by Parker, Ali
His grip tightened in my hair, and he pulled me off him and lifted me up to my feet. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and gave him a pouty smile. “I wasn’t done.”
“You are now.” His voice was deep and husky. Rhys took my hand and guided me out of the kitchen and down the hall to my bedroom.
I stopped when I reached the end of the bed and turned back to him. He was watching me with hooded eyes, so I gathered the hem of my shirt, rolled it up a few inches, and then tugged it over my head.
With deliberate slowness, I hooked my thumbs in the rolled-up waistband of my sweats and then shimmied my hips back and forth as I pulled them down my legs. I bent all the way down, stepped out of the pants, and then straightened up and let Rhys have a nice long look at me.
He licked his lips.
Apparently, he liked what he saw. The bra I had on pushed my tits up to my chin, and the red lace screamed, “Fuck me.” My panties didn’t match, but that didn’t seem to matter to him. Had I let him stare any longer, he might have started drooling.
I stepped out of my sheer black panties one leg at a time and shot them like a rubber band at Rhys. He caught them in his left hand and then tucked them into the pocket of his jeans, which were still riding low around the top of his thighs.
“A little keepsake of our afternoon,” he said as he took off his pants and then his boxers.
“What do I get to remember the afternoon?”
Rhys flashed a devilish smile at me, and my stomach flipped over. “You’ll be sore for days, and every time you sit down, you’ll remember what we did.”
I ran my tongue along my teeth. “Sounds like fun.”
He smirked. “Turn around.”
I turned.
Then he was there, right behind me, pushing me forward with a hand between my shoulder blades. I bent over the bed, and he pinned me there. Then he spanked my ass, hard enough to make me yelp, and I started giggling. I couldn’t help it. Whenever he got really serious, it made me laugh.
I heard him chuckle too.
He ran his hand up the back of my right thigh and cupped me between the legs. My laughter dissolved as I sighed with pleasure. He rolled his fingers over my clit and pressed hard with the heel of his hand. He still had his other hand between my shoulder blades, which made it impossible for me to move, and he used his position to torture me a little.
I didn’t know how long he made me wait like that. It might have been minutes or seconds. Regardless, it was too long for my taste, and all I wanted was for him to stretch me. I whimpered into the bedding and tried to wiggle free from him.
“Do you want it, baby?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said, but my voice was muffled by sheets.
“I can’t hear you.”
I lifted my head. “I want it.”
“What do you want?”
“I want you to fuck me.”
Rhys eased a finger inside of me, and I moaned. I let my head fall back to the bed and rolled my forehead against the blankets as he flicked his finger against all my sensitive spots.
“More,” I pleaded.
“Greedy girl.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
Rhys laughed, but he did what I wanted. He slid another finger into my pussy and started fucking me harder. I could barely keep my eyes open while he worked, and soon, I was trembling beneath him as he worked me closer to my orgasm. I craved the release more now than I ever had, and I knew that when it broke over me, I would lose all control. I would be his to do with what he wanted.
And he knew it.
He fucked me hard and fast, and right when I started to come, he pulled his fingers out and rubbed them quickly and incessantly over my clit until I came hard and fast. I screamed into the bedding as my hips bucked and my body was overrun by muscle spasms.
Rhys didn’t wait for me to finish. Instead, I felt him roll his meaty tip through my juices. He moaned behind me, eased the tip of his cock in, and then pulled out. I heard him tear open a condom wrapper. Where he’d got it from, I had no idea. I didn’t care. He was taking too damn long.
I looked back at him over my shoulder as he rolled the rubber on. When he was ready, he came back to me. I spread my legs farther apart, and he took hold of my hips.
His first two inches slid inside me with no resistance. I was so fucking wet.
I moaned as I took another inch. I pressed back into him to take another, and then another, and soon, I was grimacing as I held his full length inside of me. He waited only a couple of seconds before he pulled out and drove himself back in.
He fucked me like that until I couldn’t stay on my feet anymore. My knees trembled and then gave out, and Rhys wrapped his arm around my waist and lifted me up to put me on the bed on my knees. He slapped my ass and slid his cock back in.
I balled my fists in the sheets and hung my head. I rolled my shoulders and hips and ground against him as he fucked me. He reached around and rubbed my clit as his hips slowed, and he let me ride him like that. I liked the control.
The couple of seconds he let me have, anyway.
He pushed me back down face first. I felt him lift one leg and put it on the bed beside me so he could get in deeper. I moaned into the sheets and then cried out when the pleasure became almost too much. I bit down on the bedding and held it between my teeth as he bucked against me. The sound of his quickening breathing tipped me off that he was about to find his own release.
I reached between my legs and cupped his balls as he fucked me.
He lost it right away. His thrusts became wilder, and as he thrust up into me, I came undone too. I cried into the bed as I came, and he kept going until I had ridden out my orgasm.
Then he was lying beside me on the bed. His eyes were closed as he lay on his back. I watched his chest rise and fall and admired the way his skin shined from exertion.
I reached out and rested a hand on his shoulder. “You should stay just one more night. For old time’s sake.”
He didn’t open his eyes. “I have to go back.”
“I know that. And I’m not asking for forever. I’m asking for one night.” If he offered me forever, I knew I would say yes.
He opened his eyes and looked at me. His gaze was hard. “One night. That’s it.”
“One night.”
He propped himself up on one elbow. “All right. Just the one.”
I smiled and sat up. “Good. There’s still plenty of daylight left. What do you say we hop on our bikes and ride out to one of our old hangouts?”
He nodded. “Sounds good. There’s just something I have to do first.”
Chapter 15
Rhys
The grass had grown back over Max’s grave. The last time I’d been here had been just a few days after his death, and I’d stood at the edge of freshly turned soil. The groundskeeper had long since planted new grass, and it blended in seamlessly with the rest of the grounds.
I drew my jacket tighter around myself and sighed as I stared down at Max’s tombstone. It was a simple one, really. Cool gray stone carved with a few nice words: Max Connolly, loving brother and friend, 1986-2018.
“You deserved better, old friend,” I muttered. My voice was lost on the cool breeze blowing through the cemetery. I sighed and shoved my hands into my pockets. “You’re probably wishing you hadn’t died for me now that you know about me and Quinn. Sorry, brother. But she’s…” I trailed off and pinched the bridge of my nose. “She’s different. And she’s the only good thing I’ve got left. That’s selfish. I know. Fuck.”
My throat ached. I needed to yell. I needed to let it all out. But I didn’t dare because if I just gave it an inch, I’d never be able to stop. All the anger and pain and grief that I’d kept pent up inside me for so long would just spill out of me in an uncontrollable fit of rage.
What the hell was I supposed to do?
I knew that every choice I was making was betraying him. Max had given his life for me, and I was repaying him by doing the o
ne thing I knew he would hate me for: letting his sister love me.
All he had wanted for her was something different than this dangerous life. And here I was, baiting her, letting her continue to think that she and I might somehow, one day, make this thing between us work.
When in reality, we just couldn’t. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.
I let my hand fall from my face and looked around the old cemetery. The trees along the paths were turning into bright shades of green. The dead browns of winter were being eaten away by life as spring arrived. Soon, flowers would bloom, and this place would be a lot less barren. People would be able to leave roses and daisies and tulips for their loved ones buried here. Maybe, every now and then, Quinn would drop by and leave something at Max’s tombstone.
Did she come here often? And if she did, did she come alone? Was that the fate I’d left her to?
“I’ll leave tonight,” I said more to myself than to my dead friend. The breeze picked up and blew my jacket open. I tugged it closed and buried my chin in the collar. “Rest easy, Max.”
* * *
Quinn was waiting for me when I got back to her apartment. She was out at the curb, looking like a hell-raising sex goddess on the back of her glossy black Triumph. Her helmet was sitting in front of her on the gas tank as she finished braiding her hair.
Damn her for looking so good and making this way harder than it needed to be. She was an expert in torture and warfare against me. She must have known it, too.
“Where’d you go?” Quinn asked as she flicked her braid over her shoulder.
“Just rode by some old places.”
“The garage?” she asked.
“Yeah.” It was a harmless lie. Back in the day, we all used to spend a lot of time at the garage, shooting the shit and working on our bikes. Quinn had been the only girl who ever stopped by, and she’d only ever leave if Max didn’t want her around when we were talking business. It bothered her even then.
Quinn put her helmet on and fastened the strap under her chin. She flipped her visor up and lifted one foot up onto the peg after putting up the kickstand with her heel. “Where do you want to go tonight? Your choice.”
“Is the Well still open?”
“Sure is.”
I nodded and revved up my Indian. “Let’s go there, then. I haven’t had a good basket of nachos since the last time I was there.”
Quinn slapped her visor down and revved her engine to match mine. Her visor was tinted black, so I couldn’t see her face, but I would have bet money that she was smiling at me.
Then she pulled away from the curb, her back tire squealing, and opened the throttle. She wasn’t fucking around. I tore off after her and found myself having to weave through cars to catch up with her.
It took me a good six or seven blocks to come up on her ass, make my way around her, and take the lead.
And I never lost her. I couldn’t wait to get back to New York City and tell the boys that she was a better rider than them. She maneuvered with effortless ease and wasn’t afraid to lean through her corners. At one point, I could have sworn her knee grazed pavement. As soon as she was upright again, she was giving it all she had and racing to catch up with me. I played with her a bit and let her think once or twice that she was going to overtake me. Then I’d pull the rug out from under her and pull away to continue playing the same games.
I caught myself laughing as we pulled into the gravel parking lot of the Well.
I parked my bike, took my helmet off, and looked up at the old log cabin-style motorcycle bar. It was a good hour and a half ride out of the city limits of Chicago and catered to bikers for the most part. It had a massive wraparound deck that hosted mismatched tables and chairs for smokers. There were a couple people sitting outside under the heat lamps above, dressed in their full leathers or denim, puffing on cigarettes and flicking them into ashtrays on the table.
Quinn pulled up beside me and killed her engine. Her hair was a bit of a mess when she pulled her helmet off and tucked it under her arm. “You still ride like a complete ass. You know that?”
“The boys make a point to tell me on a daily basis.”
“Good.” She put her kickstand down, swung her leg over her bike, and walked off, her boots crunching on the gravel, hips swinging, ass beckoning for me to follow.
I swallowed. No. I would not stay another night.
I got off my bike and followed her up the steps onto the deck. She opened the front door and let it fall closed behind her. I caught it and slipped in after her, and we seated ourselves at the table we always used to sit at back when I still lived here. It was in the very back corner by large bay windows. A little candle flickered in a mason jar in the middle of the table.
Quinn slid into her seat and put her leather jacket and helmet on an empty chair. I did the same, and she passed me a menu.
The place was just as I remembered inside, too. The ceiling was high, at least twenty feet, and supported by rafters. One big wrought-iron chandelier hung in the middle with little light bulbs glowing on long black arms. It was almost gothic looking.
The bar was dimly lit by the chandelier and the candles. A dance floor in front of the bar would likely become busy in the next hour or so, and everyone’s boots would scuff up the original hardwood floors even more than they already were.
It still smelled like grease and beer and motor oil.
Quinn closed her menu and crossed her arms on the table. “Share a pitcher?”
I narrowed my eyes at her. “Nah. Not if we’re riding back.”
She blinked at me. “You and Max would always share a pitcher whenever we came here. Or two.”
“Yeah, well, you’re not Max.”
She rolled her eyes.
The waitress came over and greeted us with a friendly smile. Her cheeks were bright pink and dimpled, and she had shocking red hair tied up in a messy bun on top of her head. “Hi, I’m Alicia. I’ll be your server today. What can I get started for you?”
She was much more polite than the service I was used to getting here. Quinn and I ordered a basket of nachos to share and each asked for one glass of beer. I nodded approvingly at Quinn after the server left. “Thank you.”
“Yes, Dad.”
“Don’t call me dad.”
“Why not?”
“What do you mean, why not? Because it’s weird.”
She shrugged. “Then don’t act like my dad.”
“I wasn’t acting like your dad a couple hours ago, was I?”
Quinn blushed. “Okay. Now you made it weird.”
“Oh, I made it weird?”
She giggled and shook her head at me. “Okay, okay. I take it back. Just forget it.”
Our beers arrived, and our first sips were heavenly. Foam clung to Quinn’s upper lip, and I didn’t tell her. She looked too cute, and I was trying to commit the image to memory. When she caught on, she licked it off with her tongue, and my cock twitched in my jeans. Our nachos were brought over shortly after, and we both gorged ourselves on the cheesy, onion, pepper, and jalapeno-adorned chips. Quinn loaded each bite up with salsa, sour cream, and a heaping amount of guacamole while I enjoyed them condiment free. She told me I was crazy.
After stuffing myself to max capacity, I leaned back in my chair. “So you ride like a hellion,” I said.
Quinn smiled proudly. “I’d say I learned from the best, but I didn’t. Self-taught, baby.”
I wanted to tell her it was sexy—because it was. But instead, I said, “Just watch out that you don’t get yourself on the cops’ radar.”
She arched an eyebrow. “I thought you’d be telling me to slow down, or I’d get myself killed.”
I shrugged. “You ride well. Based on what I saw, you have the skill to know your own limit. It’s not you I’d be worried about fucking up. It’s other drivers. They’re blind to bikes.”
“Oh, I know. I had no idea just how bad it was until I started riding. I’ve been cut off and nearly d
riven over several times.”
“Please don’t tell me shit like that. You’ll give me a heart attack.”
Quinn smiled and rested her chin in her hand. “You do care.”
Of course I cared.
The sun was setting outside, and the bar had grown even darker by the time the music started to play and people began making their way over to the dance floor. Quinn stood up and nodded down at the open space in front of the bar. “Want to dance?”
I looked over my shoulder at the dance floor. Couples were swaying from side to side. Women had their cheeks resting on their men’s shoulder. “Nah,” I said.
Quinn pouted. “Come on. Just one dance. Or two. We can show those clowns how it’s done.”
“Quinn.”
“Rhys,” she said sternly. “I’m not asking you to marry me. I’m asking to dance. You’re leaving tomorrow. Don’t be such a jackass.”
I drained my beer and stood up. She took my hand and dragged me out to the dance floor, where the couples made room for us as the music started to speed up.
Quinn and I were well versed in swing dancing. We’d picked it up years ago when we first started seeing each other. I’d been able to dance a bit, but she was incredible on the dance floor. Her body moved in ways I’d never seen a woman move before, and I forced myself to learn to dance the way she liked just so I could put my hands on her while she moved her hips like that. It was one of the best decisions I’d ever made.
But right now, as she spun circles around me and threw her head back with joyful laughter, it felt like a cruel punishment.
By the second song, people were watching us—no, not us—they were watching her. She was a sight to behold as I twirled her and dipped her and pulled her up tight against me. As the second song wound down, she pressed her hands flat to my chest and smiled up at me. “Thank you,” she said breathlessly. Then she went to the tips of her toes and kissed me.
