by Rie Warren
“Yeah.” The muscles in my thighs bulged and strained, and my abs were made of hard compacted steel.
“Waste of good hot come.” She aimed my cock at her mouth and swooped over it.
Shouting, I released her hair before I ripped it out by the roots. My hands braced behind me, I pumped in and out of her beautiful lips.
She looked up at me, her eyelids heavy, her eyelashes thick and black, framing darkened irises.
The way she licked and mouthed me made me insane. I groaned, swearing in a harsh voice. With just the tip of my cock in her volcanic mouth, she lipped over me, using her tongue to flicker at the expanding slit of my dick.
“Damn, you look good with my cock in your mouth.”
She pulled back. “Which do you like better? My pussy or my mouth?”
“Unfair question.” With my hand at the back of her neck, I guided her back to me.
She smiled before quickly turning her head at the last moment. She licked me up and down, getting me wet all over before gripping me with both hands. Stroking, squeezing and releasing, she washed her tongue all over the head.
She withdrew and tossed her head up to look at me.
She licked her cock-swollen lips.
“That’s right.” Bending back down, she plunged onto me with hungry mouthfuls. “Fuck my face.”
I drew in a last gasp, the tight coil of need snapping. My body froze tight, the spine-tingling, hot load bolting from my balls and up my shaft.
I came like crazy, my hoarse yells bouncing off the walls, my dick thrusting into her mouth. I vaguely heard her glug my come as I crunched over, paralyzed by the sight, the feel, the sound.
Rayce lifted her mouth off me to take the last shot on her lips. Milky white come splattered against her lips, and after she stroked out the last drops she smeared her messy mouth around my cockhead then licked me—and her lips—clean.
I didn’t even waste time catching my breath. Scooping her up, I mashed my mouth to hers and placed her on the cushioned bench in the hall. Hastily tearing off her pants and panties, I pushed her shoulders back, pulled her ass forward and spread her legs wide. Falling to my knees, I stared up her body—the big amazing tits, the arch of her neck, the pert nose and nose ring and lush, lush lips only equaled by the pinker-tinged ones between her parted thighs.
With my thumbs rubbing up and down her puffy outer labia, I bowed down and wetted the soft, sexy, triangle of black curls.
She purred, running her fingers through my hair.
Looking lower, I groaned at the sight of her glistening wet, so-fucking-sexy cunt.
“Fuck, princess.” My gaze flashed to hers. “I need to get my mouth on you.”
She dragged in a ragged breath and raised her hands to her nipples, fingering them.
I growled and pursed my lips around her pink, swollen pussy.
She hissed, arching her back.
Flicking my tongue against her sensitive opening, I suckled the skin, so soft and wet. I kissed at her, diving in with my whole mouth and pulling out. I feasted on her feverish slick flesh as her pussy juice funneled onto my tongue and her moans turned into savage cries.
She let go of her breasts to drive me against her. The sounds of her wails meshed with the hot tide of wet cunt flooding my mouth. My thumb’s gentle rhythm on her sweet clit and my relentless loud tongue fucking drove her right out of her mind.
“BOOMER! Ugh, God!”
At the height of her orgasm I pulled back to thrust two strong fingers inside her. She thrashed against the bench, her nipples taut as deep pink candy.
“I’ve never seen a pussy that needs to be fucked more.” My fingers circled.
Her hips followed.
I pressed down on her stomach, and her climax continued.
I withdrew my fingers from her fluttering cunt and sucked them off.
With my mouth latched to her tits, I held my cock at her entrance. “You need my come?”
She jerked me to her mouth, moaning. She tasted herself on my tongue, greedily seeking out every recess of my mouth.
Jesus.
Her hands digging into the clenched muscles of my back, she mewled, “Yes.”
I leaned back, pushing my pelvis in, pulling the tips of her breasts out. “You want it?”
“Fuck me!”
I released her taut tits and swung her up off the bench. She landed against the wall below the staircase with a soft thud.
“Mmm. So this is a good time to tell you I got tested again, huh?” Her fingers flirted with my hair as her eyes teasingly flitted to mine. “All clear. And still on birth control.”
She fired me up even more, whispering against my ear, “All yours, Boomer.”
“Fuck. Then you better hold on,” I ordered.
“What?”
Drawing her hands into mine, I placed them up and behind her around the spindles of the staircase. “Hold. On.”
“Oh, fuck.”
Her new position trussed up her tits, and I couldn’t resist snatching the tight peaks in my mouth. She shivered against me. I laved one more time then gripped the insides of her thighs. Lifting her up, my muscles bunched as I held her weight in my arms.
My cock knocked against her cunt, and her hips bucked.
I maneuvered Rayce onto me quickly, taking her in one deep long thrust.
“Oh my God!” she screamed.
All the way to the hilt.
Then I held still, clasped by her inescapable heat clutching me flesh to flesh.
“You can move.” Her voice came out in a desperate whisper.
“I don’t . . .” I grinded my forehead against hers, my dick embedded inside her. “We talked about this before. Don’t wanna hurt you. And bareback . . . fucking hell, Rayce.”
“Can’t you feel ready I am? How much I want you?” She bit my neck, and her pussy pulsed around me, which made me strain harder, push even deeper.
My cock throbbed wildly.
I backed my feet up, stretching her body out, and withdrew with one achingly slow stroke.
Her hips arched. Her neck bent. Her lips gasped open.
I watched my cock withdraw all the way, its thick length wet as hell and ready to fuck. I waited several seconds after the darkly engorged head emerged then charged into her.
Her scream rebounded against my shout.
Slick with our perspiration, my precome, her gleaming juices, I plowed into her, taking her back against the wall, pinning her in place. My cock belted into her. My pelvis pounded against her. My back arched, and I dug in deep.
The pure bliss of fucking her raw steamrolled over any possible restraint.
Rayce’s legs curled around me, but she kept hold of the spindles, her knuckles bone-white, her mouth ovaled-open with each whine of breath.
Her body was curvy and rich, and she bounced against me, coming right back at me.
I twisted her slightly, and one of the piercings through the head of my cock hit her hot spot.
“Yes. There! Oh, yes!”
My muscled rippled and flexed. My arms bulged and bunched. My skin was wet, and hers tasted salty-sweet when I licked up her neck to her mouth.
She gasped and cried out. The shocking heatwave of her orgasm clutched down on my cock. I let go of her lips, my head knocking back, my body cranking to get that . . . last . . . inch . . . deeper.
Searing heat pounded through my entire body. It held me in a high fever until finally it all rushed out of me, into her. Totally into her for the first fucking time ever.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!” Rayce’s smoky voice rose with every last heave of my cock inside her.
I could hardly stand let alone keep her upright after that. My chest billowed in and out as I let her legs drape to the floor.
“Jesus H. fucking Christ,” I gusted out.
Rayce slid down the wall.
If I’d had the energy to laugh I would’ve.
Instead I planted my bare-naked ass right next to her, curling her against my body.
She petted my chest, lazily swirling her fingers through the black hair.
“Can’t move,” she murmured.
I kissed the top of her head. “Ungh.”
“Uh huh.”
Shitlock tiptoed—tap tap tap—into the hall. He looked at us with scorn. He hissed, turned around, and raised his tail as he slinked back out.
“I think we just scarred the cat for life.” I drew Rayce closer.
“I’ll buy him the expensive kitty food.”
“Good luck with that.”
****
The next couple of weeks sped by. The wedding date was set, and we were shooting for the beginning of May. Preparations were made. We were busy with work, working side by side on our bikes. Working it all out in bed. Or on the floor. Basically in any semiprivate place we could make it to in time.
Rayce chose a wedding gown, which she wouldn’t let me see. I could tell she was in love with it by the way her eyes lit up when she told me, but then she nibbled on her nails and frowned.
“What’s the problem?” I joined her on the couch, pulling her into my arms.
“It’s expensive.”
“I can—”
“No.” Her chin set, she stared at me. “You are absolutely not paying for my wedding dress. I’ll go all Scarlett O’Hara with the curtains if I have to.”
“But we have blinds, not curtains. And I’m pretty sure that wasn’t a wedding dress.”
“Shut it.” She growled, tackling me to the cushions. “You know what I mean.”
I linked my fingers with hers. “I don’t care what you wear. You know that.”
“I want to be pretty for you,” she whispered.
“Princess.” I lifted her chin and kissed her lips. “You got that down already. And hot as fuck. Sexy as hell.” I gave her a wicked look.
“Again, Boomer?” She fake sighed as I started getting her naked.
She gasped when I laid my mouth on her. “Again,” I mumbled.
Turned out she got the dress of her dreams. When Tucker caught wind of it, he refused to back down. My girl was true grit, but he had bite, too.
And of course I took a trip to Frankie the Tailor’s for a new suit. Fun times as usual while he measured my inseam, asked me which way I hung, and pumped me for any new info on Josh Stone—his unrequited flame.
Inevitably he finagled an invite to the wedding—with lots of tugging, tape measuring, the ever-present, unspoken threat of the sword sheathed inside his cane.
One week before the wedding, Rayce sat on our bed in a pair of tiny panties and a racer-back, black tank top that distracted the hell out of me.
“Are you even listening to me?” she asked.
I chewed on my lip and dragged my gaze from her bountiful tits. “Huh?”
“Do I need to start wearing flannel or something?”
“Sure. Put on that shirt of mine you like so much.” I tickled her sides and she laughed, scooting away.
“I’m serious!”
I pulled her back to me with my hands wrapped around her ankles and climbed on top of her.
Licking the tiny divot of her belly button, I grinned. “Me too.”
Her hands in my hair, she cranked my head back. “Is Tucker supposed to walk me down the aisle?”
I sat up beside her. “What?”
She shrugged. “Just being stupid. Hate being a girl.”
I snuffled a snort and really looked at her.
Her shoulders slumped, and her mouth screwed tight as she scraped at the ever-present oil stains on her nails.
Reclining on the bed, I tugged her against me. “I gotta say I’m fucking thrilled you’re a girl.”
She rose up on her elbows above me. “Even when I get emotional?”
“Lord, woman. Yes. To everything about you. All the damn time. Especially when you get all mouthy with me.”
She slugged me on the shoulder.
And quickly ducked her head. “I just don’t know what to do.”
“’Bout what?”
“Should I ask Tucker to walk me down the aisle or not?”
“I’m pretty sure he’d jump at the chance,” I murmured. “After my folks died . . . he kept me together.” I turned my eyes to her. “He’s a good man to have as a father, Rayce.”
“You’re beautiful, you know that?” She kissed my bicep and licked a hot trail to my shoulder.
My skin erupted with chills, but I rolled my eyes. “You’re not supposed to say that to a guy.”
She straddled me, locking my hands down beside my head. “Big. Beautiful. Protective.” Her head dipping to my neck, she whisper-licked, “So hot. And those eyes.”
“What about them?” My voice lowered, husky and rough.
“Ice blue. Piercing. Sexy as fuck.” She kissed my lips slowly then drew away. “But I still don’t know what to do.”
“Rayce. There doesn’t have to be an aisle. There doesn’t even have to be a wedding. You don’t have to marry me. There can just be you and me.”
“But I want a wedding.” She pouted. “I want to marry you.”
“Are you sure? You are kind of young.” I curbed my grin, but my lips quirked.
“What’d you just say, old man?” Her eyes gleamed with flirtatious challenge.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Princess Phoebe
SO THERE WAS A wedding, in slightly slapdash fashion even though I tried to make it a somewhat classy affair. It would take place at the house on the bank of the river at the beginning of May.
The morning of the big day, I ate and showered. Shaved and dressed. I polished my dad’s cufflinks, admiring their gleam before I slipped them through my cuffs.
Rayce had stayed at JB and Hunter’s place the night before. I was aching to see her and only a little bit nervous, wondering if she’d really show.
Brodie burst into the room, a wide grin on his face. He sniffed at the air. “New cologne?”
“She likes it.”
“Remember the last time we did this, and you helped me with my tie?” He knocked my hands away as I struggled at the mirror.
I watched in wonder while he deftly tied a fashionable knot in the dark gray silk under the collar of my pressed white shirt.
Huh.
Ashe must’ve taught him how to do that.
“Cat’s reception,” I said. “’Course I remember.”
“Yeah.” His head ducked.
“Now you’re a dad with one more on the way, and I’m getting married, right?”
“Never told you. You and Cat . . . ” His blue eyes were wet when he looked up. “It’s been a long fucking haul.”
My heart triple-timed, and I clapped him on the shoulder. “Got through it together.”
“Yeah. We did, didn’t we?” Brodie smiled.
“How can you be such a loveable fuckwit?”
He tucked his fingers into his perfectly tailored suit—the opposite of mine, the white duds offset by a deep gray shirt. “Good genes, dude.”
“I don’t know. I feel like The Hulk in this thing.” I squinted at myself in the mirror.
“Oh, trust me. Rayce is gonna like it.”
“You think?” I looked huge in the dove gray evening tux—just right for a spring wedding, Frankie had assured me.
“What I think is we just got way too girly.”
“Word.”
“Okay. We’re all good.” He patted my face. “Everyone’s here but the bride. Let’s do this thing.” He laughed evilly as he stepped into the hallway. “Better you than me.”
I pushed him on his back to get him moving. “Ass. You know Ashe isn’t gonna stand for that shit much longer. Can’t believe you haven’t set a date yet.”
“Pfft. I got that woman wrapped around my little finger.”
“You wish.” I chuckled.
We walked outside together. It was late afternoon, the day clear and bright blue and not too hot. Lucy had taken over the party planning, thank fuck for that. The house
was decked out in flowers and candles while she’d worked some kind of magic in the backyard. No chairs, the ceremony wouldn’t be a long one. Instead everyone milled around, and the aisle was a path of crushed white seashells cordoned off with shiny black satin ribbons and big puffy bows. The trail led down to the riverbank—the huge span of the Ravenel Bridge to one side and the downtown Charleston peninsula with all its spires and steeples directly across the Cooper River from us.
Didn’t get much better than this.
Now I just needed a bride.
I started sweating it a little, Brodie and me shaking hands, greeting folks, making our way to the altar. The waterside platform had been decorated with yet more ribbons, and flowers, and lanterns swinging from live oak branches overhead.
Rayce and I had kept the invitation list small. Small as in, you know, all of Retribution, Redemption, Chrome and Steele. Ashe, Brodie and Cara—a given. Cat and Nick. Everyone from Stone’s Garage, including Leelee, Jolie, and JJ, as well as Josh’s mom, Gigi Stone. She was sort of a sassy mother figure to all us hooligans.
And Frankie. Who was busy making moony eyes at Josh much to Leelee’s amusement and Josh’s consternation.
Everyone was there all right. Except Rayce.
Just waiting for the bride.
And waiting.
Waiting.
Finally my ears perked up, and I stood straight and tall.
The telltale sound of roaring pipes from incoming choppers ripped through the afternoon air. I knew it was Tail, Handsome, Tuck, and Hunter doing the honors, escorting the limo delivering Rayce and her maid of honor, JB.
My heart beat like a freakin’ bongo drum in my chest. I swiped my palms on my pants for the millionth time, and Brodie knocked me on the shoulder.
“Quit it. You’re wrinkling the tux, bro, and Frankie’s looking,” he hissed.
Tail, Hunter, and Handsome merged with the crowd, Tail giving me a very unsubtle two thumbs up and a shit-eating grin.
The music started, but that was just background noise to the rush of blood booming in my ears.
JB made her appearance. I hardly paid attention as she swished down the path, my gaze locked on the porch of the house where Rayce would emerge.
Finally the doors opened, and out she stepped, holding onto Tucker’s arm.
“Oh, fuck.” And holy shit, too.
