Raw: Street Demons MC

by Ada Stone

  I could feel her heat and remembered that she was wearing a bathrobe. She’d just gotten out of the shower, and with glee and aching arousal alike, I realized she was already naked beneath that stretch of fabric.

  Using leverage and her legs gripping her to me to hold her up, I allowed one hand to move from her round ass to her front. I let my hand slip down between us and when I found that she was already hot and wet with need, I grinned at her, my eyes flashing dangerously.

  Her breath caught and she licked those lips again.

  I growled at her for it, leaning forward to bite at her lower lip. Between her legs, I let my fingers wander. They felt along her moist folds, teased the area around that sweet little nub that I knew would shove her up over the edge and into oblivion. She groaned and pleaded and whimpered, all but begging me for more. Gone was the woman who had tried to get me to go. Gone was the woman who had told me that I shouldn’t be here.

  Gone was the woman who belonged to Sal Davis. This woman was all mine.

  “Oh god, please, Nick,” she begged me, her eyes half-lidded and her breathing coming in quick, sharp gasps that made her heaving breasts look delicious and enticing.

  I did as she requested and let two of my thick fingers plunge into her core. She cried out, throwing her head back until it cracked loudly against the wall—she didn’t seem to care and neither did I.

  “Fuck, Zo,” I ground out as I felt how incredibly tight she was. How could she be this tight? It was almost like she was a damn virgin, like she hadn’t had sex in years. Whatever she was doing, she needed to keep doing it, because I suddenly realized I was going to have to stretch her out before I stuck my dick inside her again.

  And as her slick wetness slipped down my fingers and my hand, I knew that I would shove it into her again. I was just going to have to be a little more cautious about it than I really thought.

  Refocusing on the here and now—as well as what I was trying to accomplish so that I didn’t do anything stupid like fuck her right there against the wall—I continued to work my fingers into her warm body. She continued to beg me, crying out in need and desire, calling out my name like it belonged to a deity, the only deity that could bring her peace and power alike.

  I worked her up into a frenzy, all the while driving myself insane. I was so hard in my pants that I wanted to drop everything and just slide inside of her, but I had to hold out. There was more to this now than just fucking and I needed her to be mine.

  As I worked her with my fingers, my mouth found every exposed piece of skin it could reach. I dragged my tongue along her and bit at her shoulders. Then I kissed at that same skin to soothe the burn I’d caused. She clutched at me and tried to buck, continued to beg until I thought she’d lose her voice.

  And then, when I thought I couldn’t take it anymore, I moved my thumb up until I found that little numb and rubbed it.

  “Nick!” she screamed, and I pushed her over the edge, her body clenching and pulsing around me, her sweet release coating my hand and dripping onto the floor beneath us.

  She became limp, like nothing more than jelly in my hands, and I had to gather her up just so she didn’t fall. She let me carry her in my arms, and when I laid her out on the couch, noticing the way her robe fell open to reveal so much smooth, creamy skin, I saw her smile at me.

  I almost lost my mind, wishing that I could take care of my own needs, too, but my needs ran deeper than sex now. Much deeper.

  I winked at her and almost turned to go when her hand jerked out and grabbed mine. Surprised, I turned to look at her. Her eyes were hooded, and her smile was all contentment, but she was sweet as she said, “Can I…take care of you?”

  The raging boner in my pants wanted to let her. The anger in my chest wanted to tell her that I’d just used her. But there was another part of me, too, that felt just the tiniest twinge of guilt. I was using her, manipulating her to get what I wanted, and here she was wanting to take care of me.

  I almost had the good grace to be disgusted with myself, but then I remembered the rock on her finger and how she was going to marry Sal Davis.

  No, I wouldn’t feel guilty over this. Not at all.

  Forcing a smile, I shook my head. It took everything I had to be tender, but I made my voice that way as I said, “Not this time, hon. I wanted this to be about you.”

  And then I left her, because I could tell she was a puddle of mush both from the orgasm and from my words.

  I’d get what I wanted from her and I’d get my revenge on Sal Davis. There was no question about that.

  Chapter Seven

  The next day, I went back to Zoe. I brought her flowers and I made nice, watching with keen, shrewd eyes how she blushed at my attention and her lips pulled into a hesitant, but sweet smile. She tried again to tell me how I couldn’t be there, but she didn’t stop me when I brushed past her into the house. She didn’t stop me when I put the flowers in water and set them in the center of the kitchen counter. She didn’t stop me when I cupped her cheek with my hand, nor when I let that hand trail lower down over her jaw and neck and collarbone.

  She didn’t stop me because I knew that whatever she said or thought, she still wanted me. And I would take full advantage of that fact.

  “We shouldn’t be doing this, Nick,” she whispered to me, breathless as I trailed my hand down over her breast and lower along her ribs and stomach, finally stopping on her hips where her jeans hung low.

  A spark of irritation swept through me. I tried to keep it back, but she must have seen it, because her expression crumpled slightly and she turned away.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, but I wasn’t even sure what exactly she was sorry for. Wanting to fuck me? Or actually fucking Sal?

  Deciding to run with the irritation, that genuine feelings were more likely to sway her, I asked in a barely controlled voice, “What is it that you could see in a man like Sal?”

  She hesitated, almost like she was racking her brain in search of an honest, but valid answer. Like maybe she didn’t know what she saw in him. It made me frown, because I could understand if she was in it for the money or if some lingering naïve part of her was convinced he truly was a good man. But this? If she didn’t know what it was she saw in him, then what the hell happened?

  Shoving that question aside, I focused on my goal at hand. I needed dirt on Sal, and Zoe was my best shot at giving it.

  And if I maybe got her riled up again, well, I could think of a few things we could do that would make us both pretty fucking happy.

  Swallowing, Zoe finally said, “He’s a…difficult man, I know, but he’s done right by me and kept his word.” Her mouth snapped shut, like she had just told me too much, but I couldn’t figure out what was in her statement that would give me anything about Sal.

  “Are you crazy?” I asked through gritted teeth, then shut my eyes and tried to slow my breathing. Getting angry with her wouldn’t help. Not in the slightest. When I opened them again, she wasn’t looking at me. “You said you didn’t want a criminal,” I reminded her gently, hoping to get her talking about what it was Sal did for a living—I knew, but maybe there was something I was missing.

  She clenched her eyes shut at my words, looking guilty, maybe about what she’d said to me.

  Good, I thought, feeling some smidgen of satisfaction at the idea that she was upset over how she had treated me. She deserved that much at the very least.

  When she opened them again, she told me, “Sal isn’t a criminal.” She sounded only half convinced, but pressed on before I could call her on it. “He’s a businessman. And a philanthropist.”

  I couldn’t help but snort at that. Philanthropist? Sure, and I played for the New York Yankees in my free time. “Right,” was all I said out loud in response.

  Her cheeks reddened, and I saw her eyes flash. But the flash died quickly and her shoulders slumped as she sighed. Shaking her head, she said, “Really, he tries.” Now she didn’t even sound half convinced. “He invests in
a lot of construction that would never get done without him. Buildings that are anything from low-income housing to daycare centers.” She hesitated, looking and sounding uncertain or even a little sick at her own words, like she’d just tasted something sour.

  I sensed it more than anything else. There was something there, something that she didn’t agree with.

  “No hospitals?” I joked.

  She sent me a look, then said, “Not yet. That’s the new one, though, I think. It’s costing him a fortune, you know. And after the last collapse, well, you’d think he’d get out of the construction building.”

  I froze, doing my best to hide my sudden interest in her words. My face remained blank—I hoped—but inside, my mind was buzzing with activity. First, there was no way that Sal was a philanthropist. If he was doing something charitable, then he was getting something back for it, too. But what? Like Zoe said, it was costing him a fortune to invest in these buildings. What was the return for him?

  “Guess he’s not a very good businessman,” I told her instead of voicing my real thoughts. I couldn’t let her know what I was doing.

  Zoe folded her arms across her chest, pushing her large tits together and making my mind wander to other things. After last night, I’d ached with need. I had gone home—which was still temporarily Jordan’s couch—and jerked myself off to the memory of how I’d fondled Zoe until she came. When my own release came, it was a relief, but it didn’t get rid of the need that had been in me for years now.

  I hadn’t wanted to simply jump into the bed with Zoe, knowing that she would immediately write that off as me being horny after so many years in prison—which wasn’t wrong, necessarily—and never let me back in, if only because she would have been still suspicious of my motives. By pushing her over the edge instead and letting my own needs go unsated, I gave her the impression that what I wanted was more.

  I do want more, I thought as I eyed her voluptuous body. I just couldn’t let her know what that really was.

  “What are you even doing, Nick?” Zoe asked finally when I’d stared at her too long, thinking of things that I shouldn’t have been thinking of.

  I swallowed and thought fast. If Zoe realized I was leading her to water, pumping her for information about Sal rather than being here for the sake of affection and desire, I wouldn’t get much more. In fact, I’d probably get a slap in the face and a boot in my rear as I sailed out the door.

  Taking a step closer, I decided to be bold. “I’m trying to figure out what happened. I’m trying to figure out how it is that I lost everything that mattered to me.” Everything I loved, I thought, but couldn’t quite say the words. I’d told Zoe I loved her a thousand times before, but I couldn’t say it now, again, after all these years and the worst betrayal I could have imagined.

  Part of that was because I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction.

  Part of that was because I couldn’t afford to reopen that bleeding, heartsick wound.

  Zoe clenched her eyes shut tightly, looking as though she were on the very verge of tears. But she sucked in a harsh, dragging breath and shook her head. “It’s complicated, Nick. You must know that.”

  Anger bubbled inside of me. Complicated? What was complicated? She left me for Sal, my greatest rival, and did it under the pretense of not wanting to date a criminal.

  If that wasn’t ironic, I didn’t know what was.

  Forcibly, I shoved down that anger. I couldn’t afford to lose what little ground I’d gained. There was still so much more information to get and Zoe was the best place to make a play for it. Still, it was difficult to focus on the betrayal, but not how it hurt.

  Stepping closer again until we were nearly chest to chest, her shirt just barely grazing mine, I looked down into her big, doe eyes. They were filled with something that might have been regret, might have been desire, and might have been something else entirely, but I didn’t care to decipher it.

  I had a damn job to do now.

  My hand reached out for her, caressing the soft skin of her cheek delicately, gently. Her eyelids fluttered, her lashes long and thick like her hair. Her lips parted and she let out a tiny sigh, like she’d been waiting for me to do that.

  “There’s still something here, isn’t there?” I asked her, keeping my voice quiet, because I was afraid that if I put any sort of power into the words I’d lose myself to grief and anger. I didn’t want to be honest with myself, but being this near to Zoe tore me up a little bit inside. I’d dreamed about this moment in jail, how I’d come back to her home and throw open the door. How I’d make her see reason—or passion, at least—and I’d win her back, even though her words had stung me worse than anything else ever had in my life. What I did after was whatever, but getting her back had been some sort of lingering idea in my head, even if the rest of me was sold on revenge.

  Zoe pulled her lower lip between her teeth, worrying it until it looked red and swollen. Kissable. Delicious. A little breathless, she told me in a soft voice, “It doesn’t matter if there is, Nick. You can’t be here.”

  My body tensed at the rejection, but I reminded myself that it didn’t matter. I wasn’t here to actually get her back; I was here to use her. In whatever ways I thought necessary or useful. Forcing myself to relax, I let my hand slip down from her cheek to her neck and around to the back. I massaged it a little, then used it as leverage to jerk her forward. Only moderately surprised, she collided with me, her hands going out automatically to support her. They landed on my chest as her breasts crashed into me.

  Instantly I was hard. I wanted to take her here in the kitchen, right now, but I did my best to focus.

  “How can it not matter?” I ground out, my other hand finding the small of her back and going lower still so that I could get a handful of her perky, full ass.

  She let out a tiny moan when I gave her a squeeze; I knew I was winning.

  Her hands fisted into my shirt, torn between shoving me away from her and pulling me closer. I could see it in the way her lips were parted and feel it in the flushed heat of her skin that she wanted me, wanted to kiss me and do other, dirtier things with me.

  I leaned forward until my mouth was a hairsbreadth away from hers. “If you really don’t want me here, if you don’t want me, then tell me to go right here and now,” I told her in a deep, gruff voice that was full of the desire that ached beneath my belt. “I’ll do it. I’ll leave you here heaving and breathless. But if you want me…” I let my voice trail off.

  I didn’t close the distance between our mouths, though it would have been easy. Instead, I waited, so close to her lips that I could feel the searing heat of her skin.

  Her eyes fluttered, and for a moment I thought she was going to do it. I thought she was going to tell me to go, to get the hell out of here and never come back, and I wondered what I would do then, but then her eyes closed the rest of the way and her hands released my shirt. They moved upwards, tangled into my hair and then she smashed out faces together. Her lips sealed themselves against mine viciously, desperately.

  She didn’t complain when I grabbed a fistful of her hair and tugged on it harshly. Nor did she mind when I squeezed her ass, jerking it into me until our crotches ground against one another. And she didn’t protest when my tongue glided along her full lips, niggling at them to part. In fact, she acquiesced. Her lips opened and I deepened the kiss, exploring her warm mouth. She moaned into me, her body trembling beneath my touch and I knew I had her.

  Maybe she had me a little bit, too.

  I lost myself in that kiss. Her nails raked along my scalp and her hips moved against me all of their own. She rubbed herself along my length, dry humping me until I was groaning into her mouth and my hand was sliding into the waistband of her jeans and panties to grip her bare ass beneath.

  Her flesh was warm and soft, her ass firm, but pliant as I massaged it in my large hand. My cock ached until I felt close to bursting with need for her body, and it tortured me to think that maybe I shouldn�
��t give in to that.

  I was confident that she would let me. I’d slide her jeans off and maybe just tear off her panties. She liked stuff like that, just like she enjoyed it when I held her hands over her head firmly so that she couldn’t get away from me.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” she asked me, her voice breathless and laced with pure, unadulterated lust.

  I had grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head. We were in her bedroom, her roommates gone for the evening, and somehow I’d gotten her to the bed. It had started with some tickling and when she was laughing so hard that there were tears in her eyes, I’d taken my shot. A quick shove of her shoulders had sent her spiraling back onto her bed, her legs falling apart of their own accord, her hair spilling across the bed, her huge tits bouncing from the impact.

  She laughed at me a little then, but it was nervous and a little uncertain. She told me I was being silly, but I could tell there was no conviction in her voice. I crawled on top of her then and before she thought to protest, I had her wrists. Leaning over her, my legs on either side of her hips, my cock harder than I thought it had ever been before, I knew I had to have her.