BILLIONAIRE BIKERS: 3 MC Romance Books

by Kristina Blake

  I watch carefully for orgasm. I know the signs in a woman. I begin to manipulate the hard, almost pearl-like nub of flesh perched above her entrance, rolling it around and back again beneath the pad of my thumb. Nancy bucks again at my discovery, but I pin her pelvis down to the bed with my free hand and continue to pleasure her closer and closer to climax. Once I've assured myself she will stay put, I take my hand away, and lower my head down between her legs.

  The first sweep of my tongue draws out Nancy's taste, allowing me to finally relish what has so long eluded me. She tastes clean and sweet and wonderful, and I take my time, as if partaking of a favorite meal. I lap my tongue along the edges of her quivering folds, tasting her juices and adding additional lubrication, although I'm not sure it's something we'll be requiring at this point. Still, the unimaginable, almost mind-blowing tightness I had encountered when I penetrated her with my fingers leaves no room for error going forward; every precaution must be taken to ensure she's ready and aching for me to fill her.

  I'm determined to avoid causing her pain at any cost. No, the only pain the two of us will be partaking in is the kind that heightens the pleasure.

  Looking at her now, and imagining how she first came across when we met two days ago, I can't believe my good fortune in finding a partner so willing to take what I give to them. My tongue parries and thrusts; my cock bobs rigidly in the opening of my fly, an unsheathed sword just waiting for its turn to vanquish.

  Nancy reaches down and grasps me by the roots of my hair, pulling the overlong blond strands between her fingers, forcing me to kiss her deeper. I comply with her commands greedily, thrusting my tongue forward and plundering the slit my fingers had so recently stretched for ready access. I hook my tongue as I hooked my fingers, flicking up and out in a steady rhythm, dragging along every sweet inch of her tender pink flesh and watching as her womanhood darkens with its own deep blush.

  "Lesher… Lesher…" She gasps, no, chants my name. I doubt if I've ever felt this powerful coming together with a woman before. Usually I'm down for a hard fuck with any girl who makes the right eyes at me at the bar; words are barely exchanged prior to sex, and preferences are only discovered as they arise naturally in the moment.

  With Nancy, I want to know everything there is to know about her. I want to know what makes her tick; what makes her blush, and where; what gets her so excited in the bedroom that she forgets herself, breaking free of reservations long enough to demand her ache be satisfied.

  It's weird to find myself reflecting on what I want out of a relationship with Nancy when I'm nose-deep in her sweet, secret recesses. I'm no stranger to pleasuring women, but this feels like new terrain with Nancy…and while I don't hesitate outwardly in my approach to lovemaking, on the inside I feel less certain of what we can be to each other. What possible future can a career criminal, careless to the destruction his actions wreak around him, have with a woman who is the embodiment of obedience to society? And why am I starting to think about the future at all? I undertook the robbery of Grand National Credit Union with the full knowledge that it would likely be the last thing of consequence I ever do. Either I would be on the run for the rest of my life, thrown into a dark hole in a maximum-security prison, or I would die in a hail of gunfire—the latter being my preferred result. Up until this week, there had been nothing left on my itemized mental list of things to live for. There had been nothing to excite my intellect, nothing to fire my adrenaline, and no real pleasure to partake in. The only thing left to me was riding, and even doing that alone was beginning to feel stale.

  Then along came Nancy: a woman whose mere presence threatens to save me from my self-destructive path, even if she still can't save herself from me.

  I rise from between Nancy's quivering legs, running my tongue along my lips in full view of her lidded, searching eyes, drawing the evidence of her honeyed elixir into my mouth for one last taste. I hear her disbelieving gasp at my lascivious display, but all her naiveté does is turn me on. I climb back up her lean, taut body, until my dangling cock butts up against the entry of her pussy. I let it rest there for a moment, before slowly moving my hips up and down. Shivers of bliss run through me, and where we meet is a focal point.

  "Do you want this?" I ask Nancy as I smooth the hair back from her forehead. "Tell me how much you want this."

  Despite the shuddering rise and fall of her ribcage, she stares back into my eyes evenly.

  "As much as you do."

  She breathes the words so quietly that I almost don't hear her, but her voice is steady. Her answer takes me by surprise, and for a moment I pause, hovering over her, uncertain how to respond. The idea of any sort of cooperation, of any sort of equal reciprocity between us, is new.

  Nancy raises herself off the bed, grasps the back of my neck, and kisses me. I can do nothing but hold myself as rigid as a statue to keep her supported as she shows me, on her own terms, exactly how much she wants it.

  Talk is cheap, I decide, in the aftermath of the stunning kiss. She disengages and pulls back, leaving me without a connection, and that's when I know I have to act.

  Before she can lower herself back down to the pillow and escape me, I capture her lips again, this time encouraging her back; she complies, and I follow, shifting a hand beneath the small of her back. My palm glides easily into the curve and pushes her up, deepening the sexy arch in her spine, demanding that the flat, silky-smooth plane of her stomach brush against mine. Nancy gasps into me at the contact, and I have an idea why—my body temperature has spiked to fevered levels. My molten hot skin presses against hers, letting her know just how badly every inch of me desires her. Every racing molecule that makes up my powerful physique sings when she is near.

  My returned kiss is as passionate as her own. There is no longer a need for penetration, for domination—I kiss her lazily, moving through the motions and relishing how familiar the choreography between us is now. She knows precisely at what moments to meet me, and where, and I'm just as knowledgeable in obliging her.

  As I drag and draw out the kiss, I slowly push myself down between her legs, and propel the pulsing length of my waiting member inside of her.

  I'm a man who takes what he wants. Generally, I don't go in for a lot of foreplay, but tonight is different—and not because it's my first with Nancy, although that fact might bear reflecting on later. Foreplay between us was necessary, because I knew from past probing just how tight Nancy is naturally. I shouldn't be surprised—I could have called it just by looking at her. She holds herself erect, and excellent posture can often be indicative of an inability to relax in other regions.

  But she takes me into her easily enough now. I've primed her with my fingers, with my tongue, and with low-muttered enticements and promises. This is my final challenge to her: to show me just how much she wants what I want to give her.

  And Nancy doesn't disappoint.

  I bury myself in her completely, feeling the slick and welcoming walls of her passage take me in. She tightens, as I expected she would, refusing to let me go easily. I moan and sink against her, letting the Clubhouse's most lavish bed envelope our entangled bodies.

  "Fuck, that feels sweet," I hiss. "You feel too good. I should have known you would feel this way, but… Jesus."

  Perspiration springs up along the muscles tensing in my back. It takes no effort at all on my part to hold myself aloft, and keep my full weight from crushing her, but it takes momentous willpower not to succumb to the waves of pleasure that are starting to roll through me. I haven't even moved since entering her, for fuck's sake, and already I feel like an explosion waiting to happen.

  "We shouldn't be doing this," I murmur, even as I start to move against her slowly. I stroke the hair from her face once more and repeat, "I shouldn't be doing this. You're my prisoner, Nancy. I have power over you."

  "Yes!" she begs desperately, the affirmation catching sweetly in her throat. "I've been wanting you to…oh, God… I didn't even know your name, but I've wanted
you since we were inside the bank vault."

  "I would have taken you then and there," I reply. My assurance on the matter escalates into a deep groan of pleasure as my imagination plays out scenarios behind my mind's eye. The potential enactment inside the vault had occurred to me many, many times, and to hear Nancy voice it now makes the memory of taking her hostage that day that much sexier. Thoughts of what could have been, and the fact that the sparks were reciprocated between us from the very start, makes coming together now all the more delicious.

  "Yes…" she moans again, desperate for more. "But oh, God—! You know they would have…found us…"

  "More than likely." I lean in as my hips roll against the parting of her legs, my waist moving almost as if it is an entity separate from the rest of me. My most primal instincts drive me, dictating how, when, and at what angle I am to most take advantage of this incredible feeling. Nancy's pillowy folds engulf me again and again, drawing me back in the moment my hips threaten a total retreat. My rigid cock, thick as a small pillar now, thirsts for those quenching depths. I couldn't stop if I wanted to.

  "More than likely they would have found me sticking it to you right there against the table. They would have found sweet, shy Nancy with her legs wrapped around me, crying out…mmm…showing just how far her courtesy extends to her customers…"

  "Ah! Ah!" Nancy cries in staccato as I pump into her, desperate to stir our shared, filthy fantasy to life. Her hands seize fistfuls of the bed cover, gripping onto handles of her own making. She needn't hold on so hard—my heavier body holds her pinned firmly beneath me. Just for fun, and to ensure her cooperation, I grab her wrists and hold them in place on either side of her sweating, undulating form. I slow my thrusts to half speed, relishing how far I can draw myself back before burying myself again inside of her.

  "God…Nancy." The plea is mine. Normally I would have found such a lapse in control worthy of disdain, but I can't help it; the words come pouring out of me before I can stop them. "You feel so fucking good. So fucking tight. Just like I knew you would."

  What I could have never guessed was how wet the woman would become at the promise of getting it on with me. It would seem that sweet little Nancy had an itch to scratch, and what she needed most was my thick, straining cock buried inside her to satisfy that ache. She was a prisoner now more than ever, though I wasn't the one keeping her captive anymore…it was the woman herself, and the craving for me that she had made herself a slave to. What might she do for the fulfillment of a promise to be fucked by me? What depths of depravity would she sink to in order to feel this fucking good with me? She had already crossed the moral line—she had given herself over to my criminal mastery of her completely.

  It's only now, in this moment, that either of us realizes just how good that ultimate submission feels.

  Nancy moans and thrashes, twisting her head from side to side. The force of my every thrust sends her deeper into the pillow, and closer to the headboard of the bed. Just as it seems another fitful fling of her head might strike it, I yank my hand up from where it pins her wrist and brace an arm against the headboard to keep it at bay. The black tattoos that twist serpentine along my forearm and bicep deepen as my muscles tense.

  "No…don't stop," she pleads, completely unaware of just how far back I've driven her. While I would love to nail Nancy against the wall, I don't want to risk knocking that clever brain of hers loose in the process.

  My free hand clenches again around her wrist, and I'm struck by inspiration. My manhood twitches inside her, flexing unconsciously with the thought of what I'm about to do; Nancy cries out and moves her hips in desperate response to the unexpected jump.

  "Get up." The order passes my lips like a velvet growl, and I find that for once my hostage is eager to comply with my demands. She climbs to her knees as I ease back off her, still facing me a little uncertainly; I watch as that pink tongue of hers darts out to taste the perspiration clinging to her upper lip. Watching the unconscious display of her hunger spurs me to quick action.

  I grab her waist and turn her around, forcing her ass into full view. I run a greedy hand along the smooth, pert swell that had eluded me for so long, the hump that her tight pencil skirt had only ever hinted at. Nancy arches her back like a cat, stretching to prolong my worshipful caress. When I take my hand away, she makes a low noise in her throat of disappointment. But she won't stay disappointed for long.

  The hand she craves is gone, because it's snaking around her trim waist to grab her fragile wrists and clench them together in a steely grip. I know from previous experience that I can close a single hand over both of Nancy's wrists, and I do so now, pushing them back into the soft, flat plane of her belly and securing them there. My grip on her is as binding as the zip ties, shackling her until it is my desire she be freed.

  "Oh!" she exclaims.

  I grin broadly as she attempts to turn her head to face me; a tug of my hand, and she's half-bent forward before me once more. I brace my knees on either side of her as I raise myself up. I spread her cheeks with my free hand, probing two fingers between her inner thighs to once more locate the entrance to her sopping pink sheath. Nancy moans and wiggles against me. I grip the curve of her waist and lower myself into position. A clenching of my fingers around her hipbone, and I've successfully guided her back onto me.

  Nancy shivers as I reenter her, bending her back to hold herself in a way that gives us both access to the new angle. I clench the fingers that hold her wrists prisoner, and push them against her belly, guiding her back until I feel the warm rasp of her bare skin along every inch of me. The differences in our heights make it possible to ensnare her this close and still penetrate her depths.

  And it is deep. Deeper than anything I've ever before experienced, with Nancy or otherwise. I groan into the column of her neck as she lets her head fall to the side; I hear her sigh in agreement as I drive my pelvis into her, the swell of her ass providing a cushion for me to bounce against.

  "I'm going to come," my sexy prisoner breathes, "Lesher, if you keep doing this…"

  "I'm glad our priorities have finally aligned," I manage to purr between panting exhalations. I try to keep my breathing regular, but it's no use when Nancy is involved. I increase my thrusts until I am pumping her full with every quick motion, never leaving her tight trove empty of me for long. Upping the friction is my number one priority.

  I give myself over to a moan that is almost a word, helpless and monosyllabic; I kiss the spot on Nancy's neck feverishly, running my tongue along it and tugging at the skin with my teeth. Nancy cries out with each nip, with each thrust. The slap of our flesh coming together as one fills the room until it's just as loud as the crashing of my pulse in my ears.

  "Lesher! Lesher!" She cries and arches beneath me. I feel her trying to yank her wrists free, trying to reach back and grab hold, and I release her at the very end. I want her to prove how much she wants this, to show me what she would do with her newfound freedom.

  Nancy bends her arm back to grip behind my neck, gazing down between her bouncing breasts at where our lower halves meet. It's the sight of my length ramming like a piston into her that ultimately puts her over. I tighten my arm around her waist like a band as she comes against me explosively with a startled scream; she throws her head back and goes rigid against me as she moans, but I won't allow the action to cease. I move her hips with mine, forcing her to ride the sensation, to milk every heady wave the presence of my thick, overfull cock within her has to offer.

  Nancy clamps down around me in response to my enduring rhythm, and the additional pressure proves too much. The flowering warmth in my stomach erupts like an explosion, and the hot jet of my seed spurts into her. Nancy shudders and arches back, taking all of it, her fingers threading through and gripping the sex-tossed strands of my hair.

  I lower both hands down to her ample rump, shuddering as well, lifting the weighted heft of her ass and letting it fall. Nancy sits back in my lap, and we relax together as we
come down from our finale. My spent cock still holds its stiffness inside of her, and she seems as reluctant as I am to separate now.

  But separate we must. With a sated, almost thoughtful little sigh, Nancy extracts herself from my lap. My diminishing erection slides free of her and the air from the expansive room feels almost too cold in the aftermath of our transgression. However, if Nancy keeps holding herself like that on all fours, I doubt what hangs between my legs will be resting for long.

  I haul myself off the bed to recover my pants, which I managed to shed completely at some point or another during our wild session. For the first time since entering, Nancy appears to glance around herself. "Wait…whose room is this?" she asks, blinking.

  My belt jingles as I pull my pants back on. "Usually it's reserved for the highest-ranking brother currently in the building. So Flint's," I respond with a grin.

  Nancy's hand flies to her mouth, before she quickly gets ahold of herself and clambers off after me. "So this is the room that he and Ana…oh Lesher, we have to get out of here before they get back!"

  "Why?" I ask. "You haven't even seen the view yet."

  I steer her toward the back of the room and pull the curtain back. Nancy stifles a little gasp at what I show her; still, she seems uncertain about following me out onto the balcony. I give a little push, and she half-trips over the threshold with a sigh of defeat, though I note she doesn't put her heart behind it. We both know this is what she wants.

  The air outside on the balcony is warmer than the air within the master bedroom. A light summer breeze blows from the east, teasing and twisting the still-damp tangles of Nancy's auburn hair. I notice that her hair, when allowed to dry naturally, has a slight wave to it that better frames her pointed face than the more straight and severe look she wore when I first found her.

  Nancy looks stunning, standing there completely nude, overlooking the expansive grounds and blossoming gardens. The well-manicured Clubhouses have never been my style, but there's no denying that Nancy appears as if she could belong here. Without clothes to imprison her lithe figure, or spectacles to restrict her vision solely to the paperwork placed in front of her, she could be a queen overseeing her kingdom.