by Jenika Snow
For the first time in her life, she wanted to be with a man. She wanted to feel what it was like to be touched by one, held by one… stroked from the inside out by one. She wanted to give herself to Scars in every way imaginable. She’d never had sex, was so inexperienced in anything remotely romantic or sexual, but right now, she was burning alive and didn’t even care about any of that.
She. Just. Wanted. Him.
He was just so big that his entire body took up her all of my eyesight. And with the slow, steady pump of music all around her, the scent of him filling her lungs, and the masculine sexuality he threw off, Hannah couldn’t slow the arousal train as it moved through her veins.
“Scars.” She breathed his name out and watched as he flared his nostrils, as if scenting her, taking in her arousal… knowing she was wet for him.
13
Before Hannah could tell him to kiss her, to touch her, make her feel things she’d only ever fantasized about, he had his hand moving over her neck and sliding to her nape. He gripped her gently but firmly and pulled her forward until her body was now deliciously pressed against his. With her breasts to his hard chest and her head tilted back so she could look into his face, Hannah got lost in his eyes. She felt drunk.
The air left her lungs so forcefully that she felt dizzy for a moment, or maybe it was the lust beating in every corner of her body.
She knew he could see the need clearly on her face. It felt like her body would combust, implode if he didn’t touch her, didn't let her feel that fire she housed on the inside and let it wash over her on the outside.
“When I look at you…” he paused, closed his eyes for a second, and exhaled roughly. When he opened his eyes, he almost seemed pained. “When I look at you, it hurts something fierce, Hannah.”
Her breath caught. “Is that bad?” Please don’t let it be bad.
He shook his head slowly. “No,” Scars said softly. “God no, sweet girl.” He lifted his hand and ran his finger along her cheek, and she closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. “You’re so innocent, so vulnerable. I just want to keep you close and protect you. I want to make sure no one gets close enough to hurt you.”
She slowly opened her eyes and blinked up at him. “I want that too. I want you close too.” She shouldn’t have said that, but she held strong, letting those words hang between them.
The low, deep-rooted sound that came from him showed Hannah that his arousal was just as strong as hers. It was like she stared into a mirror, the desire so thick it drowned them both.
“We have all the time in the world,” he murmured as he stared at her lips.
“I know. But I want that time to be now.”
With a harsh groan ripping from him, he lowered his face toward hers, his lips now so close she felt his breath moving along her lips.
“This all right? This is slow enough?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “But I don’t want slow. I’ve had slow my whole life, it seems. I just want you and how you make me feel.”
“Hannah.” The way he said it sounded gravelly and harsh, as if it was painful for him to say, and with one more growl, Scars crashed his lips against hers and made her forget about everything but this one moment.
There was something primal and possessive about the way Scars held her, kissed her, made her take his lips as if he would die without it.
He pulled back, and she found herself groaning. He had his body pressed against hers, but his lower half wasn’t quite touching hers. And God, she wanted that. She wanted to feel him against her, to see what she actually did to him.
To see if he was just as worked up as she was.
“Press yourself against me, Scars,” she whispered, and he closed his eyes and groaned.
“I can’t,” he gritted out before opening his eyes and staring into hers. There was fire behind the depths, flames that burned brightly for her. Because of her.
“Why not?” she whispered, her heart racing, pounding in her ears.
“Because then you’ll feel what you do to me in all its filthy, obscene fucking glory.” His voice was no more than a guttural whisper.
“Maybe I want that.” She knew she was playing with fire, but she’d never wanted to be burned alive more than she did right now with Scars.
He still had yet to move, and she wondered if he’d deny her this, but then he pressed his lower half against her, right between her thighs, and no amount of clothing, no barrier, could prepare her for what she felt.
The massive steel rod between his legs grinding against her sensitive, wet pussy.
A gasp of shock and pleasure spilled from her lips. He was huge, the length, the girth... enough to have her unrealistically wonder if he’d fit inside her.
His mouth was right back on hers, and she melted against him, let him lead… let him take her away.
14
Christ. She feels perfect in my arms, against me, her body so giving. She’s mine.
Scars was lost in everything that had to do with Hannah.
He should have stopped this, taken his time, but something in him had been unleashed. Her mouth was hot and sweeter than anything he'd ever tasted, and he couldn’t get enough.
I’ll never get enough.
He swept his tongue into the wet cavern of her mouth and stroked it along hers, eliciting a moan from her, needing to hear that sound again. He wanted it echoing in his ears as he was on top of her, his body blanketing hers, his cock seated deep in her tight little pussy.
I should go slow, he thought, but a beast had been awoken in him.
She gasped when he slid his hands over her back, his palms curving over the slight slope of her ass. He brought her closer to his erection, grinding the massive fucker against her. His cock jerked at the feel of her softness, at how she molded perfectly to him, as if Hannah was made solely for him.
Touch me, he thought, needing it like he needed food in his belly to survive, like he needed air in his lungs, blood in his veins.
Like he needed Hannah in his life.
He groaned, “Hannah.” And when she lifted her hands and smoothed them up his chest and around his neck, having to rise on her toes because she was so much smaller than him, a harsh groan was once against ripped from him.
She was as close to him as two people could get, yet it wasn’t enough. It will never be enough.
Scars didn’t know what he was doing until he realized he was leading them out of the garage. He lifted her easily, knowing that if this was going to happen, it wouldn’t be in the filthy fucking shed with the scent of grease clinging to the air. He wanted her in his bed, surrounded by his things, covered by his scent and body.
She had her arms wound around his neck, her legs around his waist. She weighed nothing at all, a feather in his arms. He was in the cabin and striding to the bedroom while he took her mouth fiercely, licked and sucked at her, just let this raging inferno consume both of them.
Tightening his hold on her once in the room, he shifted and heard her moan. He set her on the dresser, the closest thing he could use so he could cup her face, tilt her head even more, and kiss her more thoroughly. Her legs opened a little more, and he fit himself between them, feeling the heat of her pussy, pushing his stiff cock against her softness. Clothes separated them, but he swore he could feel her wetness, knew she was primed and eager.
Grinding himself into her over and over again, Scars grunted and tried to slow down, not just for her but himself as well. He didn’t want to be too rough, too raw with her. She deserved sweet and gentle.
He broke the kiss and sucked in a ragged breath, trailing his lips down her jaw, over her neck. She let her head fall back, giving him access to her throat, letting him lick and suck, making her feel good.
“Do you really want this?” he asked again between kissing and sucking, licking and feeling her tremble in his arms. Scars needed to be sure. He wanted her completely willing, 100 percent ready for him and what that entailed. “Because once we start, I won’t st
op.” He pulled back. “I won’t stop until you know without a shadow of a doubt that you're mine.” He knew this could scare her off, ruin everything, and have her leaving. But Scars was willing to take that risk. She had to see this wasn’t just a one-off for him, a one-night stand that meant nothing.
It means everything.
She stared into his eyes and nodded slowly.
“No, tell me, Hannah. Let me hear the words come from those pretty lips of yours.”
“I’ve never wanted anything more than I want you, Scars. I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you, Mickey.”
He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers, breathing roughly. No one called him by his given name anymore. He was always Scars, President of the Vicious Bastards MC. And he’d been good with that. He liked it that way. But hearing Hannah call him Mickey did something funny in his chest. It made him want to be the man she deserved.
It made him want to be her everything.
“You're mine,” he growled and kissed and nipped along her jaw. “All mine. No one else will have you.” She tightened her hands around his neck and brought her body flush with his.
“I don’t want anyone else.”
A gasp left her when he ran his tongue along her throat. “I need you so fucking badly, Hannah. So much I ache deep inside, a place no one has ever touched.”
“God,” she moaned. “Same. I feel the same.”
He had his hands on her waist and pulled her to the edge of the dresser then ground himself against her again. Her nails dug into the back of his neck, and he hissed in pleasure from the sting of pain.
Scars continued to run his tongue the rest of the way up her neck and to her mouth. He let his hands slide over her waist to the front of her jeans. He gave her a minute to stop him, but she didn’t. In fact, she lifted her hips closer. A growl left him as he flicked her button undone, smoothing his fingertips along the smooth, warm strip of flesh that he felt.
Gripping the edge of her jeans, he started pulling them down her legs, wanting to feel her… taste her. Scars needed to get her ready, wanted her so soaking wet for him that her cream slipped down her inner thighs. Then he’d lap it up, swallow it, beg for more.
“God, Scars,” she breathed out. “I’ve never felt this way before.” She murmured it against his lips, and he felt her hands reach between their bodies, felt her tug at his jeans.
“Please,” she begged.
“You don't ever have to ask, Hannah. Everything I am, everything I have is yours.”
She popped the button of his jeans free, but he felt wild and frantic, gently moved her hands out of the way, and did it himself. He shoved the denim down, taking his boxer briefs with them so the material now hung off his thighs. And when he pulled back, stared into her eyes that matched his own heavy-lidded, arousal-crazed ones, he knew she needed to be good and primed for what he planned on doing to her.
He dropped to his haunches between her spread legs, had his hands on her inner thighs, and pushed them open a little more. The little white panties that covered the most intimate part of her blocked his view of what he craved so fucking much his mouth watered for a taste.
He could see the center of the fabric was soaked, her arousal going clean through those feminine underwear. The smell of her wetness filled his nose, and he closed his eyes and made a deep noise that came from the center of his chest. His cock was solid, rock-hard, precum a steady drip from the tip. He opened his eyes and reached out, his hand shaking slightly as he trailed a finger along the edge of her panties, right where they were tucked against her pussy, and then he gently pulled the material aside.
He’d never felt more… starved.
15
Scars was thirsty, and he knew Hannah was the only thing that could ever sate that thirst.
Hannah was so pink, so wet, her pussy tiny, her clit engorged because of how much she wanted him. Sliding his fingers through her slit, Scars felt the silkiness of her, never in his life experiencing anything like this before. He gathered her cream and brought his fingers to his mouth, lifting his gaze and staring into her face. He wanted her to watch, to see this.
And when he brought those saturated digits to his mouth, her throat worked as she swallowed. He sucked them into his mouth, licking them clean, her flavor instantly his addiction. He hummed, growled, grunted in desire. Her eyes widened, her lips parting. “Never tasted anything as sweet,” he murmured. As much as he wanted to keep tasting her, to run his tongue along that slit his fingers had just been touching, he wanted her mouth.
He rose, gripped her chin with his thumb and forefinger, and slammed his mouth against hers. Scars thrust his tongue between her lips, making her taste herself on him.
His control was damn near gone as he reached down, gripped her panties, and pulled those fuckers right off. The sound of fabric rendering filled his head and made him even more frantic for her.
“Oh.” That lone word came out as a moan. Her head fell back, and her eyes slid shut when his fingers found her pussy again.
Scars slid his middle finger along her slit, up and down, slow and easy. He kept his focus on her face, gauging her reactions, making sure she liked it. And then he teased her pussy hole before gently dipping it inside. Her lips parted, and she breathed out.
“That good, Hannah?”
She nodded but didn’t open her eyes. He shifted his hand so he could place his thumb at her clit and still have his finger inside of her. Then he started rubbing the little bud back and forth, slow and easy.
Her pussy clenched around the digit, and he gritted his teeth. “Fuck, you’re tight.” He had his mouth back on her neck and dragged his teeth down her throat to where it met with her shoulder. Gently biting her soft, smooth skin, Scars started to pump his finger in and out of her, loving how her snug pussy gripped his digit, sucking it back in.
“Scars,” she gasped, her eyes squeezed tight, her cheeks pink.
“It still feel good?”
She nodded. “God, yes.”
He hummed in approval.
“Yes.” Gasping for air, she lifted her head and opened her eyes.
“Touch me,” he groaned, and she speared her hand in his hair, tugging at the strands. He kept working his finger in and out of her, his thumb pressing tight circles on her clit. He kissed her, devoured her mouth, sliding his tongue against hers, tasting her, making her taste him.
He pulled at her bottom lip gently, tugged at the flesh, then smoothed the sting away with his tongue. He pulled his fingers from her, licked at her pussy cream that coated the digits, and groaned at how sweet she was.
Breaking the kiss was hard as hell to do. But he wanted to taste all of her.
Dropping onto his haunches, once again, Scars let his hands slide up her inner thighs until his thumbs brushed against her smooth skin, close to her pussy, to the sweet spot he was going to devour. Gently, taking his time, he spread her open and saw the darker pink of her inner lips.
Oh. God. She’s… perfect.
There was no control in him now, no self-restraint. He latched his mouth onto that perfection and started dragging his tongue through her folds, up and down her slit, circling the little bud at the top that was swollen and begging for attention.
Scars couldn't stop the groan that came from him, and she gasped from the deep vibrations that centered right on her clit from the noise. She was sweet, so damn sweet his teeth ached and he hungered for more. He ate her out until she pushed her pussy against his mouth, seeking more, begging for it with breathy little cries above him.
“Come for me, baby,” he murmured against her soaked flesh and sucked her clit into his mouth, drawing on it gently, feeling her body tighten further.
Her hands in his hair tugged at the strands, pulling him closer as she came undone, as she let him eat her out, devour her, taste the essence that spilled from her.
Scars was drowning. He couldn’t take it anymore. He needed to be inside her, to claim her, mark her, make her kno
w without a fucking doubt that she. Was. His.
He stood and lifted her off the dresser, carrying her over to the bed, and gently laid her in the center. Then he just stared at her, looked his fill, felt his cock thicken impossibly more. Gripping his length, he stroked himself from root to tip, the pre-cum at the crown aiding his motions, making his dick slick.
“You’re so… big,” she breathed out that last word. “So big. Too big.” She stared at his erection, and he clenched his teeth as he could have gotten off from her words alone.
“It’ll fit,” he found himself saying. “You were made for me.”
And as she slowly spread her legs, letting him see the point that had his cock aching and his balls drawing up tightly, all he could think about was marking her with his cum, filling her up with his seed. He wanted her to smell like him, to have it slipping from her pussy and soaking the sheets beneath her. And he pictured himself sliding his hand between those pretty thighs and pushing it back in, needing it right there, inside her.
He got onto the bed and moved between her thighs, placed the tip at her entrance, then looked into her eyes. “You ready for me?”
She licked her lips and nodded slowly. “More than ready.”
He groaned and started pushing inside, the resistance he felt surprising, intoxicating… addicting.
God, she’s so. Fucking. Tight.
He tensed as he worked himself inside. She was tight, so fucking tight and hot, soaking for him. God, had he ever felt anything encompass him like this before? Never. Fucking never.
Her pussy clamped down on him like a damn vice, and he gritted his teeth, trying to control himself, to go easy, be slow and gentle.
She gasped, her eyes widening, and he slowed, inched his way as gently as he could. He was a big man, his cock thick and long. She was small, her body tiny compared to his. He had to go slow, go easy.
And once he was fully buried in her, he stilled and groaned. “Say my name, baby.” He stared into her eyes.