by Violet Blaze
“Like honey and wildflowers,” he says. “Sweet but wild.”
“Wild?”
“Ferocious,” he says, capturing my lips again and reaching down to my waist, scooping me up off the chair and into his arms. Royal moves his mouth to my neck, sliding his tongue against my heated flesh as my body trembles and turns to liquid in his arms. I want to collapse right here, fall to the ground and let him do whatever he wants with me. It wouldn't matter what he decided on: I want everything.
A moan escapes my lips, but I don't care. The ocean is loud enough to drown out any noises I might make, and the wind is picking up, sending a neighbor's wind chime cheering and ringing in the silver blue evening air. I let my fingers dip low, tentatively sliding them under his T-shirt and across those hard, tight abs that I've been lusting after since day one. The motion makes us both groan, Royal's fingers clutching me tighter as his breath feathers against my skin and makes me shiver.
Even if what he said about me being wild was a lie, I like it the idea of it. Love it. Something about this man makes me want it to be true though, almost desperately. I let myself relax into my biker chick facade, the leather taking over me and covering up all the little protests that I should be making right now.
When my hands find his hardened nipples, Royal pulls back an inch and looks down at me with half-lidded eyes.
“I don't know about you, love, but I say … fuck the steaks.”
I can't find enough breath to answer, so I let Royal pull away and flick the meat off the grill, following him inside as he tosses the plate into the microwave and leaves the sliding glass door cracked for the dogs.
Nervous jitters try to get the better of me, but I push them back. Tonight, I'm not Lyric Rentz, Deputy Mayor. Tonight, I'm Pint-Size the Biker Chick. The ridiculousness of that makes me smile and helps calm my nerves. What it doesn't do is quench any of the fire I can feel burning for Royal. I want his body on top of mine, in mine, and his hands on my breasts. I want him to kiss me and whisper things to me in that sexy accent of his while he strokes his inked fingers across my bare skin.
And I want it all right now.
“Thought about giving them to the dogs, but I guess you'll be hungry after.”
“Will I?” I ask, a flirtatious edge to my voice that even I don't recognize. Royal hears it, too, and smiles wickedly.
“Baby,” he says, pushing up against me so I can feel his cock straining against the tight seams of his leather riding pants. “Trust me. I'm going to work you harder than you've ever been worked before. You'll need that food in there just to recover enough strength to stand.”
Royal shoves me back suddenly, pinning my body against the living room wall with his much larger frame, leaving just enough room between us to reach up and take hold of the zipper on my leather jacket.
My breath catches.
“Only downside to all this riding gear,” he says as he pulls the zipper down at an agonizingly slow pace, “is that it's a bitch to take off.” I watch his fingers, mesmerized by the color on his skin, the art that he wears so well, the roses and the vines and the pistols. Guess I'll finally get to see what he's hiding under that shirt of his.
But I don't move to touch him, not yet.
He isn't saying anything, but I can feel him taking control of the encounter, forcing me to relax and let go a little. I never really liked being submissive during sex, but … with Royal, I can see the appeal. Right now, I'd let him do anything he wanted. I don't want to have to think about what I'm doing or if I'm making a fool out of myself. I just want to feel him, all of him.
Once the jacket's unzipped, he slides it from my shoulders with that same careful slowness, his fingertips brushing against my bare arms as he tosses it aside and cups my face in his hand.
“I don't know what it is about you, my dear sweet Deputy Mayor,” Royal says, his voice dark and deep and hungry. I feel my tongue sliding across my lower lip. “But I want you. Bad. I want to make you mine.”
He caresses my chin, the power in his grip astounding, but he holds back enough that it doesn't hurt, not at all.
“It's a shame you're so prim and proper or I might be tempted to make you my old lady.” He slides his thumb over my lower lip and instead of telling him off or how we'd never work together, how this is only for one night, I bite it.
Royal's brows come up and his mouth quirks into a grin.
I think we're both enjoying this fantasy.
“Naughty girl,” he says sliding his hand down, trailing his fingers across my throat, over my breasts, until he finds the bottom of my tank top. “I feel like you deserve to be punished for that.” Royal leans in close, leaning down to nibble my earlobe. “The only one who bites in this house is me.”
“Is that so?” I ask as I lift my arms and let Royal pull the tank over my head. He tosses the pink fabric to the floor and stares down at my breasts like a man possessed.
“How the fuck does someone so tiny have such massive tits, Pint-Size? Maybe it's time for a name change. You sure these are natural?”
“Actually, they are. Not used to real boobs, Mr. President?” A shiver slides down Royal's spine as he wraps his arm around my bare waist in a rush of fire and adrenaline. I want him to touch me all over. More, more, I need more.
“I like that,” he purrs, sliding his hand up my back and unhooking the clasps on my bra. He manages to get all four in a split second and we both watch as the cups fall forward and the hard, pink points of my nipples emerge from the white lace. “Keep calling me that,” he says, voice rough and gravelly as he lifts up a hand and palms my left breast. My pale white skin is emphasized by the color on his fingers, making me even wetter, even hotter than I was before. How is this even possible?
Royal flicks his thumb over my nipple and I groan, my knees going weak and my body collapsing into his. It feels too good. All of it just feels too damn good.
“You might just be the most beautiful woman I've ever seen,” he drawls, his tongue tracing his lower lip.
“Might?” I whisper a split second before he literally scoops me up into his arms like I weigh nothing.
“Maybe might was the wrong word,” Royal says as he carries me down the hall and into a bedroom of navy blues and dark woods, a huge four poster king size bed and a whole wall of curtains that I just know must open up onto a stunning view of the ocean. “Lyric Rentz, you are the most attractive woman I've ever had the pleasure of seducing.”
“Only because I let you seduce me,” I add, just because I need to get one more jab in there before Royal covers my mouth with his, kissing me hard and deep before settling on the edge of the bed on his knees. He lays me down next, nesting my head in the pile of pillows.
The whole room smells like him, like leather and forest and this spicy masculine sweetness that makes my toes curl. I'm trying to take it all in when he drops his face to my breasts, stubble scraping across my tender nipples and making me cry out before he even gets a chance to slide his tongue across the aching flesh.
“Oh God,” I groan, arching my back and reaching up to grab one of the spindles on the dark wood headboard. “I can't take that.” My pussy's aching so bad that I feel like I could come at any second, and I don't want to, not when he hasn't even touched me down there.
“You're not going to blow your load, are you?” he asks me, taking a brief break from my breasts to gaze up at me, his dark hair sliding across his forehead and his mouth twisting into a grin. “Do I have to handcuff you?” My heart skitters and jumps, and I'm almost too embarrassed to say yes to that.
But then again, I'm a biker chick today. A tough as nails, leather wearing badass.
“Yes,” I say and Royal's eyes widen like that was something he didn't expect. Good. I'm capable of surprising him, too. “Do it.”
He pulls back, the weight of his body lifting off me and making me groan. I want it back.
“Lucky for you, I'm a kinky son of a bitch.”
He moves to a dresser and ope
ns the top drawer, lifting out a pair of leather cuffs connected by a silver chain. When he turns around, they're dangling enticingly from a single finger.
“You sure you want this?” he asks me. “Because once I get them on you, I'm not stopping until I'm finished with you. I don't care if you come a hundred fucking times tonight, you hear me?”
“Is that a threat?” I ask, my voice breathless and almost unrecognizable.
“This time,” he says as he comes back over to the bed and hooks the cuffs around my left wrist, “it really is.” Royal wraps the chain around the center spindle of his headboard, effectively pinning me in place, then climbs back onto the bed, settling himself between my legs, propped up on his knees and staring down at me.
When his smile fades away and his face fills with this raw heat, my heartbeat picks up speed and my pulse begins to pound. There's this sense of masculine satisfaction in his movements, like a wolf who's just found his mate.
The analogy makes me swallow hard.
“You wanted to see this?” Royal asks, reaching back and grabbing the fabric of his shirt, yanking it over his head in one swift motion. My breath catches and I wish suddenly that I hadn't asked him to handcuff me. I want to touch that, all of it.
I struggle a little in my cuffs as he looks down at me, dark eyes lidded and expression smug. This is a man that knows how beautiful he is, knows the reaction he can get from a woman just by taking off his clothes.
Royal's chest is covered in tattoos, connecting the designs that trace up either side of his arms. There's a banner with a dark cursive scrawl that I can't quite read in the gray darkness of his bedroom. What I can make out are the pistols on either shoulder, the skulls beneath the banner, the roses. He even has a few well-placed designs just above the waistband of his pants.
“Well?” he asks, a small smile finally breaking through that lusty expression of his. “Is it possible that I might be the most beautiful man you've ever seen?”
“Your humbleness astounds,” I say, but the sarcasm is lost in the breathy quality of my voice. Royal just keeps smiling, sliding his hand down his abs and unzipping his leather riding pants. He slides them down just enough for me to see his black boxer briefs and then frees the thick, hard length of his cock. I watch with rapt attention as he strokes his hand along his shaft, teasing me with a low, deep groan from his throat while he pleasures himself. All the while, he stares right at me, his gaze intent and burning with desire.
I stare right back, trying to take him all in. He's even bigger than I thought, thick and long and oh so tempting. Why did I agree to these handcuffs again? I wonder as Royal works himself up, his hand moving in rhythm with my body. The harder I struggle, the more I arch my back and buck my hips, the more he moves his hand. Our eyes lock, Royal's chest rising and falling as he struggles to control his breathing.
Just when I think he's about to come, he stops and moves over me, an arm on either side of my body, his weight denting the mattress and sinking our bodies into the black down comforter. Without a word, our eyes still locked, Royal unzips my pants and grabs onto the waistband, sliding the tight fabric over my hips until he hits my boots.
He doesn't bother to take them off though. Instead he sits back up and fishes a condom out of the pocket on his half-discarded pants. Royal tears into the corner of the package with his beautiful fingers and slides the latex over his cock before grabbing me by the ankles and lifting my feet, letting my legs rest against his muscular torso as he grins at me again.
“Nice panties, Pint-Size. Another thong? Do you wear anything but?”
“What are you doing?” I whisper, my voice caught in my throat, my body trembling. I can't help it. When I get worked up, my emotions fight for a physical release. Right now, I'm desperate and wet and ready and wanting.
“Fucking you, baby,” he says and then he pushes my panties aside and slides the head of his cock into my wetness, pausing as I gasp at the thick, heavy feeling of him. With my legs closed like this, it's a tight fit, but I'm turned on enough that with a little pressure, Royal slides all the way into me.
My eyes flutter and I groan, back arching uncontrollably at the sensation of fullness, of sharing my body with another person. A person I don't even know, but that I want to. A person that can never be anything more than this for me.
“Christ, love,” Royal murmurs, holding my legs against his body with one hand, using the other to brace himself against the headboard as he moves his hips. “You tempt a man to dangerous things.”
I can't speak, my voice ripped from me in a rush of desire, my arms bound and useless, my body swollen and begging for more. The fact that we're both still wearing our pants and boots … that turns me on, too. Later, I want to get naked, but for now this works. I hope Royal has a lot of stamina because I'm not the only that's going to get a work out tonight.
After a few thrusts, my body's starting to adjust to the idea of having Royal's huge cock buried inside of me and he starts to move faster, slamming us together with a soft, wet sound, his balls slipping from his boxer briefs and slapping against my ass.
I bite my lip, my arms straining against the cuffs, and not because I want to get away. Far from it. Right now, I can't imagine being anywhere but here. It just … it feels so good, I can hardly even stand it.
“I want to come in you so bad, Pint-Size,” Royal whispers, his breathing speeding up along with his pace until he's grinding into me as hard and fast as he can. “So bad,” he grunts as I arch my back and cry out, little pulses of pleasure radiating down my spine, tightening my pussy around his cock until he groans and bites his lower lip with a curse, body shuddering as I turn my head into the pillows and bite down hard.
My orgasm hits just a moment before his, sweeping over and through me, making my eyes roll back and my lashes flutter.
I scream his name as he comes hard a second after me, grunting and groaning, my own name rolling off his lips like a curse.
“Does, uh, that position have a name?” Lyric asks, trying to be nonchalant as she stares down at her cold steak, cutting off a tiny piece and putting it in her mouth. It's fucking delicious, I know that for a fact. The raised brows are reaction enough to tell me that she agrees. I grin at her, splayed out on the bed in nothing but my boxer briefs.
Lyric's still got on her panties, but her pants and boots are on the floor, one of my black wife beaters hanging off her shoulders like a short dress.
“A name?” I ask, like I'm seriously thinking about it. “How about So Desperate to Put my Cock Inside of You that I Couldn't Wait to Take off Your Pants?” She snorts and shakes her head, stabbing another piece of steak with her fork.
“Too long,” she says with a smile of her own blooming on those beautiful lips of hers. When she glances over at me, she finds me staring at her, my food long gone and my cock already hard again. If I spend all night fucking this woman, it won't be enough. I want more, so much more from her. I want to taste every part of her body, feel my naked cock inside her tight pussy. “But nice try.”
“I thought it had a good ring to it,” I say, reaching out a finger and trailing it down her arm. Lyric shudders and flicks her eyes up to mine, her brown hair hanging around her face as she picks at her food. “Told you you'd be hungry, and we're just barely getting started.”
I lean forward and reach a hand between her legs, running my finger up the center of her wet panties until she gasps.
“Not too sore to continue?” I ask and she shakes her head, pausing a moment and reaching her fingers up to her eye. Underneath the thin layer of makeup on her face, I can see the slightest coloring of a fresh bruise. Fucking Mia, I think as Lyric puts another bite between her lips and chews.
“A little, but I'm not done yet,” she says and then flushes pink, glancing over at me to check my reaction. I'm grinning again, sitting up and scooting closer, folding her tiny body against mine. Never in my life have I ever wanted so much from someone, wanted to touch and hold and caress them.
Jesus Christ, help me please.
“Can I ask you a question?” she says, something obviously on her mind.
“Sure thing, sweetheart,” I say, breathing hot against her ear and enjoying the shudder I get in response.
“Why … why would anyone want to be someone's old lady?” Her question's as unexpected as it is interesting. “I mean, women don't exactly get a lot of say in club life, so why would anyone want to be a part of it?”
I think carefully about my answer, knowing in my heart that this girl right here, she'd probably never be satisfied with being someone's old lady. This is the type of girl that's a rebel, that wants to be patched in and sit as an officer in the chapel.
A smile teases my lips.
“It's not as bad as it sounds,” I begin, trying to put my feelings into words. “Sure, the system's a little outdated, but a lot of these guys are allergic to change. Still, their wives, they know they're cherished and treasured. For one of my brothers to take someone as their old lady, they're saying they'll take full responsibility for their wife and her actions. Anything she does, it reflects on him. And what reflects on him, reflects on the club. In a way, everyone that's involved in club life belongs to everyone else, makes us responsible for each other and the way we carry out our business.”
“Hmm,” Lyric says, obviously thinking over what I've just said, maybe remembering my words from earlier. It's a shame you're so prim and proper or I might be tempted to make you my old lady. I wasn't kidding when I said it either.
We sit in silence while she finishes her food and then stands up, plate in hand.
“I could use a glass of water,” she says and I nod, rising to my feet and following her out to the kitchen. The dogs have dotted the floor with muddy paw prints, raising their heads from their bed in the corner to stare at us. When it's obvious nothing interesting is happening, they relax, flopping back down with a sigh.