by M. N. Forgy
“Okay, I’ll take that. But if you so much as look at another woman, I will shove my nightstick up your ass hole.” The threat leaving my mouth catches me by surprise, the jealousy and heartache poured in it coming from a place unknown.
He turns, his body bulked and much larger than mine. His eyes flaring with something sexual, his nostrils flaring. “Your threats turn me the fuck on.” His hand grips my hair, his lips brushing against mine seductively. “I don’t need to warn you about fucking around on me. If a man so much as looks your way longer than I like?” He smirks like the Devil. “He’ll have a bullet hole in his skull.”
My nostrils flare, but I’m not sure if it’s from fear or lust. His jealousy turns my body to butter.
“Now, let’s get in the damn bath.” He runs his hand through his hair and starts kicking off his shoes.
I’ve never had a bubble bath with someone else. Looking at my tub, I’m not sure how both of us will even fit.
He pulls a nine millimeter pistol from his waistband and sets it on the clothes basket. His eyes meet mine knowingly. I bet it’s not registered. Any other day, I would nag the hell out of him, feel guilty, and push him out the door in horror. But tonight, I’m thanking the gods that he’s armed, and I’m finding it to be quite a turn-on that he’s carrying.
His belt buckle jangles as he loosens it, and he pulls his jeans and boxers down all at once, his dick springing free with force. Like it’s been hard for hours and it’s finally free.
“My eyes are up here, sweetheart,” he rasps arrogantly. Turning quickly, I pull my white tank top off, and Zeek grabs the strap to my bra. Once unclasped, my breasts fall freely, and a sigh escapes my lips.
“Does that feel good?” he whispers against the back of my head. His hands slide around and cup my breasts, massaging them. My knees go weak and my eyes close. It feels so good.
“Mmm.”
Sliding his hands down, he unbuckles my pants, pulling them down before he kneels.
Large palms grasp my ass cheeks. “You have the perfect ass.” If he keeps admiring me like he is, there is no way we’ll make it into the bathtub.
He hooks a finger on each side of my panties and slowly slides them down my thighs. An erotic cry ripples up my throat.
Velcro sounds as he undoes the boot the doctor gave me.
“Is your leg okay?”
“It hurts, I know that. The X-rays were inconclusive, so I’m supposed to wear this thing more for precaution than anything.” Carefully, he removes it, along with my pants and panties. The care and ease of his movements is foreign; he’s usually so rough and angry.
Kissing the back of my calf, his hands caress every inch of my legs, thighs, and ass. “I’ll make it better.”
I turn, wanting him to make it feel better now. Standing, he kisses my lips feverishly. Hooking my arms around him, I moan into his mouth. I missed the taste of him; I can’t explain it, but it’s warm, sensual with a hint of mint.
“Easy. You need to get a warm bath first, because your body is going to tense and then we aren’t going to get to do anything.” His hands rest on my arms, his forehead against mine.
“Okay,” I whisper.
He steps into the tub and settles. Zeek, a badass with tattoos, sitting in a tub of bubbles that smell like candy. It’s hot as fuck.
I step in and sit between his legs. The water is hot, like really fucking hot. My skin turns a dark shade of red instantly, but my body relaxes just as quickly.
Zeek pushes a few stray hairs from my ponytail back into its ribbon, then runs water down my shoulders and neck. I moan in response—it feels so good.
Lying back on his chest, I feel his heartbeat pound against my back. If someone told me this is where I’d be a week ago, I’d admit them into a psychiatric hospital.
“Zeek, what are we?” I whisper. His chest rises and falls slowly. “Are we a couple, just having fun?”
“What do you want?” Sitting up, water sloshes over the edge.
“At first, I was just having fun, the risk of getting caught a thrill. But now?” I shrug, my heart telling me I want more. I peek up from under my wet lashes, knowing I may get my heart broken in the next four seconds. “I want more.”
He thumbs my cheek. “I don’t know how to give you more. The lives we live, I feel like we’d have to be in hiding the whole time. You deserve much more than that.” His hand falls, and so does his face.
“Why do you say that? Why do you think I deserve better?” I run my wet hand through his hair. Zeek with wet hair and bubbles is an image.
“I’m not the guy for you. Out there?” He gestures his head toward the door. “I am exactly what my record says I am. There’s a reason why the academy has a course solely on me and my men.” He stops himself, knowing he’s about to spill things he shouldn’t.
I run my thumb along his bottom lip, my eyes boring into his. “Tell me, Zeek. You can trust me.”
“I kill people, Jillian. I love violence, I feed off it. I was raised to draw blood and bathe in it. You and I are so opposite. I’m no good for you. But none of that seems to matter, because I keep coming back to you.” He pulls my hair off my neck, the scruff on his chin skimming my ear. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to let you go.” The words come out laced with an eerie promise. One you’d hear a stalker say to his prey.
He continues, his words barely above a whisper. “To say I’m obsessed with you is an understatement.” Most normal girls would run, but it hooks me. Maybe I’m more fucked-up than I thought.
I trail my hand down his chest. Submerging it under the blanket of bubbles, I graze the head of his cock. His eyes spring to mine.
“I think I’m limber now.”
Sitting up, he palms each of my butt cheeks and stands, taking me with him. I wrap my legs around his waist as he steps out of the tub, bubbles popping and fizzing all around us.
Smashing my mouth to his, my hands on each side of his face, I kiss him hard.
“Shouldn’t we dry off?” I say between kisses.
“You smelling like sprinkles and covered in bubbles is a wet dream, baby. I ain’t drying you off.”
Stepping into my room, he slowly places me on the bed, the comforter soaking up the remnants of the water. His hands palm my sides, my skin still red from the hot bath.
He trails kisses down my jaw line, and my eyelids flutter with passion. Grabbing my leg, he hikes it over his hip and I wince in pain.
“Zeek,” I whimper. He stills, his eyes on me. “I think we’re going to have to go slow.”
ELEVEN
ZEEK
My heart pounds against my chest, fear striking me hard. Slow? I don’t go slow. Slow entails emotions, ones I’m not sure I’m capable of. Ones I’m not sure we should express. Slow is making love.
She’s laid out on the bed, bubbles spread across her belly and chest. Her skin is a sexy shade of red, and those eyes, they’re looking at me like nobody has ever looked at me before. Not like I’m her fucking king, but as a lover.
“Are you sure?” I question. The radio in the living room starts playing “Wrong Side of Heaven” by Five Finger Death Punch.
“Yes, I want to go slow. I need to. Not only because I’m sore, but because I want it to last.” Her words are a direct hit to my chest. She keeps saying shit like that, I’m going to go nuts. I can’t tell her no, though. I don’t know if I’m capable of making love, but for her… I’ll try.
Lowering myself, one of my hands tangled in her hair, I grip her hip. My fingers press tightly, my need to have her now too great. A cry vibrates from her chest, and my grasp lightens.
My eyes flick to hers.
“It’s okay,” she whispers, running her fingers through my hair.
Dropping my head, I suck her nipple into my mouth. Her body writhes under me, her breathing picking up. My cock flexes. He’s sick of this teasing shit, ready to plow into her sweet pussy right the fuck now.
Trailing my nose down her stomach, I bite
at her belly button; little whimpers escape her lips, turning me on more. She brings her knees up, her hands finding my hair again. Using my hands, I spread her legs apart and look at her pussy. It’s so pink, so innocent and tight-looking. My dick spouts a bead of cum, ready for action.
I lick her clit and she releases a breathy moan. Her thighs squeeze my head, and she winces.
“Relax, baby,” I whisper against her sensitive skin. I nip it gently then suck it into my mouth, and she cries out. Every sound that leaves her mouth, every shiver of her body, it unhinges me like a wild man. Letting go of her clit, I dip my tongue into her pussy, her wetness filling my mouth. She’s sweet, with a hint of musk.
“Zeek, I…” She pauses, her pussy throbbing against my tongue. Pulling my head up, I leave her on the edge of an orgasm.
“Not yet, baby. If I let you come on my tongue, my cock would be pissed off at me.” She giggles, her legs relaxing.
“Your Cock-A-Saurus Rex would be jealous?”
“My what?” I smirk before climbing back over her, careful not to hit her injuries.
Her cheeks flush. “Nothing.”
I kiss her hard, giving her a taste of herself. She doesn’t complain; in fact, she returns the kiss hungrily, her tongue diving in and out of my mouth slowly, savoring.
My cock skims her wet pussy, my calves twitching to propel forward. Her feet hook around my legs, her body arching into mine.
Pushing the head of my cock into her wetness, I slowly sink in as far is it will go. It takes all the strength in my body to take my time, to go slowly.
“Oh, my God, yes,” she moans quietly, my dick filling her.
Holding myself up with my fists pressed into the mattress, I lift my head, eyes closed as her tight pussy clenches my dick like a vice.
“This is what I needed. You,” I groan. I’ve never felt anything like it before. Just her sweet cunt gripping my dick is a sensation of its own. My eyes snap open when I suddenly realize I’m not wearing a condom.
“Fuck, I don’t have a condom.” Her eyes pop open lazily. “They’re in my pants.”
She shakes her head. “No, don’t stop.” Her words are breathy, lust-filled.
Slowly, I pull my dick out some, the feeling of her so fucking good I thrust forward instead of withdrawing. “I should go get it,” I breathe heavily.
“Y-yeah,” she pants, her hips meeting my thrusts.
“Goddamn!” I growl, falling into the crook of her neck. When she does that, setting our bodies in sync like that, it undoes me. I can’t go slow anymore. I’m losing control.
I roll us, making sure not to put any pressure on her, placing her on top. When she takes charge, it’s like I’ve never had sex before.
Her eyes widen, as if she isn’t sure how she got on top. Her breasts hanging slightly, her body is still wet and a shade of pink from the hot bath.
Grabbing her hips, I rock her back and forth, and her nails impale my pecs. “So good,” she murmurs.
Taking over, she slowly fucks me, little moans and harsh breaths escaping her parted lips. Pressing my palms on her back, she lowers herself, and I kiss her nipple before sucking it into my mouth. I’m obsessed with her tits. And her mouth. And her ass. I’m just obsessed; I can’t get enough of her. Her head lolls back, her mouth hanging open in satisfaction as I lave at her perfect little nipple. I could live in her tits and never complain. Grabbing them both with my hands, I kiss the mound of one breast before sucking hard, claiming her, marking her as mine with a hickey.
“Yes!” she moans, her speed picking up quickly. Her knees dig into the mattress, her nails scratching the shit out of my chest. But I love it, feeding off seeing her come undone by my dick. Pressure shoots up my shaft, and I come hard.
Growling, I grab her hips, taking over. I lift and lower her quickly, needing a faster rhythm. Just as my cum is about to spill, I pull out, white beads spraying along her abdomen.
Catching me off-guard, her mouth slips over the head, sucking it hard. Her hair falls around her and my dick like a curtain. My orgasm intensifies, my balls squeezing together hard. It’s literally painful.
My legs tense, my toes curling as my jaw clenches until there’s nothing left for me to release. Lifting her head, she runs the back of her hand across her mouth, her hair everywhere in the sexiest way possible. My chest heaves for air, my lungs feeling like I just ran a fucking marathon.
She smiles, resting her palms on my chest. “I’ve never done that before.” How can that be possible? How can she be possible?
Dear God, this girl is going to be the end of me. Because I’ll die before I let her walk away from me. I’ll burn this entire fucking town down before I let another man inside of her.
JILLIAN
I smell bacon. I stretch, my body sore from the crash, but amazingly sore in other areas, too.
Sitting up in the bed, I wipe at my eyes, crust from the corners scratching my skin. I touch at my hair; it’s a rat’s nest. Holding the sheet to my chest, I slide to the end of the mattress and look for my clothes. They are scattered everywhere, and so are Zeek’s.
“Hungry?” Looking up, Zeek has a spatula in one hand with a sizzling skillet in the other. He’s naked, rocking a semi hard-on.
“Um…” I’m at a loss for words.
He juts his chin over his shoulder. “Come.” Then he walks off, his fine, chiseled ass cheeks and tattooed back in perfect view.
Swallowing hard, I stand, testing out my foot without the brace. It’s sore, but I’m not putting that damn thing back on.
I yank open a dresser drawer and sift through my panties. I don’t have anything sexy. I have cute, I have frilly, but nothing that sexy. I grab a pair of pink panties that have white lace along the hem. I think I have a matching bra in here somewhere. Digging to the bottom, I find it and start putting them on. I need to make a point of going to Victoria’s Secret.
I pull on a red tank top and some gray sweats, grabbing a hair ribbon off the dresser before stepping out.
“It smells great. What are you cooking?” His back is turned to me, and I can’t help but take in his tattoos. There are names in cursive, and a dark angel between them. He turns and frowns, his eyes sweeping up and down my frame. My heart sinks, and I look down at myself.
“I feel underdressed,” he states.
I laugh. “That’s because you’re naked.”
“I think you need to take something off to make it even,” he suggests with a sly smirk.
Stepping up to me, his hands pull my pants to my ankles then fist my shirt before tearing it Incredible Hulk style.
My mouth pops open in shock. I might need new panties now.
“That’s better. I like the lace.” He thumbs the lace on the round of my breast, my nipple jumping to attention.
I step out of my pants and take the remaining pieces of my shirt off.
“Why don’t you have that brace thing on?” He narrows his eyes at my foot.
I shrug. “I don’t need it. I’ll heal faster without it.”
“You should wear it. The doctor gave it to you for a reason,” he schools me.
“Just for precaution. I’m fine.”
He shakes his head, squinting at me from over his shoulder. He’s cocky, even bossy at times, but the fact he cares is charming in a way.
Sitting down at the table, he sets a plate in front of me. Eggs with cheese and tomatoes sit on one side, bacon and toast on the other.
“Thank you,” I say nervously. I’ve never had a man make me breakfast before, including my father.
“You’re welcome.”
I take a bite of bacon, and he smirks.
“What?”
“You eating bacon. That doesn’t make you a cannibal, does it?”
It takes a second before I realize his jab.
“Ha ha, very funny.” I shove the whole thing in my mouth and roll my eyes. He laughs, pleased with himself.
“You know, I may give you shit about being a pig, but b
ikers used to be called pigs.”
“Really?” Crumbs sputter from my lips, and my cheeks flush.
He chuckles, setting a glass of orange juice down.
“Yeah, my dad told me all kinds of stories. Back before clubs were a dime a dozen, people had their own ideas of those who wore leather and rode Harleys. They were scum, of lower income. All of them were outlaws and rapists. My father said his grandfather had a blowout on the side of the highway one day, and nobody stopped to see if he was okay.”
“Oh, wow.”
“True story. One of his buddies got his bike rolled down the hills in San Fran one night after leaving a bar.”
Sitting down across from me, he takes a big gulp from my glass, his eyes never leaving mine.
“The Sin City Outlaws, it’s been in your family forever?”
He shrugs, digging into his food. “Yeah. My father and uncle migrated from Italy after the war, worked their way up. My uncle started the casino, and my father… well, he took a different route.”
“The club,” I state.
“Exactly. But I don’t have to tell you that both are just as vindictive.”
“No, you don’t. The files on the club and the casino suggest a lot of things. They have a lot of suspected crimes, but… there’s never any solid evidence to prove it.”
He raises his brows, his jaw flexing as he chews.
“Yeah, guess we’re doing something right then.”
I frown, not agreeing to that. I guess that’s where we’ll disagree on things. Shaking my head, I take a bite of my eggs.
“Wow, these are really good!”
He smirks, proud of himself.
“I was worried they wouldn’t turn out. I wasn’t one to be in the kitchen growing up. That was Lip. I wasn’t sure if I remembered how to make them.”
“I’m guessing you don’t cook often?”
He chuckles. “No, my Aunt Carola cooks, or I get take-out. Seems easier, no mess.”
He doesn’t cook, but he cooked for me. I probably shouldn’t read into it too much, though.
