by West, Naomi
He gently, but firmly, grabbed hold of an ankle and a calf. Cutter spread her, putting her on display for him. She shivered as he dipped his head down, trembled as she felt his hot breath on the inside of her thighs. His lips were even softer than she'd imagined, as he wetly kissed the inside of a thigh. And his tongue even more skillful than she could have dreamed all those years ago, as he parted her lips with just the tip. Between her thighs, he moaned as he tasted.
She threw her head back and grabbed hold of the sheets as he slowly and sensually bathed his tongue in her. She pushed her hips into his mouth as his tongue and lips found her clit and slowly began to circle it. She moaned loudly, and stuck a hand in her mouth. She bit down on her knuckles as he focused on a spot just above her clit and kept the wild sensations going.
Truthfully, she couldn't remember the last time she'd cum. Sex with Wyland wasn't like this. He didn't care about her pleasure, about whether she got off or not. It was always him taking what he wanted. She'd always closed her eyes and tried to think of other things till he pulled out and jerked himself off onto her stomach.
She could tell Cutter was loving this as much as she was. He groaned, clearly enjoying himself, as he slid a finger inside her and found a sensitive area that made her tremble. She nearly screamed, and had to bite down harder to keep quiet. She'd never known she even had a spot like that! She'd heard of it, before, but she'd never been able to order toys to help herself find it. Now, pleasure engulfed her body, the intensity of it almost too much for her. She felt herself building and building, like a river being held back by a dam.
Cutter smiled between her legs and slid another finger into her. Her eyes rolled back in her head and gasped out as the dam broke, releasing all her pent-up passion and wanton pleasure from the years and years she'd been virtually trapped. Her back arched as her body flooded with the ecstasy of her orgasm, her voice louder than she'd ever moaned as she continued to bite down on her knuckle.
He continued to tongue her, to bring her to another cresting high, but it was almost too much for her. She released the sheets and pulled her hand from her mouth. She reached down between her legs and grabbed his head, saying, “No, that's too much. Come here.” He rose up from between her legs, his body towering over hers in the dim light. She reached for him, grabbing his hand. With her other, she reached down between his legs and found his newly resurrected cock. “Please, Cutter, please just put yourself in me.”
“Gladly,” he breathed as he climbed onto the bed, joining her. He pushed her thighs apart with his trunk-like legs, spreading her wide for his manhood.
She wanted to look into his eyes as he fucked her. Maybe, if this happened again some other night, he would take her from behind, but not now, not tonight. She reached up, touched his face, ran her thumb over the stubble on his chin.
He put the head of his cock at her slick opening. With one hand, he guided the tip up and down her lips, parting her, teasing her. The need was building in her again, the desperate need to be filled. She reached out for him again, grabbing his strong, defined forearms and squeezed, silently urging him to slide into her. He pushed forward with his hips.
She threw her head back, moaning as he dove into her love channel. She wanted to feel him all the way inside her, wanted to feel him slapping against her ass as he fucked her. She pushed her hips into him as he slid deeper into her, her hands still rubbing his arms, stroking his chest. He lowered himself over her, kissed her again. She opened her mouth to his tongue, sucked on it like it was the last thing she'd ever do on this earth, and pulled him close against her body.
At first slowly, he began to thrust into her, feeling her out. “God,” he breathed, “you're so tight.”
Wyland hadn't exactly been well-endowed, she realized as Cutter began to fill her. She pushed her hips up and into him, meeting each movement of his with an equal and counter of hers as she gyrated on his hardness. She hooked a leg around his back, let it come to rest at the top of his firm ass. She pulled him into her with it, urging him to go faster and deeper.
His lips moved down to her neck as his hands founds her. Their fingers entwined, gripped each other tightly, following suit with the rest of their sweaty bodies. They moved against each other in the night, moaning. He reached down with one hand, grabbed her thigh hard and used it as leverage.
She didn't feel any pain. Instinctively, she knew it was from his own need that he gripped her like that. There was no malice there as he continued to fill her.
Each time he stroked into her, it felt like the world was the most beautiful place ever. Every time he withdrew, she felt empty, wanting. She'd never felt like this before with a man. She pushed wantonly into him, panting into his ear, kissing his neck as her free hand scratched up and down his back with her wedding-day nails. “Fuck me, Cutter,” she panted and groaned in his ear. “Fuck me like you meant it.”
He increased his speed, thrusting into her with abandon. His body slapped against hers, slamming the headboard against the wall behind them. As much as they'd been trying to control their own noises, they were about to wake the whole clubhouse.
“Oh, god,” she groaned, a little more loudly than before, “I'm almost there! Please, keep going!”
“I'm close,” he growled in her ear, his hips speeding up as he thrust in and out of her.
“I'm on the pill,” she quickly gasped back. She never wanted to give Wyland a child. That was one of the few things she'd managed to slip in under his controlling radar. “Inside of me, please!”
Cutter's whole body tensed and shook as he slid all the way into her, filling her completely. She felt him inside of her, his cock almost pulsating and growing as he emptied his seed into her. She cried out till he pressed his lips to hers, silencing her moans with his mouth. She groaned into him, getting her own release as her clit rubbed against the top of his hard cock. Lights exploded behind her eyes as she pushed her tongue into his mouth, as her body milked him for every drop it could.
Their lips stayed pressed together, their tongues entwined as they rode out the rest of their sexual, physical high. Their bodies were slick with sweat, but their desires were sated. She wrapped her arms around him, kissed those sweet, soft lips of his one more time before he rolled off of her and collapsed into a panting heap on the mattress.
“My fucking God,” he groaned, disbelief in his voice.
“Shit,” she panted, her arms outspread on the mattress, “you can say that again. That was fucking amazing.”
Chapter 15
Cutter
The moment he finished inside her, he knew that he'd made the wrong decision when he let his physical needs take control of the rest of him. Now, laying here in his bed with the woman he'd once loved, he realized how horrible of an idea this had been.
He shook his head, trying to clear it.
This was what he'd wanted, wasn't it? To have her in his arms, to feel her clinging close to his body? But, this wasn't how he'd wanted it, another voice said from deep inside him, a voice he knew came from his heart, from his sense of honor and conscience. He hadn't wanted to have to rescue her like this, from an abusive relationship. He'd wanted her on his own terms, all those years ago.
It wasn't that she was damaged, or anything like that. That hadn't even registered in his mind. Instead, it was that tonight was supposed to be her wedding night. She was originally going to have been with her husband, not with some lowlife biker in a clubhouse on the outskirts of town. Sure, Cutter had picked her up on the side of the road, and he was hiding her. But that just meant he shouldn't have been doing this. He shouldn't have been taking advantage of her.
“What's wrong?” Liona asked from beside him. “You okay?”
He shook his head and sat up in the bed. “I'm sorry,” he blurted out, not thinking. He looked off, away from her, into a corner of his room. He couldn't face her right now. “I'm so sorry.”
“Sorry for what?” she asked, sitting up in bed and putting her arm around.
/> “I'm sorry,” he said again, breathing deep and trying to control his anger at himself.
“For what?” she asked carefully.
Her touch felt amazing. It felt perfect. That wasn't what he needed right now. This wasn't what he needed. He'd been free of these thoughts for years, he'd traveled down this road and come back form it once before.
“We shouldn't have slept together,” he whispered, barely loud enough for even him to hear.
“What?” she asked, still whispering but louder.
“We shouldn't have slept together,” he repeated, this time loud enough for her to hear it clearly, but still not loud enough to be heard through the walls. “I'm sorry, I should never have taken advantage of you like that.”
“Take advantage of me?” she asked, pulling him closer, her hand over his bicep. She shook her head. “You didn't take advantage of me, Desmond.”
“You were supposed to be getting married today,” he said, his voice firm, pained. He was angry with himself, though, not with her. He went to get up from the sweat soaked sheets. “I never should have done this. I should have stayed on the couch. And my name's Cutter.”
She tried to hold him back on the bed, but he just shook her off.
“What? What are you doing?” she asked as he searched on the floor for his underwear.
This was a weird turn of events, and would almost be funny if it weren't for the circumstances. Here he was, trying to find his underwear on the floor of his own bunk, so he could go sleep on the couch. All because of a woman he hadn't seen in nearly a decade, coming back into his life unexpectedly.
“Are you leaving me?” she asked, sadness entering her voice.
This was just getting worse and worse. Not only was he taking advantage of her, but he was hurting her all over again, and now in new and different ways than before. Now, he was abandoning her. He found his boxers after a few seconds of searching and slipped them back on. “I can't sleep in here,” he said. “I'm sorry.”
“You are leaving me, then,” she said flatly. The sound of oncoming tears was building up in her voice.
He wanted to stay. He wanted to stay more than anything he'd ever wanted. But he was afraid. Afraid of what she might think, and afraid of what emotions this all might awaken in him. He shook his head again.
“I'm sorry,” he said. “I just ... I shouldn't have done this. This isn't about you. It's about me.”
She looked away, brushed off a tear from her eye. “Fine,” she said. “Whatever. Just, come back to bed. Okay? I wouldn't be able to sleep all night with you out there on the couch by yourself. Or, at least let me take the couch.”
Sighing, he stopped and looked at her.
“We don't have to cuddle, or hold each other, or anything,” she said, her voice still full of sadness and resignation. “I just don't want to feel like I kicked you out of your own bed. Especially not after what you did for me today.”
He gritted his teeth and looked away from her, to the Vanguard flag hanging on his wall. “Fine,” he said. “I'll stay. Okay?”
She scooted over, making plenty of room for him.
Deep down, a part of him knew that he'd regret this. Or, at the very least, he knew that it would change things for them. Honestly, though, he didn't know if that was for the better, or not. Change was a powerful force, and it could be one for good, or for ill. He walked back over to the bed and sat down in the spot he'd just left. He kept his briefs on and swung his legs up onto the mattress.
Still naked beside him, Liona slid beneath the covers, pulled them up tight to her neck.
Finally, after what seemed like hours of staring at his ceiling and mulling over his track record of very poor decisions when it came to Liona Copeland, he drifted off to sleep.
A few hours later, though, he awoke to the sounds of soft crying. She was on her side, crying into her pillow, her back turned to him. He didn't know what to do. He felt like whatever he did, he'd somehow make it worse. He cursed himself silently as she continued to cry. Whether he still loved her, or not. Whether she was supposed to have married that piece of shit Wyland today, or not. Whether they'd just had sex, or not, ...she was still his friend. And, at least with their history, and the friendship she showed to him while they were back in high school, he owed her some semblance of comfort and compassion.
He reached out, touched her shoulder. “Hey,” he whispered, pulling her towards, “come here.”
His gesture did nothing to stop her tears, but she rolled over anyways and pulled herself against him. Her naked body pressed into his form, seeming like she was made to perfectly fit against him. Cutter wrapped his arm around her, pulled her tighter against him, and let her cry on his chest. Her tears fell, dappling his black-inked tattoos, and he just grasped her closer. Soon, the tears stopped, and her breathing went from shallow and fast to deep and measured. She was asleep.
This was what he'd tried to avoid by sleeping on the couch. Cutter began to feel a change in himself. He frowned inwardly, cursing and shaming himself for having walked right into what he saw coming from a mile away.
Chapter 16
Liona
Liona finally drifted off to sleep after Cutter had cradled her in his arms. She awoke a few hours later, though, to an empty bed, and dim sunlight coming in through the bathroom windows. Not sure of what to do this early in the morning with an empty clubhouse, and Cutter not around to guide her, she wrapped the covers tighter around her and tried to drift back off to sleep. When sleep did not come, she was left alone with her thoughts.
She wasn't sure what to feel about Cutter. All those years ago, he'd been Dusty. A squirmy, insecure kid. Sure, they'd had a kiss, and it had been good. He’d been the squirrelly best friend, the sidekick.
Now, though, she didn't know what to think. She'd never had sex like that before, not even during the best days with Wyland before everything went south. She felt herself getting excited just remembering what it felt like to be held by him, how protected and safe she felt with him, but still like she was living a little on the edge while doing it. It was such a strangely wonderful feeling that almost took her right back to the moment when he'd finished inside her.
Last night had been intense, that was for sure. But, she didn't know if it was something more, or not. Guys like Cutter were different from guys like Desmond. With Desmond, she would have known that she'd be his one and only. She would have been special. With Cutter, though, she was probably a dime a dozen. Nothing unique or remarkable about her. Just another piece of ass, a notch on his bed post. She considered actually getting up to check his post, but realized that was probably ridiculous. That was just a figure of speech, wasn't it? Besides, she’d seen no evidence of other women, and he’d treated her with a detached respect and distance she hadn’t expected from someone with his reputation.
She shook her head, trying to reconcile the two personas. It was like having known Clark Kent back in Smallville, but having Superman screw the hell out of you when you got to Metropolis. But she still couldn't figure out what had happened afterward, with him trying to get up and leave. He hadn't wanted to take advantage of her. She understood that. Respected it, even. Not every guy out there was as honest, or had as much integrity he did. Which, for a biker, was saying something. They weren't exactly known for the great way they treated their women.
It had to have been something else, though. Something deeper. She hadn't seen the guy in almost a decade. He was practically a new man, completely different from the guy she'd known growing up. So what, then? Was it because last night had been special to him, and he'd just reacted poorly? Whatever it was, she didn't know. She probably wouldn't until he broke down and finally told her himself. Well, whatever last night had been, it had been a definite departure from her previous life. And, that being said, she'd definitely put a nail in the coffin on her relationship with Wyland West. Even if he could convince her to come back, somehow, she knew he'd never take her back. Wyland wouldn't be able to stand the tho
ught that his friend's cock had been inside her. He'd never want to sleep with her again. With that thought in her head, Liona drifted back to sleep.
# # #
She awoke again some time later. This time because Cutter's naked body was sliding beneath the shits and pressing against her body from behind. He leaned down, kissed her shoulder.
Something about the way she fit into his body, little spoon to his big one. Like they'd been made for each other years before, but were just now realizing. She moaned sleepily and pushed back into him. “How'd your meeting go?” she asked, her eyes still closed.
“Not well,” he said. “Well, I don't think it did. Lawyer's reassuring me everything's going to be fine, but I think he's gotta do that with how much we pay his ass.”
“Oh yeah?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said, sighing heavily into her neck as he kissed her again. “He doesn't know if he can get Jersey out on bail for sure, but he's pretty sure he can by saying he's not a flight risk. Same thing with Big Jack. But, this judge that they're going in front of, I think Wyland's got him in his pocket somehow. It looked good for them yesterday, he said. But, now, our guy's saying it looks dicey. So, I don't know who to believe.”
