by Gemma Weir
He nods then fire burns in his eyes. “How ’bout we play a little game.” A cunning smile twitches at his lips, and straightening to his full height, he’s in complete control again. He towers over me, intimidating me, and I bite my lip nervously.
“Wh‐what game?” I stutter and instinctively step back as he watches me, his eyes narrowed in amusement. He steps forward, and I retreat, caught in a game of cat and mouse where I’m the prey. My back hits the wall; there’s nowhere left to run. He keeps moving till his chest pushes up against mine, and leaning in, he dominates my mouth, kissing me till I’m breathless.
“How ’bout this, sugar, a nice easy game. For every question I answer, you do something for me in exchange,” he drawls seductively.
“That seems like it works more in your favour than it does in mine,” I say nervously.
He laughs, his fingers absentmindedly caressing the swell of my breast. “Okay, well, how ’bout this. You ask me a question; I’ll ask you to do something. But I guarantee by the end of the game you’ll be enjoying yourself.”
I duck under his arm and dart across the room, putting the bed between us. “Okay, Biker Boy, game on.”
A loud laugh bursts from him, and I grin in response. Resting his back against the wall, he crosses his legs at the ankle, relaxed. “Okay then, sugar, ask away.”
Full of cocky confidence, I stand tall, my hands on my hips, and say with a smirk, “I already asked my question. Where’s your family?”
Echo’s arms are crossed across his chest, he tenses, the action so small I could have imagined it. “My folks had me when they were older. We didn’t get along that well, and they passed away a few years back. I’ve got an older sister that’s settled and living in Florida with her husband and a couple of kids. We don’t speak much.” His voice is monotone and emotionless, but the torment in his eyes betrays him. I want to go to him, to comfort him, but then the storm in his eyes clears and my alpha biker is back.
He rubs his hands together, straightens, and takes a single step closer. “My turn, sugar.” His eyes scan my body head to toe, and he bites his lip while he thinks. “I wanna see that ass. Come here, turn round, and bend over. Palms flat on the bed.”
Slowly, I sashay around the bed. Turning away from Echo, I look back over my shoulder, my skin tingling in anticipation. Slowly, I bend forward, watching him as he watches me. My palms reach the mattress, and I pause, my eyes still locked with Echo’s. The silence is filled with sexual tension. I wait for him to pounce, but he doesn’t move.
When it’s clear he isn’t going to, I ask, “Is Echo your real name?”
“No, ma’am, my mama christened me Foster Michael Stubbs, but I haven’t answered to anything but Echo in years.” His voice sounds distant, even though he’s only a few steps away.
“Foster,” I speak out loud without realizing. “Hmm, I think Echo suits you better. How did you get the nickname Echo?”
He smiles and says. “When I first joined the Sinners, I was straight out of the army. I was used to takin’ orders, so when one of the guys asked me to do something, I answered ‘Yes, sir.’ They thought it was so fucking funny, said I was like an echo. It stuck, and I’ve been Echo ever since.”
He chuckles at the memory before warm hands land on my hips. Startled, I jump, and his fingers slide around my waist and slowly unbutton my shorts. He’s close enough I can feel the heat from his skin, but not quite touching me. “It’s all about this ass today, baby. Let’s slip these shorts off.” His voice is a low growl now, and he peels the shorts and panties down my legs. I groan when his hot breath hits my exposed skin. Lifting my legs one at a time, he frees my shorts and drops them to the floor behind us.
Hands grab my arse cheeks, squeezing tightly, spreading me slightly. “Ummm, this ass,” he groans. I feel his loss when he releases me and steps back. I rub my thighs together and squeeze my internal muscles to quell the ache of desire.
Desperation laces my voice. “How old are you?” I ask breathily.
“I’m thirty-five. How ’bout you?”
“Twenty-five.”
He’s close behind me, not quite touching, but so close I know if I pushed back slightly my arse would hit his crotch. Shivering, I groan as his hot breath caresses a path down my spine and across my heated sex. “Clothes off, sugar, then back into position.” It’s an order, and all pretence of the game is gone. He’s in charge, and I’m a willing pawn desperately doing what he tells me to.
I quickly comply, ripping my shirt off until I’m naked and panting, desperate for his next command. “So submissive. I love that about you. So eager to do what I tell you.” His words are laced with his smoky southern accent, and my pussy throbs, arousal so heavy that one touch from him would have me screaming.
“What’s your question? Or are you bored of this game now?” he asks.
I close my eyes and gulp a deep, calming breath. “Er, how long have you been with the club?” I force the words out of my dry throat, and I can hear my own desperation.
He’s playing with me; I can sense his amusement and hear the obvious smile in his voice. “I joined the Sinners straight out of the army, so ’bout seven years ago.”
I hear his words, but I’m so consumed with desire that I fidget, rising onto and falling from my tiptoes. “Echo, please,” I beg.
“Spread those legs wide, sugar, let me see you.”
I push my legs wide and drop onto my elbows. Arching my back, I push my bottom high in the air. “Do you enjoy telling me what to do, Echo?” I ask, already knowing the answer but need to hear him tell me.
He chuckles, low and raspy. Arousal gushes from me and drips slowly down my legs. “I fucking love it. Just like you do, Livvy. I fucking love that when I tell you to touch yourself, you won’t think about it. You’ll just reach your hand between your legs and fuck yourself with your fingers.”
My forearms are braced against the bed, and dropping my cheek against the mattress, I free one hand. The ache in my pussy pools in my stomach. My fingers easily slide into my soaked sex, and I groan with relief. “Oh God,” I cry. Pulling out, I circle my clit, shuddering, so close to release.
“Fuck, you’re soaked. Are you okay? Not too sore?” His voice is laced with desire, and I frantically shake my head and groan in response. I don’t see him move, but I feel his lips against my arse cheek, kissing me quickly and warm against my skin.
“Now two, baby. I wanna see you fuck your fingers,” he orders. Pushing two fingers back inside, I stroke my internal walls, the flesh soft and warm. “Harder,” he demands, and I push deeper, curling upwards.
“Ahhh,” I cry, driving my fingers in and out.
I start to tense, my orgasm rising. “Harder, sugar, I want you to fuck those fingers like they’re my cock.” His voice is hard and unyielding. Adding a third finger, I arch my back and bounce up and down on my own hand, chasing my release.
“Stop.” His gruff voice halts me.
“No, no, no,” I gasp.
Strong fingers wrap around my wrist, pulling my fingers free and placing my hand palm down on the bed. Lifting my head, I start to argue, but he turns me, gently pressing my cheek against the mattress.
A second later, his hot, wet tongue laps from my clit to my arsehole, and I twitch, almost overwhelmed with sensation. Large fingers plunge inside me, and the force pushes me further onto the bed. “Fuck my hand, sugar, make yourself come,” he demands.
Arching my back, I push further onto his fingers. I roll forward then plunge back on him, pushing his hand deeper into my soaked pussy. “That’s it, sugar, you’re so wet. You want more, harder, don’t you?” His words vibrate through me, and I groan in response and bounce on his fingers faster. His spare hand rests at the top of my arse cheeks, circling as I fuck his hand like a dildo.
Eyes closed tightly, I feel the circling on my arse stop and his thumb pushes against my lips. “Open up,” he says. I part my lips, and his thumb pushes into my mouth. “Suck,” he orders. �
�Get it nice and wet, Livvy.”
I suck his thumb, swirling my tongue against his salty skin. “Good girl.” The praise in his Southern drawl makes me tingle. Pulling his thumb from my mouth, he drags it between my arse cheeks and circles my sensitive opening, coating it with my saliva.
I flinch. “Echo,” I say nervously.
“I’m gonna make you feel so good and come so hard, I promise,” he assures me. He pushes the tip of his thumb against the tight muscle, and I shudder, attacked by a barrage of sensations.
Hot, painful, tingling hurt powers my release towards completion. “Anyone ever taken you here, sugar?” he asks. I thrash against his fingers and shake my head. I feel his smile when his lips touch my shoulders and kiss a path down my spine. “This belongs to me, Livvy. I’m gonna take it knowing I’m the first and only person who’ll ever get the pleasure of feeling how tight your virgin ass is.”
“Echo, please, please,” I beg, my desperation for release all-consuming. The fingers inside me curl, hitting my G spot, and I arch back, pushing his finger further into my arse.
“Rub your clit, sugar, come for me,” he demands.
The kaleidoscope of sensations is too much. My fingers find my clit and my orgasm explodes.
Echo roughly pulls his fingers from my pussy and impales me with his hard cock. My hands twist the fabric of the duvet tightly as he thrusts into me, my body sparking to life again as his hips drive forward and he eases his finger still further into my arse. My sensitive flesh grips his cock as he slides out till only the head is still buried inside me. Again and again he plunges into my pussy, the sharp edge of pain from his finger in my arse forcing my orgasm upwards. Hard and deep, the double penetration heightens the sensation. My skin pulses, every nerve ending hypersensitive.
“Echo. Oh God. No, no. Don’t stop, don’t stop.” I moan incoherently, the movement from his fingers and cock pushing me closer to the edge. “Oh fuck, ahhhhh.”
I detonate, fireworks exploding behind my eyes, and my whole body clenches as I scream in euphoria.
Livvy’s a screamer.
God, I fucking love that sound and knowing I can drive her that insane. I come a second after she does, emptying deep inside her.
Slumped over the bed, her beautiful body is coated in a sheen of sweat. I pull my semi-hard cock out of her and scoop her into my arms. Her eyes are closed, and her body is soft and pliant, completely exhausted.
I place her in the bed, strip quickly, and crawl in behind her. She climbs up my chest, burying her head into my shoulder. I inhale deeply. She smells like sex and Livvy, a sweet, fruity smell that invades my lungs. One of her legs curls over the top of mine, and I feel the wetness seeping out of her pussy. Gently, I reach down and push my cum back inside her. She stirs, mewing quietly as her pussy still contracts with the aftershocks of her orgasm.
This bitch makes me fucking primeval. I’m so fucked up. Something deep inside of me roars with pleasure at the idea that she’s full of my cum, that she could get pregnant.
This isn’t me. I’m fucking careful where I put my cock; I’ve never had to think about babies or shit like that. I’m not built for that kind of life. I never thought I was capable of feeling; hell, I’m not a deep fucking guy. I love my life, but it’s simple, fucking easy.
I love my club, I love my bike, and I love the simplicity of the brotherhood and family that comes with being a Sinner.
Livvy is fucking complicated. She makes me feel things that I never thought I’d ever want to feel.
I want her. I fucking need her. Now that she’s mine, the empty space in my chest that I didn’t even fucking realise was there is filled with her. She’s captured me completely.
I need to own her, heart and soul. I need to control her body and consume her heart, claim her in the most fucking basic way.
Until she’s so fucking tied to me she couldn’t escape if she wanted to.
Because she feels like she could be everything.
My heart, my goodness.
My fucking happy ever after.
I lie curled in his arms, feeling overwhelmed. My head rests on his chest, his heart beating against my ear. Our legs entwined, we’re as close to each other as possible. His fingers pluck at my hair, pulling the curls gently before releasing them.
Peace. The silence surrounds us, the room dark except for the moonlight shining through the slats of the blinds. Neither of us need to speak; we’re content with simply touching each other, our skin communicating what we can’t or won’t say.
I need you.
I want you.
Don’t let me go.
Make me stay.
“Echo,” I whisper, my voice shattering the stillness.
He sighs. “What’s the matter, sugar?”
Tilting my head, I kiss his tattooed chest, nuzzling deeper into his embrace. “I don’t understand this.”
His hand rests against my head, holding me to him. “What’s to understand?”
I spread my fingers wide, comforted by the thump, thump, thump of his heartbeat against my skin. “This isn’t normal, Echo; it’s never been like this before.”
“Exactly, Livvy. It’s never been like this before ’cause this is it. Me and you are it, sugar. I fucking refuse to believe you’re not meant to be mine. I saw you and claimed you, like it was destined. You’ve always been mine, always. We just hadn’t met yet. Don’t matter if it’s seconds or hours or fucking years since we found each other.” His determination and certainty are so clear in his voice.
I stop breathing and tears flood my eyes. “How can you be so sure? What if this isn’t real? What if it’s too perfect? What if it’s too easy, and instead, we hurt each other or burn up like a star that was too bright to last for more than a second?”
“No,” he growls. I’m lifted, and he sits up, placing me so I’m straddling his lap, our eyes locked together. “No. You’re looking for reasons why this won’t work, but it’s already decided, Livvy. I never wanted this life, never felt like this about a woman before. Till you. I know I’m supposed to make you mine, take care of you, protect you. It’s fucking built in to me.”
I stare at him and try to respond, but words won’t come. Desperation overwhelms me and need consumes me, daring me to make the most of every moment, because if feels like time’s running out. I lean into him, our lips connecting, and for once I’m in control. I slide my tongue into his mouth and provoke him, desperate for him to take over and dominate me.
“Please. I need you,” I beg.
“Sugar, calm the fuck down. I know this is fucking with your head, so talk to me. I’d love to sink back into that tight pussy again, but I don’t want to hurt you, so sit your ass in my lap and don’t fucking wiggle,” he orders.
Embarrassed and unsure, I fall forward and bury my face into his neck. His arms wrap around my back, holding me against him. I pull my arms free and lock them around his neck, pushing myself as close to him as I can get.
Echo pry’s me from his neck and encourages me to sit up in his lap, his fingers stay around my hips, circling patterns across my skin. “Talk to me.”
“I don’t know what to say,” I murmur.
He chuckles lightly, and I watch his lips curl into a slight smile. “Tell me about home, or tell me what you had for lunch. Hell, tell me what you wanted to be when you grew up. I don’t care, sugar, just talk.”
“I wanted to be a lion tamer,” I confess.
A laugh bursts from him, and he bites his lip before his mouth spreads into a wide smile. “A lion tamer, huh?”
Nodding, I smile. “Yep, my mom and dad took me to the circus when I was about five, and there was a lion in the show. The lady in the ring with it had the most amazing outfit, with a top hat and everything. So I decided then and there that I wanted to be just like her.”
He leans forward and grasps my chin, holding it tightly and kissing me deeply. “I wanted to be Indiana Jones,” Echo says. “He had the hat and went on cool adventures. He was
awesome, and at seven, he was my fucking hero.”
“Indiana Jones, wow. Harrison Ford was hot as hell in that hat,” I say, laughing.
Echo’s hand squeezes my hip, and I flinch, giggling at his teasing touch. “Do you like it over here in the US? Or are you homesick?”
I pause for a second, then say, “I miss home, but I love it here. I’ve been on holiday for three months, what’s not to love? But that’s why this doesn’t feel real, Echo, because it isn’t. Life’s easy when the only thing you have to worry about is where you’re going to wander next.”
“Move in with me, sugar.”
I sigh wearily. “Echo—”
He interrupts me. “Listen to me, Livvy. You say this doesn’t feel real, so let’s make this real. Move in with me, stop wandering and set down some roots. Here with me.”
“I need some time, Echo.”
He grips my chin with his fingers and our eyes lock. “I just need you,” he growls.
I slide down his body and settle against his chest. Our words are between us, but we fight to be as close as possible, wrapped tightly in each other’s arms. My eyes close, and I slowly drift into unconsciousness to the sound of his whispered words. “I didn’t know my heart wasn’t beating till I met you and it started again.”
Time seems to stand still; days pass, but nothing changes. My mornings, afternoons, and nights are filled with Echo. We don’t talk about the future; we live in the now. Stern orders, caressing touches, and mind-blowing orgasms keep me tied to him, unwilling to withdraw from my new addiction.
“Sugar, come here,” he orders.
I leave Brandi and the group of women I’m chatting with and make my way across the clubhouse. Echo’s eyes drop to take in the tall heels and tight jeans I’m wearing. Slowly, his eyes track a path up to my chest, pausing at my boobs perfectly displayed by my vest top. Heat flares in his gaze, and a wicked smile spreads across his face.
He pulls me into his lap, wraps his hand around my throat, and tips my chin up. He kisses me, his tongue demanding entrance. My lips part and he invades my mouth.
