Possessive_A Bad Boy Second Chance Motorcycle Club Romance

by Kathryn Thomas

  “More,” she begged, shocked to find that she was already panting and gasping, twisting. She hooked her hands under his knees. If they were free, there was no way she could keep them away from her clit; she was desperate and eager and so wanting. She spread her knees and let the water wash over her as if the delicate licking of underwater currents could possibly be enough to send her over the edge.

  “Eventually,” he said. His right hand stayed on her belly, keeping her stable and grounded, while his left played with her nipple, tweaking and teasing, taunting and testing.

  She cursed, arched her back. Dug her fingers into his knees. Called him names. Begged him to just fuck her already, or failing that, to let her fuck him. She didn’t care. She wanted. She was nothing but want. She was nothing but need.

  He didn’t care. He murmured low chuckles in her ear as he took her body from slow, soft peak to slow, soft peak, then kissed the spot behind her ear that made her whimper. He licked her ear lobe, bit her neck, and never gave her enough rhythm with his taunting. If she pressed her thighs together, that might even be enough to drive her over the edge, but she didn’t want that. She did, but she wanted him more. “Fuck me,” she begged, all over again, but he didn’t listen.

  Until he did. She didn’t know how many centuries had passed with his humming laughter in her ear before his fingers finally left her right breast and began to make the slow, steady journey down her belly. She arched, trying to hurry him along, and he pinched the skin of her hip.

  “Behave,” he said, his voice firm for the first time.

  She was so wracked with sheer sensation that the words she’d always wanted to say rushed out before she could stop them. “Make me.”

  He went still behind her, but his erection throbbed, and his breath was heaving. “That’s a lot,” he said.

  There was a rush of shame, which somehow turned her on even more. “I can take it.”

  “No games right now,” he said. “If you tell me to stop, that’s it. We’re done. If you want this again, we will — talk a lot more, and set down some serious ground rules. Got it?”

  “Please. I want it. I need it.” She didn’t even know what she was asking for, not really, but when his hand moved off her left breast and very, very carefully, circled her throat, up high, just below her jaw, she knew it. The pressure was incredibly light, just his hand resting on her throat, really, with his thumbs digging in ever so slightly below her ears, but she was digging her nails into his thighs trying to keep her body under control.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, very carefully.

  “God yes. Yes. So much. Yes. Oh god. Tex. Oh god.” She lost what few words she had left when his right hand resumed its slow journey down her belly. He had been delicate, almost ticklish before. Now he pinched, teased, taunted. His fingers brushed down to the top of her curls, then came back up almost to her nipple, and then back down.

  She made sounds. Eager, desperate, hungry sounds, full sounds, throbbing sounds, arching sounds. Begging sounds. Whatever part of her mind was responsible for thinking took a vacation; she was nothing but sensation, the burning fire points of his thumbs on her throat, and the slow and steady progress of his fingers, which came a few cells closer to her aching center with every teasing brush of his hands.

  When he finally traced around her clit with his forefinger, her mind was nothing but bright light. She sagged against him, unaware that she’d been tight, and then everything was roaring through her. “Harder,” she whispered.

  “No,” he said.

  “Okay.” He had his hand on her throat, after all. She was hardly in a place to make demands. God, she loved that. It was everything. It was searing. It was beyond exquisite.

  He teased her clit and her slit as he had teased her nipples. He didn’t rush, didn’t make a rhythm, didn’t push her, didn’t make her eager. She wasn’t sure if she ever orgasmed; there was pleasure, and it came in waves but nothing was the undeniable rush of sensation that left her limp and rung out afterwards. She screamed and she cursed him, and she wasn’t sure the back of his thighs weren’t bleeding, but she was alive. She was alive.

  When she was limp and gasping, her clit so erect that it ached, he whispered in her ear, “Still want to get fucked?”

  She knew the right answer without even needing to think about it. “Do you want me to get fucked?”

  He laughed in her ear, and his cock. God, it was so heavy and intense behind her. If she let go of his thighs and wrapped her hand around it, would she get in two strokes or five before he came in her hand? Would his eyes roll back in his head? How hard would he come for her right now?

  She thought he’d turn her around, pull her astride him. Maybe they’d get out of the bath. But no. His fingers left her clit for a moment, and she heard a little splash as something broke the surface of the water. “I got you a present,” he said. “As soon as I saw this gigantic bathtub.”

  It was just enough that she had an idea of what was coming, but the buzzing vibrations pressing open her folds still made her gasp.

  “You want this cock?” he asked, his voice as calm and conversational as if they were sitting in a restaurant. Jesus. She could imagine it, him with some kind of remote control vibe buried in her, asking her casually over spaghetti or pizza, did she want that cock as he turned up the vibrations and watched her try not to lose her mind in front of everyone.

  “If you want to give it to me,” she said, but she tried to make her voice say that yes, she wanted it, she wanted it so badly, she wanted to be pierced by it, thrust heavily apart.

  He gave it to her. She was so wet, so open that the toy slid easily inside of her. It was big, not as big as he was, but big enough to make her groan gently and think relaxing thoughts.

  He brought his fingers back to her clit. He didn’t circle it again, just put a delicate pressure on the sore, aching bud. “Fuck yourself,” he murmured in her ear. “I want to see you feel good.”

  He’d teased her so long that it wasn’t really an orgasm that rippled through her. After waiting that long, after that much torture, even when she’d teased herself, her body wasn’t quite willing to dive for a huge release. But something did ripple through her, something huge and powerful and intense, something that left her groaning deep and hard as her body bucked and her muscles convulsed. She reached between her thighs and took the huge toy from him and fucked herself slowly, dragging it in and out of her eager passage. His left hand stayed at her clit, circling and tapping, while his right came back up to her nipple, teasing and tugging at it. She writhed, exhausted, caught between release and ecstasy, and loving the sensation of being trapped. By her body, by his hand at her throat, and by her trembling nerves, reporting pleasure and over-sensitization in equal measure.

  And then, somehow, her body decided it was done. The pleasure was gone, flipping the switch over into uncomfortable, almost painful sensations. Not the good kind of pain, either, just the done kind. She winced, and both his hands came away quickly. He took the toy away for her, setting it on the side of the tub and turning it off. He cupped his hand over her sex, pressing down firmly with the heel of her hand and letting her grind away some of the sensitization for a moment while she caught her breath.

  When she could breathe again, she lifted herself up on her knees and turned around. He was still rock hard, so she leaned in to kiss him, her hand descending to cup his hardness. He accepted the kiss, but neatly deflected her hand onto his thigh. “I’m not done with you,” he murmured against her mouth, wrapping his arms around her and cradling her again.

  “I’m — I don’t know if you noticed, what with the thrashing and the cursing, but I’m good. It doesn’t get much better than that.”

  He laughed then, that rich, deep sound, and her shivered happily. “I noticed. I didn’t say more sex. I just said I wasn’t done.”

  “Do I get to play with you tonight?”

  He considered for a long moment. “Do you need to?” he asked, after a little whil
e.

  She let herself really weigh the words. “I want to,” she said, “but it’s not a need.”

  “Then it’ll probably keep until morning. What I need right now is to care for you, not me. I know it’s not the healthiest thing in the world, but I’m asking you to trust me. It’s the best thing for me, right now.”

  “Okay,” she said, and let him snuggle her in just a little bit closer. Feeling safe in his arms was something she could get used to. Something she very much wanted to get used to. Where her heart had been an open found for so many years, suddenly, it felt more like a scar. Tissue that was pink and delicate, that didn’t feel quite like it was supposed to, it no longer felt like she’d been torn inside out and poorly put back together. That was something, at least.

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  Tex held his woman tight for a long time. It felt good to put her needs before his. A kind of ascetic denial of his own raging hormones that told his brain where his priority was. Good. Strong. Powerful. The kind of man who could take care of the woman on his arm and on his bike. Who could show her the ropes until she could take care of herself.

  Of course, he wasn’t so focused on playing the good boyfriend for the night that he didn’t stifle a little groan every time she shifted against his cock. He could imagine himself buried so deep in her that she clawed his back and scratched the walls and screamed for him to fuck her harder. He could imagine using her on every single surface in the apartment, and then maybe taking her outside to fuck her on his bike. That was tempting. He’d seen it done in porn, and always wondered about making it work in real life.

  But that just made his refusal to give in to his urges that much more powerful. She was getting what she needed right now, and she seemed to be luxuriating in his delight in making this time all about her. The way she screamed and cried out and slammed herself into him once he slipped that thick vibe into her, though, it had nearly undone him. If he thought he could have slid it up her ass, he might have done it, but that wasn’t shit that you sprang on someone in the middle of a scene. And maybe she didn’t really know yet that it was a scene, but he did. He did, as soon as he put his hand on her throat and put that pressure there, that threat of controlling her breath. That was the amazing thing to him about playing with dynamics; on the surface, it seemed like the dominant had all the control in the room, but really, it was the sub who was running the show, if things were playing out right. The trick was to give them all the power they needed, including the power to call it off at any time. She’d shuddered and given herself up to him entirely with just that small application of pressure, and if he’d had a fraction less self-control, he would have come right there, pressed up against her back, rendered entirely helpless by the depth of her faith in him.

  She was a delight to torture, all helpless little moans and gasping. She was everything beautiful.

  He held her close until the water began to move from good and hot to just warm. She’d been so cold when he’d finally gotten her into the house, her lips bordering on icy when she’d pressed them into his neck. So far into shock that he wasn’t even sure she’d realized what was happening. The bath had been as much to get her blood back out and pumping into her extremities as it was therapeutic. And sexy as hell.

  He shifted her gently, and she stared up at him with wide-open eyes that were just a little bit dazed. But she was present, calmer and more aware than she’d been before. It was good progress. “Hey,” he said. “It’s getting cold in here. Ready to go to bed?”

  She nodded, just a little sleepy around the edges, and he helped her stand, reaching over to flip the bath drain. He wrapped her up in a big, fluffy towel, stroking down her legs, her arms, wiping her clean. Then he found a warm, flannel bathrobe on the back of her bathroom door and slipped her arms through the sleeves. He guided her to her bed.

  He’d had a half-made plan that involved laying her down and lotioning her back and legs, massaging her feet and hands, then kissing and nipping his way up her inner thighs until he got to spread her open and lick into her soft and yielding body. But her eyes were barely half open now, and he told his erection to settle the hell down. It would keep until morning. She was worth waiting for.

  Tex walked her into bed with every intention of tucking her in and leaving her there, but she sat up. “I can’t sleep in my robe,” she said. “That drawer.” She pointed, and he retried a set of flannel pajama bottoms and a long sleeved cotton t-shirt. She pulled them on, and he took the robe to hang up in the bathroom. He took a moment to hang up her robe, then looked at his clothes on the floor. Her clothes and his were both covered in gunshot residue, so putting them back on would be a mistake. But he didn’t have any sleeping clothes here. They’d never gone to bed in clothing before, after all.

  “Tex?” she called out, her voice sleepy.

  He padded back into the bedroom, his erection bobbing in front of him in a way that even he found silly. “What do you need?”

  She pointed at the same drawer. “I bought you a pair, too.” She shrugged, under the covers, a gesture that was sweet and incredibly appealing at the same time. Or maybe that was his overwrought hormones. “I didn’t get the matching ones. That was way too far. But just in case.”

  “Thanks,” he said. He went back into the drawer and pulled out a pair of men’s lounge pants in a deep blue color. He pulled them on, then went and sat next to her on the bed. “What can I do to help you sleep?”

  “Lay down with me?”

  He chuckled and examined the weary remains of his self-control. “I’m not sure how much sleep I’ll get if I do that.”

  Jessie gave him the sweetest smile he’d ever earned from her. “I promise to behave myself.” She reached up and caught his upper arm in her hand. “Come down here. Hold me a little longer.”

  Well. There was absolutely no way in the world to say no to that. He let her draw him down, stretching out beside her. He stayed on top of the covers, so there was plenty of padding between his still insistent cock and her heat. In those pants, it would be nothing to pull down the front of his, drop hers to her knees and enter her. He could take her from behind, pull her ass into his hips, fuck her hard, play with her tits while she hissed and bucked against him, driving him deeper —

  He pushed his mind fiercely away from that line of thought. Right now, he was comforting her. Telling her he loved her. Taking her face in his hands and kissing her tears when they came again. Loving her. Loving her so much.

  After a while, she sighed into sleep, gently and delicately.

  He waited a little while longer, until her breathing evened out and her body went slack, before he got up from the bed. He had business to take care of.

  Out in the kitchen, he dug through the fridge and found himself something to eat. He was bone weary and shaking from the adrenaline wash of the evening. He needed sleep, too, and he’d have it, soon enough. But it wasn’t quite right yet. He had to take care of just a few more things.

  When his stomach was full, it was easier to focus on what he needed to do. It was easier to take his mind away from slaking his need in Jessie’s body and just curling up with her indefinitely. He pulled a burner cell out of the bag he’d tucked inside Jessie’s closet, the first night he’d ever spent here. He dialed the phone he knew Take carried with him in a similar bag.

  “Hey,” Take answered on the second ring. “How’s the lady?”

  “Resting. How’s everyone else?”

  “We’re about to go. Decided that heat was the wrong way to go in the end; according to some folks, there’s too much shit in there that might explode, and I don’t want to leave anyone here to try to control the fire, just in case. We’re cleaning up the mess and dumping the trash.”

  “Makes sense.” What that meant was that the bodies would be dismembered and taken out to the desert where animals would take care of the rest of the mess. The guns would have the numbers filed off and sold, not used again. Shell casings and bullets would be cleaned off th
e ground, and any chips in the trees would be covered and made to look natural. It was unlikely anyone would look that hard, especially given Eddie’s influence over the department at this point, and the reputation the Racketeers had apparently already gotten for themselves in the area. “I trust you, Take. Thank you for taking care of this.”

  He could hear the other man nod. “She needed some care, that was obvious. I don’t imagine she’s ever been through something like that before.”