nipple and tugged at it with his teeth.
“Baby, I don’t know how to fuck other than rough,” he warned.
My eyes rolled back in my head at all the possibilities his words conjured.
“I can handle it,” I whispered. My whole life had been rough, why should sex be any different? I knew whatever Callan did, I would enjoy it. Every nerve ending in my body was wide awake and screaming for more. There was no way I wouldn’t like what he was about to do.
His hand maneuvered under my bottom to push down his jeans and briefs far enough to free the head of his cock. He nestled the fat tip against the entrance to my cunt, his strong grip preventing me from pushing down onto him.
“Let’s find out if you really can.” He breathed the challenge into my ear then placed me gently on the bed.
Knowing my gaze was locked on his lower body, Callan made a show of exposing the entire length of his cock before he stripped his t-shirt off. I licked my
lips as more moisture pulsed from my cunt to wet the bedspread beneath me.
The Gypsies might call him Last Drop, but the women that hung out at Freya’s and the Gypsy clubhouse had another nickname for Callan Tilley.
The Tube.
“Let me see you again.” He moved his legs as he spoke, prodding my knees apart then using his hands to make sure I had my thighs spread wide. His gaze felt fierce upon my skin as he studied my wet pussy. With one thumb on my clit, he started a gentle exploration of the hole below. Two fingers in, a twist, a curling withdrawal. “How many men have you let in here, Avery?”
His tone was possessive without being accusatory.
“I haven’t,” I answered. I wasn’t ashamed to admit it, not with the way he looked at me. I knew then my virginity wasn’t because I was undesirable to most men. I was invisible because I wanted to be -- but not with Callan. He could see what I tried to hide and I didn’t want to hide from him anymore.
“Didn’t think so,” he said and dropped to his knees.
Seeing his cock disappear beneath the line of the mattress, I growled my frustration at him. “What are you doing? I want you in me!”
A cocky grin shaped his lips into the sexiest smile I’d ever seen.
“I told you, baby girl, I’m a slow eater.” His lips parted but he didn’t place them against me. Instead, he slipped two fingers inside once more. “And I need this sweet pussy wet and stretched before I sink my cock into it.”
“Wet isn’t a problem,” I groaned, relaxing into the mattress and telling my brain to let Callan fuck me exactly as he wanted to fuck me.
“But tight is,” he agreed and slid a third finger in before his mouth descended to cover the rest of my sex.
My fingers crept to my thighs then onto his head, their direction navigated by the need centered between my legs. I wanted to hold him tight to me, but his hair was too short to effectively knot my fingers in. But I could push and rub at his scalp, my hips lifting and squirming as he sucked at my clit and fucked his fingers deeper into my cunt. I froze, trembled, collapsed then tightened all over again.
He buried his digits down to the base knuckle, flexing to make them feel a whole lot thicker than just three wide. He twisted, the pads pushing up on some spot I could never hope to reach on my own. My pussy suctioned around him, wet joining with tight so that I could hear the slurp of my own juices as he pushed in and out.
“Callan...” I let the points of my nails dig at the back of his head, my threat that of a clawless kitten. Screams, unmistakably erotic, began to leave my throat. My torso convulsed in slow rolling waves as he kept me right at the edge of release.
Out came three fingers, in went four. Any more and his whole hand would be inside me.
“Yes, Callan, please,” I moaned. “Please let me come so you can fuck me.”
His assent rumbled from his mouth to my clit. He sucked harder, flexed wider, pushed deeper. I brought my legs up, my heels digging into the small of his back. I couldn’t imagine so much pleasure rolled into one moment, one heartbeat.
I exploded. I whipped my hands up to my face, my nails dragging at my bottom lip. My upper body tried to roll on my side in escape but Callan held on, forcing me to ride the crest of my orgasm, his mouth and fingers still lashing against and inside me.
“Callan!” Tears rolled down my cheek -- too much pleasure turned to joy that turned to salt I could taste on my tongue.
Relenting, he released me and quickly stripped the rest of his clothes away. One arm cradling me, he lifted my body until I was center of the mattress and then he forced my legs apart and settled between them.
“You come like a banshee in the rain, baby. All wet and screaming,” he teased as he positioned his cock to enter me. “Are you ready to come again?”
“Yes,” I whispered, throat raw from my cries of pleasure. “I need you in me. I need you to make it real.”
“It sure sounded real.” He pressed his chest against mine, flattening my breasts until I didn’t think I could draw another breath.
“Real for you.” I ran my hands over the thick-muscled arms that could lift and control me so easily, then down to the powerful muscles of his thighs and ass. “I want it to be real for you, to have you wet and screaming.”
He still wasn’t in me, his hand positioned between us and blocking my attempts to wiggle onto his cock. I couldn’t understand why he would hold back. Doubt crept in. Had I done something wrong?
“Don’t you want me?” My lips quivered with the question. He shushed me in answer, his mouth moving over the skin of my shoulder and neck in a whisper of kisses. “Please, Callan -- do you want me?”
“More than anything, Avery.” His weight lifted until he supported his body on one arm and could look at me. Shadows darkened his gaze. I didn’t know if it was the light in the room or if it was his mood and I had somehow placed those shadows inside him.
“But what you said is right.” His hand stroked at and in my pussy, making sure I stayed lubricated and stretched. “Taking you, filling you...it makes it real. I thought I could get you someplace safe, give you half the money I took from the Gypsies and let you walk out of my life because you’ll be better off without me.”
I shook my head. Years of watching him from afar and I hadn’t known until that moment how badly I had always wanted to be a part of Callan’s life.
“You’re not dumping me somewhere,” I told him. My whole life, I wasn’t sure I had ever had someone who loved me. Maybe my mother in small increments of time, rare seconds stolen between shots of booze and cigarettes.
Not that Callan loved me, but he seemed to care for me, had risked his life staying in Thunder Valley to get me out. And concern over my well-being was definitely more than I had ever had from one person. It was too rare a thing for someone like me to just let it go, to hop off his bike in some town, accept a pat on the ass and walk into a train station with half a brick of hundreds.
“You’re not,” I repeated when he continued to penetrate me with just his fingers.
“This is something that can only be taken once,” he whispered against my throat.
“I’m pretty sure you already took it.” A harsh laugh erupted from me. He’d been four fingers inside me, all the way up to where his palm started. And it wasn’t like there was some mythical shield in place. Eighth grade biology had set us all straight on that fact.
“I pleasured you with my hands and mouth, baby.” He paused to suck just below my ear before biting at the lobe. “It’s different with my cock.”
I chewed at my bottom lip to keep from arguing. Callan was too big and strong for me to roll him onto his back and impale my cunt on his erection, riding him until he changed his mind and joined his efforts with mine.
“I’m going in bare.” He slid down until he could tongue one nipple. “And even if I wasn’t, there is always the risk you could wind up with a baby.”
I released the lungful of hot air I’d been holding in to keep from climaxing as he continued to tease my pussy. “You’re wrong.”
Not about the risk of a baby, just about everything else -- even if my brain was too clouded with need to know what those other things were. I just knew he was wrong, that he had to be in me and soon.
“Avery, it’s the first time you’re willing to risk changing your life forever.”
That was too much! I slapped the only part of him I could get a bead on -- his cheek. Red flushed to the surface of his skin, its outline shaped like my center three fingers. His teeth took firmer hold of my nipple in warning.
“My life changed forever yesterday, Callan Tilley.” I pushed at his head, ignoring the warning of his teeth against my flesh. He either needed to fuck me or get the fuck off of me. “Even if you do discard me someplace along the road, you’re always going to be a part of my future, baby or not.”
He disengaged from my breast, his body surfing up mine until we were face to face. He didn’t look mad, just dead serious.
“I’m trying not to be selfish, Avery.” The words were a growl, the kind of growl a dog makes just before it bites.
A rush of adrenaline shot through me. I blinked, not caring that the tears sliding down my cheeks made me look weak. My lips and tongue worked at something I couldn’t say.
He kissed me soft on the mouth. “I want to be in you.”
Another kiss, a little harder than the first.
“I wanted to take you to my senior prom, was going to ask you even though you were a grade younger and I’d never said a single word to you, but...”
I nodded. His life had been thrown in turmoil his senior year. His dad had been arrested and convicted during the school year. That was just the beginning of the end for the Tilleys in Thunder Valley.
In mute apology, I ran my fingers softly against the fading red on his cheek. I trailed them over his chin until I reached the tattoo on his neck. A winged skull covered his Adam’s apple. Lincoln and his dead brother, Boone, had a similar tattoo. They had gotten it after their father was sent away.
Instead of a tuxedo for prom, he had received this mark of loss, this twisted sign that freedom came only in death.
“Baby...” He shifted and I felt the head of his erection pushing at my gate. “I wanted to throw you on my bike the first time I saw you working at Freya’s.”
He started to push in, my body yielding with mutual need.
“Take you home and whip your daddy’s ass for letting you work at a bar full of bikers and drug dealers.”
I blinked, more tears wetting my face and obscuring my vision. I rubbed at my eyes. I wanted to watch his face, didn’t want to miss seeing the emotion I could hear in his voice. Straining my head up, I kissed him as I pressed my thighs against the solid muscles of his ass. My arms tangled around his shoulders.
“We’re here now,” I whispered, desperate for the fat crown to slip all the way inside me. I was exposed, opened as wide as I could go but he had to be the one to sink into me, to surrender.
His lips skimmed across my cheek to find my mouth. “I won’t fuck you, Avery.”
Rage (A Thunder Gypsies MC Outlaw Biker Romance) Page 4