Devil's Own

by Megan Crane

  But her brain—which had obviously deserted her throughout this interaction—reasserted itself now. There was nothing in the stupid tattoo that actually named the Brothers of Goliath. And yet she suspected it wouldn’t take Chaser long to figure out what the club’s preferred insignia was, a gorilla head plastered across the small of her back and covered with thorns and hearts like the good little biker bitch she’d imagined herself at eighteen.

  Ten years later, she knew better—and she knew she had to distract the Devil’s Keepers enforcer who was standing much too close to her with one of his mouthwateringly hard hands on her body, or this parent-teacher conference, which was already out of control, would get truly insane. And potentially get her fired, too.

  Or arrested.

  “You gonna answer the question?” Chaser asked, silk and threat and still too close to her lips. His big hand was hard and hot through the material of her pencil skirt, like he was laying down some new ink on her skin. “Or am I gonna strip you down and see for myself?”

  And he might have been her personal heroin but he was right there, pinning her to the wall and unlikely to back off. She could redirect his focus. Men like him were all about sex, no matter what else was going on. She could do this, she told herself. She could do what she had to and then walk away, no problem, once he was good and distracted and she was protected from her own stupidity in underestimating him.

  She could handle this.

  Lara didn’t let herself think about it any further, because she didn’t want to talk herself out of it, and she wanted to talk about her biker club history even less.

  She surged up on her toes and pressed her mouth to his.

  Chaser didn’t even pause. He hauled her up against him with that hand on her back. His other hand left the wall and slid over her jaw to hold her mouth to his. And he took her over as he backed her even farther into the wall, opening his mouth against hers and catapulting them straight into something wet and hot and much, much wilder than anything she could have planned. Or imagined. Or wanted.

  But she was built for this. For him. That was the trouble.

  Everything inside of Lara slid hard into the white heat that poured through her, making her shake and making her meet him as he explored her mouth, dirty and a little rough, and like he’d had no doubt since he’d walked into the room that they’d end up exactly like this.

  He ate at her mouth, rocking her against the wall, trapping her with his big body. The hand on her jaw dropped to find her breasts through the thin shell she wore, rubbing over each curve until he found her nipple, then teasing it into a taut ache. His other hand left the small of her back, but she lost track of what he was doing when he angled his head and took that kiss to a whole new blistering-hot place.

  He was her doom in the considerably tempting flesh and goddamn him, he tasted good. Heaven and hell. Smoke and whiskey. Lara was out of her mind, and she didn’t care. She could feel the leather of his cut beneath her hands, and it should have horrified her, but instead it made that blaze between her legs brighter. More intense.

  And he kissed her like he’d been doing it forever. Like he knew exactly how to push her buttons and how fast he could get her clinging to him and panting and this close to straight-up begging him for more. Much, much more.

  Then she felt him tugging at her skirt, and she tore her mouth from his as he shoved the narrow pencil skirt up over her hips, the stretchy material bunching around her waist.

  She opened her mouth to do something, say something, but he was already there. And she was already lost. His broad, tough fingers slid beneath the lacy panties she wore and he didn’t wait. He grunted when he encountered how slick and hot she was. His dark eyes blazed. Then he was thrusting inside her, fingering her right there in the front of her classroom, his thumb dragging against her clit with every sure, deep stroke.

  “Holy shit,” she muttered, and she couldn’t help herself. Her hips rose to meet him. Greed and longing tore through her body and centered in her pussy, and she was helpless. She couldn’t do anything but grab onto his shoulders as best she could and ride his hand toward the storm bearing down on her, thunderbolts and madness and the whole great lie of her life laid bare, whether she wanted it or not.

  He laughed. Dark and dangerous, her addiction in dangerously beautiful male form—and he laughed.

  Lara thought heroin would be better. Safer.

  But then she exploded all around him, and she knew. He was much more dangerous than any drug could have been. He was worse than any silly addiction. He was the end of her.

  And he wasn’t done.

  She was still shaking when he pulled his hand out of her panties. The earth seemed to get a little unsteady beneath her feet, but she realized it was Chaser. He spun her around so she was bent over her desk and he was hard behind her. She felt his hands on her hips as he kicked her legs apart, then stepped between them.

  And she was just catching her breath when she heard his zipper and the telltale sound of foil ripping open.

  Tell him to stop, she ordered herself.

  But she didn’t.

  You want him to stop, that same voice shrieked.

  But that was the trouble. She really, really didn’t.

  His hands were on her again, hauling her hips up even higher and tilting her ass into the air. She felt a tug at the thong she wore, pulling it to the side in a way that should have been uncomfortable—but wasn’t, somehow.

  Then the broad head of his cock was there at her entrance. He was as big as she’d imagined he should be. Huge, as befit a man his size, and he took his time sinking the head—just the head—into her soaking wet pussy. Playing with her, she realized. She writhed desperately against him and he did nothing but hold her where he wanted her, keeping her eternally unable to spear herself on him or get anything but that thick plum head inside her.

  “Ask me nicely,” he growled at her. “And I’ll think about it.”

  It was sheer torture. He was a sadistic bastard. Lara was sweating. She was bucking against him, her fingers digging into the piles of papers she’d been grading. But she could only focus on the man—the stranger—behind her. On that giant cock that was spreading her open yet going no farther and the sensations that rocked through her like hometown earthquakes, making her feel feverish and out of her mind with need.

  But she’d die before she begged him. There were limits—even when she’d already crossed every line there was. She could worry about those lines later. But if she begged him, if she let him have that kind of power over her…Lara had no idea what would become of her.

  “You’re lucky this pussy is so fucking greedy,” Chaser muttered behind her. “Or I’d make you wait all day.”

  “Fuck you,” she managed to say, her eyes screwed tight and her mouth against the surface of her own desk. Images she’d trot out later while dying of shame, she was sure. But that was Future Lara’s tragedy. This, right here, was hers.

  “Oh, I will,” Chaser assured her. He angled his big chest down, pinning her to the desk and getting his mouth to her ear while holding her hips still with those massive hands of his. “Then you and me can sit down and have a long discussion about the Brothers of Goliath tat you’re rocking. Sound good?”

  But he didn’t wait for her answer. Or maybe he got it in the way she jerked beneath him, making a little sound of shock or distress or possibly pure need that she would have killed to take back.

  And either way, he slammed himself into her, hard and huge and so thick she thought she really might break—and then she did, into a thousand pieces, again and again and again, her pussy clamping down hard on his great, glorious length inside of her.

  “Shit, you’re hot,” Chaser muttered against the back of her neck when she came down again, and it took Lara a minute to realize he was just as hard and huge inside her as before. That this was nowhere near over. Not with a man like Chaser, who fucked for sport. “Jesus.”

  And then, finally, he began to mo
ve.

  Chapter 3

  She was scalding him alive. Hot and tight, and she’d already come twice.

  Chaser loved few things more than fucking a responsive woman, and Ms. Lara Ashburn was that and then some.

  Not to mention the whole host of other things she was, apparently, that he’d have to spend some time dealing with—

  But not yet. Not now.

  Right now there was nothing but that tight grip of her hot cunt around him. The way she met his thrusts, her perfectly rounded ass bucking back against him as he pounded into her. He held her down on the desk beneath him and he indulged himself. Thoroughly. He gathered her thick, soft hair with all that dark red threaded into it in one hand, keeping her head up when she would have buried her face in the pile of papers on her desk. He circled her neck with his other hand, not to scare her, but to hold her still and perfectly positioned. So she could do nothing but take him, again and again, every deep slam inside of her a little slicker, a little harder, a little better. And she could take all of him, a tight, wet slide to the hilt. He liked that even more.

  Chaser set a rough, exhilarating pace that made the metal desk screech a little bit on the floor with every thrust. He could feel it everywhere. In his cock, sure, but everywhere else, too. Like this woman beneath him was something a little better than an everyday fuck.

  Like this woman, catnip with a skirt rucked up around her waist and her lacy little thong shoved to one side to accommodate him, had been crafted especially for him. Prim on the outside and a dirty little biker chick inside. A screaming hot wet dream in the flesh.

  But Chaser was wide awake, thank god. And he recognized the Brothers of Goliath colors she wore splashed across her back, which made the whole thing that much hotter, because she knew the life. She knew better than to mouth off to a brother, and the fact that she’d done it anyway? He had to think she also knew exactly how he was likely to respond to it. Chaser was happy to oblige her. There was no name woven into that cute little tramp stamp. No property mark. He figured she was either a groupie or a wannabe, and he didn’t care which.

  Not when fucking her was this damned good.

  He felt it start to build in him and pulled out, not wanting to end before he got a little more in her face. Literally. She didn’t like bikers these days, or maybe she just didn’t like him all that much, but she sure liked fucking him, if her sweet, juicy cunt and those helpless, breathy little noises she kept making were anything to go by. Chaser could work with that.

  Hell, it fucking delighted him.

  He pulled her up from the desk and spun her around to face him, taking a little too much pleasure in how disheveled she looked. Disheveled and blissed out and so entirely his at that moment that when he inched back a step, just to see what she’d do, she followed him. He doubted she even knew what she was doing.

  But he did.

  “Looking good, baby,” he told her, low and satisfied. He made no attempt to hide it. “Hair all over the place. Mascara all over your face from coming that hard. Twice. Skirt around your waist and your pussy so wet it’s dripping down your thighs. Look at what a mess you’ve made of yourself.”

  There was something dark in her blue gaze then, a complicated emotion he couldn’t quite read. She must have realized that she was leaning into him, following him with her tight little body whether she wanted to or not, because she stopped doing it. Abruptly. Her lush little mouth flattened out, which didn’t make it any less bitable.

  She lifted her hand and very slowly, very deliberately, raised up her middle finger. About an inch away from his face.

  Chaser laughed.

  Then he leaned forward and sucked her finger into his mouth.

  Lara made a soft little noise that made his cock ache, and he stopped fucking around. He hooked his hands around her hips, getting a decent grip on her and feeling the way she shuddered at his touch. Then, still sucking on her finger like it was a lollipop or maybe her juicy little clit, he hauled her up high against him. Her legs went around his waist as if she’d climbed him like a tree, and he slid his hands down to grip that fine little ass of hers, then worked her back down on his cock.

  Her legs tightened around him, hard enough that the heels she wore dug into his back. She pulled her finger from his mouth, then used both her hands to grab at his shoulders.

  “I need to hold on,” she muttered, her eyes gone heavy-lidded and almost as hot as her pussy, now a slick fist around him.

  “No,” he promised her. “You don’t.”

  She was a little thing but not, it turned out, even remotely as breakable as she looked. He could fuck her standing up. He could throw her around like a sex toy and come all over her. And by the looks of her, she’d love every second of it. That knowledge was like gas on the fire. It pulsed in him, urging him on, making him feel a little crazy with this. With her.

  Chaser didn’t let her move. He moved her. He lifted her up and then dragged her back down to impale her on his cock. He worked her good and right and deep, raising her and then hauling her back down, widening his stance so he could stand there and fuck her silly without her having to do anything at all.

  For a little while, she tried to fight him for some kind of dominance. It was cute. She tried to dig her hands into his shoulders and slow his hard, insistent pace. She tried to wiggle her hips to control the depth of his thrusts.

  “Give it up, baby,” he muttered, watching that flushed, pretty face of hers as she tried to claw her way back toward some kind of power position. “You’re mine. Your hot little cunt already knows it. Why don’t you?”

  Lara shuddered, hard and long. And then she surrendered. He watched her do it even as he felt it all around him. She let her arms go loose. She sank into that tight hold he had on her ass. She tipped her head back, let her eyes close and her hair flow around her, and let him use her body to get them both off.

  And it felt like magic. Liquid, molten gold, pouring through her sleek form into his, making it like some kind of carnal dance. Chaser didn’t want it to end. Ever. He wanted to come harder than he ever had before, but he didn’t want to stop this spectacular madness.

  Not yet, he thought. Not yet.

  He felt her pussy tighten around him, but that was all the warning he got before she was coming again, this time in whole body waves. He could feel it. Long and lush, her mouth wide open with no sound escaping as she shook and shook against him.

  Jesus Christ. She was hot and creamy, shaking and sweet with her legs clutching him tight, and Chaser wanted to die like this even as he wanted to fuck her for the next ten thousand years. Every thrust made it worse. Or better. He couldn’t tell the difference any more.

  He shifted backward, getting his shoulders against the chalkboard, as she continued to come apart all over him. She was slumped forward then, her face in the crook of his neck as he kept pounding his way into her, getting off on the low, soft sobbing sound she made against his skin.

  And it was only then that Chaser finally—finally—let his climax rip through him, so deep and long and blisteringly hot it blinded him. It winded him. It ripped off the top of his damned head.

  But the only thing he could think of as he slowly, slowly caught his breath again was that he wanted more. A lot more. Like her pussy was made of gold and he needed to hoard that shit—

  It was that bizarre thought that had him lifting her up and off his dick, then setting her back on the ground. She blinked and tried to step away from him, but her knees sagged. She had to grab onto the desk to keep from melting right down to the ground. And Chaser would have to be a different kind of man—like maybe a dead one—not to enjoy the evidence that he’d thoroughly wrecked her.

  But he wasn’t a possessive man. He liked all kinds of pussy, he wasn’t picky, and he didn’t care if the bitch in question had been passed around the entire club before he got inside her. He’d always liked his women as easy as they were disposable. No muss, no fuss. Chaser wasn’t a fucking hoarder.

&nb
sp; The fact he’d thought different for even a second made him feel edgy. Like something was gnawing at him, deep in his gut. He didn’t like it.

  “Not so mouthy after you’ve come a few times,” he observed as he pulled the condom off, then tossed it in the wastebasket beside her desk. He tucked himself away, then zipped up, studying her while he did it to see how she’d react to what had happened here. Right on her desk. In her fancy clothes.

  Not well, if he had to guess.

  Lara shoved her skirt back down over her thighs, then tucked her blouse back in with a few too-efficient tugs. Then she smoothed her hair down with her palms. If it weren’t for that trembly cast to her mouth and the black shit beneath her eyes, you’d never know anything had happened here.

  Chaser found he really didn’t like that at all.

  “But you, apparently, are even mouthier,” she retorted, pulling herself up tall again and squaring her shoulders as she faced him. Back to her tight-assed teacher mode in an instant.

  Yeah, no. Fuck that.

  He reached over and took her chin in his hand, pulling her up another inch so she had to tilt back her head, go up on her toes in those high heels he thought had left marks on his back, and fall a little bit into his chest. She caught herself with her fists against his six-pack, which he felt as a loss, because he’d much rather feel those tits of hers again.

  Her gaze was as furious as her mouth was sulky, and what the fuck was the matter with him? How could his cock already be hard as nails again? He wanted to throw her in a bedroom, lock the door, and fuck his way out of this weird, greedy thing stamping its way through him.

  But he was not going to do that, and no matter that he wasn’t really into denial. Not until he had a better handle on why he wanted it in the first place. The only people on this planet with any power over him were the ones he’d pledged himself to, fully aware of what he was getting into and ready, willing, and able to commit himself to them completely. Semper fi. Devil’s Keepers forever; forever Devil’s Keepers. He wore those vows on his skin. They were deep in his blood.