Peg's Stand

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Peg's Stand Page 11

by Manda Mellett


  “Fucking?” I suggest, helpfully.

  “Fuck, Woman.” He smiles. A genuine smile.

  “I take risks every day, Peg. It’s what I do.” And while we take every precaution, I always know there’s a very small chance one day a fire will claim me as a victim. Firefighters give their all on the job and will do what’s necessary to try to save lives. It’s made me less cautious in my everyday life. When I see something I want, I go after it.

  His brow is creased again. “Not sure I like that you put yourself in danger.”

  I shake my head to reassure him. “I don’t. I’m fully trained, remember, and I’ve been doing this job for a few years now. I’ve got a team behind me as well, we work together, need to watch each other’s backs. But I work with fire, Peg, and that’s unpredictable. No one runs into a burning building not expecting to get out, but there’s always that chance. Knowing it’s there means we’re careful. But…”

  He rolls his head back. “I’m a biker, darlin’. I live an outlaw life. Oh, we earn our money clean these days, but there’s always someone wantin’ what we’ve got.”

  Now I know what that look was for, because I’m feeling the same emotion. Worried for him.

  “I’m sergeant-at-arms, Darcy. Which means my role is to keep the club safe.”

  I place my hands on his chest, under his leather vest. Firm muscles meet my fingers. This man keeps himself fit.

  “Darcy, stop that. It’s hard enough to resist without your hands on me.”

  I don’t stop, and instead my hands explore more.

  Until they’re brought to a halt when his cover mine and he tears them away, holding me so my arms are held wide. “You didn’t give me a chance to tell you. Babe, what I’ve been trying to say is I don’t want you to have any nasty surprises. I’ve only got half of one leg.”

  He’s still holding me prisoner, my only reaction is to tilt my head to one side. “So what?”

  Examining me carefully, he informs me, “Some women don’t like it. It turns them right off.”

  Actually, I’m intrigued. The way he moves you’d never know it. I glance down at his legs. “You wear a prosthesis?”

  He just nods, and I feel stupid. Of course, he does.

  “Well, it doesn’t bother me.” It’s other parts of his body I’m more interested in at the moment. I want to see him naked without his clothes, feel his calloused hands roaming my body, feel what I can see is an impressive cock…

  “Eyes up here, darlin’.”

  I feel my face flush as I look back up and see amusement on his face. He lets my hands go, and his own once again cup my face and he stares down intently. “You sure about this?”

  Suddenly I know I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life. “Yes.”

  His body shudders as though I’ve broken through his resistance, my easy dismissal of what is obviously a big deal for him being the last straw. He says nothing more and lowers his mouth until it touches mine. I’m fairly tall for a woman at five-foot-nine, and not used to having to crane my neck. I rise on tiptoe and press up against him.

  His tongue seeks entry, I open for him, and as he sweeps in and I taste him for the first time. It’s captivating. I can’t get enough. One of his arms sweeps behind my back, pulling me in close, our bodies flush together, leaving me in no doubt of his arousal, which I can tell by hardness alone clearly matches mine. His size, though. I’ve never felt anything like it, and a flutter of excitement goes through me. As I whimper into his mouth, my tongue duelling with his, his free hand goes to the back of my head, holding me in place as he completely controls our first kiss.

  When eventually we need air, he pulls away and tucks my head into his chest. “Perfect. Fuckin’ perfect.”

  It was just one brief union, a touching of mouths, but it seems almost reverent. As if we’ve both taken the initial step toward the rest of our lives.

  “I want you,” he murmurs. I feel the vibration on the top of my head.

  “Yes.” I don’t need to say more.

  He turns me around, and instead of leading me into my bedroom as I expected, sweeps aside the empty beer bottles, picks me up and sits me on the kitchen counter, pushing my legs out to the sides, and stepping in between them.

  “Don’t want you in that bed. Not now.”

  Not after Pete almost raped me there. I start to worry. Surely for our first time we should be horizontal? Try out the missionary position before attempting anything else? I’ve not been with men who’ve been particularly adventurous before. How do we play this? What should I do with my hands?

  “Stop thinking, darlin’.” Peg’s head comes down and kisses me again. Another deep kiss, more ravishing than the first. I can feel my lips are swollen when he looks up again. “Fuckin’ beautiful.” His finger now replaces his mouth, and he traces the swelling he caused, then takes hold of my oversized tee and starts to lift it off. I raise my arms to help him.

  He stares in adoration at my plain bra, hands coming out to touch my breasts without removing their covering. He watches his fingers, then looks into my eyes. Such a expressions of devotion I hadn’t expected to see. This is no rutting of animals, no quick one and done pairing. This means something to him. Like it means something to me.

  Then when he expertly undoes the front clasp, I give him space to lower the straps down my arms. Still he holds my eyes, not lowering his yet to see what he’s revealed. Then he leans forward, and his voice causes vibrations as he speaks into my ear. “Only have one first time, darlin’. Not gonna rush.” His tenderness, so unexpected from such a big man, sends thrills right through me, and I tremble in anticipation.

  His hands leave me, and I feel bereft, but then entranced as he slides off his vest. Then in the male way which I swear they must learn in school, grabs the neck of his t-shirt and pulls it right over his head.

  Before I can touch those hard muscles I long to trace, or even feast my eyes on his body, he steps forward again and hugs me to him, my chest to his chest, warm skin to warm skin. He holds us together, hearts beating in time. “Dreamed of this. Fuckin’ dreamed of holdin’ you close.”

  I moan against him, having a tough time keeping my body still, wanting to writhe against him. “Impatient, aren’t you? Feel like a kid at Christmas, but don’t want to rush and open everything at once. Wanna make this last. Savour it.”

  We stay in position for over a minute, then he shifts back, and now his eyes feast on my naked breasts, and as he sees my pierced nipples a wide grin spreads over his face. “Any other surprises?”

  “No.” I lift my hands, wanting to touch his chest, but he gently bats them away.

  But his hands don’t stay still, reaching out and smoothing the curves of my breasts, circling around, making the nipples peak, even though he’s not touched them.

  “Peg,” I whine, complaining.

  Chapter 13

  Peg

  She’s eager, impatient. But I’m not going to rush, instead I give in to my desire to learn her body with my eyes, hands, and mouth. Her little gasps, groans, and whimpers are music to my ears. I know she was surprised I wasn’t taking her to bed, but how could I, when it was there she was so recently threatened and almost molested? I’m going to buy her a new bed, burn the old one before I lie with her in her bedroom.

  When I first seated her on the kitchen counter she was uncomfortable, but she’s going to learn I like sex anywhere. This certainly isn’t going to be the one and only time for us. As I’ve been toying with her, she’s slowly been getting out of her head, sexual tension and excitement overtaking any concern.

  Now I play with her nipples, pinching those dark peaks, pulling at the rings to make her moan. A quick brush of my lips across her mouth, and now I’m nibbling at her neck as she swivels her head to afford me better access. I suck at her pulse, then trace my lips down, over her collar bone and down to her gorgeous chest.

  With my fingers toying with one, and using my mouth on the other, I pull and suck on t
hose nipples, making them peak. I could play with her rings for hours, just lie beside her, my hands amusing themselves, pulling and pushing at those little gold circles. A light tug and she tilts toward me, her back bowed and her head thrown back, eyes closed, completely in the moment.

  I can smell her arousal as her body gets ready to take me.

  With my mouth still paying attention to her breasts, I fumble around the waistband of her skirt, finding the button and slipping it through the hole, then pulling down the zip. Putting my arm around her waist, I easily lift her to give me the clearance I need to push the material down to the ground.

  Seconds later, my hands find her slim, trimmed stomach, and now they slide up and down her muscular legs. She’s not built like a bodybuilder, but her strong calf and thigh muscles are tight and well-shaped, paying tribute to the strength she needs in order to do her job. I straighten, and stand with my fingers running along her thighs, first on the outside, then moving in. She jumps as my hands find their way to the sensitive spot between her legs, and her eyes fly open in expectation.

  “Put your hands behind you.” She obeys. I’d like to rip her panties right off her, but don’t want any bad memories to come back into her head. “Lift up.” When she raises her hips, I slide them down and off. Then I sink to my knees and just breathe in that perfume that’s uniquely her. The musky aroma turns my cock to steel, making me unfasten my zip to give myself space. My head draws closer, I run my nose from her cunt to her clit, appreciating the smooth, shaved surface. Inhaling deeply, I’m aware that my beard is soaking up her essence. She jumps as the hair scratches gently over her sensitive spot.

  “Peg, oh Peg.”

  I can wait any longer to take her. Fastening my mouth like a limpet, I thrust my tongue inside her tight channel, lapping like a cat trying to get the last of the cream. She squirms beneath me, and putting my hands to her hips I hold her still. I slide my tongue to her clit again, circling it gently, then going back for more of that cream.

  “Peg, I, oh, there. Just there.”

  “You like me eating you out, hmm?” The rumbling of my voice causes a full body shudder.

  I repeat my actions, the sensations making her produce more of her essence. Now keeping her in place with one hand to her stomach, I use my fingers to circle, then lightly pinch those nerves. Then I exchange mouth for my digits, curling my fingers up inside.

  “I, I…”

  She’s barely able to form words as I continue my slow but steady assault. I feel her muscles tense and know that she’s close. Pressure inside, my teeth gently clamping on her clit, and her strong thighs grip my head like a vice as she starts shaking, goes still, then with a scream goes over the top. Her head’s thrown back, and she’s panting.

  When she’s at last able to speak, her eyes open in wonder. “Peg, that was, amazing. Incredible.” I grin, knowing what she’s trying to say. No one can fake a reaction like that.

  Putting one hand on the counter to help pull me to my feet and get my prosthesis under me again, I bend forwards and kiss her again. A slight look of surprise as she tastes herself on me, then she’s enthusiastically mating her tongue with mine.

  Reaching my hand into my pocket, I extract a condom, then slide my jeans off over my hips. She sits up to watch me, her eyes widening as my cock jumps free, and I almost wish I had a camera to record for posterity the look on her face as she first catches sight of me.

  “What…?”

  I glance down where she’s looking, as if I have no idea what she’s referring to, then grin at her reaction. “Oh, it’s a Jacob’s ladder.”

  “I’ve never… I’m not sure… Does it hurt?”

  I can’t help but laugh. “It won’t hurt you, and it doesn’t hurt me.” Hurt like a bitch when I first had the piercings done to please my ex-wife, but now I barely notice I’ve got it. “You won’t get the full effect with a condom, but one day, darlin’, when you trust me, and the time is right, I’m gonna take you bare.”

  She licks her lips as I make her that promise and is still watching as the metal disappears beneath the latex.

  My hand now on her chest, I push her gently back down on the counter. “Bend your knees, put your heels on the edge.” As she follows my instruction, I take hold of her hips and pull her closer, then position myself at her entrance before taking hold of her once again.

  I close my eyes, almost overwhelmed at the feeling, this strange connection between us. Even with the woman I married there wasn’t this compulsion to make it last, to make it good, to make her never want another man inside her.

  And as I slide in, working through her tight channel, I hear her moaning with satisfaction as I slowly fill her, and my piercings roll over her nerve endings. And then, with one last thrust which makes her gasp, I’m fully in. The sight, looking down, of where we are joined, is almost too much. My balls draw up and I throw back my head, screwing up my eyes, willing the feelings to subside. Having regained control, I pull out gently, and then push in again. Slowly, but surely, making sure she’s feeling the full effect of the Jacob’s Ladder, thankful as fuck I never followed my inclination to take it out. I didn’t know it then, but she is the reason I went through that suffering all those years ago.

  Her eyes are closed, her head turning from side to side, moans coming almost constantly, though I’d bet she doesn’t even know she’s making any noise. She squeezes her Kegels rhythmically against my cock, the pressure inciting me, and I quicken my pace. Her sound now is a keening, her hands are clenched, her body covered in a fine sheen of sweat. Her back is bowed, her hips drawing down to meet my onslaught. And now she’s screaming again, her head coming up, her mouth wide open, and as her orgasm strangles my cock I lose it.

  “Never. Been. So. Fuckin’. Good.” I punctuate my words as I pant out my own climax with short pumps into the condom, emptying burst after burst from deep in my balls.

  We stayed joined. Our eyes meeting. For a moment we don’t need words, just that connection of our sexual organs and sight.

  Then she giggles. “You were right. I’ve never…” Her head turns to the side, and her cheeks turn red.

  I swell with pride as I suspect I know what she’s trying to say. “You’ve never come with a cock inside you?”

  She giggles again as she turns back. “Yeah, that.”

  She’s got me smiling. “My cock made you come, yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  I raise my hands until they’re at the side of her ribs, and prod gently with my fingers. She jumps. “Ticklish, eh? Well, tell me what made you come. Was it my cock in your pussy?”

  She shakes her head. I press in again, making her writhe to escape my probing fingertips. “Peg, stop.”

  “Not until you tell me.”

  She tries to evade my hands which torture her, but I’ve got her pinned tight, tilting my pelvis so she’s trapped. As she struggles, my softening cock slips out, breaking our connection. “Tell me.” I tickle her mercilessly again.

  “Your cock made me come. Your cock in my pussy.” She’s shouting and laughing all at the same time.

  Immediately stopping my torment, I curl my hand around her head to support it and bring her closer, so I can kiss her again. “Never been so fuckin’ good.” I repeat, “Never. You’re mine, Darcy. Not lettin’ you get away.”

  She’s still laughing as I make my declaration, and I know she doesn’t fully appreciate the implication of what I’ve just said. But in my world, if you claim a woman, you’re making her your old lady. She’s mine for life, she just doesn’t know it yet.

  “Shower with me.” I hold out my hand and help her down off the counter, noticing her kitchen smells of sex.

  “I don’t know if we’ll fit.”

  “Think we just did, darlin’.”

  “Babe.” She admonishes me with just one word, and fuck if I don’t like what she just called me.

  “Babe, eh?”

  She shrugs, then pulls me in the direction of her small bathroom.
I strip off my clothes and take off my prosthesis, using the shower rail to hop in and get my balance on one leg. It’s a bit of a tight fit to get under the shower, but we make it, and she takes delight in shampooing my beard, even though I’d rather keep her scent on it. She’s fun, we laugh. In fact, I realise I haven’t laughed so much since, well, ever.

  But as we get out and I wrap a towel around her, she leans her head onto my chest and can’t hide her yawn. I can see she’s completely exhausted, she’s come off a long shift, had to deal with her ex-housemate, and then I, selfish bastard that I am, wore her out. She waits while I strap back on my prosthesis, then I carry her into the living room—don’t want her going into the bedroom until I’ve disposed of that bed—then go and find a t-shirt and sleep shorts in one of her drawers. By the time I’m back with her, her eyes are closed, and she’s half asleep. Pulling her forward, I remove the damp towel and pull the tee over her head, and encourage her into the shorts, then sit back on the couch and draw her onto my lap.

  She snuggles into me, her arms holding me tight, her grip gradually releasing as she drops off. I settle down for an uncomfortable few hours, but not giving a damn. What could be better than staying awake and watching my old lady asleep in my arms?

  Now all I’ve got to do is get her to realise there’ll be no parting us now.

  Mid-afternoon I ease out from under her, leaving her sleeping as I place a call.

  “Wraith, it’s Peg. You got our package still on ice?”

  When he gives me the confirmation, I issue him with instruction. “Okay. Well keep it that way. Don’t mind if it’s damaged, we just ain’t discardin’ it.”

  He growls, a response I fully understand. “Yeah, I know. Not my decision, Brother.”

  When he tells me I’ve handed over my balls to a woman, rather than my usual snarl, I find myself laughing. “You could well be right.”

  I listen for a moment then respond. “Yeah.” He’s not wrong there either, I think, as I admit, “It does feel fuckin’ good.”

  The next call I make has Hyde and the prospect knocking at the door a little time later. I let them in quietly, but the swearing and the noise they’re making as they try to take her bed apart wakes her.

 

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