Saving Belle (A Category 5 Knights MC Romance Book 2)

by Olivia Rigal

  Her head is soon at my shoulder, both hands working at getting the belt undone. Even in the cool night air, I can feel her breath hot against my neck, the quick rise and fall of her chest behind me. I'd bet my bottom dollar that the vibration is getting to her just as much as the thought of getting back to the compound with me. I feel her soft, full breasts pressed tight to my back, her hips slowly rocking back and forth.

  Just as her fingers slide the belt aside and begin working at the button of my pants, the compound comes into sight. Her hands remain, trembling for a long moment before she pulls back and away, sitting up straight as if nothing had happened.

  When we park up, I pull my helmet off and turn halfway to her, smirking over my shoulder. “You know, you could've at least put the damn belt back the way you found it if you're so timid about getting found out or something. Besides, it's just the other Knights here tonight.”

  I show her inside, pointing to little things here and there, but her mind is somewhere else completely, and so is mine. The moment I mention that our current section contained my room, she blurted out completely without hesitation.

  “Which one?”

  It's only a short walk to my room, and the moment we're in front of the door, she leans up to wrap her arms around me, pulling me into a passionate, almost desperate kiss. I return it with every bit of enthusiasm, one hand at her lower back as the other fiddles with the key for the door. I pull away just long enough to get it open and let her inside.

  The moment the door swings shut behind her, she makes a move to embrace me again. I take a step back, giving a little wave of my finger. “Ah-ah. A little eager, aren't we?” This pulls a plaintive whine from her, her eyes fixed intently on mine.

  I pull my jacket and shirt off quickly. As soon as the shirt passes my eyes, I see her standing shirtless and in the process of unbuttoning her tight, tattered denim jeans. Her breasts seem ready to breach their containment, ample pale flesh straining at the black lace.

  There's no way I'm going to let that opportunity go to waste. I take one long step to stand in front of her and kiss her passionately as I reach back to unclasp her bra. Her hands slip between us and she pulls her hips back a bit to get at the button of my jeans—the same button that'd frustrated her only a few minutes prior. She slips it through with ease then, unzipping my pants and boldly reaching into my boxers to take hold of my already half-hard length.

  She moans hard into the kiss, both hands slipping up the waistband of my pants and boxers, insistently pulling down. I grab both of her hands, clasping them tightly in front of her, putting those beautiful breasts on display. They're just as incredible as I thought they'd be—somewhat large coral-pink areola, pale flesh surrounding them, surprisingly perky. Her nipples stood out hard and prominent, practically begging for attention.

  Holding her hands tightly, I lean down to take the right nipple into my mouth, sucking almost hungrily. The scent of her is enough to drive me wild, pheromones and perfume mixing into an alluring, irresistible combination, intoxicating and ensnaring me. As I bring my teeth down in a tentative bite, she gasps out, her back flattening against the wall somewhat, pulling away from the sudden intensity of the sensation. I match her motion perfectly, giving another soft bite before returning to my eager sucking.

  It isn't long before she's moaning and rocking her hips unconsciously, desperate for more, driven wild by the anticipation. I move from breast to breast, unable to get enough of the feeling of her soft, warm flesh between my lips—and teeth. The rougher I get, the more she seems to love it. The first few bites cause her to jerk back, but I soon find her whimpering softly any time I stop sucking and biting roughly, her hands struggling against my grip.

  The moment I pull my head away, I pin her hands above her and against the wall, leaning in for another kiss. The longer we go on, the more animalistic it becomes, all hesitation and restraint falling away as our bodies press together. I slip a hand down to her jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping them quickly to slide a hand inside her panties. I trail my middle finger over her soaked slit, sliding up to begin rubbing at her clit with soft, light strokes.

  She whines her soft protest, arching her back, pushing her hips toward me, her eyes now locked onto mine and begging for more. Words are no longer necessary. I let her push against my finger and begin rubbing more firmly. The moment I do, her eyes roll and drift closed, her head leaning back against the wall, her breaths growing shallow and rapid.

  My cock strains hard against my boxers, almost painfully hard, and I can think of nothing other than getting her on her hands and knees and sliding into her.

  I lean in to give a soft nip at her earlobe before speaking, low and forceful. “You need it, don't you? Still want to find out why they call me Piston?” I rub her a bit more eagerly, and soon she seems hardly able to remain standing, let alone string together an answer. It's only when I slow and release some of the pressure that she speaks.

  “Oh, God... yes, yes! I need it. Please. Please Piston.”

  An unconscious rumble of satisfaction sounds deep in my throat, and I give another hard nip at her ear, causing her to gasp out and press her body tighter against mine.

  I stand straight and take a step back, motioning with my head toward the nearby doorway. “Bedroom's there. I want you on your hands and knees. Now.”

  She's flushed from chest to cheek, burning hot with excitement and anticipation. As she passes me, I give a hard slap to her ass, eliciting something between a squeak and a moan. I follow a few steps behind, and stand just inside the doorway as she finishes undressing. The tight denim jeans are slid down her pale, shapely ass and legs, the panties going with them.

  Seeing her completely exposed is too much for me. Before she can even step out of the jeans, I'm behind her and sliding off my own, leaving her bent over the bed. She looks over her shoulder, panting, her eyes locked on mine.

  After teasing her for a moment, sliding the head of my thick cock up and down, barely pressing against her to hear that desperate whimper, I grasp her hips and pull her to me slowly. I can't help but gasp as her pulsing, slick warmth envelops me, even seeming to pull me in.

  Seemingly unable to wait any longer, she slams her hips back against mine, crying out as my cock stretches her, pressing back hard in an attempt to take my length to the base. Before she can, my hands tighten at her hips to hold her in place, and I show her exactly where I got my name.

  Her head almost immediately drops forward, hands now tangled in the covers. A long, almost screamed moan is pushed from her the moment I start fucking her properly, her own hips still wildly rocking back against my forward thrusts.

  Soon, I'm entirely lost in the sensation, almost mindlessly slamming into her, giving occasional gentle slaps at her ass, drawing sharp cries of surprise and pleasure. One of her hands releases the covers, slipping down and between her legs to rub her clit, unrestrained and wild as she cries out.

  Her release is sudden and violent. Her body tenses and tightens, every muscle taut as she throws her head back, scream caught in her throat. I don't slow my pace in the slightest, relishing her reaction, waiting for that inevitable moment she will pull away from the intensity of the sensation.

  Belle reaches back to press her trembling hand against my waist, now panting hard. She rolls to her back then, spreading her legs wide. I push her legs up to her chest and slip back into her. She gasps, wrapping her legs around my waist to pull me against her completely, leaving us face to face. Something about meeting her gaze, the grinning glow of an incredible orgasm, and the sudden shift in mood... my pace slows quickly, and I soon find myself slowly rocking against her. It's a stark contrast to the wild, unrestrained fury that was mine only a moment ago. Strangely now, it feels even more natural.

  Maybe we just needed to feel that first intense moment together, to wash away all the tension that had built up between us over the last little while. Now that it's gone, my eyes are on her lips and soon we're kissing passionately, almost lo
vingly. Her arms slide around my back, and she begins stroking softly, giving little moans here and there as I gently slide my thick length into her depths, withdrawing just as slowly.

  The moment we break the kiss, our eyes meet, and I see something quite different to the desperation and fire I saw in them as she bent over the bed. Like some great weight had been lifted from her. She's happy.

  I know no words can convey feelings like that, so I lean in to kiss and bite gently at her neck and shoulders. One hand slides up from my back and into my hair, gently guiding me as she rocks her hips against my slow pumping.

  A little giggle escapes her lips, and she can't seem to keep herself from making the obvious declaration. “Oh, God... that's why they call you Piston, I guess. Mm. This is... this is incredible.”

  I nod slowly, my pace picking up a bit as my lips return to hers. It's never been like this with another woman—not really. I've fucked my fair share of girls, and there were a few times it was taken slow, but not like this. I always rolled my eyes at the concept of “making love” and never gave the possibility any consideration—and yet, that seemed to be exactly what was happening. Through our connection, love—or at least something like it—seemed to be blooming.

  I feel the telling tightness just below my waistline, my own orgasm building quickly. It'd seemed a long way off the first time she came, but something about looking into her eyes is sending me spinning toward the most mind-shattering orgasm of my life.

  She brings a hand up to my face, and the feeling of her soft, warm palm at my cheek sends me over the edge. My back tightens, brow knit in both intensity and confusion as I bite my lip to keep the bestial roar trapped in my chest, my head thrown back hard.

  I come down slowly, and lean in to kiss her once more before easing off to the side, laying on my back next to her.

  “Fuck. Belle, that was... I've never had anything like that. It was incredible. You're incredible.”

  * * *

  13

  I wake up in that now-familiar cloud of sweet vanilla, Belle curled tight against my chest as if she could never let go. My captor's head is buried just beneath my arm, hidden under a beautiful mess of blonde curls. As gently as I can, I brush them away to look at her properly. Despite the smudged makeup and messy hair, she's still stunningly gorgeous. She stirs a little now that the curtain of hair has been lifted, and her eyes flutter open. She grins up at me, blinking sleepy.

  “Mmm. Good morning, Piston.”

  “Mornin' sunshine.” I slip my hand down to her back to cradle her against me, rubbing softly.

  She stretches, warm breasts pressed directly against me. “Ah... wait, what time is it?” There's a sudden urgency in her voice, and I lean over to check the time on my night-stand behind her.

  “Little bit after eight, why?”

  Before I can say another word, she bolts up and slides out of bed. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! My shift started at eight!” Trying to remember where each piece of clothing had fallen, she rushes around the room, hurriedly getting ready. “Can you take me home? Like, now?”

  I tilt my head slightly. “Home..?”

  “Yeah. I need to change into my damn uniform.” There's a definite overtone of frustrated exasperation in her voice. She's overreacting—jobs aren't so few and far between around here. Besides, she's everyone's favorite waitress at the diner. Pretty damn unlikely that her boss would fire her for being a little late.

  Still, responding to her urgency, I roll out of bed and look for my clothes at a slightly more leisurely pace.

  She turns to me, eyes a bit wide. “Come on! Would you hurry?” When I roll my eyes, she changes her tone, far more pleading than demanding now. “Please Piston, I really can't lose my job.” I nod, and she kneels down to look under the bed for her missing top. I hear her mumbling, something never meant for my ears. “No... not now, not when I'm this close.”

  I sit heavily on the bed next to where she kneels, pulling my boots on. “What're you talkin' about?” She quickly shrugs the question off and leaves the room in search of her handbag.

  We're going to have to have a serious discussion about communication soon, I can see it now. Definitely not this morning, though. She seems to have enough on her plate.

  When I drop her off at her house, I reach out to catch her arm before she can scurry inside. “Hey—tonight?”

  She quickly shakes her head. “No, not tonight.” She leans in then, giving me a quick, almost chaste peck on the lips. “Mm... next week?”

  I nod and watch her rush in. I sit for a few minutes trying to figure out what to do before I realize it's probably not too early to drop in at Friendly Persuasion, the Iron Tornadoes' P.I agency.

  The ride helps me clear my head, which it always does. Still, I can't help asking myself the same damn questions I've been landing on just about every hour since I saw Belle and her son. What if the grandparents really are good people? For what seems like the hundredth time, I remind myself that a kid belongs with his mother. Every kid does, especially when their mom's a caring sweetheart like Belle.

  There are three bikes parked up at Friendly Persuasion when I arrive. One I immediately recognize as Ice's, unmistakable because of his customizations and themed accessories. The two others are unfamiliar. It's enough to put me on edge, but I know that nothing too shady would be going down at a place like this. It was a legit business, and brawls are bad for business and insurance.

  The moment I walk in, the curvaceous brunette at the nearest desk throws a little wave my way. “Sir? May I help you?”

  I nod. “Yeah. I'm supposed to meet Ice and his... ah... wizard here?”

  She giggles and stands quickly. “Whiz. Right. You must be Piston. Please, follow me.” She motions for me and sets off down the hall, her heels clicking and echoing the whole way down. I can't help but admire the swing of her hips—not entirely unlike Belle's. There's a certain grace that draws the eye, though she doesn't have near the abundance Belle was blessed with.

  As we near the end of the hallway, she speaks up softly. “So, while I have you here—any news from Prince?”

  I'm immediately set on edge again, wondering how the hell she knows about my brother Knight.

  She seems to pick up on the shift and quickly explains. “I used to work for your MC. I was one of the dancers at the Bush Fire.”

  Now the hips make sense.

  I shake my head slowly. “Prince went Nomad.” I mean to say more, but my eyes sweep over her, imagining her twirling around a pole, lights flashing and music pumping. She definitely seemed to have the legs for it.

  She gives a little “tsk tsk” sound, drawing my gaze back up to her face. I shrug, motioning slightly in the direction. “Last I heard he was all the way out West.”

  I keep my answer short for a reason. I'm not about to discuss internal club affairs with someone who belongs to another MC—even a friendly one. Despite the fact that she's not sporting any property patch, she works for the Tornadoes and what Prince is up to is none of her business.

  Her lips pout in disappointment. “Aww. Well... if you hear from him, tell him Sally sends her love.”

  “Will do.”

  As she opens the door, I step in with a long stride, only to be met with a really cramped, tightly packed room. Ain't people takin' up all the room in there, though. Computers, old and new, are stacked here and there. The main station is clear and neat, but the rest is a mountain ridge of electronics, all seeming ready to tumble down at any moment. The hell is this?

  She calls out to the seemingly empty room. “Whiz!”

  I hear a loud bump and accompanying curse, drawing my eyes beneath the desk. He's all arms and legs as he comes sliding out from under the desk, and despite his bright blond hair, all I can think of is a big black spider as he extends a hand to me, oversized palm and long, gangly fingers reaching for my hand at my side.

  “Hey. You must be Piston.” The smile is genuine, he makes me think of a kid who just played an amazing prank
on a school teacher and can’t wait for the rest of the class to see the result. “Oh man, you’re so gonna love what I find!”

  * * *

  14

  Same as last week, I follow Belle up to Point Lookout. Now I know where she's headed, so it's a lot easier to keep my distance. I remember roads well, even in new territory.

  She may think it's a Sunday like any other, but I'm about to surprise her. The weather forecast isn't so good—the waves are perfect for surfers, but they're not exactly ideal for playtime with a seven year old. That’s where I come in, I've got the perfect remedy. Last night, I sifted through my closet and found the object of some of my fondest childhood memories. It's one of the few I kept. A bad-ass dragon shaped kite.

  From a safe distance, I watch Belle and Chris as they stroll around town. They stop at a bookstore first, and exit with a little bag—same as last week. The longer I follow them, the more I realize that this is a weekly ritual. I have a hunch it’s one she probably never departs from. Instead of following them, I grab a sandwich and head to the picnic table down at the beach where they ate last week.

  I pop open a can of beer and watch the teenagers ride their longboards over the cresting waves. Growing up in-land, I never really had the chance to learn to surf, or even swim very well, but I'm sure I would've loved it.

  From well behind me, I hear a small voice. “Mommy, someone's sitting at our table!” The sound pulls me out of my reverie.

  She stoops down, speaking with a gentle, soothing voice. “It's okay, honey. We can sit at another table.”

  He whines softly. “But it's our table!”

  I hear the laugh I love so much from her. “You know, we should put up a little sign to let people know that...” The sentence dies on her lips, unfinished, as I turn to face them.

  “There's enough room for three, you know. I'd be happy to share.” I look to Chris, giving my warmest smile.