Crash (The Brazen Bulls MC Book 1)

by Susan Fanetti

He knocked on the jamb. “Baby?”

  She peeked her head out—her hair was slicked back and darkened by the water. Her face was clean of makeup and flushed. Exactly as he had imagined. His balls went tight.

  Then she smiled and opened the curtain more widely, showing him everything.

  So much better than he had imagined.

  While she watched him, standing there naked and shining like Aphrodite coming out of the sea, Rad slid out of his kutte, hanging it on a hook he found on the back of the door. He kicked off his boots and toed off his socks. He yanked his shirt over his head. When he dropped his jeans and kicked them away, her eyes went wide, and her smile quivered and then grew.

  His cock ached something awful, and he grabbed it at the root, giving it a good squeeze and a stroke. The thought of her hand on him made him groan. His eyes never left hers, and hers were fixed on his hand and his rod.

  As he walked to the shower, she stepped back, making room for him.

  The water was nearly scalding hot, and he hissed in surprise when it sprayed over his back. As it struck his hands, he was reminded that he’d been brawling a few hours before. But it didn’t matter. Willa stood before him, inches away, her body flushed and wet and perfect.

  “Jesus, you’re beautiful,” he groaned as he pulled her close.

  She slid her palms over his chest. “So are you. It’s like you were forged from iron.”

  Plenty of women appreciated his body, but no woman had said anything like that to him. He liked it.

  “How’s your leg?”

  She sighed and locked eyes with him, a frown drawing a line between her eyebrows. “Please stop asking about my leg. I know you’re concerned, but it’s fine, and I don’t want to think about it. I want to think about the way your cock feels pushing against my belly. I want to think about the way your hands feel. The way your chest feels on mine. I don’t care about my leg.”

  Her words reeled though his head and made his arms clench more tightly around her. But he forced clarity back to the fore.

  “I got a reason for askin’ now. I ain’t good at bein’ gentle. I won’t hurt you, not on purpose, and I won’t do what you don’t like, but you’re hurt already. If I get carried away…I got some worry.”

  “Then let me take charge,” she said.

  That wasn’t something he did, either. “Not sure I know how.”

  “Just do what I say.”

  At any previous point in his life, with any other woman, Rad would have laughed and refused. But this time, he nodded.

  With a grin, Willa hooked her hand over his shoulder and pulled. “Turn around.”

  He resisted with a chuckle. “Baby, I got a decent cock, but I don’t think it’s up to the challenge of reaching you while you’re behind me.”

  “You have a wonderful cock. But we’re not fucking in the shower, lover. You need a condom. You’ll wear a condom, right?”

  He nodded. He had no worries with Willa, and he’d have happily gone without if she’d wanted it and were on the Pill or something, but he always had condoms on him. He did not trust the health of his cock to sweetbutts or random pickups, which made up the sum total of his companionship since Dahlia.

  He turned around. The shower hit his chest and washed over his belly and downward. He’d gotten used to the heat, and it felt good, enhancing his arousal to the boiling point.

  “Good. Now just stand there and relax. Feel.”

  Rad closed his eyes and waited. A scent like almonds filled the steamy space, and then Willa’s hands slid over his shoulders like cool silk. She was washing him.

  Her hands were so soft, her touch like a whisper over his skin. Then she kneaded his shoulders, and he felt her strength. She knew exactly where to increase the pressure, exactly where he carried his tension, and he groaned and threw an arm up, pressing his hand on the tile to hold himself steady.

  Filling her hands again and again with the silky almond gel, she washed his neck, his arms, his back, his ass. Then her hand slid around his waist, and she washed his belly, his chest. She paused to tweak at his nipples.

  Never before in his life had he ever simply stood still and let a woman touch him like this. He was a man of action and impulse. He wanted to be in control.

  But this—goddamn. His eyes closed, the hot water and the close space making everything all the more intense, the weirdly powerful emotion of the past two days with her, her breasts pressed to his back as her hands stroked up and down his belly and chest, up and down, each time dipping lower—holy fuck, he might come before she touched his cock. It rose up like it was on a pulley every time her hands got close.

  “Willa, Jesus fuck,” he grunted as her hands slid into the hair between his legs. “Jesus fuck.”

  She finally took hold of him, wrapping both fists around his shaft. She squeezed, just on the edge of too tight. Without moving her hands, she pulsed her grip, tightening just too much, then releasing, again and again, until the untouched head of his cock was vivid red and swollen with need, and he’d thrown his other hand to the wall as well, leaning in, unsure he’d be able to keep his feet without their support. Every throb of her grip drew a grunt from him, each louder and more desperate than the one before it, until his voice, sounding barely human, echoed off the tile walls.

  It went on forever. As intense and brilliant as it was, the tightness of her grip and her determined avoidance of his tip was going to keep him from coming. He thought he could actually die this way, if she didn’t let him come.

  “Come on, baby, come on, baby, come on. Let me have it. Come on.” He was ready to beg. Maybe he was already begging.

  He felt her lips and tongue on his back, then a light nip of her teeth. And then she let him have it. Her fists slid over him, making him shout as her fingers finally, finally closed over his tip, and he shot his load like a fire hose. She stayed on him, her hands slipping deliciously back and forth, until she’d wrung every drop from him.

  While he leaned his whole body against the wall, recovering from what might have been the most intense orgasm of his life—from a hand job!—Willa washed his hair, turning the shower head so that she could rinse the shampoo from it without making him move. He closed his eyes and let water and suds slide down his face. Her fingers scratched lightly over his scalp, and his skin rose up in gooseflesh, despite the water’s heat.

  He wasn’t worried about her leg anymore. He was too interested in whether his own pair would keep him up.

  The water turned off, and the curtain opened, rattling on its metal rings. A rush of humid air, warm with steam but still cooler than the shower, swept over his body, and he opened his eyes.

  He was alone in the tub. Willa stood at the sink, wrapping a blue towel around herself, tucking the end in above her breasts. She was still wet, droplets sparkling on her shoulders, the ends of her hair making drips that cascaded down her spine, slipping under the towel at the gap her shoulder blades made.

  The tattoo on her back—her only ink—was more complex than a simple bluebird. It was naturally rendered, as if in flight, in the center of her back. But over her left shoulder blade, another, smaller bluebird, flew toward it, their beaks nearly touching, as if to kiss.

  Rad was spent, wearily sated in body and mind, but his cock twitched at the sight of her.

  She picked up the other towel from the toilet and handed it to him. “Wanna go to bed?”

  He owed her a spectacular orgasm, and he was not a man who welched.

  ~oOo~

  Her bedroom, no surprise, suited the rest of her house. These walls were white, and adorned with interesting art. On the space over the low headboard of her bed hung a wide, narrow framed photo of a longhorn steer, facing forward, a piece Rad found charming in its stark reality. In the corner by the window were several potted plants, on stands or hanging from the ceiling in hemp hangers.

  The rosy glow he’d noticed earlier came from the lamp at the side of her bed. A patterned red scarf had been arranged over the shade.


  Her bedding was white, with the kind of old-fashioned spread his mother and grandmother had favored—chenille, he thought it was called. Her bed was a little rumpled, the cover turned down, and it occurred to him, for the first time, that Willa had been wearing different clothes—jeans and a button-down shirt—when he’d picked her up to take her to the clubhouse. Had she been in bed already when he’d called from Terry’s?

  Watching her now, as she pulled the towel from around her body and ruffled it through her wet hair, Rad decided that what she had been doing earlier, away from him, was irrelevant. What she was doing now, with him, was all that mattered. He dropped his towel and went to her.

  With a playful smile, she dodged his hands and got onto her bed, tossing her towel to the floor. Rad saw her take care with her sore leg, but he had decided to let her make the decisions about what her injury could and could not tolerate.

  She arranged herself on top of the covers, in the middle of the bed, on her back, propped up with the pillows. She spread her legs, showing him her tight pink pussy and her tidy wedge of dark gold hair. And she smiled.

  He needed no clearer invitation than that.

  He climbed onto her bed from the foot and lay prone between her legs, taking special care with her right. Sliding his hands under her sweet, perfect ass, he lifted her hips off the bed and tasted her, taking her clit into his mouth immediately.

  She moaned lustily, and he felt the muscles of her ass turn to stone in his hands. He drew his tongue through her folds, and she cried out and grabbed hold of his hair with both hands.

  “You taste like honey,” he murmured against her thigh. “I am gonna eat you out until you can’t move, and then I’m gonna turn you on your side and tuck in behind you. I’m gonna get so deep inside you, you’ll still be comin’ tomorrow night.”

  “Oh fuck, Rad…” she gasped.

  He chuckled and proceeded to make good on his promise.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Willa threw her hands up and clutched the top of her headboard, trying to find purchase on reality—but she’d lost reality the day before, standing on the highway beside her downed bike. Whatever this life was now, since then, it was new and couldn’t possibly be real. Too much insanity had happened in too short a time for it to be real.

  Rad’s face was buried between her legs, his tongue lapping deep, his teeth nipping at her folds, at her clit, his beard strafing the tender skin everywhere. He’d lifted her ass off the bed, and his fingers dug into each cheek.

  He growled and grunted like a starving man at his first meal in weeks, and Willa couldn’t focus on anything but that. Every single thought, every single sensation began and ended at her pussy. All around her swirled down to that point. Even the walls seemed to fade into mist.

  Vaguely, from a great distance, she could feel the ache in her knee and knew she was digging her heels into the bed, raising her body up even higher than Rad’s hands had, trying to get him closer than he already was, needing even more pressure, even more of everything about him.

  He changed his grip on her ass and brought one hand between her legs, sinking his fingers into her and pumping them. She felt them flex and scissor inside her, finding the most intense points in her whole body, and when she responded, he went at her hard, driving her almost to pain and keeping her at that point, the farthest limit of pleasure, the pinpoint of critical ecstasy.

  He hadn’t exaggerated—he was rough—but there was so much focus and devotion in his attention, it felt so much like he was consumed by his need for her just as he was consuming her, that the rough was tender, too. Oh God, she never wanted this to end. At the same time, she needed to come. She chased it, strove for it, craved it.

  She twisted his hair in her fingers, and he shook his head sharply, sucking on her clit. Willa nearly screamed as that lightning bolt of pleasure shot through her body. She was so close—fuck, she was close.

  The room was full of grunts and whines and pleas, and Willa had the foggy understanding that she was making most of them. Rad was simply growling into her flesh, the vibrations of the sound rolling from his tongue to her skin and making her writhe.

  And then she was there, and fuck oh fuck it felt so good! Heat surged through her veins, and she lost control of her body, of any awareness but his mouth and hands on her. She held him to her and tried to move within his iron grip. Fuck, fuck, fuck, “Fuck yeah! Fuck! God!”

  A loud, long growl that wasn’t Rad’s broke into the moment just as she peaked, and they both went instantly still. With the tremors of her climax still twitching through her muscles, Willa opened her eyes and focused on the point from which the sound had come. The world thudded into place.

  Ollie stood in the doorway, his hackles up, his muzzle drawn up in a fearsome snarl. His head was low, and his eyes were locked on Rad’s body. He was ready to charge.

  He might well kill Rad if he charged. That he was giving him this moment of warning was a lucky break—Ollie must have decided that Rad was one of his people. But he didn’t like what he was doing to her.

  Willa had never had a man in this bedroom. She’d dated a few guys in Tulsa, and she’d gotten far enough in with one to have had sex a few times, but not here. They’d dated for three months, but she hadn’t felt close enough to him to let him into her home. So Ollie couldn’t understand what was happening now.

  “Ollie, easy,” Willa gasped, rising up on her elbows. “Easy, boy. It’s okay.”

  That thunderous growl stopped, but Ollie didn’t move. He was too activated to respond to the casual command. He needed something specific.

  Rad was frozen between her legs, his eyes wide, his beard wet, his face flushed.

  Willa stretched her arm out and snapped her fingers at the side of the bed. “Ollie, release. Release.”

  The dog came into a more relaxed standing position, and his snout softened. After one last beat of indecision, he came to the side of the bed, keeping his eyes on Rad. He licked Willa’s hand.

  “Good boy, Olliegollie. Good boy. Everything’s okay.” She scratched behind his jaw, and he leaned into it, fully at ease now. His tail wagged.

  She felt Rad take a breath and let it out. “Jesus fuck,” he muttered.

  “Put your hand out toward him,” she said. “Let him smell you. He needs to know that all this is normal with us.”

  Rad did as she’d said. Ollie sniffed suspiciously at him.

  “Hey, buddy. We still friends?”

  After a thorough sniff and another glance at Willa to be sure, Ollie licked Rad’s hand.

  “Thanks, boy.” Rad’s voice was calmer and more normal now. “I won’t ever hurt your mom, I swear. You and me, we’re a team now.”

  Willa watched Rad as he and Ollie found their level again. He was alert but calm. He hadn’t lost his shit when the big pit bull went into attack mode. He’d done everything exactly right—and he wasn’t freaked out now. He understood.

  Rad and Ollie. She had two guardians now.

  Rad shifted his attention back to her. Still stretched out between her legs, he grinned. “That was somethin’ else.”

  She combed her fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. Might be twisted to say, but that was kinda hot.”

  “What? How?”

  He moved to her side, pulling himself up even with her body, looming over her, propped on his elbow. “The way that dog loves you…it’s intense. Makes me want you even more.”

  She smiled and brushed her hand over his bearded cheek. “I know what you mean. You won him over fast, and it made me like you even more. I like the thought that you’re a team.”

  “Yep. Ollie and me, we got your back.”

  Ollie sighed as if he was fed up with their sappiness. He left the bedside and curled up on his own bed in the corner, setting his head on his forepaws and staring at the bed.

  He was going to watch them, which was weird.

  “I’ll put him out of the room.” She started
to sit all the way up, but Rad wouldn’t let her go.

  “I don’t mind him watchin’, long as he’s not gonna make a meal outta my ass. Besides, I don’t want him feelin’ like he got pushed out.”

  “You don’t think it’s weird?”

  He shrugged. “Not the first time I had an audience, baby. And I ain’t talkin’ about dogs.”

  “No? Are you into that?” That was interesting. Willa wasn’t into public sex—she didn’t think—but the thought of Rad being watched was surprisingly hot.

  He shifted, looming closer, tightening his hold on her with one arm. His other hand brushed over her face, down her throat, her chest, until he had her breast in his cupped palm. “No more talk, Willa. No more talk.”