She sighed. Her capitulation was easier than expected. Almost a little disappointing. Almost. Or it should have been, but his cock didn’t think so. The damn thing was drilling against his zipper so hard it might cause permanent damage.
Her eyes searched his and she tried to look inside of him, to figure him out, to peg him for one thing or another, a good guy or a bad one. He let her. He let her, because after a few hours, he’d never see her again. Which was a little sad, actually, because she was very pretty. Despite her doubts, he did use the word once and a while. Mostly for the sky or the water or his bike, or in front of sayings like pretty fucked up or pretty damn stupid, but he did use it.
She nodded once, briefly, as though embarrassed at her own desires. He could tell that she wasn’t the kind of woman who had one night stands very often.
He leaned in, seeking to reassure her. “Don’t worry,” he whispered by her ear. He inhaled the sweet scent of her perfume and something hard and violent knotted up inside of his stomach. His cock went right on drilling into his damn fly. “This isn’t going to be a one night stand.”
“I’m not looking for anything-”
“I know,” he said smoothly. Her hair was parted and thrown over her shoulders. The nape of her neck was exposed and he watched those little frizzy baby hairs stand up on the back of her neck. Was she aroused or afraid or was it just something as simple as the reaction caused by the heat of his breath so close to that beautiful nape of her neck? “It’s not going to take all night. I’ll have your legs shaking and you screaming my name within a few hours. The rest of the night, nameless angel, is all yours and yours alone.”
Chapter 4
SHANNA
Shanna was trying to cut down on the swearing, even in her own head, but holy fuck. She realized, as the guy whipped out a wad of bills and threw them down on the counter, as he slipped a strong, steadying hand around her waist and guided her off the bar stool, through the bar and out the front door, that she might have bit off a little more than she could chew.
If that guy was a buffet, she’d definitely be one of those people who filled up her plate and couldn’t eat half of it. But since the buffet had rules about paying for leftovers, she ended up stuffing it into her napkin and her purse or hiding it in a crevice under the table when she thought no one was looking. Okay, seriously, how drunk am I?
Really fucking drunk obviously, because she realized the guy was leading her along the street. He didn’t touch her skin. His hand stayed at her waist. He made the assumption she was too drunk to walk and he was probably right. Four inch heels never made for good balance at the best of times.
There were other shops along the small street. It was the typical tourist trap: souvenirs, restaurants, bars. There were people milling about here and there. The night was surprisingly dark and there were hardly any streetlights.
It was the perfect night for some illicit, hot as fuck, behavior that she’d regret later. How apt that instead of taking her back to her place, which was impossible since he didn’t even know her name let alone where she was staying, or taking her back to his place, the guy steered her towards the space between two buildings.
It was a small alley, tight and dark. It didn’t smell. She noticed that right away. Even in the heat of the day, which had dissipated little with the dark, and the earlier rain, it smelled fresh. When Shanna breathed in, she could still smell salty ocean air.
How very fucking apt that he took her into an alley, since that was the exact place she’d fantasized about.
“Are you a warlock?” she asked giddily. She wasn’t sure if it was nerves or the tequila talking. Certainly it wasn’t the safe, sensible, old Shanna from Cincinnati that arrived in Mexico just that morning.
“What?” The stranger, the dark stranger who she was about to fuck or do something close to that effect, stared at her. He was oddly enough, less menacing in the darkness. His hand on her waist was steady and comforting, solid and warm. She liked it. She liked it far more than she should.
“Are you a warlock? Or a telepath? A mind reader?”
“Why? Because I brought you here? This is what you wanted, isn’t it? A quick fuck, a dirty fuck, where no one is going to see it? One you’ll remember forever and won’t quite have the ability to regret because it will be that incredible?”
“You’re pretty sure of yourself.”
“Or I have a lot of practice.”
“Don’t say that. Ewww. Seriously. That is not a turn on.”
“You know, a lot of women say that to me.” The guy, damn it she wished she knew his name, stared down at her, unblinking. “It’s funny how they change their tune after.”
“I don’t like to think about the person I’m with fucking other women,” Shanna said sullenly. Unbidden, an image of Bill’s face, his dick, his body, fucking some unknown woman, flashed through her mind. She shook her head, in a rush to clear it.
“I’m clean. I can promise you that. I do have condoms anyway, since of course I’m a sensible person.”
“Thank god for that,” Shanna said, her voice a mix between sarcasm and bitterness. “Wouldn’t want you to fuck up your perfect dick.”
“How do you know it’s perfect? You haven’t felt it inside of you. Yet.”
God, the way he talks… No one had ever used that kind of language with her before. Her sex throbbed painfully and she knew if she ran a finger over her panties, it would come away soaked. Obviously she liked it. But hell, why not? Why not enjoy it? She was there on holidays. There to enjoy herself for the first time in forever. There as a reprieve from the shit going on in her life. There to get away from it all. There to have experiences and regrets for the first time ever. Might as well get to it then.
“So you think you’re a lady’s man?” She stared at him, challenging him. He just shrugged.
“It’s not important what I think. The only thing that matters is how you feel.”
A shudder that was purely animalistic in nature ripped up her spine. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end again.
“Take off your heels,” the stranger commanded. His voice was deep and authoritative and smooth as fucking butter.
“Why?” She asked, shocked. “Do you have some kind of foot fetish or something?”
“No. Because you’re not going to need them with your legs wrapped around my waist.”
Fuck. There he was again with that dirty talk. God, she had to give him a name. Something so she wouldn’t keep thinking of him as the stranger. Hmmmm… something sexy. Romeo? No. God no. Brent? Worse yet. Then it came to her, cutting through the fog of tequila. Percy. His name is Percy. How could I forget that?
His name was so at odds with how he seemed, dark, steamy, not just sexy, but erotic, that she was sure it was a mistake. A nickname. A joke?
“Are you going to take off those shoes or not? Maybe you need a little convincing in the form of my tongue buried in your cunt.”
Shanna gasped. “You talk so- so- uh- dirty.” It came out sounding about as mature as a five year old and as offended as her prim and proper mother would be to hear that kind of language.
“Cunt? It’s just a word. Should I call it your pussy? Or your sex? Or maybe you prefer scientific words like vagina.”
“Stop.” She had to smile. “I’ll take my fucking shoes off. You’ll be lucky if I don’t throw them at you.”
“Maybe I’d like that. What’s wrong with me putting my mouth between your legs? Is that better? A euphemism?” She stared at him in surprise and he laughed. “What? You don’t think a man like me can use big words?”
“I- no, it’s not that.” She struggled to lift one foot off the ground while maintaining balance with the other. She tried for a minute to undo the strap on her shoe, but just kept falling over.
“You know what, fuck it.” Percy let out a low growl and before she knew what was happening, he had her lifted, easily, with one arm. Just like she’d imagined earlier. He was strong. Much stronger than h
e looked like he’d be. She had the feeling, even though she was drunk, that there was far more to Percy in a whole hell of a lot of other ways too.
He slammed her up against the wall, not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to jar her a little. Hard enough to wake her up and turn her right the fuck on. She’d never been handled roughly before. That kind of shit was for the few secret moments she ever gave herself pleasure. Stolen moments, in the bathtub or when she couldn’t imagine fumbling around with Bill for an hour before he actually got off. Sometimes she just wanted it to be about her.
“I should have known it would never work.” Too late she realized she’d spoken out loud.
“Don’t worry. I’ll get your fucking shoes off later.”
“I wasn’t talking about my shoes.” Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why did I say that?
Percy let it be. He had her up against the wall, an arm around her waist. When he dropped down to his knees, he hooked her legs neatly around his shoulders, so that she wasn’t touching the ground at all.
“It’s wet,” she protested, meaning the ground.
“I know. Lord, I know.” He hiked up her already short dress and her cheeks flushed at his words, but also that the fact that she could literally smell her arousal. She smelled like sex. Not in a gross, stale way, in a sharp, ripe, animal way.
He left her that way, pressed up against the wall to support herself, her legs over his shoulders. It was a ridiculous position, but one that was surprisingly comfortable. At least it worked. Percy freed his hands and ran one over her and Shanna stopped thinking about brick walls or wet alley floors or anything at all.
“Since you don’t like me to be vulgar, I’ll call it a pussy. That’s sweet and gentle, don’t you think?”
“I…”
“Don’t answer that, my good girl.”
“How do you know I’m a good girl. Maybe I’m just the type of person who likes to get to know someone first, so that it means something.”
“Are you?” He ran his finger over the lace of her panties, caressing her from bottom to top, grazing over her already swollen clit. She gasped. “And it will mean something. If it doesn’t, you’ve been doing something wrong.”
“Yeah, I have,” she rasped, because she couldn’t seem to shut the hell up. “His name was Bill. And he was an asshole of the finest variety.”
“Well. You’ve come to the right place to forget Bill the asshole of the finest variety. After tonight, I promise you won’t look at this the same way again. When was the last time you came?”
“Uh…”
Percy made a little tsking sound. He dipped his fingers below her panties and continued to stroke her, smearing her wetness all over herself, all over his finger. She let out a little whimper of pleasure. She was trying to contain the sounds, in case someone happened to hear them and ducked into the alley to see what the hell was going on. They were in an alley. An alley. She’d have to remember that. Remember she wasn’t just lost in some fantasy. This is fucking real.
“Don’t answer that. You probably can’t, because you can’t remember.”
“You’re probably right.”
“You’ll remember this. I promise you that.” His finger found her entrance and he didn’t hesitate before he pushed it inside. Lord, he filled her up so fucking sweetly, even with that finger. She squirmed and bucked, held her breath and bit her lip so she wouldn’t make any sound. “Nice. You have a beautiful pussy. Nice and tight. So wet. I like that you shave.”
“I don’t fucking shave,” she hissed. “That there is the product of a very painful, very expensive, waxing job.”
“Yeah? I like it.”
He didn’t let her say anything else. She could have, but she knew it wasn’t possible. He lowered his mouth to her sex and he ate at her like there wasn’t any coming up for air. Like all there was going to be, was coming. He licked her right through her lace panties, licked and suckled, bit and pleasured, forced his tongue onto her clit, gave her pure bliss was the sensual warmth of his beautiful, talented mouth. All the while he fucked her with his finger. She pulsed around him, soaked him, soaked his mouth and tongue and probably his damn face too.
She imagined licking it off of him, tasting her own… her own cunt. She shivered violently at the naughty word and the naughtier thought.
She shrugged inwardly. She was done with caring for a few minutes. Done with thinking. Done with the past few years, the cheating, the lying, her ex. Done with her interfering mother, the bad sex, the no sex, the sloppy sex, the having to get herself off. She was done with the anxiety and the worry, the fighting for something and someone that never truly wanted her. She was done. For the next however many minutes it took Percy to take her to that promised climax to end all climaxes, she was going to live out her fantasy. She’d probably never get the chance again.
Another minute under Percy’s talented mouth and hands and she was melting into the wall, into his shoulders, into the crazy sensations. She’d never felt anything like it. The shivers wracking her body were violent and unstoppable. Her thighs were trembling, just as he promised. She’d never felt so… so alive in her entire life. And she was sure it wasn’t just the tequila doing the feeling for her.
She was close. So close. And then Percy’s tongue flicked to her clit. He knew just the right moment to hit it. He fucked her hard with his finger and another swirl over her clit sent her flying toward the edge. Lights burst behind her closed lids. She let out a frantic moan, and then it was all darkness. All black. Shanna let herself fall into it, into the pleasure, into the nothingness.
Chapter 5
PERCY
What the fucking hell? In all his twenty-nine years, Percy had never experienced a blackout. It didn’t matter how drunk he got, he’d never passed out. Apparently the same didn’t hold true for his partner. He heard her gasp of pleasure. Her body stiffened and he knew she was going to come. He couldn’t fucking wait. Not because he was tired of eating her out. God, not that.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d enjoyed it so much. He didn’t even know her name, but she was like sweet fucking heaven. Sex for him was just a physical function. He needed it like anyone else, but when it was done, he didn’t think about it again until the next time he needed it. Sometimes that was months between. He’d gone over a year once. He wasn’t like other people. He didn’t crave companionship. He didn’t need that shit. He didn’t need another person. Sex was just physical. A dick. A vagina. A vagina. A mouth. A hand. A vagina. Repeat.
Not this time. The fist caress of that woman whose name he didn’t know… he knew it was different. He’d nearly stopped, but that would have done something to him, so he’d kept going. It wasn’t just physical chemistry. Not that he’d really ever experienced that before either, but it was something deeper, something unknown, something that hit him square in the chest and lower in the stomach. For one, his heart was pounding. His pulse jumped at his neck and wrists. His head swam and his breathing was rapid. His entire body, not just his cock, felt heavy. The sensation, he realized, was hunger. Hunger. Like he’d been starved for her.
Just when the quivering in her thighs started, it stopped. His finger slowed inside of her. He raised his head and stared at the woman who brought actual real feeling to the surface, who dredged up emotion and sensation he’d never once known in his life.
And realized she wasn’t just giving herself over to her climax.
She was blacked out. Done. Right in the fucking middle of it.
What the fucking hell?
Percy slid his finger out of her. He shifted her away, gently, untangling her legs from his shoulders. He made sure she didn’t fall over. It was awkward as hell, but he supported her weight until he was out from underneath of her. It was a good thing she was on the thin side, since her dead weight made her heavy and hard to support.
He tucked an arm under her waist and lifted her easily, once he got her into the right position. Now what the fuck do I do?
He’d never once been in such a strange situation before. He was in an alley with a woman who currently wasn’t conscious. Which meant that she sure as hell couldn’t tell him where she was staying or where she’d come from. He couldn’t just leave her there. No, god, he wouldn’t leave his worst enemy there.
It left one alternative, one Percy definitely didn’t like. The house. He lived a few blocks away, in a small place just off the beach. It wasn’t much, a few rooms, sparsely furnished, with few charms to make it homey, but it was everything he wanted. He’d dreamed about Mexico. He’d dreamed of escape and healing. Even a guy with a fucked up past, literal physical scars, and a hardened interior, longed for a bit of grace and peace.
He’d never brought another person to his house. He’d never had someone else in his space. It was his sanctuary, those walls.
She isn’t even awake. When she does come to, she’ll only be there for a few minutes before I take her back to her resort or wherever she’s staying.
He could thank Mateo for that one. The guy’s free pouring was notorious. He could make half a bottle of tequila taste good in any blender drink and the person on the other end wasn’t the wiser. It was Mexico though. Everyone made their drinks strong. It’s what people wanted, what they came chasing. Escape.
With no other alternative and the weight in his arms growing increasingly heavy, Percy exited the alley. He carried the nameless woman down the street, to the left, over a block, and to the right. He still paused just a moment outside his front door before he pushed it in. It shut behind him and he didn’t stop to lock it.
There wasn’t a place to lay her, other than on his bed. Not in it, since he sure as hell wasn’t going to peel back the covers and set her inside. It was bad enough that her scent was already flooding the bedroom. It was sweet and feminine, angelic.
He paused and studied her face again. She really did look like an angel, especially at rest. It gave him pause. He’d never looked at a woman while she was asleep. Never. Sex was sex for him. It wasn’t about connection. Even if he wanted it to be, it was never going to happen for him.
Lonely Rider - The Box Set: A Motorcycle Club Romance - The Complete Series Page 3
