Vengeance MC Box Set - Volume 1: Call Me...Vengeance ~ Fury ~ Jonas

by Natasha Thomas

  After hearing from my friends how their boyfriends and sexual partners treated them, it’s horrible to say, but I was worried Fury might be the same. According to them, most of the men they’ve been with were more concerned with getting themselves off, using the woman’s body as a tool to do that, than they were about returning the favor.

  However, Fury’s exhaustive – for both him and me – exploration of my body last night and this morning proved my assumptions were indeed misguided. He dedicated the majority of the time we were naked on me; he was an after-thought. When I tried to point this out, Fury grinned at me, telling me that I could have my turn later. A later which hasn’t happened yet.

  The rotation of Fury’s fingers hitting a particularly deep spot inside me pulls me from my memories. Alternating between working my clit with his tongue and the thumb of his other hand, and plunging that talented tongue into my pussy, Fury doesn’t let up as I begin writhing underneath him.

  My back bows off the bed, unashamedly striving to push more of me into his mouth. Fury must feel the tell-tale tremors of my impending orgasm because he then thrusts a third finger into my desperate pussy, causing me to cry out his name, succumbing to number three on the ‘Greatest Orgasm Ever’ scale.

  “Fuck, Tanner,” I pant, releasing his hair, flopping back onto the mattress limply.

  Fury’s not done with me yet, though. Looming above me, condom in hand, he gives me a few seconds to recover before spreading my legs and fitting himself between them.

  He was so gentle, so cautious last night. I don’t want him to have to feel like he need to hold back with me. I get why he was worried, I was too, but I don’t want it to be that way between us always. If we’re going to make this work, Fury has to be able to be himself.

  Pressing my lips to his, I allow myself to get lost in his kiss for long minutes before pulling back almost breathless.

  “Don’t hold back this time, Tanner. I understand why you think you have to, but I want all of you. I trust you, and I know you’d never hurt me. Show me how much you want me, honey.”

  “My fucking pleasure,” he growls, slamming himself into me.

  Thrusting into me, Fury rotates his hips, grinding his pubic bone against my already over-sensitive clit. I raise my hand, resting it on his cheek, gently stroking the stubble there and smile at him.

  That’s another thing about, Fury. He isn’t Fury when we make love; he’s Tanner. It’s amazing how one man can be two entirely different people, but it’s something I love about him all the same.

  Fury is strong, silent, intelligent, and deadly. Tanner is kind, sweet, considerate, and soulful. Without one, the other can’t exist, and together they make the perfect man. Or, at least, the perfect man for me. Because that’s what I coming to understand. Fury is my perfect match. Bella was absolutely right. We are two halves of a matching set.

  Focusing on the burning intensity of Fury’s beautiful blue eyes, I wrap my legs around him and hold on tight. Later, with his tongue plunging in and out of my mouth mimicking the motion of his cock, Fury’s hand tweaking the tight bud of my nipple, and his cock that’s drilling inside me, I explode.

  Like the last however many, my orgasm doesn’t creep up on me. It tears through me hard and fast, stealing my breath, and causing darkness to tint the edge of my vision until the only thing keeping me anchored to consciousness is Fury himself.

  “Fuck, yes. Come for me, Avery. Come all over my cock,” Fury growls, pumping into me, furiously seeking out his own climax.

  Um, I don’t know if he’s aware, but at this point, it’s not like I have much say in the matter. I can already feel my pussy beginning to spasm around him, drawing him deeper. Begging him to make me come, I moan,

  “Harder, Tanner. Fuck me harder.” It only takes seconds after my demand for Fury to make me come, which gives me the unique opportunity to watch his orgasm take hold.

  Seeing Fury climax is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, or for that matter, felt. It’s a full body experience. Fury’s muscles tighten, causing the veins in his forearms to stand out against the tanned skin of his arms. Sweat drips down the hollows and rippling eight pack that makes up his abs, adding to our combined wetness where our hips meet. The way his eyes widen and his pupils dilate causes me to shiver at the lust and hunger in them, as does the way his jaw clenches, showing me how hard he’s working to make this last for both of us.

  But what has me fascinated is the way his chest heaves up and down fighting for breath. His sharp inhalations, followed by the sounds he makes – the deep growls and groans – as he finds his pleasure using my body to do it is magnificent.

  The moment his climax claims him, his body goes taut and he whispers,

  “I love you, Avery. It’s always been you.”

  Gliding my hands over his shoulders and cupping his jaw, I reply,

  “I love you more.”

  At my confession, Fury throws his head back and roars his release to the ceiling. I slowly caress the hot, hard muscles of his back, running my hand up and down his spine. When his head dips and his eyes meet mine, I smile at him brightly.

  “I fucking love your smile, baby,” Fury rumbles into my shoulder as he rolls us until we’re facing each other, my front to his.

  “And I love you making me smile,” I say, grinning now. “But this one isn’t because you just gave me number six on the ‘Greatest Orgasm Ever’ scale.”

  Chuckling, Fury plants a kiss on the tip of my nose, asking,

  “The what?”

  “I decided seeing as you’re so good at giving them, I should have some way to rate them.”

  “And why would you need to rate them, baby? Eventually, I’m going to have given you so many you’ll have lost count.” Arrogant much?

  “Because all men like competition, of course,” I reply as if he should already know this.

  “But I’d be competing with myself, baby. No other man’s going to get the chance to be where I am right now, so the point is mute,” he mumbles kissing the corner of my mouth.

  Pushing against his chest, I tut him.

  “No more of that mister. I’ve got things to do today.”

  “I don’t fucking think so,” Fury growls, pulling me into his side with an arm around my waist.

  “Sorry to burst your bubble, big guy, but I’m not staying in bed with you all day. I need to get up, shower, buy food because we’ve got none, and then tackle the never ending pile of laundry that’s currently accumulating to epic proportions.” All of which is true.

  I wish I didn’t have to, but I do. If I don’t, I’ll soon run out of clean underwear. It’s common sense that no one should leave the house without donning a fresh pair of panties. My Mom once told me, accidents happen and on the off chance I get in one, I don’t want to be caught wearing dirty underwear. At the time that wasn’t my highest priority, but it was something I’ve never forgotten. Go figure.

  “I don’t have anything to do until later when I’ve got church, so I’ll take you,” Fury offers.

  Well, it’s not really an offer, more like a demand but whatever. If he wants to take me grocery shopping, who am I to say no? Not to mention, if he does I get to ride on the back of his bike, so it’s win-win really.

  “Sure,” I chirp, rolling off the side of the bed, padding toward the bathroom surprisingly okay with being naked in front of him.

  *****

  My therapist warned me of the potential risks I might face when I decided to become intimate with someone after my attack. By the time he was finished reading what felt like one hundred and thirty-seven pages of possible issues I may have to face, (there weren’t really that many pages, more like two, but who’s counting) I was completely and utterly terrified.

  The prospect that I might never be able to enjoy the act of sex between two consenting adults made me feel worse than I had before. Just imagining myself having a flashback while I was with a man was enough to make me want to check myself into a convent and tak
e a vow of celibacy.

  I knew then there was only one man I would trust with my mind and body when it would be at its most vulnerable. He had never given me a reason to distrust him – broken promises aside –I knew deep down he wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. And he definitely wouldn’t take what I was giving him for granted.

  It wasn’t as if it was a conscious decision. I didn’t wake up one morning and say; I’m ready to ask Fury to fuck me seven ways from Sunday now. Not even close. It was gradual. So gradual that for a while there I thought there was something wrong with me.

  I mean, what twenty-five-year-old woman for all intents and purposes is basically asexual? Desire was a thing of the past, every time I thought about the touch of a man’s hands, his breath against my skin, and the way it felt the first time I was penetrated, my stomach clenched violently and I had to fight off the urge to vomit.

  My first clue that I was finally ready to move on was when the dreams of Fury and I in compromising positions began. They weren’t explicit. If anything, they were more intimate moments rather than sex dreams. Sure, they had the same effect, that being I woke up turned on beyond belief, but it was easy to ignore that and focus on what they meant instead.

  However, knowing that I was ready for the main event, and actually being ready were two very different things. My emotions were at war with my rationality for weeks before I recognized the only way I’d know is if I tried.

  Thankfully, Fury’s impatience worked in my favor this time because how freaking embarrassing would it have been to approach him and practically solicit sex from the man. I’m sure after he finished laughing his ass off he would have agreed, but I didn’t want him laughing at me.

  I love him so much that it would have devastated me if he hadn’t taken my offer seriously. My courage was a fickle bitch on the best of days – coming and going as she pleased. While the idea of walking up to Fury, telling him I wanted him to strip me and have his way with me sounded perfectly acceptable in my head, I wasn’t sure how it would come across in person.

  Everything I’ve said, felt and struggled with boils down to this. I’m glad I followed my instincts and placed my trust in Fury because he didn’t disappoint me. He was tender and patient. Fury reassured me with every word he spoke before, during, and after. He worshiped my body, making me feel beautiful. Special even.

  My insecurities over the scars that will be forever visible were erased when Fury took my hand in his and whispered,

  “You’re right, Avery. I can see your scars. I can see the marks they left on your soul. I can even feel your fucking pain. But you’re wrong if you think they change the way I feel about you. I want you just as much now as I did before. To me, you’re perfect.”

  After his heartfelt decree the anxiety I felt around baring my body to him evaporated. The fact is; I knew the words came from his heart because the truth of them was evident in every touch, look, and caress. Fury spent hours proving his feeling for me.

  Along time ago, my therapist said something that stuck with me. Back then I didn’t know why it was so important to catalog it, but I did. He said;

  “Avery, there’s no right or wrong way to deal with what you’ve been through. You’ll know when you’re ready, sweetheart. That might be next week, next year, or it may be never, but know this. Whenever it is, it will be because you’re strong enough to deal with whatever happens.”

  He was right. There is no right or wrong way to cope with your freedom of choice being taken from you. There is no too fast or slow either. When the time was right, my mind, body, and heart were in complete agreement.

  *****

  Post-orgasmic shower – it was orgasmic because half way through, Fury joined me, giving me a new appreciation for the use of detachable showerheads – I throw a load of laundry in the washer and make my way out to Fury’s bike. He decided seeing as I refused to go back to bed with him, he’d wait for me outside or he would be too tempted to ravage me. Not that I would have put up too much of a fight, but I really do have shit to get done today.

  In hindsight, taking Fury shopping with me wasn’t one the smartest ideas I’ve ever had. I can’t be certain, but until now I believe Fury thought food along with beer magically appeared in the refrigerator with the aid of the grocery fairies in the middle of the night. That’s the only thing that explains why he lost his shit when I informed him it would probably take me half an hour, forty-five minutes to get done.

  When I say he lost his shit, I mean, he…lost…his…shit.

  I’ve never seen a grown man throw a temper tantrum before, but I have now. And trust me when I say, it’s something every woman should see at least once in their lifetime.

  First, Fury tried arguing with me about why it takes so long, at which time I calmly – although I felt anything but – explained I needed to do a weeks’ worth of shopping and it would take as long as it took.

  After that, and far from impressed, Fury stomped down the aisles behind me, huffing and puffing about menial tasks and having better things to do. After listening to his crap for ten minutes, and albeit knowing better than to poke the bear, I told him to quit his pouting and shut the hell up or I’d drag the experience out longer. Something else the grumpy biker didn’t take well.

  Now, because I’m antagonistic by nature – and let’s be honest, getting a rise out of Fury is just too easy – I took my time reading every label on every item of food before putting in the cart. Thank God I was almost done because this was when Fury lost his mind. Granted, I should have seen it coming (I did provoke him after all), but didn’t think he’d react as badly as he did.

  Nudging me aside with his shoulder, Fury took control of the cart, pushed to it the first open register, and threw a handful of bills down on the conveyor belt.

  “The cash is there. Bag it. Load it. Deliver it to this address,” he demanded, writing the address to my apartment on a slip of paper he confiscated from behind the register.

  Then with his scary I’m-going-to-spank-you glare in place, he dipped his shoulder to my belly, lifted me in a fireman’s carry, and stalked out of the store to his bike. He wasn’t done, however. Oh, no, not Fury. Gently gripping my face between his large palms, he directed,

  “When you need to shop, I’ll give you cash to cover it, but I’m never fucking doing this again. If that’s a deal-breaker for you, tell me now.”

  I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I tried, oh, God I tried, but the laugh I’d been swallowing bubbled out of my mouth before I could stop it. A laugh that had my belly clenching and my sides aching.

  “Not seeing what’s so funny, Avery. That shit is whack. Why the hell do you need to read all the ingredients in every-fucking-thing? Get what you like and be done with it,” he suggested still glaring at me.

  He wouldn’t see the hilarity in it, but I sure as hell did.

  “Ah,” I mumbled. “Is this where I tell you I don’t usually read them, I just figured seeing as it was our first shopping expedition together I should make it memorable for you?”

  Again, in hindsight, this wasn’t an intelligent thing to admit. Especially, when Fury didn’t say another word. He swung his leg over his bike, started it up, and drove us home, at which time, he proceeded to strip me naked and do exactly what his glare promised. As in, he spanked me. More fool him, though, because if he intended it to be punishment, he was sorely mistaken. In fact, I think I’ll have to consider doing other things to piss him off in the future if that’s the end result.

  Our entire day wasn’t about nakedness, sex, and mutual orgasms, however. I made him lunch, which we ate on the couch watching a Broncos game. He helped me unpack the food when it got delivered. And we talked while I folded laundry. Exciting right? Not really, but it was normal, and normal wasn’t something I ever thought I’d have with him so I cherished every second.

  Kissing me at the door, long, deep, and wet with lots of tongue, Fury left for church, promising he’d be back in a few hours. I didn’t need him rep
orting his whereabouts or feeling like he had to spend every spare moment with me, but I liked that he wanted to.

  It didn’t hurt that his answer when I said as much made me feel all melty either.

  “Babe, we’re together now. Where did you think I’d be?” Placing a finger over my lips, he went on to say, “I told you last night if we do this I’m all in. That means, I’m here when I don’t have shit to do for the club, I’m in your bed every night, and we wake up together in the morning. I’ll help around your apartment as long as it doesn’t include me cooking other than on the grill, running a vacuum, or dusting. And eventually, when you’re ready, it means we’ll be finding a place together. Just you and me. I like Blaine, baby, but I can’t fuck you the way I want to with her sharing our space.”

  That might not sound romantic to a lot of people, but to me, there was a lot in that declaration to love. Starting with the him helping out, and ending with the prospect of one day moving in together. Sure, that day wasn’t today, but the fact Fury was looking ahead, planning for a future, and doing it with me was swoon worthy.