by Lane Hart
This time the orgasm is deep, earth-shattering. It feels like my whole body is exploding, the pleasure radiating outward to every nerve ending, engulfing me in its power.
My head is still thrown back against the mattress as I feel it move under me. Bullet, his eyes dark and hooded, kneels between my legs. He’s naked now, his cock full and hard and pulsing. He reaches down and strokes the head against my throbbing pussy. I gasp at the heat of it, the slickness against me. Instinctively, I start to angle my hips up to him, then I freeze.
“Do you have protection?” I whisper. I pray the answer is yes, because at this point I’m not sure I can stop myself either way. I need to feel him inside me.
His only response is to hold up two fingers. A shiny square object is between them.
I watch in fascination as he opens the wrapper and slides the condom down his large, thick shaft. Just seeing his hand on himself like that sends a jolt of desire through me.
Then, he grabs my hips again and pulls me toward him. The thick head of his cock pushes inside me and I moan as the rest follows, my walls stretching to meet him.
“Fuck,” he grits hoarsely. “Jesus fuck, you feel good, Six.”
Six. It’s good when he calls me that. It reminds me that there’s still some distance between us. Things he doesn’t know about me.
This is just sex. Just amazing sex. Nothing more. It’s okay.
A moment later, he starts to thrust. Slowly, the length of him going so deep it’s almost painful, but the pain, just like before, turns more to pleasure with each pull and push. My eyes open to take him in — the full, manly beauty of him — and our eyes lock. I start to look away, but he stops me with a sound.
“Stay with me,” he orders. “Oh, fuck, baby,” he rasps. “Stay with me.”
He rides me harder, pumping faster. The slickness of his skin slides against my already tender clit. I stifle the first moan, but the second one rips through me, my voice joining with his as he groans my name again. From deep inside me something starts — something unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. I know what it is, but it’s different. Deeper. Almost scary in its power.
“Bullet,” I whimper softly.
“I got you, babe.” He’s thrusting harder now, slamming into me with a force that’s driving both of us forward. “You’re close, aren’t you?” I can only nod as my whole body starts to shake. “Come with me, Six. Give it to me.”
It’s as though his words unleash a flood. I half-scream his name as I tense and then let go, bucking and writhing as the impact starts deep inside me and hits me like a bomb. A second later, I feel Bullet erupt inside me. My walls clench around him as he lifts me in his arms, and I throw mine around him and hang on for dear life. I’ve never imagined anything like this — the force of it so strong I’m almost afraid. We’re both shuddering together, the two of us coming as one, as I hold onto him like I’m in danger of being swept away by the wave.
The blood is rushing in my ears. I’m gasping for air, my chest rising and falling as I cling to Bullet and wait for the wave to slowly recede. Eventually, my breathing starts to slow, my heart still slamming in my chest. My arms and legs feel like rubber. My whole body feels as weak as a kitten.
“That was three,” Bullet rumbles, laughter in his voice.
“What?” I ask dazedly, trying desperately to make my brain begin functioning again.
“Three. Out of six.” Bullet pulls his head back to look at me, his eyes twinkling. “I know you said this was a one-time thing, babe. But I gotta tell ya — I think your body has other ideas.”
Chapter Six
Bullet
I think for sure Six is gonna kick me out of her bed and her apartment after sex. But she surprises me by falling fast asleep while I’m still holding her in my arms.
And even though I’ve made it a rule never to stay overnight with women I fuck, I’ll be damned if this woman doesn’t feel too good to let go.
I roll her over gently onto her pillow and reach down off the bed to grab the covers that got pushed off onto the floor while I was fucking her. She doesn’t even move as I put them over her.
As I lift up the sheets over her shoulder, her blond hair falls away from her neck, revealing the outline of a tattoo on the back of her neck. It’s usually hidden because Six wears her hair down most of the time, but I noticed it earlier. I push a lock back further and lean forward to examine the ink.
It’s a rose, the petals slightly open but the thorns below on the stem long and sharp. I blow out a soft breath through my nose. That’s Six, all right: beautiful and tough, and trying her best to hide herself from the world. I wonder if there was a reason she got it — some particular event that made her want to mark the memory of it on her skin forever.
I wonder if there’s a chance in hell I’ll ever find out.
I lie back against the unoccupied pillow, my arm brushing against hers. Instinctively, she curls toward me, her body pulled by my warmth. I gather her into my arms, something catching in my throat as I do. I know there’s no way she ever would have done this if she was awake. Her body trusts me, even if she doesn’t, I think to myself.
Maybe her body shouldn’t be so quick to trust me, though. I wouldn’t admit this to Six — or to anyone, for that matter — but I’ve been wanting to hold her like this since the first time I saw her. I was lying to her when she made me promise I knew this was just a one-time thing. I’ve been hoping that once I got inside the fortress, I could stick around a while. Try to knock down a few more walls.
And the way she’s holding onto me now in her sleep, maybe I’ve got a prayer of doing just that.
I don’t usually sleep all that well, for the most part. Too many sins in my past, I guess. But that night I sleep the sleep of the dead, my body exhausted and satisfied after fucking Six like our lives depended on it. The next morning, I wake up before she does. We’ve both moved around during the night, but she’s still curled up in a little ball beside me. My first instinct is to sneak out and give her her space. But something stops me.
Instead, I slide out of her bed, making sure not to wake her, and grab my jeans. Then I go into the kitchen to see if there’s anything to eat.
When I open the fridge, I almost bust out laughing. This girl’s got less food on hand than I do. There’s almost nothing I can see in here that’s edible and not expired, unless you think a breakfast of dill pickles with mustard on them sounds appetizing. I close the refrigerator door, shaking my head, and start rummaging around in the cupboards. It’s pretty fuckin’ sparse in there, too, but eventually I find a few things I can throw together and pretend it’s a meal. Thank Christ she has a coffee maker and a bag of coffee. Otherwise, I might have ditched her then and there and gone out for bacon and eggs.
Ten minutes later, I’m back in Six’s bedroom, a plate in one hand and a mug in the other. “Hey, Mystery Girl,” I call out softly. “Breakfast.”
Six stirs in the bed, then hurriedly props herself upright on one elbow. Her other hand goes self-consciously to the covers as she pulls them up over her breasts. “Wh… um… morning…” she murmurs, peering at me through the curtain of her hair. Her face registers confusion, a little shock, and more than a hint of embarrassment.
“Your kitchen is a fuckin’ embarrassment,” I say good-naturedly. “I figured you’d want coffee, since it’s one of the few things you have on hand.”
I hand the mug to her, which she takes, and set the plate on the bed. Six immediately draws the cup to her nose, breathing in the aroma, then looks down at the plate and does a double-take. “What the hell?” she mutters, giving me an odd look. “What is that?”
“Half of a strawberry Pop-Tart and some kippers on Saltine crackers,” I tell her. “Hey, don’t blame me. It’s from your cupboard. You better hope the zombie apocalypse doesn’t come anytime soon. You don’t have enough food in this place to last you a day.”
I go back out to the kitchen and get my own mug of coffee and my plate of di
sgusting breakfast. I come back to Six and sit down on the bed next to her, noticing she’s taken a nibble out of the Pop-Tart. “Who does your shopping for you, anyway? I haven’t seen kippers since my granddad was alive.”
She takes a sip of the coffee, grimacing a little. “Damn, that’s hot. My dad used to like them.” She shrugs. “I guess I must have gotten a craving for them at some point and bought a couple of tins. I didn’t even realize I had them.”
“You mean these have been in there for so long you’ve forgotten them?” I ask, raising one of the crackers up to look at it. “Am I gonna get food poisoning from this shit?”
She snorts. “Are you kidding? I think kippers are indestructible. That is quality zombie apocalypse food right there. Preppers probably stock these in their bomb shelters.”
“So, your dad likes these things, huh?” I put one of the crackers in my mouth and chew. It’s not that bad, if you like fish. “He live around here?”
“He doesn’t live around anywhere,” she replies flatly. “He’s been dead since I was fourteen. DUI.”
“Oh, fuck.” I chew some more and swallow. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, me, too. But, not much I can do about it, right?”
It’s clear from Six’s sour expression that she doesn’t really want to talk about this, but I decide to push a little more. “What about your mom?”
She rolls her eyes and takes a bite of Pop-Tart. “Who knows? She’s a drunk. Rarely has a stable address.” For a second, Six is silent, and then laughs wryly. “I guess maybe I’m more like her than I thought, in that respect. At any rate, I don’t know where she is. She surfaces every once in a while and calls me. Half the time she’s calling to tell me she misses me and wants to see me, but it hardly ever actually happens. Last time I talked to her was about ten months ago.”
“Shit, Six. That’s fucked up.”
“Well,” she retorts, a new bite in her voice. “That’s my life. Such as it is.” Her whole face grows dark as I can see her almost physically drawing into herself.
Shit. I pushed too hard. Goddamnit.
I decide to give her a little of my story, hoping to make amends.
“I didn’t have a dad growing up,” I tell her. “He’s out there somewhere, I guess, but I never knew him.” I eat another kipper. “You know, these aren’t half bad. My mom used to beat the shit out of me. She was a drinker, too, and a thief for her lowlife boyfriend. She spent more time in prison than out.”
Six turns and looks at me, her eyes wide and interested. “Really?”
“Yeah. I’ve been in the MC lifestyle since I was about sixteen. Gave me someplace to be that wasn’t home, since Ma and Dean didn’t want me there anyway. Christ knows I didn’t wanna be there either.”
Six has forgotten my questions about her family. “Have you ever been in jail?” she asks.
“Two stints in county.” I nod toward my stomach. “That bullet in my gut is from what sent me there the second time. I’m not eager to go back.”
I let Six ask me more questions about the MC life and the Lords of Carnage while we keep eating. I answer what I can, and tell her when I can’t. She loosens up more and more as we go along, and I realize she’s starting to warm up to me, as long as she doesn’t have to talk about herself.
When I’ve finished my food, I stand up and nod toward Six’s mug. “You want some more coffee?” I ask.
“I’m good, thanks.” She hands me her empty plate and watches me in silence as I go back out to the kitchen. A few seconds later, I come back with a fresh cup for myself. “You know,” she smiles shyly as I sit down on the bed again, “no one’s ever made me breakfast in bed before.”
“I’m not sure you can call what we’re eating ‘breakfast,’” I chuckle.
She laughs. “Well, anyway. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. So,” I smirk. “You gonna tell me anything more about you?”
She smirks back. “Nope.”
“Well, then, I guess we’re gonna have to think about some other way to spend the morning.” I let my eyes slip down over her body. The blanket has fallen down to her waist, revealing her full, luscious tits. “Somethin’ that doesn’t involve talking. You got any ideas?”
Six bites her lip. “I have kipper breath.”
I take her mug and set both of them on her nightstand, then stand and undo the button and fly on my jeans. “That makes two of us,” I say with a grin as I slide across the bed to her. “It’s like it was meant to be.”
Chapter Seven
Six
Bullet leaves my place after telling me he still owes me one more orgasm. I laugh but don’t answer him, because my mind is a freaking mess after last night and this morning.
I know I never should have agreed to go out with Bullet in the first place. And I sure as shit never should have taken him home with me. I should have known my loneliness plus my dangerous attraction to him were a terrible combination. I never should have put myself in a position of having to try to resist him.
Because resisting Bullet is something I apparently am not very well equipped to do.
The one thing I can be thankful for is that Bullet doesn’t take my number or try to make plans with me as he leaves my apartment. After he closes the door behind him, I turn and take a long look around my living room. Like I’ve done so many times before — in other apartments, in other towns — I start to mentally calculate how long it would take me to pack things up. What I would take with me, and what I would leave behind.
I go into the bedroom and grab our empty coffee mugs, then head into the kitchen. The coffee maker is still on, so I pour myself another half a cup and go sit down on the couch. I take a sip and make a face: it’s been sitting on the burner too long, and tastes awful. I set it down and scan the room again. The couch and chair, I’d leave. Most of the furniture, in fact. I’d hate to leave the rug, though. I can probably tie that to the top of my car if I have to.
Shaking my head, I heave a deep, frustrated sigh. Am I really thinking about leaving? I know I’ve been in Tanner Springs too long. I can’t risk getting comfortable. But the truth is, I really kind of like it here. Plus, I’m still training to be a tattoo artist at Rebel Ink.
It would be stupid to leave before that’s over. I’d feel bad for Chance, who I’m sure expects me to stay on once he thinks I’m ready to do ink without supervision. And I like working for him. He’s tough but cool, and I always know where I stand with him. Plus the other people are great, too. Hannah, who got me my job there, counts as one of the closest friends I’ve ever had. She’s the only person in Tanner Springs -- one of the only people anywhere, actually — who knows my story.
I know that if I left, Hannah would explain it all to Chance. I know she’d understand why. And she’d make him understand, too. Hopefully in the end, he wouldn’t be too mad at me.
But I’m getting so tired of running. So tired of never putting down roots.
Suck it up, Stace. You don’t have a choice. You fucked up last night with Bullet. And now you’re gonna have to deal with the consequences.
A wave of sadness washes over me. I lean back against the couch cushions, drawing up my knees and folding my arms protectively around them.
I picture Bullet’s face. His dark eyes, the sexy smirk emerging through his short-cropped beard. That beard, which was softly scratching my thighs last night as he teased and tormented me to orgasm…
Shivering, I pull my knees closer. Would it be so bad if I just stayed a few more weeks — just until Chance thinks I’m finished with my apprenticeship? And while I’m here, would it be a crime if I see Bullet a few more times before I move on?
I don’t see or hear from Bullet that day, or the next. By the third day, the soreness between my legs is gone, and the memory of his touch against my skin is starting to fade. I imagine he’s moved on, now that he got what he wanted. It feels almost like I dreamed our encounter. I can’t decide whether I’m sad or relieved that he seems to have for
gotten about me.
I’m trying to convince myself it’s the latter as I head down to my car one early afternoon on my way to work. I’ve woken up in a foul mood, and spending the morning binge re-watching Black Mirror doesn’t do anything to help that. I know I should have gone for a run or done something to get myself out of the house instead, but it’s too late now. For once, I’m not in the mood to go to work. Thankfully, I’m pretty sure Hannah is on during part of my shift today, so that makes me feel a little better about it.
I unlock my car with my fob and slide into the driver’s side, tossing my bag on the passenger seat beside me. I’m reaching for the ignition, key in hand, when I see something that makes me do a double-take.
The glove box. It’s open.
A feeling like static rushes all over the skin on my body, making it feel like all the little hairs are standing on end. My chest gets tight; my breathing is suddenly labored, like I can’t pull in enough air.
Shit!
My eyes dart around the parking lot as I shift wildly in my seat. I slam my hand down on the car lock, then let out a squeak and swivel to look in the back seat, banging my knee against the center console in the process.
No one’s there. It’s okay! I’m in the car alone! Shit. Calm down, Stace! Calm! Calm! Breathe!
I can’t bring myself to close my eyes, but I focus on a point on the dashboard and make myself take a deep, slow breath in. I let it out even more carefully, forcing my brain to acknowledge that I’m in no immediate danger. A few more breaths, and the panic starts to subside. With a shaking hand, I reach over and rummage through the open compartment.