by Nicole Fox
“That’s right,” he growls. “Come for me.”
“I need you,” I say, still a little lost, still floating away. “I need you.”
“What do you need?” he asks, moving upward, his fingers still working their magic, his lips finding my tits. I reach behind my neck, untying, freeing them. He takes one nipple in his mouth and sucks hard, releasing it with a loud pop.
“More,” I beg. “Inside me. I want you inside. Please.”
He moves back down, his mouth taking the place of his fingers as he undoes his jeans, shaking them to the floor. Eventually, he asks, “Are you on the Pill or anything?”
“Yes,” I breathe.
“Then hold on.”
His huge cock is at my entrance now. He says, “Look into my eyes. Breathe.”
I do as instructed and when he enters, it’s slowly, in short spurts. I feel like I’m being ripped in two and I feel tears well up, spill over. He leans in and licks them away.
“Breathe,” he says, the word a long breath itself.
When he’s fully in, he tells me to take a few more breaths. I do, trying to relax, trying to enjoy the fullness. But it hurts.
He stays still, focusing his energy on my tits, rolling my nipples under his talented tongue, forcing them to harden once more.
“You have the best tits I’ve ever seen,” he says, nipping at one.
It sends a shockwave straight to my core. I feel my juices return and Griz grins. It’s not a full-on smile, but it’s the first thing I’ve seen that comes close.
“Manipulative bastard,” I say. “Biting tits to get the result you want.”
“One of my better torture tricks,” he says.
“I think I’m okay now,” I say. “I want you. I’m so sorry I’m …”
“Tight? Well … I can’t say I’ve had this exact sexual experience, but it’s good. We’ll get through it.”
He starts to move. I close my eyes and he says, “No way. Look here. Look at me.”
We lock gazes and he pumps in and out, biting at my nipples then kissing me deeply. I start to enjoy it, the feel of him inside of me. I move my hips more and wrap my arms around his neck, bringing his face to mine, running my tongue along his lower lip, opening my mouth, allowing him inside.
It’s a sensual kiss. A real kiss. I can’t get enough. I just cling to him, kissing and kissing as he fucks me, his pace picking back up as I feel the swell of orgasm building once more.
He pushes out of my grasp and says, “Grip the headboard.”
I do, my tits high on my chest, jutting out as he pays them the attention they demand. He spreads my legs wide, hooking them over his shoulders, burying himself deeper inside of me. A thumb finds my clit and I cry out.
“Is this good?” he asks. “You like this?”
I moan in confirmation.
“I’m going to take you so high, you’ll never come back down,” he says.
“You talk too much,” I say.
He growls and bites me before increasing his strokes, his cock so deep within me I swear I will shatter. He goes so hard and I go with him, hanging onto the headboard, ready to combust as the fire rages. His finger vibrates a rhythm against my clit and the orgasm comes. It comes and comes, and I feel like it might be hours before it starts to wane, the muscles inside of me pulsing, aftershocks rocking through me, pinching Griz’s cock.
When he spills, he kisses me hard. I feel the spasm of his cock and then he slows and stops. He flops to the side, bringing me with him so that I’m on top. We stay connected as I lay my head on his chest, the hair there tickling my cheek.
We lay there together, quiet, for a long time. I think I might even drift off because suddenly, he’s gone and then he’s back, lifting me, carrying my limp body into the bathroom.
He sets me in the tub and starts the water, adding something lightly floral to the water.
He climbs in and finds a seat behind me, pulling me back against him. It’s similar to that first bath we shared, but this time, he’s more relaxed. Calmer.
I realize that many of our interactions have happened in this bathroom. It’s starting to become a little bit sentimental to me.
As the water rises, he takes a washcloth and wets it, dipping it between my sensitive folds, gently washing me.
“Does it hurt much?” he asks.
I shake my head. “Not too bad, no.”
“I shouldn’t have done that,” he says.
“Why?”
“Because you’re … you were a virgin. That should have been something you did with someone you care about. At least like a little.”
“I like you a little,” I say.
“That seems unlikely,” he answers.
We’re quiet again after that.
# # #
Griz
We soak for a long while. We must doze off, but I don’t really know. I just know it’s really fucking nice to be able to breathe for a minute.
I feel more centered, somehow. Tanner, she …
She said things no one would ever dare say to me. She challenged me. Told me to stop feeling sorry for myself. I should be livid but … I’m not. I’m not.
I feel a tightness in my chest as I think again about Giselle. About how I felt for her. About how every woman I fucked, I compared to her. No one was good enough. No one held a candle to her.
And tonight, while Tanner came around my fingers, around my cock, all I saw was her blonde hair, her sweet lips, her big, doe eyes. I only saw her. Only felt her. The ghost of Giselle was nowhere to be found.
As the water cools, I reach around and play lightly at Tanner’s breasts. I feel the soft, supple skin, the peaks of her responsive nipples. I caress and play, pinch and tickle. She arches into my hands, soft sounds coming from her chest.
Her sweet round ass moves against me, my dick hardening in response. Not for the first time, I imagine slipping inside her tiny brown hole, taking her from behind, fingering her sweet cunt until she cries out, her muscles straining against me as she finds her pleasure.
For now, though, I let her wriggle against me, my fingers finding their way between her legs, stroking between those sweet lips, not entering, just caressing.
I play and play, and when she begs, I push her ass up a bit, guiding her sweet cunt over top of my cock, sliding inside more easily this time. I splay one hand across her chest, tweaking a nipple as my other hand works her button. I press her to me, torturing her as she rides me. My mouth finds her neck and we fuck like that, my front to her back, her gorgeous tits coming in and out of the water with each movement we make together.
It takes longer this time, the building. We go slowly, savoring the feeling of this connection. When she comes, it’s long and slow and she breathes soft noises of satisfaction. I come right afterward, pumping my seed deep inside of her.
When I withdraw, it’s to clean her once more. I help her out of the tub, dry her, return her to the bed. My mouth finds hers wet and wanting. I haven’t kissed a woman since Giselle. I forgot how intimate it is.
“Is it always like this?” she asks.
It’s a naïve question. An inexperienced question. But it makes my cock swell again and while I’ve always been a virile man, I’m honestly shocked to be ready again so soon.
“No,” I answer simply.
“You’re ready again,” she observes.
“You need to rest,” I say. “You’ll be sore in the morning. I don’t want to hurt you.”
I lie next to her. She’s gloriously nude, sprawled out on my comforter like a satisfied cat. Her lean stomach is so gorgeous that I have to reach out to trail my fingers over it. Goosebumps erupt on her skin and it’s more satisfying than I’d like to admit.
She grins and it breaks my heart. She’s happy.
She pushes me to my back and crawls on top. Her lips find my chest, my nipples, my stomach, my pelvic bones. She bites a little here and there, finally finding my cock, her full lips parting, her tongue licking against my s
haft. She takes me in and slowly makes her way down, opening her throat, taking in my full length.
“Talented,” I choke out.
She grins again and takes it all the way again. Again and again until I empty into her throat. She swallows, kisses the head, and then crawls into my arms, her head on my chest, her leg draped over mine.
And who would have guessed when this day began that Tanner Williams, abducted daughter of Draven Williams, would fall asleep in my arms, fitting against me like she belonged there all along.
# # #
Tanner
I feel drugged as I try to draw my body from sleep. My limbs feel heavy. My eyelids feel like concrete. It’s very hard, this waking up thing.
As I pop my head up, eyes blurry, I realize Griz is naked beside me. Holy hot bikers, Batman. I thought last night might have just been one extended, amazing wet dream. Yet, here I am, and here he is in his full, gym-hardened glory.
If I wasn’t already pretty hardcore crushing on David Grisham before now, having lost my virginity to him sort of cements that I’ll forever be a little swoony in his presence. Waking up with him like this moves me beyond crushing. I think I might like him, like him.
I’m not stupid enough to think he’ll ever love me. He probably regrets what we did, for whatever stupid man reason he’s concocted to convince himself that this is wrong. I’m too young, or I’m Draven’s daughter, or he can’t ever love another woman like he loved Giselle.
It’s okay. It really is. Because I don’t regret it one bit. I wanted him and he was a little drunk and a lot emotional and I took advantage of that. So whatever else happens, I’m fine with what went down. It felt good—so good—better than I expected for my first time. I mean, it hurt a little, at first, and women aren’t supposed to come like that when they’re doing it for the first time, right? Or maybe that’s just because most women lose it in high school, usually with a boy who has less experience than I had. Griz, however, is a man. A man who knows his way around a woman’s body. Score for me. Whoop!
I get up, dodging Griz’s temper-tantrum remnants as I head to the bathroom and wowza! My thighs feel like I ran a marathon and my pussy is tender like a young chicken. Holy cow, is that normal? I do all the standard morning things, and then crawl back into bed. Griz finds me, his eyes opening as he wraps an arm around my waist.
“Good morning,” he says roughly.
I wrinkle my nose. “You have morning breath. Pussy mouth. Go brush your teeth and come back to try that again.”
He chuckles. The first time I’ve heard him laugh. Score!
When he returns, minty-fresh, he kisses me softly. As he pulls away he says, “You were amazing last night.”
I blush ten thousand shades of pink. He gets hard, his cock pushing against my belly.
“You have no idea what effect you have on people, do you?” he asks as I lift my leg, inviting him in.
Belly-to-belly, we move together, a slow salute to morning. I’m sore, but having him close to me feels so right that I simply don’t care. I grab his ass and he sucks on my neck.
“Can you come for me?” he asks. “I want to feel you come on my cock.”
Oh, the dirty talk. Griz has a wicked mouth and I love it. I push my hips to meet his, my clit rubbing against him. The pressure builds and it’s not long before I feel that tingle of pre-release.
“Almost there,” I whisper against his mouth. “Keep going.”
He takes it up a notch, his cock stiffening inside of me as I fall over the edge. I had no idea. No idea. Christ.
We lie there, staring at each other.
For no good reason, I blush again. He rubs his thumb against my cheek and leans in for another kiss.
“I should have someone clean this place up,” he says. “I’m surprised neither of us got cut last night.”
“Yeah, it’s a … bit of a mess,” I agree. “Let me see your hand?”
As expected, he’s got a deep gash that’s now crusted over. “This probably could’ve used stitches,” I say.
“I’ve had worse,” he says.
“I heard. Where’d you get shot?”
He turns, showing me a puckered scar in his side. “Just grazed me, really. I dove to push my buddy out of the way. Two guys in two other clubs got in an argument at a party. They started getting physical and then one pulled a weapon. My friend Sam tried to be a peacemaker, because that’s just the kind of person he is. He thought everything was fine so he started walking away, but the guy was blitzed and he got a shot off. I dove and pushed Sam, because he had his back to the guy. Bullet grazed me. No big deal.”
“You have friends?” I ask, hoping he hears the humor in my tone.
“A few,” he admits. “But that’s what you got out of that story?”
“Well, it surprises me, honestly,” I say, cringing a little. “You seem really closed off,”
“I guess I am,” he says. “Just a byproduct of losing the people you care about.”
“Where’s Sam now? Not in the club?”
“Nah,” he says. “He stopped riding. Married his old lady. Went legit.”
We kiss a little, just brushes of the lips. He asks, “What about you? You have friends?”
“Sure,” I say. “One thing my father never limited was time with my girlfriends.”
“But he locked the chastity belt nice and tight?”
“He just made it intimidating for any guy who came around. No one wanted to cross him,” I answer. “Plus, I …”
Griz makes a questioning face.
“I never … I mean, I messed around some but I never felt … like, whatever that was between us.”
“Chemical attraction,” he said.
“I guess. Sure,” I say.
He sucks in his lips and rolls away, tiptoeing around the broken items that remain strewn about the room, finding clothing and dressing without another word.
“I’ll send someone to clear this out right away,” he says. “I need to prep for a club meeting tonight. Grab yourself some breakfast and do whatever you want today. If you want, I can send for someone to give you a massage.”
“That sounds nice,” I answer, my tone confused.
We were just having a nice chat, learning more about each other, and then—bam—he’s cold again. Rolling away, all business. I mean, I sort of figured he’d be out the door as soon as he woke up, so our sleepy little conversation was a really nice surprise, but now he’s doubled back, the open Griz gone.
I look around, knowing that the next time I come into this room, it will look different. New artwork, new lamps. Who knows, maybe the furniture will change. It occurs to me that this may have been a room he shared with Giselle. My heart breaks for him, destroying things that may have reminded him of her. I can only begin to imagine what that must feel like. All that loss in his life—he’s lost so many people he cares about, it’s a miracle he has anything left to give. Or maybe that’s it? Maybe he doesn’t think he has anything left in the emotional tank. Being here with me, close to me, sharing his stories with me—there’s an emotional price for that kind of interaction, and I suspect that David Grisham might have spent every penny before he ever even knew I existed.
Pity, really. Because I really like him a whole lot.
Strange, how this place has started to feel like home to me. It feels like I belong here, and that alone has me feeling all kinds of feels. Disloyalty to my father, to his club. Excitement for feeling like I have a place that could be only mine. Angry that I had to discover it by being a pawn in some political game. Emotional. Strange how much this man has come to mean to me, how much I find myself feeling like I really am his, really am claimed.
I sit in bed for a long while before finally rising to find a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. Slipping on my flip flops, I clack out into the hallway, off to attack the hell out of some pastries.
Who knew sex would work up such an appetite?
Chapter Nine
Griz
�
��Report,” I grunt at Dex, who’s popped in on his way out to his shift at the garage where he fixes cars.
“Grave Robbers scouted last night,” he says. “Nothing major. Three of our guys spotted them a mile away and chased them off, but I’ve got a feeling they’ll be back.”
“I’m sure they will,” I say, not looking up from the newspaper I’m reading. “We need to have a full deck for the next few days. Nobody gets time off, full-guard rotations, loaded weapons. What else?”
