BILLIONAIRE BIKERS: 3 MC Romance Books (9 page)

              It's the part of him that wants to keep me here that I appeal to now. Whatever he thinks his better sense is telling him, it's wrong. I should know—I have the same voice shouting at me desperately from the back of my mind, but it recedes into the background the longer I stand like this before him.

              He's been staring at me for a long time now, and his silence allows my thoughts to fly in a million different directions at once. I duck my head slightly, and a long, thick curl of hair spills past my shoulder. When he reaches for me again, his hand goes automatically to my hair to draw it aside from where it curtains me from him.

             
Take me to bed.
My plea hangs heavy in the air between us.

              "I thought you'd never ask," he murmurs. If he really has been waiting for permission all this time, I have granted it to him now.

              The hand that drew my hair back suddenly grasps beneath my rear. I feel his other hand clamp down on the other side, and I half-jump into his arms at his direction; he yanks me up and against him, and my long legs twine around his waist to hold me in place.

"This was exactly what I thought about doing the first time I saw you," he groans as our lips meet again. "God, Ana, your legs are incredible."

My thighs slide along his waist as I hook my ankles behind him. I hadn't realized there were parts of me that Flint lusted after, and I want to drive him as wild as I can with what advantages I have. I gasp as the hands that hold me force my pelvis upward, and the hot spot between Flint's favorite pair of legs drags along the front of his pants. I can feel his erection straining eagerly against the harsh material. I'm not sure I have ever felt an erection powerful enough to almost plow through a pair of jeans.

Once he is satisfied in my secured position against him, he frees one hand to grip the back of my neck. He threads my tresses through his fingers, pillowing the back of my skull as he makes love to my mouth. I open wide, allowing my tongue to run along his active lips and taste the slick texture of them, as he walks us both out of the main room.

There are no lights on in the bedroom, but it is lit from the outside by a window similar to the one from the room we just left. Silver moonlight, flecked with small gold lights from the city outside, shines through the vast glass pane and bathes the perfectly-made bed. The idyllic scene is disturbed beyond recovery the instant Flint throws me down atop the crisp comforter. I bounce once, my breasts sliding up and down, but I settle the moment his additional weight joins mine.

Flint's knees pin the mattress down on either side of me. His silhouette looms above me, almost completely consumed by shadow, darker than even the leather-clad man I have come to know by the light of day. I reach for him, and he leans down to me. This time, when our mouths meet, I am the one doing the claiming.

Feeling empowered by this realization, I let my hands come up off the bed and hook themselves on the front of Flint's jeans. The zipper comes down easily, a metallic tear filling the air, as tiny tooth after tiny tooth gives way. His pants are a barrier I obviously need to divest him of, but I didn't realize it might be the only barrier, because as I push his waistband down I realize there is nothing else between us. Flint has been going commando this whole time. Another hot flush suffuses my cheeks when I realize how close I've always been to a moment similar to this one without realizing. When we slept together the first time…and the countless times we rode together on his bike…

His erection is considerable, and I bite my lip to keep from gasping out loud as it springs into my waiting hands. Even now, when our intention to become intimate is obvious, I can't bring myself to give him the satisfaction of knowing my approval. All of that is subject to change, however, with each second that passes. The situation between us is escalating fast, and I love every second and every new revelation our intimacy brings me.

His member is thick and rigid, and almost appears to dwarf my hands. The flesh is darker than my pale palms, and the long, smooth column is roped by veins. I am pleased to see that the trail of black curls that leads downward from his navel continues, ending in a wiry nest that frames his considerable manhood. If his length wasn't enough to instill a feeling of awe in me, the bushel of curls also feels like a testament to his unchecked virility.

I run my hand along his long cock, making a circle with my fingers as I pump slowly, leisurely. He's not even inside of me yet, and I find myself already satisfied with the feel of him. I can't help but wonder if he has touched himself these past few days, seizing every moment when I am not around and taking advantage of every shower and dividing door. I wonder if he has thought of me while touching himself. I tighten my grip experimentally, and Flint gives a long, drawn-out shudder; I feel his cock lurch against my hand, and I am suddenly certain he has imagined us together.

Even though I am beneath him, dominated for all intents and purposes, I feel like my mastery of him is almost complete. I continue to jerk him off slowly, raising my eyes to meet his as my hand continues its ministrations. From where he holds himself aloft above me, I see Flint's own dark eyes lower to meet mine, the lids resting at half-mast. His arousal is also apparent in his face, I am pleased to find. I allow a mischievous smile to touch the corners of my mouth as I lower myself down, sliding on my back beneath him until I am at the level of his crotch. I flare my hands along his length until they come to rest almost casually at its base; then I flick my tongue out, sampling the tip of his cock.

Flint's taste is exactly to my liking: salty, and already slightly slick with clear pre-cum. I duck my head for another taste, dragging my pink tongue along the dome, flicking teasingly. I am about to part my lips more fully and envelope him within the velvet wetness of my mouth, a sensation I'm sure he won't say no to, when I feel his fingers come up suddenly to grip my hair by its dark roots and pull me away from my intended conquest. I feel my eager mouth turn down in a frown of disapproval.

Why did he stop me? Doesn't he see I want this as badly as he does?

"What's wrong?" I purr. I dart my tongue out to run along my lips, tasting his vestiges. Flint groans at my seductive demonstration. "Too much for you already?"

"I knew you had a mouth on you," he murmurs as he aligns his lips once more with my own. Each word he utters puffs a hot gust of breath against the slight, hypersensitive flesh of my lips. "Is there anything you don't say or do with it?"

"You should quit pulling my hair and let us both discover that," I murmur back. My frown can't last with him this close, which turns out to be a good thing. An upward curve of my lips allows for a better kiss, and Flint uses his hold on my hair to yank my chin up to meet him. My long neck curves and arches back, and now I let the wild gasp I've been holding back escape me as he crushes his lips to mine.

"Don't tell me what not to do with you," he growls. I feel another insistent tug, and my scalp tingles pleasurably. "You wouldn't be laid out beneath me if you didn't want me calling the shots."

There is no real pain in the force he exerts, but I definitely feel the spark, the additional electricity that shoots down my spine every time he handles me roughly. It's a dark sensation I didn't know I wanted, and his amused experimentation only wets my appetite for more.

I can't pause to think about where we are, or
who
we are. I'm no good for him, and he…he's definitely no good for a woman like me. I'm used to being handled gently, reverently by lovers. Flint is already pushing my boundaries, seeing how much he can get away with…and I'm more afraid of what my aching body will decide for me on the matter. If I'm too distracted to give permission, will Flint simply take what he desires?

And what does it mean for me that I desperately hope that he does?

Flint pulls back from our kiss, and I run my tongue along my tingling lips once more. "So what will you have me do, big
shot?"
I challenge him, throwing his own alpha language back in his face. "Clearly my mouth is too much for you to handle."

The hand in my hair fists itself once more, and he wrenches my head up. This time when his mouth crashes against mine, I feel the scrape of teeth, and the forceful thrust of his tongue. A moan of longing escapes me as I feel the strength, the heat, and the mercilessness behind Flint's kiss, lighting the fire of desire anew within me until it races along my every limb like an inferno.

This isn't innocent kissing any longer. This is fucking, plain and simple. I have never felt myself so intensely violated, and so intensely happy with the result. I moan and squirm and make every attempt to get away just short of actually slipping out from underneath him, and Flint catches onto my tactic. I can tell the illusion of my resistance turns him on, and that he is just as game to keep up our sometimes-antagonistic relationship as I am in the bedroom.

I feel the fingers of his free hand catch on my jeans and yank them down in one swift move. I arch my ass off the bed to allow Flint to slip them down my thighs and my shapely calves; he manages to take my panties as well, and now there is nothing standing between us except for his indomitable demands. If he wants to fuck, he'll fuck—I have no doubt about that. If he wants to keep me wet and begging, I'm certain he'll leave me unsatisfied until we're both about to burst. It seems cruel, even masochistic. It makes me as furious as I am feverish for his touch.

He thrusts his erection against the shallow indent between my legs. I feel its slick glide along the seam of my lips, teasing entry to my passage before it shoots free and drives itself along my clit. I cry out as the intense sensation rocks through me. My hands clutch the sheets and my fists shake as Flint releases his grip on my hair and lowers my head back down to the pillow.

"You like that?" he purrs. It isn't the cat-like purr of a gentle lover, but more like the purr of a powerful engine before take-off. I don't want to give in. I don't want to reveal any more about what he does to me, but beneath his muscular frame my body betrays me. When I settle for not responding, he swipes his tongue along the strong, sturdy fingers of one of his hands, and lowers it between my legs. I feel his touch, calloused and unyielding. It feels almost as if he is priming me for a ride atop his bike… though we both know this ride is going to be
very
different.

He massages my wet, secret flesh, pushing and drawing back in an exploratory rhythm. Every caress heightens my sensation, and he is only pushing harder, with each press taking a firmer hand with me. His fingers fork, and he glides them along either side of my slit. I moan and arch as his touch edges toward my clit. I cry out when he misses it completely—and I cry even harder when his fingers drag back down, pinching and rolling the nub of flesh.

"Oh God," I moan as I writhe. Rather than tease me, Flint is now paying express attention to the core of my desire. I feel the press of his thumb as it pins my clit down, almost as if he intends to keep his place in the proceedings; I blink through the haze of my desire, uncertain for a moment what he intends to do in the meantime, until I feel the fingers that have been exploring me take their quest to the next level.

He doesn't insert one finger to start. He inserts two; taking full advantage of the wetness he has incurred to lubricate the bold move. I feel an intense pressure deep inside me before I expand immediately, helplessly, to accommodate the invasion. My body yearns to be filled by him, and it will take anything it can get while it's forced to wait for that ultimate erect prize.

The moan his invasive touch drags out of me is different this time: beautiful, almost haunted, as if there was a depraved voice inside of me that I didn't know I possessed. I see Flint look at me completely entranced, as if he could have never imagined a woman like me making such a sound—much less him being the one responsible for it.

"Open to me," he says in a whisper. I nod my head in minute compliance, but really I am gazing down the valley between my breasts to get a better view of what he is doing.
No more surprises,
I vow, though I know making promises to myself at this point is completely in vain.

Flint proves me right in the next instant. As I relax against him, I feel his fingers slip further inside me. Then—oh God,
then—
I feel him stroke upward.

I buck my hips off the bed wildly, and feel him drive me back down with the flat of his free palm. I cry wordlessly, demanding more, or less—the ceiling spins, and I can scarcely concentrate—but Flint doesn't remove his fingers. He continues to toy with me, and each beckoning motion certainly does its work in bringing me closer to coming for him.

"Flint…" I gasp his name, and my chest heaves as if I can only speak through immense effort. I can certainly vocalize, but articulation of what I want is a lot harder to come by. Thoughts of
coming
pervade my thoughts, and I feel the walls that envelope him starting to tighten; even my flat stomach tenses, the slighter muscles flexing and becoming rigid as a board.

Flint ignores my protest, instead lowering his mouth to plant fervent, cherishing kisses along my laid-bare body. His warm, wet lips wrap around my right nipple, teasing and sucking it to firmness. I shudder all over as he gives it a last lick, before moving onto my other breast. He gives them equal attention to ensure my full arousal.