by Cove, Vivian
That was the last thing I expected him to say. “What?”
“You want me dead, Princess? Is that what this is about?”
How the fuck had he gone from me pasting a vajazzle on to get his attention to an assassination plot? “I don’t want you dead, you idiot! I want you to stop treating me like shit!”
“And you thought that running ‘round in a…a…” he glances down at the vajazzle like it’s a flamethrower, “…in a that and throwin’ yourself at the President of the Judas’ Sons MC was gonna solve this?”
I inhale sharply. My stomach drops. My heart pounds. “What do you mean, the President of the Judas’ Sons MC?”
“You pretendin’ like you didn’t know who that was?”
Oh shit! What the fuck did I just do??? Judas’ Sons was the reason why my father had to reach out to get a peace treaty in the first place. There are two types of Motorcycle Clubs out there—the kind who fix cars, run bars and tattoo shops, and, yes, on occasion do what they must to protect their communities—and then there’s the kind that does…anything they want.
“I’m not pretending!” I shriek. “I had no idea!”
“So you just threw yourself at whatever fuckin’ asshole first made eye contact with you? You were just gonna give yourself to some piece of shit?”
I can’t hold back anymore. Sure, I made mistakes tonight. Alright, a lot of mistakes. But I was not going to let Damien disrespect me in this way. “Yes!” I yell at him. “This is my body. If I want to give my virginity to a hot guy who climbed up a tree and told me a story about a dog, I should be able to!”
Damien frowns. “The fuck?”
I frown too. Wow, I really didn’t do a good job of explaining how he risked his life to save mine and talked me out of falling to my doom by soothing my soul with a sweet tale about a puppy.
“So that’s what you want?” Damien whispers, crouching down. One knee hits the bed, then other does too, until he’s straddling me.
I fall back on the bed. Either I do that, or he’s going to run me over. My mind goes blank as he climbs on top of me. My heart is beating so fast it feels like it’s about to jump out of my chest. “Um, what do I want?”
His eyes go dark as he plants his fists on the pillow either side of my head. “To get fucked like that—to be taken by a man…hard?”
The sound of me swallowing is so loud it shames me. “Um, I don’t know.”
“You don’t know? You looked like you were enjoin’ it. Him pushin’ your thigh’s open, shovin’ his face between your legs, thrustin’ his tongue into your cunt.”
Oh my god. I don’t think I’ve ever been so freaked out in my entire life. And yet, this strange, uncontrollable desire is even more powerful than my fear. My…cunt…pounds with a desperate need far stronger than anything I’ve ever felt before. This is my chance. My time. I can’t let him cow me the way he’s done my entire life. He knows all the buttons to push. It’s time for me to push some of my own and stand up for myself and back him up against the wall.
But how the fuck did I do that?
I remember what Candy said. He wants you, girl. Bad.
I try to smile but my lips feel surprisingly wooden. Instead, I simply part them and roll my tongue over my bottom lip.
Is eyes grow even darker as he lets out a low growl.
Okay. That was probably a bad move!
“You don’t own me,” I tell him.
He grips the pillow like he’s going to strangle every feather in it. “Like hell I don’t.”
Where the fuck had all this possession come from? “You don’t get to call me yours,” I begin. “Not when you’ve done nothing but make my life a living hell since the time we were kids, teasing me and tormenting me by fucking random girls on this very bed…oh shit this bed is fucking gross. There’s probably a fucking used condom in these sheets. Seriously, we need to get off this bed right now and—”
He shuts his eyes. Such a small movement shouldn’t affect me so much, but it does. I stop speaking.
“You really hate me this much, Princess?”
I gulp. “I don’t hate you. I mean, I sort of do…but I’m mostly just confused. Why are you so nice second and such a dick the next?”
He glares at me.
“See what I mean?” I push him off. “Why are you glaring at me?”
“Was that asshole nice to you?” he asks. “Was that it?”
It takes a second for me to realize who he’s talking about. “Yeah, he was, but that wasn’t ‘it’,” I reply, unafraid. “He didn’t treat me like some precious object that wasn’t supposed to be touched. I was a woman to him first and foremost, not some fucking ‘princess.’ So yeah, not only was he ‘nice,’ but he did something no other guy has ever done with me: he saw me for who I really am. I’m not ashamed and I’m not going to let you make me regret wanting to be touched, wanting to feel, and hell, wanting to be wanted—”
Before I can finish, his lips crash into mine.
Chapter 10
This is it.
The end or the beginning, I don’t fucking care.
The two of us have been holding back for too long. We tried to pacify this thing between us with childish games. It worked, for a while. You can hide your darkness, but you can never banish it. The moment his lips claimed mine, we let it out. All the desires we’d tried to keep hidden, all the things we’d never, ever admit to one another, all the bullshit. The moment his lips claimed mine, it was gone, leaving behind only our desperation made stronger by all those years of futile repression.
Damien isn’t kissing me. This was never about courtship or foreplay—we’ve had years and years of that already. This is him laying claim to all he wants—no, taking it. So instead of pressing his lips to mine, teasing and coaxing them open until we’re both deliriously breathless, he fucks my mouth with his.
Mine. His teeth graze my neck.
Mine. His fingers dig into my naked skin like tattoo needles.
All mine. Forever mine.
His possession scares me. Thrills me. I spread my legs for him and crash my pelvis into his. There are still too many barriers between us. A buckle. A pair of jeans. The miniscule amount of space between my cunt and his cock. I want to rip them all away. I want to feel him on top of me, inside me, completing me.
Which is why I whimper when he pulls back. “Look at me, Princess.”
“Oh God.” I don’t think I can. My body’s weakened from so much pleasure, and tormented by the promise of pleasure to come.
“Look at me,” he demands.
I can’t say no to him. Slowly, I open my eyes.
He looks down into my eyes with an intensity and sincerity that captivates me. “You’re wanted.”
Every part of me tightens.
“You wanna be touched?” he whispers, running his knuckles down my cheek. “I’ve wanted to fuckin’ touch you since I was old enough to beat off. And even before my obsession with you turned sexual, I wanted to be close to you. I wanted you to notice me. I wanted to be the biggest thing in your heart.”
I shiver. His admission hits too close to home. For all these years, more than anything, I’ve hated the thought that I wasn’t the girl he brought home to fuck—that all those girls were interchangeable and yet not one of them was me.
“You’re wanted,” he repeats. “You want me to climb a tree to fuckin’ prove it? I will. You want to get a dog together? Done. You wanna feel, Princess? Feel me, and how much I want you.”
I do feel him. His huge length, pushing into my thigh, promising to soon push into me.
Oh god, I need him inside me.
“I haven’t touched you, at least not like the way I want to. Because even though I’ve done this so many times before, I know with you it’s gonna be different, and it scares me. I don’t know how to touch you, Princess. I want you so bad. So fuckin’ bad, I don’t know if I can control myself.”
“Then don’t.”
His eyes grow dark as realizes
I’m begging.
“I need you,” I whisper. “Fuck me how you want to.” How we both want you to.
He clenches his jaw. Then, he grabs me and hoists me into his arms.
“Hey! What the hell are you doing?” I cry out as he rushes across his room and out his door.
“I’m not taking you on my bed,” he says.
He wasn’t? Where the hell was he gonna—
At that second, he takes a sharp right and kicks in my door.
“Fuck, Damien! Now my door is messed up too.”
“Don’t care.” He throws me down on my bed. “There, that’s better.”
“Why are you doing this in here?” I ask, and then my heart swells when I realize he must have remembered what I’d said earlier—that I didn’t want to be on his slut sack next to all the used condoms and thongs and god knows what else.
He loops his thumbs behind my knees, pushing my legs back. Hot breath spreads over my thighs, stomach, and cunt. “I’m takin’ you here ‘cause every night, when you’re in this bed, you’re gonna think of me and what I did to you. You’re not gonna be able to touch yourself without thinkin’ ‘bout my hands, my tongue, my cock.”
Alright, he totally did not have a sweet reason for bringing me in here.
His trial over my hips and follow the curve of my ass. He grips my thighs, pushing them back and apart.
I shudder from the sudden, forceful movement. His rough fingers are already looped around my thong, pulling it to the side. His hot breath hits my clit, making my cunt clench.
And then he kisses me. There. Forcefully. As if he’s trying to drown out the memory of any other kiss. One part conquering, one part worship. I cry out as his tongue dips into me.
I clutch my pink sheets in my fists, drawing pulling them off the mattress, towards the center of the bed—towards me. He moves deeper inside me with relentless confidence. My heels dig into the bed. He keeps my legs spread—keeps me open—as I tilt myself towards him to give him better access.
Never stop, I try to beg, but all I can do is cry out. I think I’ll die if you stop.
“Your pussy tastes like fuckin’ heaven,” he whispers, voice as rough as his stubble, a darkly exquisite compliment to his soft lips.
He slips one finger inside me. My breath catches.
“I could kill him for tasting it.”
Another finger. I can’t take this anymore. “Please.”
“Please what, Princess?”
Instead of answering, I roll my head to the left. My cheek hits my pillow and I bite into it to keep from screaming.
“What do you want me to do?” he asks.
“God,” I whimper, grabbing my knees, pulling my legs back further. Was he really gonna make me spell it out for him?
He curls the fingers he has inside me until they hit my G-spot. I scream into my pillow. “I—I can’t take it. Please, Damien. Please.”
His lips kiss my stomach as he moves his hands up my body. The bed dips as he positions himself between my legs. And then I do something very stupid: I look at him. His body is pure muscle. Tattoos weave over his sculpted chest, accentuating his natural strength. They twist over his powerful torso which ends in a perfect V above the most perfect cock I’ve ever seen in my life.
My eyes go wide.
Every muscle in my body tightens.
I realize, at that moment, that a cock actually can be too perfect—that there’s actually one thing very, very wrong about perfect cocks. One very big thing.
Oh my god. Oh my god. There is no way in hell that’s gonna fit inside me.
“Princess?” he asks, voice suddenly soft.
I look up at his face. “What the fuck is that?”
He frowns. “What?”
“That! There is no way that…oh my god,” I whisper, pointing at it, and when I do, I see it again in all its magnificent glory. I shut my eyes tight. “It’s even bigger than I remembered it being and I just looked at it two seconds ago!”
“Hey, Princess,” he whispers as his calloused thumb moves down my cheek to my bottom lip. “Look at me.”
I peek at him.
“We don’t have to do this tonight.” His tongue slips between his lips as he pulls them into a cocky smile. “I’ll be happy to finish you off with my mouth.”
My poor heart’s beating so hard I feel like I’m gonna pass out! “Yeah?”
“Yeah. But, if you’re up for it, we can try. I’ll go slow.” He shifts, and the tip of his magnificent shaft slides up my slip to my clit—large, hot, hard as steel. I moan, wrapping my legs around his hips.
“You trust me, Princess?”
Did I trust him? I’d embarrassed the club by dancing dirty in front of everyone, I’d stolen Damien’s bike and totaled it, I’d then gone off and “done things” with the president of a rival MC, and…well, Damien hadn’t killed me yet. That counted for something, right?
“’Cause if you do,” he continues, “I think you can take it.”
My body makes my decision for me. My mind might be afraid, but a part of me needs this. It wants it more than anything. I grab his shoulders, bringing him down close so my lips are by his ear. “Let’s see what you can do.”
“Is that a challenge, Princess?”
A thrill shoots through me. Did I just issue him a challenge? The guy who I’ve listened to push countless women to the edge of sanity nightly for god knows how many years? When I’m a freaking virgin no less? My cheeks and body on fire when I look at him. There’s still a bit of cockiness in his features. I want to see that cockiness disappear—I want to know what’s underneath.
“Hell yeah it’s a challenge,” I tell him.
His mask slips off, revealing the dark, powerful man beneath. His eyes take me in with raw lust as he grabs breasts. His rough thumbs brush over my nipples before grabbing my hips as he mounts me. My cunt tightens in shock around the head of his dick. The movement pulls him in deeper. He kisses me and he thrusts in, cock pushing into my pussy, tongue slipping into my mouth.
There’s no barrier—I guess years of riding motorcycles did away with that nuisance—but it’s still too much. I grip his strong arms, crying out as my body accepts him. “Oh God.”
He inches into me, my whole world changing, filling with him. “God damn you’re tight. So fuckin’ tight.”
I imbed my fingernails into his tattoos, biting his shoulder. He pulls out, then sinks into me again, this time going deeper. Again and again, driving into me with a precision and agonizingly slow speed that drives me crazy. The boundary between pleasure and pain disintegrates. I can’t stand it and I can’t get enough. I whimper, begging for it—for all of it. I loop my ankles around his back, trying to push him further into me.
“God damn woman, you’re makin’ this hard,” he rasps.
“Making what hard?” I make out just barely.
His hands cup my face, drawing it away from his shoulder and close to him. Our noses almost touch. His lips are over mine, not quite kissing. “Goin’ slow. Makin’ love to you instead of just fuckin’.”
Fuckin’. My pussy tightens. Coming from his mouth, that word is so beautifully, wonderfully filthy.
“Why would you do a thing like that?” I whisper. “I said I wanted to see what you could do.”
He looks down at me with that same piercing, uncontrollable darkness. No—a darkness that only seemed uncontrollable. He was holding back for me, and so I could also unleash it.
“I thought you said you were going to make it so that every time I lie down in this bed I can’t think of anything but your hands, your tongue…” my eyes dip, following the tattoos that curl down his torso ending in a V and that epic part of him that’s buried in me only half way, “…and your cock.”
His breathing quickens. His gaze sharpens.
It’s dangerous to play with something this wild. My core trembles with a knowledge my mind doesn’t yet understand. But I want him—all of him—even the parts that scare me.
N
o, especially the parts that scare me.
I want to know everything that he’s kept hidden from me. I want to feel it. I want to revel in it.
I want to possess it.
His hands move to my hips. His grip is almost bruising. Instinctively my legs open wider and I pull myself tighter around him. He growls softly, pushing into me, his fingers digging into my hips beneath the bone. I tilt my pelvis up to meet his. He stills for a moment, shoulders tightening like a gun cocking, before rolling forward in one fluid, lethal motion.
I scream as he fills me to the hilt.
Oh. My. God.
I’m afraid to look down. There’s no way he could have fit that huge cock inside me. But I know he did. His pelvis pushes against my clit, and…and…
The bedsprings have stopped squeaking. The entire room goes silent except the sound of our breathing. I open my eyes to find him looking down at me, gaze dark and full of possession. Hours ago, that darkness had frightened me. Now, it feeds something inside me that is just as dark.
He pulls out, then crashes into me. I grip the pink bed sheets as that exquisite ache comes back with a vengeance. He grabs my left leg and lifts it so my calf is splayed across his chest and my ankle is by his collarbone. I can’t believe how tight that motion pulls me. I cry out as he quickens his pace, angling himself so he can have me without any restrictions.
“You’ve got such a perfect cunt.” I watch his six pack flex as he pummels my soft body. I love it when he whispers crass words, when he calls me perfect. I bite my lower lip. My headboard knocks against the wall in a constant, relentless rhythm, just like his does almost every night when he’s with one of his girls.
Now, I’m one of them too.
His fingers dig into my thigh. He kisses my ankle. His hot breath runs down my leg, making me shiver. At the same time he pushes back my other knee, pinning it to the bed. “You like gettin’ fucked like this don’t you, my perfect, dirty princess?” There’s no judgment in his eyes. No distaste. Just raw lust, like the fact I want to get fucked hard turns him on more than anything else in the world.
His thrusts grow quicker. His muscles straining as he dominates me, the mark his cock is making on my soul more permanent than a tattoo. “You’re everything I’ve I ever wanted. Every fuckin’ night I’ve dreamed this—of makin’ you mine.”
