He burned hot inside, the flames threatening to combust and destroy them.
Damon pulled back and licked at the seam of her lips until Kirstin groaned and her mouth parted. He pushed his tongue in and found hers. He fucked her tongue like he was going to fuck her sweet pussy. Lord, she was perfect. She looked like an angel. Lithe body, long, shapely legs, heavy tits with the perkiest rosy nipples, a flat belly, gently flared hips, a sweet sinful ass, and her pussy… fuck, she was beautiful. She was going to taste so sweet. So deliciously sweet when she came on his tongue.
He bruised her mouth and demanded more. He needed more.
He dropped his hand from her waist as he nipped her lips, drawing that coppery blood he craved. She mewled and he licked her lip clean, savoring the drop of blood like a sweet offering. His released her jaw and ripped at her hair, undoing that tight bun at her neck, spilling her long hair down her back. It was half soaked already as he threaded his fingers through it and tugged her face back, giving him better access to push his tongue into her mouth.
The scent of her arousal rose up in the shower, sharp and tangy around them. He ran his hand over her belly and down, lower, over the smooth mound and stopped when he reached her heat. Fuck, she was so wet. She was leaking down her thighs. She was warm and glorious and heavenly.
He wanted to take his time with her, but he was frantic. He fucked her mouth with his tongue while he soaked his fingers in her wetness. He thrust two inside of her and she bucked her hips frantically, riding his hand, grinding down on him.
“Oh god,” she panted. “Damon… yes.” She didn’t open her eyes, but he did. He looked at her features, tightened in pleasure. He looked at his hand fisted in the beautiful waves of her soaking wet hair. He watched the rivulets of water trail down her perfect breasts.
He had to taste her there.
He dropped his head and claimed her nipple. He ached for her, for her touch, to be inside of her, but he’d make himself wait. She cried out when his mouth wrapped around her nipple and he suckled her hard. He bit down lightly before he pulled away and ran his tongue in hot trails over the tight little bud. She bucked against his fingers, and god, she was so tight. So fucking tight.
Damon wanted more. He needed fucking more.
He ripped his fingers away and hauled Kirstin up roughly by her ass. She cried out in surprise, though it was heavy and sodden with lust. Her legs locked around his hips and he carried her from the shower. He left the damn thing running as he carried his soaking wet glorious prize to the bed. He threw her down on the disgusting comforter, because at the point, he was incapable of caring. He just needed to have her.
He fell on top of her, but caught himself so that she wasn’t crushed. He scrambled between her thighs, parting them frantically. Her hands came down and dug into his scalp, since his hair was so close cropped she couldn’t get a handle. He kissed her hard and frantic, on her thighs, before he made his way to his prize. He spread her open, bearing that pulsing warmth to him.
“Fuck, you’re incredible,” he sighed. “So fucking sweet and perfect.”
He glanced up at Kirstin and was surprised to see a pink blush riding high on her cheeks. Embarrassment or pleasure, he wasn’t sure. It could be both. It wasn’t going to stop him from feasting his eyes on her. And his mouth.
The first hard kiss he planted on her pussy made his cock ache and his balls draw up so tight it felt like they’d just launched into his throat. His body strained and screamed at him. He resisted the urge to bite her again, in the most sensitive place. He wanted her screaming his name, but he wanted it to be in pleasure, not pain.
He kissed her harder and her hips rocked into his mouth. He trailed his tongue through her sweet, drenched, swollen folds, lapping at her wondrous juices. She filled up his mouth and coated his tongue and he swallowed her down. He’d never, ever, in a hundred fucking years, forget the taste of her. How just one fucking drop of her nectar was enough to make him want to blow his load all over that bedspread.
Kirstin’s pussy was so fucking sweet, he couldn’t slow the fuck down and be gentle if he tried. He swirled his tongue through her folds, kissed and bit her, before he thrust his tongue into her tight entrance. God, she was so warm, so delicious, so… so much more than anything or everything. He marked her, fucked her with his mouth, while her hips ground desperately into his face.
He pulled away to trail a string of vicious bites over her quivering thighs. “Do you like that, Kirstin?” he rasped thickly. He sunk his finger back inside of her, burying himself deep, right to the knuckle.
“Yes,” she moaned.
“Do you like it when I fuck you like this?” He pulled out and pushed in hard.
“God, yes!” Her hand slipped from his scalp and gripped his shoulder. She dug her nails in at the back, away from the stab wound she’d just stitched up. He felt the sting and they bit in. He let out a feral groan when he realized that she’d scored him and drawn blood.
He thrust his face back up into her amazing pussy. He breathed in and inhaled her sweet scent. “I want you to come on my tongue, Kirstin. Got that?”
“Y-yes,” she panted.
“Good.” She was completely open to him, writhing, at his mercy, so close to the edge. She was delicious, heady, erotic. She was so much more than he fucking deserved and he’d worship her until he was worthy of just the briefest glimpse.
He swallowed her juices before he plunged his tongue back inside of her. He ate at her wickedly, furiously, before he brought his hand up. He didn’t bother with circling her clit or toying around. He pinched the straining bud, hard.
Kirstin let out a shrill scream. She bucked wildly against his face. Her tight pussy clenched and unclenched around his tongue. A wave of juices flooded his mouth and he swallowed every last drop. She mewled and writhed and rode out the violent waves of her orgasm. He’d done that to her. He’d made her feel that way. He’d given her that pleasure.
He wished he could be her first, her last, her everything, her forever.
But all he had was that moment. That moment to savor her, to drink her in, to feast on her, and memorize every single beautiful detail.
“I- I need more,” Kirstin said throatily. “I want all of you. I want your cock inside of me. Please, Damon. Do it. Fill me up. Take me away from all of this again.”
He rose up above her, teasing his aching dick through her glistening pink folds.
And that was when he heard it.
The dull roar of a bike- no, bikes- in the distance.
Chapter 8
KIRSTIN
Something was wrong.
She knew it the minute Damon stilled above her.
“Fuck!” He rolled off of her and moved fast. He ran to the bathroom and grabbed up his jeans. He shoved into them before he came tearing back into the room, eyes crazed and wild. “Get into the bathroom. The door doesn’t lock. Get your fucking clothes on and get your gun.”
“What- what is it?”
“Bikes.”
Her heart stopped in her chest. “You mean- someone followed us?”
“I don’t mean someone. I mean someones. I don’t know how many there are. There could be two or three or four or five. We’re fucked if it’s more than two or three.”
She knew her eyes were wide. Adrenaline raced through her veins and her heart pumped furiously in her chest. She also knew that she was naked. Move! Fucking move! Her life depended on her keeping her wits and not letting the panic choking her throat take over.
“Oh my god.” She stiffened. “I can help you.”
Damon was already at the door. “No!” The blinds were closed, but he peeked out the edge. It reminded her, the way he leaned in, of the way she’d stood at her house, looking out as he approached. Was that only hours ago? It feels like an entire lifetime.
“How could they have found us? I thought you said no one was following.”
He shook his head. “You know the club has a few good trackers. Hackers. We need
that kind of thing. They’ve served us well in the past.” His eyes blazed, half panicked, half crazed. “Get the fuck into the bathroom. Stay there. Don’t fucking come out, you understand? If anyone tries to come in, shoot first, ask questions later.”
Kirstin stared back at him, heart beating her ribs. She was soaked in the water of the shower and in her own sweat from what they’d just done, but fresh beads burst out over her forehead and ran down her temples.
“Go!” Damon thundered.
Wordlessly, she scrambled off the bed. She grabbed her duffel and her clothes off the floor and hauled the entire thing into the bathroom. She scrambled into her pants and tank top, shut off the shower, which was still running, and produced her gun out of her bag. It was loaded, of course. She flipped the safety off. She had six shots. She’d make them count, like Damon said.
I can do this. For my mom and dad, I can do this. I’m going to make it out. I’m going to survive.
An odd pang twisted her chest. She thought of Damon out there, ready to face the wrath of his club, all because he’d spared her life. Maybe he’d told her the truth after all. Or maybe he’d fucking lied and she was about to be crucified by the men coming to have their fun with her.
She closed her eyes and forced herself to take even, measured breaths. She heard the rumble of those engines growing closer. It was amazing, how a sound that used to comfort her could strike such terror inside of her.
The trembles started, small at first, but gained in intensity until her teeth were knocking together and her hand swayed violently. She moved her finger away from the trigger and clasped the gun with both hands, in case it accidentally went off as she shook.
We are not going to die. We are not going to die.
She didn’t know how or when or why that oath went from including herself to including herself and Damon. She was going to protect him. If he hadn’t lied to her, she would do anything to give him back the life he’d sacrificed for her.
If he was telling her the truth and he’d spared her and his brothers were here, men who had once been her father’s brothers, he was fucked. He was never going back to Detroit. They’d be two lost souls, hunted and wandering together.
As her thoughts turned frantic and her heart kicked up another notch, right into her throat, all hell broke loose. The front door exploded in and angry voices filled up the room. There was a scuffle, a crash, a shout and a cry of pain. She couldn’t sit in the bathroom and let Damon wind up dead because of her. She believed him now. She knew he wasn’t lying. He didn’t need to put on a show out there. If he meant to give her up, he would have just simply handed her over right from the start.
Time stopped. The world moved in slow motion. She took a breath, filled up her lungs, and surged forward. She threw the bathroom door open, gun in front of her. There were three men in the room besides Damon. One was on the ground, rolling around, clutching at a gunshot wound in his thigh.
She didn’t think. She had a clear shot.
She took it.
She aimed for the bastard’s head. She didn’t know who he was, since he had his back turned to her. There was an explosion of sound as the gun went off. It kicked in her hand or maybe she’d trembled again, because she missed. The shot went low and to the left and struck the bastard in the shoulder. He whirled, let out a roar of pain, and charged at her.
Snake. The guy she’d shot was Snake.
He was a big bastard, around thirty. Mean and tough as the rustiest of tough, shitty nails. He was also pure evil. Her father didn’t like the guy and didn’t trust him. He was unhinged, wild. He wanted to prove himself to his club, having patched in a year ago. He wanted to make a name for himself. He was eager to do whatever dirty work needed to be carried out.
His face was purple with rage. His long, straggly blonde hair fell into his eyes and his already ugly features tightened into a mask of rage as he charged at her.
Out of the corner of her eye, Kirstin saw Damon lunge for the other guy, Broke, a leaner, shorter, greasier, and just as evil, man. He was deadly accurate with a blade. It sent a shiver of horror and revulsion and straight fear up her spine. Broke was one of her father’s friends, a man who taught her how to use the blade her father had given her. They’d practiced together. Her father had trusted him and now he was there, trying to kill her.
Damon fell on top of Broke and the two grappled on the ground. Broke didn’t have his gun out, for some reason, and he was trying to get Damon’s away from him.
The thought that these two men might have had something to do with her parents’ death fueled Kirstin with a rage she’d never thought possible. It infused her bloodstream and when Snake came for her, she raised her gun and shot him again, in the thigh. He screamed and gripped at the spot where blood spurted. Though she didn’t have shoes on, Kirstin charged forward. She kicked hard and fast, deliver a blow right into Snake’s nuts. As he was going down hard, she kneed him in the face. Her bones connected hard with his nose or something else, something that made a crunching, squishing noise that curdled her blood.
She whirled, since Snake was basically incapacitated on the floor.
Damon had his hands wrapped around Broke’s neck. He was choking the life out of the guy while Broke gripped at him. Damon kept squeezing, tighter and together. Horrible noises emerged from Broke’s mouth. A thin sliver of spittle trickled out from between his rasping lips. His eyes bulged and his feet and hands thrashed wildly. Damon squeezed harder and harder, until Broke stilled completely.
She let out a strangled cry and Damon glanced at her immediately. “I told you to stay in the fucking bathroom,” he ground out.
“Yeah, I know. And you would have been killed if I did.”
He let out a savage sounding growl. “I don’t have time to argue about this right now.” He stalked over to the bed and reached into his duffle. Her eyes went wide when he produced a bottle and a syringe. He loaded it up and injected it into Broke’s limp arm. Okay, he wouldn’t do that if the guy was dead. He approached King, gripped him roughly by the shoulders, which wasn’t a problem, since he was down, moaning about the wound in his leg, and injected him in the neck. He did the same to Snake.
“What the hell is that?” Kirstin glanced at the bottle and then up to Damon’s face.
“Don’t worry about it. All you need to know is it’s going to put them out for a few hours. It will buy us some time, but we have to work fast.” He was already taking out the first aid kit he’d thrown together.
“What- are you going to- patch up their wounds?” she asked in amazement.
“Of course. They’re my brothers.”
“Brothers who were trying to kill you,” she shot back sarcastically. “Besides, you’re not patched in yet. You don’t owe them any loyalty. You haven’t taken any vows.”
Damon’s eyes met hers and she was surprised to see something that was almost soft in their depths. “Still. They were just doing what their Prez instructed. They have to follow orders, same as I would if I was in their position.”
“Obviously you didn’t. You aren’t like them. You didn’t follow orders. Which is why we’re here.” She realized she was still holding her gun and that it was trained right on Damon. She slowly lowered it, put the safety back on, and threw it onto the bed. She drew in a long breath as Damon started bandaging King’s gunshot wound. “What do you want me to do?”
“Bandage him up.” He indicated Snake. You don’t have to do a good job, just stop the bleeding so they don’t die. Apply as much pressure as you can. If you run out of bandages, use our knife to shred the sheets. Be fast. We have to get out of here. Those gunshots weren’t quiet and I’m going to bet there are already going to be police on their way.”
“Good. Then I can go to them and tell them that people are hunting us down- that they killed my parents. They can help us. Why didn’t we just go to them in the first place?”
Damon didn’t look up at her. His hands flew over King before he moved on to Snake. She hu
rried to help. They had just enough bandages. She didn’t stop to get the sheet off the bed in case they needed more.
“Do you really think the police will help us? Think about it. Why is it that the MC is untouchable? You know your father did terrible things, but he never went to jail…”
“Because- well- I…”
“Because the police and other, higher up people are paid to keep their mouths shut and look the other way. If you think they’d help us, you’re wrong. They’d deliver us right back to Bone.”
“Wh…” she cut herself off before she realized how stupid and naïve she sounded. God, how could she not know that growing up with the father she had? She knew he’d spared her from most of what he did, though she had other ways of finding out, usually be listening in on her parents when they thought she was sleeping, but she had no idea how much he’d kept from her.
Damon flew around the room, methodical, calm, efficient. He was beautifully terrible to watch. He stripped the three men of their guns and found a knife on Snake. Go figure. After he tucked them in his duffel, he went through the phones he’d taken from the three. He walked into the bathroom and made a call, though his voice was low and muffled.
“Creed. Yeah. We have a problem… one day, two at most. Me and another… a woman. Fake ID’s… out of here… probably out of the country…”
She couldn’t hear much and she didn’t know who the hell Creed was. However, the sound of metal being mashed and crunched and the tap running over those phones was unmistakable. Damon strode out of the bathroom after, all collected authority. He looked so much bigger than he had before, like he towered over her.
Kirstin knew she shouldn’t have, but she felt almost safe. Like when Damon was there, nothing bad would happen to her. She gave herself a shake. There was no way she could get comfortable. If she let her guard down, she’d be vulnerable and vulnerability led to getting a person killed.
Lonely Rider - The Box Set: A Motorcycle Club Romance - The Complete Series Page 44
