Devil's Fall: Dust Bowl Devils MC

by Britten Thorne

  That got the door open. “Now I know you’re just making fun of me,” she said, hair wet but otherwise fully dressed, “That’s ridiculous.”

  The shock of the new black hair barely registered. He just wanted her. “Is it?” He let her examine his eyes, showing her that it wasn’t just bravado, that he meant what he said. They stood locked in the moment, each waiting for the other to make a move.

  She tried to soothe the tension and change the subject. “How’s the hair look?”

  “Hideous.” Then he swept her feet out from under her. She gasped and grabbed his arms as he caught her and lowered her to the floor. “You thought I was joking? All that talk had no effect on you?”

  “None,” she said. She might be able to lie with her words, but the rise and fall of her chest and the flush on her cheeks told him otherwise. And she hadn’t let go of his arms, her delicate hands gripping him just above his wrists. He had to bite his lip to keep from ravaging her right then and there.

  “Stone cold bitch,” he said, though his tone held no malice and his face nothing but heat and amusement, “You’re a liar.” He leaned in close, his body over hers, his face over her neck.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Barely touching you. Go on, see how long you can keep that aloof act going.” He exhaled against her skin as he moved on top of her, just brushing against her, avoiding all her erogenous zones. He knew what he was doing, though; this game was mental more than anything. He shifted above her, moving subtly back and forth, just brushing her shoulder with his, her leg and hip with his own.

  “Are you thinking about fucking me?” She tensed. “It’s okay if you are. We’re not going to. Not today.” He let his lips brush against her ear as he spoke. “I want you to just imagine it, though.” He pressed his cock against her hip, just for a brief moment, and nearly chuckled at the hitch in her breath. “Think about it. How fucking big and hard it is. How it would feel, sliding in and out of you.”

  Breathing heavily next to her ear, he grunted, softly at first. He let his breathing hitch, then grunted a fraction louder. And then again, with the rhythm of his movements, just a hint of the sounds of the throes of sex and passion. He knew the effect a few well-timed vocalizations could have - nothing loud or over-the-top porny, just soft grunts and growls from deep in his chest that told her how turned on by her he was.

  He let her feel the heat of his breath again, then inhaled sharply and groaned at her own scent, losing himself in the moment. Don’t fuck up. He was beginning to wonder if she was right - if he was having no effect at all. Maybe he’d misread her and she wasn’t the least bit attracted to him. Then why hasn’t she gotten off the floor? He brushed his cheek against hers, rough stubble against soft skin.

  A quiet, keening sound escaped her throat. Victory.

  Staring into the mirror after dying her hair was like looking at a different person. He’d been right about that much. But it shouldn’t have changed her entire personality; it shouldn’t have cracked that willpower, that self-control she took such pride in. So why was that noise coming out of her mouth? Where had her composure gone? For fuck’s sake, they were both fully dressed, he hadn’t even kissed her, what the hell?

  She felt more than heard his triumphant chuckle. He sure was full of himself. It should have been a turn-off, but it wasn’t, not at all. She couldn’t believe how turned on she was; her whole body was humming, waiting. Talking to him through the bathroom door had been one of the most erotic experiences of her life, despite the fact that she’d been sure he was only mocking her at the time. She shouldn’t be feeling such a loss of control over that. But goddamn, that voice, those sounds he’s making…

  He pressed a finger to her lips. “What are you doing?” she mumbled. She really ought to release her grip on his thick, firm forearms and push him away and get herself up off the floor but her body was not obeying her wishes.

  “What I promised,” he growled, “Gonna make you come. Not even gonna undress you. But you have to work for it.” He pressed more insistently against her lips. She let the digit slide inside her mouth, figuring it would buy her a few minutes to try to clear her head. He nuzzled against her neck, his stubble abrasive and his breath hot. “Work for it,” he repeated. Tentatively, she slid her tongue against his fingertip. I guess I’m doing this. He pressed his lips against her neck in reply, slowly parting them to taste her sensitive skin. The wet heat of his mouth had a drugging effect on her - as he trailed open-mouthed kisses up towards her ear, she found herself sinking, losing herself to the sensations. Instinct took over as she sucked his finger, caressing it with a firm touch before twirling her tongue teasingly around the tip. He removed that digit with a groan before replacing it with another, which she devoured hungrily.

  She froze up as intense desire pooled at her core and took her breath away. How was he doing this to her? “Harder,” he growled, and she did as he said, sucking his finger as deeply as she could. This should not be such a turn-on. When she released him and grazed the digit with her teeth, his breathing hitched.

  He shifted quickly. His mouth was on hers in an instant, and the effect was electric. She was enveloped by his heat. Pure animal instinct made the moan rise in her throat, made her arms wrap around the back of his neck. She fought to keep her body quiet and composed, but he sure has hell did no such thing; he hadn’t stopped moving for a moment, and now with him practically draped over her, it was driving her wild.

  One of his hands snaked up and cupped her chin. Slowly, he angled her head and deepened his kiss. She whined, feeling overwhelmed, but he showed no sign of stopping. His lips parted and his tongue slicked across her bottom lip. He grunted hungrily and tasted her again, as if she was something delicious he couldn’t get enough of; as if she were a drug that he craved with his whole being.

  He thrust his tongue inside her mouth and slid it against hers. Desire raged through her veins, stormed at her center and soaked her panties.

  She realized that he just might make his ridiculous claim come true.

  “I want to keep kissing you but I want to suck on your tits, too,” he breathed against her ear. “Choose.”

  What happened to making me work for it? She pushed him down her body and he lifted her shirt, revealing her breasts confined by her lacy floral bra. Kissing him had been too damn intense. She needed to cool down and catch her breath.

  He soon proved that impossible. He slid her bra higher, up around her torso just beneath her armpits, letting her breasts fall free. She knew she had absolutely nothing to be self-conscious about but she couldn’t help holding her breath as he drank her in with his eyes. They were on the smaller side, what if-

  “Fucking perfect,” he growled, cupping them, pushing them together before burying his face between them and breathing her in.

  “Oh.”

  “Don’t believe me?”

  “I believe you.” If nothing else, the man was honest. Painfully so. She watched him as he kissed his way across the tops of her breasts, leaving a hot trail behind. He brushed her nipples with his thumbs gently as he kissed and sucked his way around. He took his time, moving with a deliberate slowness, continuing to stoke the growing fire inside her. She’d never felt anything quite like it. Ex-boyfriends had kissed her before, sure, had played with her breasts, but never with such intent and such focus.

  When he reached one of her nipples, when his tongue swirled around it before he sucked it into the heat of his mouth, she couldn’t hold back the moan that rose to her throat. She wasn’t sure she liked this version of herself - so wanton, teetering just on the edge of losing control. One of her legs move with a mind of its own, bending and slipping over his thighs and tugging him in closer, seeking to pull his weight on top of her. He held back with another deep grunt; he withdrew from her breasts and slid back up her body. “Earn it,” he said through clenched teeth, hovering just over her lips.

  “Gunner,” she said. The sound of his name seemed to inflame him.
He lowered himself so one of his legs was between hers and his erection dug into her hip. She bit her lip and fought a losing battle to keep from writhing shamelessly against his thigh.

  He frowned down at her. “What the hell are you holding back for?”

  She shrugged. It was just what she did - sex for her had never been terribly exciting, and she recognized that it was at least partially her own fault. She could get into it, sure, she could make the appropriate sounds and moves. She wouldn’t orgasm but sex was still satisfying in its own way, and she could always get off by herself later on. It was about control. She didn’t like losing it, and no man in her life had ever been able to make her lose it.

  At least, not until Gunner. And it scared her a little.

  “I’m gonna make you come either way but it’ll be a hell of a lot better if you loosen up. Goddamn.”

  “I am loosened up.”

  He leaned in closer and spoke against her ear. “Are you wet?” He nipped her earlobe and groaned, and rocked his hips against her, his thigh pressing harder against her pussy. It sent a shock of pleasure through her. “Answer me. Say it.”

  “I’m wet, Gunner.”

  He snaked a hand between them and unbuttoned the fly of her shorts. “I’ll bet you’re one of those bitches who can only get off using a vibrator, aren’t you.”

  Was he deliberately provoking her or did he just not have a filter? She did not want to have this conversation. Nevermind that he’d guessed right. “That’s not your business.” His hand squeezed inside her shorts and he slid two fingers down along the material of her panties, his touch just too damn light. She squirmed.

  “Fuck, you are wet. You aren’t cold down here at least, that’s for damn sure.” He pushed her shorts a little further down, just enough to make room for his hand, and then the panties with them.

  “What happened to not getting undressed?” God, just fucking touch me, please!

  “They’re open, not off.” Finally, he dragged his fingers along her swollen pussy lips, a light touch at first, then probing deeper, spreading her wetness. She’d never felt such an ache; her hips lifted from the floor, moving against her will. Her clit throbbed with such a yearning, she wanted to scream. “Gunner,” she said again. If his intention was to make her beg, he was dangerously close to succeeding, damn him.

  “That’s it, baby,” he murmured, “Don’t hold back. I sure as hell don’t. Let me hear you.”

  She gasped and bucked against him as he found her recess, his fingers slick with her fluids. He pressed two just a bare inch inside and teased her with shallow thrusts. “Please.” It slipped from her in a whisper.

  “Louder.”

  “Please-” His lips smashed against hers, cutting off whatever else she’d been about to say. He slid his tongue slowly inside her mouth just as he slid his fingers deep inside her channel, stroking against every inch of her. Oh. Shit.

  He was going to do it. He was going to make her come, right there with him on the motel room floor.

  The last shred of control within her snapped, then. She could feel the remnants of her stoic demeanor melting away as she dug her fingers into Gunner’s hair and pulled him tighter yet against her mouth, as her hips bucked and danced with the rhythm of his hand, thrusting in and out of her. That slow, steady rhythm that would drive her crazy with desire. She wanted more, harder, faster. She tried to urge him with her hips but he wasn’t having it. This was his show, and he was going for a slow build.

  She gasped when he broke their kiss and stared down into her eyes. The icy blue of his own were darkened with desire.

  “So fucking tight,” he grated, “If you’re good maybe I will fuck you later.” The way he moved his body above hers, rocking with the motion of his hand, she could imagine that he already was.

  She moaned, “Oh, God,” in response, shutting her eyes. He chose that moment to find her clit with his thumb. He pressed against it with each stroke, the digit sliding against it slowly, pulling all the swirling sensations within her tighter and tighter. A storm was brewing and about to break, and it was going to be explosive. She couldn’t stop it if she wanted to; all she could do was give herself over to everything Gunner was making her feel.

  She moaned, long and loud as she spiraled towards her climax. This never happens, I don’t lose it like this. Justifications ran through her mind - it had been too long since she’d last had sex or even gotten off at all. It was a fluke. It was because she really liked looking at his face and hearing his voice. It was because he body was just so damn grateful to still be alive and functioning. Maybe she was sick, maybe she had a fever, maybe this was a dream. But when it came down to it, it was just him. He played her like a damn expert, as if he’d studied her like a book. His intense focus and his cocky attitude and the way he took his time - she never stood a chance. What woman would?

  “Look at me.” Teetering on the edge, she peeled her eyes open and gasped as she stared up into his. Whatever he saw in her face in that moment made him smile - not the wicked smile that had become familiar, but a genuine smile - one that overshadowed all the tension that lived around his eyes. It gave her a glimpse of what he might have looked like if he’d led an easier life, what he must have looked like when he was younger.

  It morphed quickly as he increased the pressure of his thumb on her clit without breaking the rhythm of his strokes, the rhythm that was rocking her slowly but surely over that edge, as all the heat inside her bubbled over. Her head tilted back and her mouth fell open as the first intense wave of pleasure broke over her like a tidal wave.

  All she could see then were stars.

  Gunner thought he might explode right there in his pants when Senna came apart, bucking and crying out and clenching around his fingers. The moment before that, though, when she’d looked up at him with her eyes wide and vulnerable, that look of lust and disbelief on her face, she’d been absolutely beautiful. Even despite the hacked-up black hair. It had made his heart clench - not an organ he was used to hearing from, and not something he was too happy about. It made his fingers itch for his motorcycle and his feet itch for the road. I have to get out of here.

  His cock needed to be dealt with but the longer he looked down at her as she recovered, the more he wanted to flee. He pulled his fingers from her sopping wet cunt once she stilled and tore his own pants open. She peered up at him with heavy-lidded eyes. “What are you-”

  “Quiet.” He pulled his cock out and watched her expression. He knew he was packing a monster, and the look of glee on girls’ faces when he revealed it was downright priceless. He wished he could create a collage of them.

  Senna wasn’t immune. Her eyes popped wide and she bit her lip as he stroked himself, kneeling above her prone figure. “Stay right there,” he growled. This wasn’t going to take long. He had to get out of there. He stroked himself fast with a tight grip, using her fluids to lubricate the way. She looked unsure as she watched but this wasn’t about her anymore. “Lift your shirt higher,” he grunted, positioning himself over her, knees to either side of her waist. She did as he asked, leaning back and pulling blouse and bra up to her chin.

  It was only a matter of moments. The sight of her tits bared and offered to him like that pushed him over, and he came hard, grunting like an animal and spurting hot jets of cum that splashed against her exposed skin.

  She peered over the shirt. “You don’t want to have sex?”

  “Oh, I do. And we will.” He tucked his cock away before it had even fully deflated. Alarms in his head were blaring, escape! Escape! It was past time to hit the road. He could think better out there. “I’ve got a lot to do. Starting with torching that van of yours.”

  “Oh.”

  He gave the room one last glance-around. The walls were closing in, suffocating him. He sprang to his feet. “Swear you won’t let anyone else in.”

  “Promise,” she whispered. She sounded sad. Maybe disappointed. Escape!

  “Good. Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be
back tonight, maybe tomorrow morning.”

  Then he fled. He was out the door and across the parking lot as fast as his legs would carry him without outright running.

  By the time he was on the road he was laughing at himself. He hadn’t run from a girl like that since high school.

  He reached Heaven’s Highway around mid-afternoon and realized promptly that he hadn’t gotten a lick of sleep in yet. He found a missed call on his phone from his father but he pushed it aside. There was no message so it couldn’t be all that important. Instead he made his way to the back office, settled back in the chair, and put his feet up on the desk.

  Just an hour, he told himself.

  It wasn’t meant to be.

  Bad things always come in threes. Gunner wasn’t a spiritual man by any means at all, but he held to a few superstitions and knew this rule to be true. He’d lived it all his life. Looking back, he should have seen the third blow coming. Banishment from the club, hiding the girl - they were considerable troubles. He should have braced himself for number three.

  Not that being braced would have made it any easier. The third strike would have knocked his boots clean off no matter how ready he thought he was. But he’d had no hint of what was coming, no clues, he wasn’t ready at all.

  Both Jupiter and Yards burst into his office. "Did you take care of her?" Jupiter demanded right away.

  Gunner squinted at him. He needed to dance around some half-truths, here. "Problem solved. What the hell is this about?" He gestured between the two men. They exchanged glances that could only mean something was wrong.

  "Well?" he asked, "Are we having a tea party? Want me to paint your nails? Spill it."

  Yards finally spoke up, speech slurring less than usual. "You need to call your father."