Everything that I want, and the life that should have been my own, if I chose to pursue it, unfolds in a single moment before me. I feel like the sole witness to it, paralyzed to stop it, even though I know other men in the club are watching Tannenbaum with similar envy.
Ana cuts a quick glance toward me. It's only momentary, and she steals a moment when Tannenbaum is preoccupied with placing an order with a passing cocktail waitress. I can't fully describe the expression on her face—it isn't happy, and it isn't scared. It's a carefully blank mask that shifts subtly when it's turned on me. All of the forced poise, the tenseness, relaxes in an instant when sees me watching over her like some dark guardian angel. It may not be Heaven I occupy, but no matter how twisted my origins might be, the sight of the man I am now seems good enough for her.
I feel my emotional load lighten, and all thoughts of what might have been feel lost behind me on the road, like personal possessions and articles of clothing shed from a broken saddlebag and carried off by the wind. There is nothing I would take back, I realize, because there is nothing for me to take back.
Ana already prevented me from making the worst mistake of my life. I’m not cruelly omnipotent, and it isn't in my power to give and take the lives of others. It is within my power to see justice done, and gazing at the redhead across the room, I know I won't have to go it alone. And whatever wall there still is erected between Ana and me, I don't have to let its demolition bring the whole of everything we've built together down. I don't have to let her go, no matter how much the woman fights me. I have been fighting all along for what I want, for the happiness and freedom that I am due—it's only that my end goal, and my final prize, has suddenly shifted.
And suddenly, I don't want anything to do with what Tannenbaum has. It's only Ana, and his illusion of owning her attention, her desire, that bothers me, and that's all it is—an illusion. Ana's glance back to me has confirmed that much.
So I settle back into the bar to watch. Wearing a dress like that, I'm sure I don't have long to wait before she gets the predicted invitation. I see Tannenbaum’s meaty hands tighten around the small of her back once more, the scarlet fabric bunching beneath his sausage-like fingers. I watch as it rides up Ana's milky thigh, inch by inch, until it reveals the curve of her ass. I can't tell if she's wearing any underwear. God, I hope she's wearing underwear. I was so focused on purchasing her outward presentation that I can't remember now if I bought any for her.
I see the exchange go down. Tannenbaum lifts his glass, and draws something toward him across the table that I had at first mistaken for a coaster. I can see now, even from a distance, that he holds a rectangular piece of plastic out to Ana. I shift slightly in my seat as I watch her accept, fluttering her eyes as she does so. Her eyelashes are so long and dark that I can see their every movement clearly from here.
Ana begins to slip from his lap, when suddenly Tannenbaum yanks her back. I watch in horror, utterly helpless to stop it, as my former coworker swoops in for a kiss. Ana is faster, and turns her head at the last moment with a forced laugh, substituting her lips for her neck…which, in hindsight, is almost a hundred times worse to watch. There is nothing romantic about the gesture: it's all sexual, and all predatory. I feel revolted for Ana's sake, and I can't imagine being in a similar situation and acting as coolly as she does now.
Only a few more hours. Only a few more hours, and then Ana and I will both have the recompense that is due to us.
I leave the club after she does, and find her in the alleyway leaning up against my bike. She lifts her head when she detects my presence, and opens her mouth to speak, but I quickly shed the remaining inches between us and cup her face. She stills beneath my touch, but it isn't the submissive animal petrification of a lover caught in an unwanted embrace; I watch as her eyes slide shut, and she gives herself over to the relief of our reunion.
I lower my mouth to the curve of her neck, and plant my lips where Tannenbaum had forced his own against her. I kiss away the invisible imprint, and hopefully the memory of the invasion. Ana swallows against a small noise in her throat and brings her hands up to grip the collar of my jacket, but it isn't to ward me off. I press harder, deepening the kiss, moving my mouth sensually against her skin.
"I want you, Flint," she gasps her need, and I can't repress myself any longer. My hand skates along her thigh, hiking the train of her dress up as my fingers flare across her flank and the outside swell of her tight ass. I dig in, gripping her with unmistakable force, and Ana cries out and throws her head back. I feel for myself now that she isn't wearing underwear. My cock lurches, straining against the front of my pants to be free. I wasn't planning on picking up where we left off at the rest stop, but desire has driven me too fast and too far already.
Ana's hands fumble with my pants, freeing my erection to the open air. I return to the spot on her neck and ravish her, kissing and biting and sucking ruthlessly until she's gasping and moaning and can scarcely form words. The bike rocks beneath her as I hoist her up into a sidesaddle position. She reaches out for something to hold onto and winds up latching onto my shoulder.
As soon as she's settled, I yank her forward across the leather cushion and impale her on my throbbing cock. Relief floods through me immediately as I bury myself in tightness and heat; I feel instantly as if I have scratched an unbearable itch.
I grunt in the same instant that Ana gives a heady "Ohhh!" and hikes her leg up. I hook my arm beneath her knee and thrust into her again, groaning at how incredible she feels. I've never been one to be vocal during sex, but here and now with Ana, I can't help it.
"Oh God, Ana," I hear myself moan. "Oh, fuck."
I buck my hips against her at slow, grinding intervals. The bike lurches beneath us as she rides both it and the rigid length of my manhood, double-teaming both, crying out and grasping for something to hold onto, but I don't stop. I can't stop.
"Oh! God! Ah!" she pleads incoherently, her chain of words breaking in a breathless sob of passion. If I didn't fuck her here and now, I'm not sure I could have kept ahold of my sanity. She's like a drug, and I find myself needing more and more of her. I'm not sure it will ever be enough.
I take her recklessly and carelessly in the alleyway, in semi-seclusion from the street. All anyone who passes has to do is look in if one of Ana's wails draws their attention our way, and they will find us wrapped in ecstasy, a biker and his girl. There is no way anyone will mess with what is happening here. I feel a surge of power at my position, and I wrap Ana tighter in my arms. I raise my lips to her hair as I begin to thrust into her in small, quick strokes, forcing her to feel the friction of my cock as it sinks itself again and again into her passage.
"You like this?" The dark whisper is mine. "You like getting fucked hard like this? You wanna let the whole street know?"
Ana cries in response as she shudders at the aphrodisiac of my dirty talk injected into the proceedings. I'll take that as an overwhelming yes.
"You don't get to sit in another man's lap and not get fucked by me as a reminder," I growl into her ear. "You belong to me now."
"Oh fuck. Yeah. Please, Flint, give it to me." Her voice is high and tight, and her brows knit together as she stares up at me.
"You want it, baby?" I prompt as I bend to kiss the other side of her neck. I slow my pace to rock into her slowly, pulling out almost fully before I push my slick cock back in again, wetting it further with the evidence of Ana's need. "You were just asking for it, weren't you? Slinking around in this little red number. Mmm. I could see how it clung to your ass when you walked away from me. Were you thinking about me kneeling between your legs, my tongue lapping along every inch of your aching pussy? I bet you weren't expecting to get taken"—here I punctuate the word with an abrupt arrhythmic thrust forward, which makes her head fall back on her neck with a sobbing, needy cry—"this hard. You think you get to make demands with me just because you look so fucking sexy? I'll have you however I want you."
"Your dick feel
s so good inside of me, Flint. Oh my God. Oh my God." She turns her head fitfully to the side, her tousled red hair spilling down her ivory shoulders. A slick sheen of sweat makes her glisten, and I know I'm making her heart race as hard as my own in an effort to keep up. She drops one hand from my shoulder and twists the fabric of the front of her dress as I pump into her. "I'm going to come. Please. I'm going to come."
"You better come for me," I murmur into her ear once more. "I want to feel you surrendering on the other end of my cock, Ana. I want to know you can't fucking help yourself; that even though we're outside and anyone might be watching, you can't help but give them the show they're waiting for. You've got a secret, don't you? You like getting fucked by me more than anything. You like it hard and rough, anytime, anywhere. Why don't you go ahead and tell the class how you like it?"
"Harder," Ana urges me. "Oh God, harder, Flint. Fuck me right in my tight little pussy." She repeats this sentiment like a mantra, watching my length slide into her, thick as a pillar driving between her legs.
"You're so tight," I agree with a low groan. "God, Ana, I can't stand it." I can feel my control of the situation slipping away, especially when she cries out like a porn star like that, begging for the satisfaction of her body.
The bike heaves back and forth on its wheels, listing dangerously, but I'm beyond caring; it could fall down beneath us and I still wouldn't let her go, and like hell I would ever dream of stopping now.
Ana's fingers knead and twist the material of her dress, and she gazes down between her legs with her lips parted as if in shock at what is happening to her—of what I'm doing to her, and what she's allowing to be done to her. Then suddenly she throws her head back, and I feel the hand that remains on my shoulder bunch the fabric and pull the sleeve of my jacket tight.
"I'm coming," she pleads with me as if I can stop it, or would do anything to prevent her reaching climax. "I'm coming." She grabs hold of me and I lift her off the bike and into my arms, sheathing myself completely inside of her and forcing her to writhe on the rigid, unrelenting length that is the source of her ultimate pleasure.
Her legs wrap around me as contractions ripple through her. Her body spasms and grinds itself against me without Ana consciously realizing herself what she is doing. She rides me as wave upon wave courses through her, her neck straining, her face trained to the heavens as she wails at the feeling.
I groan as she continues to fuck me, even in orgasm, making it impossible for me to hold still any longer. I lower her to her feet before she's even ridden out the tail end of her orgasm and force her around. The red material of her dress shifts like a curtain between us. She forces her hands down on the seat of the bike, bending before me with her ass in the air, my cock still buried inside her.
The slap of flesh as I take her from behind just drives me further into my own primal state until I'm not sure I will ever surface again. She's reduced me to a man who needs one thing and one thing only, and that's the full-bodied satisfaction that comes from mating with the most gorgeous specimen of my species. Now it's my turn to fist my fingers in the material of her dress, and run my gloved hand along the bare swell of her white ass. I make a fist around the skirt of her dress and use my leash on her to force her back harder, faster.
"Ah! Ah! Ah!" Ana calls out with breathless abandon each time I bury myself to the hilt. I groan as I let my fist slip; the red dress slides like water from my fingers as I grasp either side of her and pull her back into me.
I can tell from the mounting volume of her voice that she is about to reach orgasm again, that the waves only slowed without ever truly stopping when I turned her over, and I am bringing her to that final threshold again. I feel, too, that I will join her this time; the heat that seems localized to the spot where Ana's backside slaps against my pelvis is blooming, until it threatens to consume me completely. But still it eludes me—still I haven't reached the breaking point.
And then, all at once, it hits me, and my voice joins Ana's in a wild chorus as I ejaculate. Orgasms rips through me as I empty my seed inside her; it's all I can do to keep myself from slumping across her bowed back and letting the sensation overtake me until I lapse into unconsciousness.
This is, without a doubt, the best sex I have ever had in my life, and I've always been the sort of man who isn't afraid to sample pleasure when it's offered. Still, that a feeling this good might have existed in the world, I could never have guessed.
I could never have guessed that a woman like Ana existed in the world.
I pull out of her, feeling subdued satisfaction when I see a small trickle of my seed running down from between her shaking legs. She turns her head and notices my smug smile, and quickly draws her dress back down over the evidence of our transaction.
"Great," she mutters. I can tell she is as out of breath as I am, which is why I settle for grinning crookedly at her when she shoots me a look. "Look at the mess you've made of me. Now how am I supposed to ride over to the hotel? Much less look like I haven't just had the best sex of my life?"
A warm feeling wells within me as she mirrors my private sentiments, but I say nothing about it. "Not my problem," I respond dismissively as I wrench my zipper back up and throw my leg over the bike. I feel a playful swat across the back of my shoulder as Ana mounts behind me. She takes some time rearranging herself, and I throttle the engine.
When I feel a familiar pair of arms encircle themselves around me, I know that the warm feeling won't be going away.
CHAPTER 13
ANA
After that torrid encounter in the alleyway, I'm not sure I can go through with this.
I'm not even sure what the plan is anymore, if I'm being perfectly honest, so I decide to bring it up with Flint once we roll up outside the hotel.
"Did I really make love to you hard enough to knock the plan right out of your head?" He stands over me, amused, with his arms crossed. I decide to dispense with swats and settle for punching him flat-out in the bicep. He flexes instantly, and I'm certain he's avoided any real pain I'd had hopes to inflict on him.
"Mr. Carter, rest assured that was not making love," I correct him.
"Miss Ryan, rest assured there is a very important factor at play when I draw that distinction, and that I stand by my words," he replies.
I can only stare at him in response. I feel as if the wind has been knocked out of me by a single blow. In fact, the sensation is so strong that I swear it's physical. Flint stares back at me, his dark gaze deep and meaningful, and maybe a little impatient. When I regain my breath again, I almost hold it, wondering if he'll take it back.
He doesn't.
And yet, he doesn't elaborate on what he means. He looks at me almost as if he thinks it should be obvious, and I'm being a fool. I huff a little angrily, blowing red strands of my hair of my eyes.
If he thinks I'll be the first to say what's on both our minds, then he's dead wrong. There's no way I'm going to be the first to offer a real love confession. He can speak in riddles and do conversational gymnastics all he wants—at the end of the day, it's Flint Carter who's going to be the one to say he's in love with me.
I step toward him and reach up to adjust the collar of his leather jacket. "How do you plan on getting in?" I mutter. "There's no way you're not going to draw attention at a place like this."
"I'll use the service entrance," he responds as he gazes down at me. "I've done it before when I was on the road and between bank accounts. All you have to do is offer up the cash and the staff lets you in a side entrance."
"Yeah right." I snort. "I'm sure getting illicit access has nothing to do with the way you look."
"You tell me." Flint grins, and I smack him on the shoulder again. I can't deny I'm getting increasingly nervous to give my final performance. He arranges my hair and clothes, all to make sure it doesn't look like I've been carried through the streets on the back of a maverick's bike…much less been on the receiving end of his sexual prowess in an alleyway only a few blocks
away.
"Room Five-Oh-Three," I whisper. "Don't forget it. You better come and rescue me from the metaphorical train tracks you've effectively tied me to."
"Did you just compare me to Snidely Whiplash?" Flint demands as I walk away from him. I turn my head to raise a coquettish eyebrow over my shoulder.
"You wear all black. And I'd say your thwarted homicidal actions up until now place you firmly in the 'villain' category," I reply. "I'm counting on you to make a reformation in the next five minutes and save the damsel."
"I've already saved her once," he calls over to me. "And I can tell you from personal experience this woman is no damsel."
I hide a secret smile under my hair as I turn back around. I catch my reflection on the automatic glass door before it pulls aside, and think that Flint has done a good job of making me look presentable once more. If I look a little windswept, all the better—most drunks I've seen out wandering tonight look as if they've been assaulted by gales of varying strengths this evening. I'll fit right in.
I flash the man behind the counter my newly acquired keycard as I stroll toward the elevators. My stride is unbreakable; I am sure to insert an occasional teeter on the heels Flint bought for me, heels that until this latest performance I have been able to walk perfectly in. He really knows what suits me, I reflect, as the hotel receptionist catches me in his peripheral and merely nods, and doesn't exactly look up from whatever paperwork is occupying his attention.
I ascend the floors, my heart attempting to climb higher in my throat with each level gained. Within moments I am outside Tannenbaum’s door.
He won't be back yet. That's why he sent me ahead with the card. I raise the card, pause, and hesitate.
Another hand comes alongside mine, and I look up. Flint is standing over me. He isn't smiling, but when his hand comes down on mine to complete the motion, it's comforting and warm. He's seeking comfort in me, I realize. The part I've played all evening is over. Now Flint is here.
BILLIONAIRE BIKERS: 3 MC Romance Books Page 13
