“You fucking know how I want it, so stop fucking around and give it to me,” Lyric snaps, making me have to try and hide the satisfied smile that creeps across my face. There’s no heat in his voice, just pure, unadulterated lust. “Get your mouth on my cock and suck me deep, baby. I want to feel your tongue working the tip and your hand squeezing my balls as I fuck your face.”
Cue a mini orgasm. Yep, he gets to me that quickly. It would be sad really if I weren’t so desperate to do exactly what I’m told.
Tugging on my hair, Lyric wraps his hand around the base of his shaft and taps the head of his cock against my lips.
“Take me inside, Harleigh. I want inside.”
Doing as he says, I open my mouth and let Lyric feed me all eleven inches of his cock. It took me months to learn how to deep throat a man of his size, but Lyric was a patient teacher. He encouraged me keeping trying by giving me multiple orgasms while I opened my throat to accept all of him.
When my lips are sealed around his length, one of my hands is stroking up and down in time with the bobbing of my head and the other hand is fondling his balls, Lyric begins thrusting in and out of my mouth. He doesn’t go slowly, easing me into it, Lyric pushes himself all the way to the back of my throat.
Swallowing around him, I taste the first drops of pre-come and moan my appreciation. The vibrations of my lips traveling up his cock has Lyric pounding into my mouth harder while cupping the back of my head to hold me to him.
“That’s it, Angel. Fuck, yes. Take all of it. Take all of me,” he growls.
As if driven by muscle memory, my cheeks hollow out, and my mouth takes over for my brain. I circle my tongue around the tip, flicking at the sensitive skin under the ridge, reveling in every flex of Lyric’s hips and loud groan that escapes his chest. I’ve sucked Lyric off so many times that I know what comes next, and he doesn’t disappoint me.
“Where?”
Slipping his cock with a soft pop, I lick my lips and say,
“Don’t interrupt,” which is all the answer he needs.
I take his cock as deep as I can, allowing him to use my mouth the way he would my pussy, I have to swallow furiously when I feel the first warm jet of come spray the back of my throat. Over and over and over, I suck, slurp, lick, and drink every drop of his come. And why wouldn’t I? The man tastes truly delicious. Salty, a little sweet, and warm.
Just as I think he’s done, Lyric commands,
“On your knees, Angel.”
And I don’t question him; I simply do as he asks.
“Pull your panties to the side,” he instructs, nodding at the pink lace thong that is surprisingly still intact.
More often than not, if I wear underwear around Lyric he destroys it, so I don’t usually bother. Although I have to admit, it’s at times like this, it’s nice to have an extra layer of fabric between us that I can use to tease him with. Slowly sliding my panties over my hips, I lower them to my knees. Kicking them off, I part my thighs giving Lyric an unobstructed view of my freshly waxed pussy.
Grunting at the sight, Lyric fists his cock and slides closer to me.
“Use your fingers to open up those pretty pink pussy lips. Show me your clit and get ready for me, Angel.”
Watching Lyric stroke himself has always been erotic, but this time, I’m so worked up that I think I could come from just this. Me kneeling before him naked while he pleasures himself. So much so, I’m startled but not shocked when the first spurt of his come hits my exposed clit, and I moan at the second. Reaching down I rub the thick, creamy liquid into my pussy and circle the aching bud that will bring about my much need release.
“Yeah. Fuck yeah. Just like that. Get yourself off, baby, while I cover you in my come,” Lyric mutters, watching as his come splashes across my stomach, thighs, and overheated pussy.
“Oh, yes. God, Lyric.” My voice is barely above a whisper, but it’s infused with desperation as I rub my clit hard and fight to stay upright on shaking legs.
Moving faster than I gave him credit for, Lyric has me flat on my back and his mouth working my pussy before his cock has even begun to soften. Lyric laps at my slit twice, dragging his stiff tongue through the evidence of his desire for me. I don’t know why it makes me so hot to see him clean his orgasm off my skin, but it does. Fuck does it ever.
When three thick fingers penetrate my swollen tissue and Lyric’s lips blow cool air over my clit, I come harder than I ever have before.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck, Lyric,” I chant, screaming and crying through my climax.
An orgasm that good would usually take hours to float back to earth from, but in the next second, my bedroom door burst open, and in steps four bikers armed to the teeth, and my best friend Faye, carrying her trusty aluminum baseball bat that she named, Dennis. They have a close relationship; don’t question it, just go with it.
“What in the ever-loving fuck is going on? Are you okay, Hails?” Dante bellows, apparently not having noticed that we’re kind of busy right now.
Lyric jumps into action, covering every inch of my exposed skin with the cashmere throw off the end of the bed. Striding over to Dante – butt ass naked I might add – Lyric has him pinned to the wall by his throat before any of the guys can stop him.
Talon, Shade, and Spike stand in the doorway gaping at Lyric, and Faye tries to suppress her giggles, propping Dennis up against the wall.
“Well, to think I was worried you two weren’t getting on,” she smirks, taking a seat next to me.
“Shut it, hooker,” I mumble. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to listen to your man practically fuck you through the wall, so you don’t have any room to judge.”
“I’m not passing judgment, bitch. I’m congratulating you on a job well done,” she grins unrepentantly. “I heard a deep-throated man growl from downstairs and said to myself, ‘you go, girl.’ It was Dante and the leather patrol who got all twitchy, not me. I even tried to slow them down to give you time to finish. When I couldn’t, I figured if you can’t beat them, might as well join them,” she shrugs.
“Thanks,” I deadpan. Gesturing to Spike without looking directly at him, I grit my teeth and tell her, “You better get him out of here before Lyric does something the boys will have to bail him out of jail for.”
Faye glances at them, her eyes widening at the look of fury etched into every feature of Lyric’s face.
“What’s going on, and why does Lyric look like he wants to kill his best friend?”
I don’t get a chance to answer, Lyric beating me to the punchline.
“Because he raped my wife. And now, he’s going to pay. I’m going to make him fucking suffer for what he did, and then some.”
CHAPTER NINE
~ Lyric ~
Blind rage fuels me as I lunge at the man I’d called my best friend for most of my life. The fact I’m naked as the day I was born doesn’t even register with me as I land a series of punches to the side of his face. Blood trickles from his nose, and I’m positive that fucker’s broken. The satisfying crunch of bone beneath my fist confirmed it.
“Stop,” I vaguely hear Dante shouting over the blood rushing through my ears, but all I can see is Spike’s death. A death that will be a long time coming if I have anything to say about it.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Talon hisses. “Someone grab that motherfucker, and whoever’s left help me contain the Hulk. Faye, call Fury.” When Faye obviously doesn’t move fast enough for his liking, Talon bellows, “Now, Faye. Call fucking Fury and get his ass here now.”
“He’ll never get here in time,” Dante growls, trying to tear my arm off Spike’s windpipe.
“Fury’s in L.A. He had business to discuss with Deacon. He left about an hour after we did. Wanted to surprise his little girl too, he said” Talon grunts, hooking his hands underneath Spike’s shoulders.
That’s news to me. But then again, Fury and I aren’t exactly on the best of terms since I broke his daughter’s heart so it doesn’t
surprise me that he didn’t share.
“No. Please don’t,” Harleigh’s cry penetrates the thick fog of anger wrapped around me like a blanket. I want to stop, to go to her and comfort her, but I’m too lost in the rage consuming every fiber of my being that not even the helpless tone in my wife’s voice can stop my attack.
Plowing my knee into Spike’s balls, he screams in agony, and I grin. His hacking coughs are music to my ears, but they’re not enough. This motherfucker needs to pay with his life for what he did to Harleigh, and I know just how to make it as painful as possible as he does.
Hands grapple trying to find purchase, feet scuff across floorboards, and blood drips into my eyes from a small cut above my eyebrow. Leaning into the forearm putting pressure on Spike’s windpipe, I snarl,
“You fucking dared to touch my wife? You put your filthy fucking hands on her and took something that was never yours to have. She’s mine, not yours. She was never yours.”
“Please,” Spike chokes, gasping for air. “Fuck, please stop.”
“Have you lost your fucking mind?” I roar. “Stop? Did Harleigh ask you to stop when you touched her? Did my wife cry out for you to stop when you put your dick inside her and raped her? Did my girl beg you to stop when you threatened to kill me if she told anyone?”
When he doesn’t answer me and the rest of the room has fallen silent except for Harleigh’s sobs, I drop my voice to a quiet snarl.
“Well, did she? How many times did she ask you to stop and you didn’t? How many, motherfucker?” I demand, cutting off his oxygen long enough for his face to turn purple at the loss of oxygen.
“Eleven,” he grates out when I relive some of my weight from his throat.
This sick fuck counted. Spike counted how many times my beautiful, innocent, sweet wife begged him to stop. Spike doesn’t know it yet, but his answer sealed his fate. I would have been happy with putting a bullet in his skull up until his admission, but now, no less than a draw out torturous death will do.
Turning to face Harleigh, I take in the tears cascading down her cheeks and ask.
“That right? Tell me, Angel. Is that the number?”
She blinks at me sightlessly for long moments before murmuring,
“Yes.”
“Motherfucker, you’re dead,” a new voice roars from behind me. And I take solace in the knowledge that my backup has arrived.
Sparing a glance in Fury’s direction, I see his fists balled at his sides, the vein at his temple pulsing, and the tendons in his neck tighten as he clenches his jaw. His gaze bypasses Spike and me when he sees I have the situation under control and lands on his daughter. My wife. The reason I’m willing to risk going to jail for the rest of my life to protect.
Fury crosses the room and kneels in front of Harleigh in five strides, cupping her tear-stained face in large hands. She looks so tiny next to her dad, which has every protective instinct inside me flaring to life. Fury would never hurt Harleigh, I know that, but my primal side isn’t as evolved as the rest of me.
A deep growl rumbles from my chest.
“Don’t. Fucking. Touch. Her.”
Sensing that I’m close to the edge, more animal than man, Fury drops his hands and jerks his head at me.
“It’s all good, son. We’re good. I won’t hurt her.”
At his reassurance, Fury thinks he’s placated the beast and goes to take Harleigh’s hand in his.
“I said, don’t fucking touch her. No one touches her but me. Fucking. No. One,” I bellow, landing another knee to Spike’s groin.
Tying the blanket I covered her with tighter around her body, Harleigh approaches me carefully. Once she’s standing beside me, Harleigh lays her hand on my arm, then runs her fingers up and across the width of my shoulders. The gentle way she touches me is soothing. Not nearly calming enough to dissipate all of my anger, but enough to keep me from being consumed by it.
“I need you to let him go, honey,” she reasons.
My body instinctively leans back into her touch when she would have moved to pull away. Harleigh takes the hint, though, and continues stroking me gently. Methodically, her hands caress me, giving me something to focus on that isn’t shrouded in death and pain. My muscles loosen as Harleigh kneads them, relieving some of my physical tension but none of the emotional turmoil swirling inside me.
“Please, Lyric. For me,” she breathes, having got closer without me realizing it.
I don’t want her this close to the asshole who terrorized her. The last thing she should be is within a hundred miles of this piece of shit, but there’s no telling Harleigh anything when she puts her mind to something. Especially when she thinks what she’s doing is saving someone she loves. A fact I’m more aware of now than I have ever been.
“Baby girl, do you want to let your old man in on what the fuck’s going on? How about you and I find somewhere quiet we can talk while these boys’ sort their shit out?” Fury suggests.
With his feet planted a shoulder width apart and his arms crossed over his broad chest, any man would be stupid to look at Fury and believe they’d win in a fair fight. But I’m not just any man; I’m Harleigh’s, and I would fight dirty and die filthy to keep her by my side.
“Not fucking happening,” I answer for her. “She doesn’t leave my sight until I’ve got assurances that this fucker isn’t going anywhere but a hole in the ground once I’m finished with him.”
“He’s a brother, Lyric,” Fury states, telling me something I already know. “Regardless of what he’s done, I’ve got to take this to Boss so it can go up for a vote before I can make those sort of promises.”
“You won’t be saying that if Lyric gives you a minute alone with your girl, brother,” Talon says, spitting out the last word.
Throwing his hands up in a placating gesture, Fury shakes his head.
“Look, all I know is that Faye called and told me to get my ass over here, A-SAP. I get here, and I walk in on Lyric naked, beating the shit out of his best friend and a brother, my little girl naked wrapped in a blanket, and a room full of nosy fucks not doing fuck all to break up a potential homicide.”
Interrupting, I grit out,
“Potential nothing.”
Exerting pressure on Spike’s throat again, my smile resurfaces as he struggles to suck in a breath. His lungs have to be burning from the oxygen deprivation, but to his credit, he’s stopped fighting it. Maybe he’s given up, accepted that this is what he deserves for what he did. Or maybe he’s smart enough to know when he’s beaten. Whatever the reason, Spike’s body is still beneath me.
Suddenly, there are two sets of hands latching onto my arms and dragging me backward. Harleigh is yelling at them not to hurt me, and I can hear Faye sniffling from somewhere off in the distance. Fury shouts at Dante to check Spike, while Talon stands beside me doing his best impersonation of a statue. He doesn’t move except for the occasional twitch of the muscle beneath his left eye.
“He’s breathing, which is more than he deserves, but he’s alive,” Dante confirms, pushing himself up off the floor so that he can make his way to his wife.
Speaking of wives…
Pulling Harleigh into my arms, I tuck her close to my chest and rest my cheek on the top of her head. She smells like sex, me, and the lingering scent of the cocoa body butter she uses to moisturize in the morning. Her arms tighten around my neck as I drag her even closer and drop my head so that I can bury my nose in the crook of her neck.
All too quickly, Fury breaks the silence that’s descended on the room, though.
“Someone better start talking.” When none of us speak up, he bellows, “Now.”
It’s Faye’s turn to attempt to soothe the savage beast. Nodding for him to follow her, Faye leads Fury out into the hall. Mumbled curses, a cleared throat, and the hiss of a harshly exhaled breath later, we all hear the moment what’s happened to his daughter sinks in.
Fury’s bellow of rage, followed by his fist connecting with the drywall was pr
obably heard by at least half a dozen neighbors, but that doesn’t stop him from walking back into Harleigh’s bedroom, pulling the Glock 9mm out of the back of his pants, and drilling three rounds into Spike’s skull.
I manage to turn Harleigh’s head away before she could see what was left of Spike’s face, but Dante isn’t so lucky. Faye runs back in just as Fury’s fires his last shot, right around the same time brain matter explodes from the exit wound behind his ear. Her horrified screech is muffled within seconds, Dante picking her up, carrying her out of the room and away from the carnage.
“Just breathe, Angel,” I mutter in Harleigh’s ear as her breathing escalates, putting her on the verge of hyperventilating. “Deep breaths in and out, baby.”
Her bright green eyes are hazy with tears clinging to her lashes as Harleigh peers up at me. But even like this, her hair disheveled, cheeks splotchy and red, with her sniffling in my arms, Harleigh is still the most amazing woman I’ve ever seen. Beautiful, strong, a survivor. She may have suffered at Spike’s hands and then every day afterward with no one to confide in, no one she could share her pain with, but Harleigh didn’t let it destroy her.
Yours: A Forever After Novella Page 6
