BILLIONAIRE BIKERS: 3 MC Romance Books (27 page)

"Full disclosure, Nance," he murmurs. "I knew all along I had the only towel."

"First of all, don't call me 'Nance'," I pant into the increasingly tense darkness. "And second of all, eff you."

"It's okay to say the word, 'fuck'," Lesher whispers as he presses closer. "Wanna say it with me?"

"You are really the absolute worst at trying to seduce people," I lie through my teeth. It occurs to me that I should be struggling to once more reclaim my freedom, but how far is that likely to get me?

"Doesn't appear that way from where I'm sitting. Or rather, lying," he remarks as his arms flex, deepening his embrace. "But we can do it sitting, if you want. I seem to remember you liking that."

"I seem to remember someone getting kicked in the face for their efforts," I mutter as I attempt to press the flat of my hands on either side of his toned chest. I'm certain the introduction of a little space between us would allow me to think much clearer, but when I push, I hardly budge. Laying my hands on him only increases my awareness of just how hard the body beneath me is; he feels like he's been sculpted out of pure marble, and shaped like an ancient statue to most resemble the idealized male form.

I move against him and try and crane my neck to take in his expression, but my efforts are thwarted when Lesher settles his face in the hollow of my neck. The movement of his lips, articulating words against my skin on each outgoing gust of breath, sends pleasurable chills racing up and down through me. "Don't make me go through all the effort of stealing you and let me see you with some small-timer like Wolf," he says.

"You don't need to worry about Wolf. I'm not sure what 'effort' you're referring to, considering I came willingly," I reply archly.

I can hear the amusement practically dripping from his next words as he leans in closer. "There's that smart mouth I love."

And Lesher is quite eager to show me just how much he loves it. The lips that lapped the beads of water left over from the shower from my neck climb my throat; I let out a partial sigh, partial moan, as those lips finally find my own and slot themselves over me.

Lesher's kiss is more powerful than any aphrodisiac, and drug, that I have ever known—and I am not a woman who has journeyed as far as he has into the world of illicit and illegal pleasures. His tongue thrusts and works me until my own tongue can't help but follow his lead, doing exactly as he dictates, bringing him equal pleasure as soon as he teaches it what he wants.

He lets his guard down for a moment, and I flick my tongue along his lower lip, tasting the smooth, vulnerable flesh. The groan I elicit is explosive, and I feel it rumble in his rib cage. A hand sweeps across my cheekbone, pushing my damp hair from where it has plastered against the eagerly working line of my jaw.

I want him, I need him. I
need
to feel what he needs from me, what he requires. I will readily relinquish control, if only he will do the same…

But Lesher isn't ready for a compromise, not yet. He overturns, pulling me over and off of him. My bare shoulders hit the mattress; the wind isn't knocked out of me, but I feel breathless with the speed and precision of his move. He follows me down, bringing his knees to rest on either side of my flat, naked waist, the wrinkled denim of his jeans a stark contrast to my pale ivory skin. In one smooth move, he has managed to claim power over me again, asserting himself in a position of complete dominance. His hands manacle my wrists once more and pin them on either side of my head; it feels like more of a symbolic gesture, and unnecessary at this point, but it makes my heart leap with anticipation.

Down below, between my naked but tightly clenched thighs, I feel my clit twitch in anticipation. A powerful throb sweeps through me, like a ripple coming off a much larger disturbance. I have never known my body to react so strongly to another. Though he pins me beneath him at all four corners, I ache for more. I watch as he lowers himself down and straddles my waist; he settles himself astride me, never exerting his full strength, just as he never lets me feel his full weight.

The position he takes intoxicates me. I want to wriggle beneath him, to move in the hopes of causing
some
amount of friction, but any attempt I make is stifled.

I bite my lower lip in a silent plea as I search for his eyes. "Please," I whisper as I draw my teeth back. "I need you, Lesher. I need you to show me that you…"

I reach a hand up toward his face. His strong fingers catch mine, intertwining and molding themselves until he reciprocates my grip.

"Show you what?" he whispers.

My voice catches. I'm unsure of how to proceed, with
any
of this. But my heart tells me to go on.

"Show me that you have feelings for me." My eyes flicker back and forth between his, searching, as I lay our joined hands on the smooth plane of his injured cheek. Lesher doesn't so much as wince; instead, his blue eyes soften.

"Do you remember what you said to me back at the warehouse, Nancy?" he asks quietly.

Silently, I shake my head. His question confuses me—there was so
much
I said to him back at the warehouse. What could he possibly want to recall at a time like this?

Lesher leans in close, and whispers: "You said:
not here."

LESHER

Payback is something I'm in the business for this evening.

              Nancy is about to experience, in equal measure, just how much I've suffered having her near me these past few days without ever being allowed to have her.
All of her.

             
"What do you mean 'not here'?" I watch as her beautiful brows, refined shapes in the dimness of the room, draw together in puzzlement beneath me. "Are we leaving the mansion? Will the others allow you—allow us—to?"

              "Mmm. I like it when you say 'us'," I whisper as I draw myself down for another ravishing over her neck. She tastes divine after luxuriating in the shower. She has no idea what knowing she was in there had done to me, while I stayed out here quietly waiting for a second interview (and a second chance to have my way with her). Of course I heard the click as she engaged the lock; besides that, I could read her emotional signals loud and clear. Nancy was furious with me, and there's a part of me that can't blame her. As a man who despises pettiness and anything resembling childishness in fellow adults, I'm ashamed when I identify those traits in myself. It doesn't happen often; in fact, I would go so far as to say it never happens. Not usually.

              But there is nothing usual about our relationship.

If my relationship with Nancy was usual, then there certainly wouldn't have been a problem if I’d joined her in the shower. A low protest may have arisen if I began to touch her, desirously and deeply, and lavish kisses on her with my raging erection bobbing between us. I imagine that Nancy, in a 'usual' relationship, would meekly protest my advances, possibly thinking that we might be heard by those playing host to us. I would silence her worries on that front as we descended together into moaning, writhing carnality, still standing upright as the hot jet of water slathering our bodies made them slide together as one. I would thrust into her from behind until she was half-flat against the shower wall, crying out without a thought to who might hear, begging for more, harder, faster, than any lesser man has ever given it to her before...

With thoughts like these, it's no wonder I was erect as I was when a naked Nancy darted into the room. Recapturing the woman who had aroused me like this from the start was only a forgone conclusion.

But back to the more vengeful aspects of my plan.

Confusion reigned on the expression of the woman beneath me. Nancy clearly couldn't grasp what I was talking about, or how she should feel having her own words to me in the warehouse being used against her now. If I have my way in the next few minutes,
a lot
is about to be used
against
her.

              "Remember the holding cell?" I murmur. "You wouldn't let me have my way with you then. Even though we both wanted it. God, I remember just how much you wanted it." I drag my hand down and hook her between the legs. Her crossed thighs are a useless defense against any invasion I decide to mount, and I feel like expressing that to her now. Nancy gives a start, crying out as my fingers push against the wet, velvet opening that had eluded me the night before.

"Shhh." I let the command escape between my clenched teeth like steam. "Wouldn't want your new buddy Wolf to hear you, now would we? Unless you want to invite him to join in."

"No..." Nancy pants. "No. I want you, Lesher. Nobody else. There's been...nobody else that I've wanted this..."

Color far deeper and less innocent than a normal blush blooms in her face as I pet along the shallow indent of her pussy. God, she keeps herself trim in every aspect. Not even a wisp of auburn hair to catch my fingers in.

"Good." I withdraw my hand, and she treats me to a moan of dismay. Has there ever been a more desperate, heavenly sound? This is the Nancy I've wanted to get my hands on all along, but I force my hands into a retreat all the same. I know this will taste infinitely sweeter if I manage to get my way in every aspect.

She cries out in the next moment, as I loop my arms around her naked frame and hoist her out of the bed. "We're not doing this here," I repeat as I carry her to the bedroom door. "There's a better room down the hall."

"Lesher!" she hisses, but clamps her mouth down and tightens her arms around my neck as I kick the door open. Evidently she wants to draw as little attention as possible to our movements throughout the house. Unfortunately for Nancy, that idiot Wolf is never far from a nosy intervention.

"Everything all right up there?" the younger Baron calls from downstairs. Nancy buries her face in my shoulder to hide her embarrassment, but I ferry her out of view before Wolf can take it into his thick head to come and investigate for himself.

"Everything's fine," I call back. "Just taking Nancy for a tour of the house."

I grin as a muffled cry of dismay follows my explanation. I carry my naked soon-to-be conquest down to the end of the hall, far from our assigned room. "Open it," I order huskily. My arms are too full of the beautiful woman to manage much else. Nancy is quick to comply, possibly in an effort to escape the hall in her compromising position that much quicker. She grabs hold of the doorknob and twists it, shoving the door open. I carry us inside and kick it closed once more behind us.

"See now. Isn't this an improvement?"

"Over a holding cell or a forest trail?" There's that smart mouth again, only this time, Nancy's voice quivers, and only I know why.

              The room we find ourselves in is one of the master bedrooms. Admittedly, most bedrooms in the Clubhouse would qualify as being of master quality...with the exception of the one Flint evidently dropped me off in.

It seems only fitting that we should take Flint's bedroom now.

"Does...does someone already sleep in here?" Nancy queries as I carry her over to the bed. All of the lights are out, but a beautiful light filters in through the curtains that block the outside. The windows in this room are taller and more generous than the ones in ours, and there is a balcony overlooking the front gardens and fountains.

But I'm not interested in the view...at least, not the view that isn't directly in front of me. I whisk aside the black sheer canopy and deposit Nancy on the expansive mattress of the four-poster bed. The sumptuous black comforter appears to swallow her, and she looks for a moment like a mythical mermaid afloat on the deepest depths of the ocean. I push a pair of boxers out of view as I climb on top of her; I hear them hit the floor with a satisfying swish, although Nancy appears too overwhelmed by the expensiveness of her surroundings to notice the sound.

"Don't worry," I say. "We're not going to be doing any sleeping."

Now that I have her exactly where I want her, I claim her mouth in a demanding kiss. I feel her once shy hands shoot between us, tugging at the clasp on the front of my jeans, and nearly find myself purring like a feral jungle cat in the hands of an expert handler.

"Do it, Nancy," I urge her on. "Why don't you take what's yours?"

I thrust my bulging front into her hands, seeking her touch as much as I am encouraging her to take free possession of what she wants. I sense her continuing hesitation, even as she unbuttons my jeans and draws down the zipper.

I swallow a frustrated growl in my throat when she stops there, but the rumble of disapproval I make can still be felt as a vibration in my chest.

I guess sweet, innocent little Nancy needs someone to show her the way.

My hand is back between her legs before she can defend against it, and now I have the advantage of surprise. With her own hands occupied, trying to decide whether or not they want to take action and take us all the way, I have complete freedom to continue my exploration of her body...and I don't intend to relent until I have her absolutely drenched.

I probe a finger, slick with the evidence of her uncontrolled wanting, near the entrance to her tight passage. The hole I find feels barely wide enough to accommodate even a single digit, but when I lower my mouth to taste one rose-pink nipple that crests the top of her heaving white breasts, Nancy sighs explosively. Her body relaxes into pure bliss as I flick my muscular tongue along the ridged protrusion, forcing it to pull itself even tighter beneath my relentless assault. My tongue leads me down into the valley between her breasts as I follow the womanly dip of her cleavage, coming out on the other side to claim another nipple. I suckle it to equal tautness as Nancy moans, her eyelashes fluttering. She stirs her legs beneath me, trying to escape the increasing dampness that makes her thighs slick.

But this is exactly the response I wanted. The finger that massages the slit to her pussy tests her receptiveness once more; now that I have her distracted, I can have my way more easily with other, more intimate parts of her. My finger probes past her pink, plump lips, both inner and outer, and finally claims what I've wanted all along: unstoppable and uncontested access to Nancy's womanhood.

I drive my finger fully into her, forcing her to take me in. She cries and bucks her shoulders beneath me; her hips squirm, but I'm not giving up my conquest so easily. I trail kisses up her neck and claim the orifice of her mouth, pushing my tongue against her teeth as I insert a second digit inside her to join the first. A gasp admits me similar entry to her mouth, and I thrust my tongue inside her as my fingers work her sweet velvet interior. My cock jumps impatiently at the tight, yet pillowy, sensation, eager to feel the hot press of Nancy for itself. It's possible I've been rigid more often in her presence than I've been otherwise, considering the compromising positions she's allowed herself to get into with me. Stripping a woman of her tights and pinning her to the ground after a breakneck chase will do that to a man like me.

"Lesher…
mmm!"
she moans. A well-timed lip bite and she successfully clamps over the noise, barring me from entry. I growl and shove my fingers deeper, until I am practically up to my knuckles in Nancy. She cries and bucks upward with her hips, an involuntary reaction to being fucked so well without having even started in on the main event.

"Wish I still had those tights," I murmur as I scissor her depths. She's wet and ready, but I need her passage to widen a bit to accommodate me...once I've sunk myself into her, she has my permission to tighten as much as she wants. "I'd tie your wrists with them."

"I've had enough of...tied wrists..." Nancy pants. I watch as a beautiful, telltale sheen of perspiration begins to dew her forehead; her natural candy-red lips are parted, as if she's having trouble catching her breath. Her eyes, when she can summon the will to open them and take in more than just the pleasure I'm giving her, are dark and glassy; their color deepens to a gorgeous umber as her pupils expand with arousal. I pump my fingers faster, relishing the way her chest heaves in and out in time with each relentless penetration.

I watch carefully for orgasm. I know the signs in a woman. I begin to manipulate the hard, almost pearl-like nub of flesh perched above her entrance, rolling it around and back again beneath the pad of my thumb. Nancy bucks again at my discovery, but I pin her pelvis down to the bed with my free hand and continue to pleasure her closer and closer to climax. Once I've assured myself she will stay put, I take my hand away, and lower my head down between her legs.

The first sweep of my tongue draws out Nancy's taste, allowing me to finally relish what has so long eluded me. She tastes clean and sweet and wonderful, and I take my time, as if partaking of a favorite meal. I lap my tongue along the edges of her quivering folds, tasting her juices and adding additional lubrication, although I'm not sure it's something we'll be requiring at this point. Still, the unimaginable, almost mind-blowing tightness I had encountered when I penetrated her with my fingers leaves no room for error going forward; every precaution must be taken to ensure she's ready and aching for me to fill her.

I'm determined to avoid causing her pain at any cost. No, the only pain the two of us will be partaking in is the kind that heightens the pleasure.

Looking at her now, and imagining how she first came across when we met two days ago, I can't believe my good fortune in finding a partner so willing to take what I give to them. My tongue parries and thrusts; my cock bobs rigidly in the opening of my fly, an unsheathed sword just waiting for its turn to vanquish.

Nancy reaches down and grasps me by the roots of my hair, pulling the overlong blond strands between her fingers, forcing me to kiss her deeper. I comply with her commands greedily, thrusting my tongue forward and plundering the slit my fingers had so recently stretched for ready access. I hook my tongue as I hooked my fingers, flicking up and out in a steady rhythm, dragging along every sweet inch of her tender pink flesh and watching as her womanhood darkens with its own deep blush.

"Lesher… Lesher…" She gasps, no,
chants
my name. I doubt if I've ever felt this powerful coming together with a woman before. Usually I'm down for a hard fuck with any girl who makes the right eyes at me at the bar; words are barely exchanged prior to sex, and preferences are only discovered as they arise naturally in the moment.

With Nancy, I want to know everything there is to know about her. I want to know what makes her tick; what makes her blush, and where; what gets her so excited in the bedroom that she forgets herself, breaking free of reservations long enough to demand her ache be satisfied.