Screwed_A Motorcycle Club Romance_Death Angels MC

by Vivian Gray

  I fisted my shaft, stroking myself until a small bead of precum appeared. Stuffing it an inch closer to her, I brought it to her mouth.

  “Lick it,” I ordered. “Don’t suck yet, just lick.”

  She looked at me like I’d just denied her dessert. Her need was so fucking apparent and hot.

  Her tongue slipped out between her thick lips, curling and flicking at the very tip of my cock. She took the small pearl into her mouth and swallowed.

  “More,” I said and held my cock against her lips. “Don’t suck,” I warned again.

  Her tongue reappeared, and with long lavish licks, she ran it up my cock from my fist to the tip of my dick. Turning her head to the side, she looked at each side of my cock before she went back to licking the head. She inched closer to me, wrapping her lips around the side of my cock while she flipped her tongue against it. I backed off and gave her a small tap to her face. Not hard just a little warning.

  “I said no sucking yet.”

  Her eyes lowered submissively. “I’m sorry, sir.”

  “Just lick.” I moved closer to her again and released my cock, letting it bob against her mouth. It would be so easy for her to open her mouth and just take me inside. But she didn’t. She focused on licking every inch of my cock. Up, down, and sideways. She flipped the tip of her tongue at the base of my cock, and I groaned.

  My need matched hers.

  “When do you get to suck my cock?” I asked, gripping her hair and holding her head so that her mouth was just out of reach of my dick.

  She looked up at me, her face serene and confident.

  “When you say I do,” she answered.

  I closed my eyes, letting the energy of her submission wash over me, carry me, and give me the strength I needed to continue. Because I wanted to thrust my cock down her throat and just fuck her until I came. I wanted it fast and hard and rough. I didn’t want to wait for her. I didn’t want to give her a little time to come. I just wanted my way. But that wouldn’t be good for her. That wouldn’t give her pleasure. And she’d been so good; she deserved pleasure.

  “That’s right, sweetheart,” I said with a low growl. “Open your mouth.” I waited until her lips were parted and I rested the tip of my cock on her bottom lip. “Keep your mouth open like this. Don’t close it close when I hit the back of your throat. Just swallow. Blink if you understand; I don’t want to hear any more words.”

  Shannon’s delicate eyelashes blinked and then she continued to stare up at me. “Such a good girl tonight.”

  Slowly, I eased my cock into her mouth, pushing her head down on me as I thrust into her. When I hit the back of her throat, she started to gag, and I stilled.

  “Breathe through your nose and swallow,” I instructed, and gave her time to adjust.

  Her throat worked as she swallowed and she took a bit more of me. I nearly came undone. I clenched my eyes closed and breathed through my nose, counting to four before I continued. I pulled back, giving her a second to take a deep breath before I pushed forward again, slamming into her throat.

  She coughed and sputtered but didn’t move away or cry out. I felt her swallowing me as I continue to fuck her throat. Hard thrusts, soft thrusts, long and slow. I enjoyed it. Every stroke I gave her was like the first. I pulled back, admiring the string of saliva hanging between her mouth and my cock.

  “Lick that up,” I ordered, and like a good girl, she took every drop back into her mouth and swallowed.

  Then she smiled up at me.

  “I bet your pussy is really hungry now. If your hands weren’t tied, you could touch your clit. But your hands are tied. Why are your hands tied behind your back?”

  “Because that’s where you want them.” Such a sweet, soft voice.

  I growled and shoved my cock back into her mouth, down her throat, and fucked her face so hard she sputtered and coughed more than ever. But she took every stroke. She never cried out. She never tried to get away. She fucking took it all. I pulled out again, and she went right back to cleaning up the mess she made. She was too perfect.

  “Your pussy needs attention.”

  Pushing her shoulders, I got her on her back and pried her legs open. Lapping and licking and sucking every bit of her clit, of her pussy lips, dipping my tongue into her entrance. It was like I’d never eaten before and she was every bit of the nutrition I needed to survive.

  She tried to snap her legs closed, but I held them far apart. I took her clit into my mouth and sucked, nipping and biting at it.

  “Noah. Sir, I need to come. Please. Please. Please let me come.” Her hips arched off the bed, trying to take more of what I was giving her.

  I shifted my body so that I covered her, my cock poised at her entrance. Framing her face with my hands, I made her look at me. “You can come as soon as my cock is buried in that pussy of yours.”

  “Please hurry,” she begged.

  In one smooth thrust, I was in, my balls slapping against her ass, completely buried inside of her. I grabbed the back of her knees and pushed her legs up until she was completely open and spread for me. I showed no mercy; I fucked her hard and deep and without any regret.

  She cried out with each thrust, but her hips bucked up at me. Without having the leverage of having her feet on the bed, she wasn’t getting very far, but she wanted more. My girl was as hungry as I was.

  Her pussy clenched around me, and I knew she was at the edge. I dipped down, crushing her mouth with mine and fucked her even harder, bringing us both to the explosion we sought. She screamed into my mouth, and I groaned as my cum filled her.

  When I was spent and exhausted, I rested my forehead against hers, my cock slipping out of her pussy.

  “I’m never going to get enough of you, sweetheart.”

  Chapter Nine

  Shannon

  I woke up to screaming.

  Noah sat upright beside me, yelling and cursing. I couldn’t understand what was being said, but I could tell easily enough he was angry. Pissed, and a little scared, too.

  “Get down!” he yelled and jumped over me, his feet landing on the floor.

  “Noah,” I spoke softly, not wanting to spook him if he was sleepwalking. I’d read somewhere you could do more damage by trying to wake a sleepwalker than just pointing them back to their bed.

  “Goddammit. I said get down,” he yelled again, and his big arm reached up over the bed and grabbed my arm, yanking me down beside him. He covered my naked body with his. A thin layer of sweat covered him, and I could hear his ragged breathing.

  “Noah,” I whispered, trying to wiggle my hand free to touch him.

  “Shut up. They’ll hear you,” he growled out and covered my mouth with his massive hand.

  I struggled to breathe beneath his palm. This wasn’t sleepwalking.

  I moved my head until I found a small gap where I could get air easily and then put all my focus on him. He kept looking over the edge of the bed toward the door, like he was expecting someone to come barreling through it at any moment.

  Slowly, I touched his cheek with my fingertips. He jerked, looking back down at me with wild eyes and a slack jaw. He blinked several times, his eyes narrowing until, finally, he slowly came back to me. Jerking back, he released me and rolled to his feet.

  “Fuck.” He wiped the sweat from his brow. “Fuck,” he said again, but with more anger.

  I scrambled to sit up.

  “Shit.” His hand came down, and he grabbed my arm again, helping me get to my feet. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” he asked, looking me up and down. With the glow of the streetlights pouring into the bedroom, he could see easily enough and turned me around to check my back.

  “Yes, I’m fine. Noah, I’m okay,” I insisted when he continued to look at me. It was one thing if he was searching my body after he’d put his marks on me with his belt or his hand or the rope, but this was different. This was worry and fear.

  “I’m sorry,” he said in a gruff voice and helped me back into bed.
“Go back to sleep.” He walked to the foot of the bed and swiped up his boxers from the floor. He shoved his legs into them and dragged his hand through his hair.

  I didn’t like this look on him. He looked confused and scared.

  “Noah, are you okay?” I started to slip back out of bed, but he pointed a finger at me to stop me.

  “Stay in bed. Get some sleep.”

  He walked to the bedroom door.

  “Noah.”

  “I said stay in bed.” He threw open the door and left, slamming it behind him.

  I sat there for a minute, staring at the door. What was I supposed to do? I was sitting in his damn bed, in his damn house, in the middle of the damn night. Naked.

  The first thing I needed to do was cover myself. I shuffled through his dresser to find a T-shirt. When I opened the first drawer, a gun shifted, scaring me. I picked it up to look at it. I’d never seen one so close before. I’d noticed Noah had one on him almost always, but I’d never held it or looked too closely at it before.

  It was heavier than I thought it would be. But I could only compare it to the plastic toy guns I played with as a kid, fighting off the bad guys with my neighborhood friends.

  Noah was one of the bad guys.

  I didn’t know exactly what he did for the club, but I knew it wasn’t legal. Nothing the Death Angels did was legal. They owned a few bike shops, one in town and another in the next county, but everyone knew they didn’t make their real money there. And I knew Noah didn’t work at one of them.

  I found the safety and made sure it was on. The last thing I needed was to blow off my own head out of curiosity. Had he killed anyone with this gun? Robbed anyone? Threatened lives? He’d been a Marine. He’d fought for his country and protected the innocent. What happened to make him the man he was now?

  Noah wasn’t all bad. He definitely was rough around the edges, strict, and had his own set of rules, but I’d never seen him be unkind to anyone. But whatever had just happened, whatever he’d seen or not seen, heard or not heard, had shaken him. He’d been afraid.

  I put the gun back in the drawer and shut it. After snagging a shirt from the second drawer, I threw it over my head and went to find him. He was sat on the couch in the living room, an opened beer sitting on the coffee table in front of him. None of the lights had been turned on, and he’d closed the drapes of the front windows. The only light illuminating him was the hall light I’d flicked on.

  “Noah,” I said softly.

  His back stiffened. “Get back to bed, Shannon,” he ordered and picked up the bottle of beer, not looking back at me.

  “No,” I said, straightening my back. “You can’t ‘dom’ your way out of every conversation you find uncomfortable,” I added, with more conviction.

  He put the bottle down and stood up from the couch, squaring off with me. “‘Dom my way out’?”

  “Yes. That’s what you are, right? A dominant?” I lost a smidge of confidence as his dark eyes fixed on me. His muscular build, all covered in dark tattoos, only made him look more formidable.

  “You’ve been reading?”

  “I – well, after we met, and well, I—” He’d turned me into a bumbling idiot with just a look.

  “You what?”

  “Noah, this isn’t about that. This is about you. About what just happened in the bedroom.” He could easily change the topic, and then we’d never get back to what happened.

  “Nothing happened in the bedroom. I had a bad dream. That’s all.” His hands were fists at his sides, and his jaw was clenched.

  I didn’t buy that it was just a bad dream; you can talk about bad dreams. But ones that are born from reality… not so much.

  “How long were you deployed for?” I’d never actually worked with any patients who had PTSD, but everything that happened in the bedroom screamed of it.

  “Long enough.” He took a step toward me but stopped, like he didn’t trust himself to touch me just yet.

  “Why did you join the Death Angels when you got home?” I dove right into what I really wanted to know, and it was a risky move. He could shut me down and retreat further away from me.

  “I needed a job. They had an opening.”

  “You told me you didn’t want to leave this baby behind. That you weren’t going to just walk away. Well, if you hide from me and can’t tell me things, can’t be honest with me, how can you ever expect me to let you be a part of this child’s life?"

  “You aren’t going to use my baby against me,” he said in a hard voice.

  “I’m not; I’m asking you a real question. How can I let you be in my baby’s life if you won’t be honest? If you are so distant?”

  “What about your life? You won’t want me here either if I lay down on this fucking couch and tell you every shitty thing I saw and did when I was deployed.” His voice was low. Too low.

  This was dangerous territory.

  “Don’t change the subject.” I pointed a finger at him. Deflection wouldn’t work. “If you want me to give this a real chance, you have to be honest with me. You can’t be a closed book.”

  “In your little research about dominants, did you see the part about how the submissive doesn’t give her dom orders?”

  “This isn’t – we aren’t – dammit.” I stomped my foot. “Stop changing the subject.”

  He stared at me for a long moment, tension thickening in the air between us.

  “What subject would you like to talk about?” he asked in an even tone.

  I couldn’t read this one – couldn’t tell if I should back out of danger or just keep charging right into it.

  “About what happened in the bedroom,” I replied. Turning back now wouldn’t get us through this, and he would just keep hiding. “How often does that happen?”

  “Often enough to piss me off.”

  I sighed. “Have you tried seeing someone about it? It’s not uncommon for soldiers to come home and have trouble.”

  “I wasn’t a soldier; I was a Marine. It’s different, and I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

  He walked away from me, heading into the kitchen.

  I wasn’t done; I followed.

  “You can’t just decide what we talk about and what we don’t.” My voice started to rise, but I didn’t care. This man was the father of my baby, and if he meant what he said – about wanting to be a part of its life – then he would have to stop playing the hard-ass.

  “Sure I can.”

  “Noah.” I slammed my hand on the counter to get his attention. That may have been a mistake because once his dark eyes were on me again, fully focused, I saw the switch. He wasn’t irritated about his nightmare anymore; his control had returned.

  “Shannon, you have two seconds to lower your voice and start behaving again before I flip you over this counter and spank you until you can’t sit tomorrow.”

  “No. Fuck that.” My hands balled into fists. “You can’t just threaten to spank me because you don’t want to talk about something. Fuck it. And fuck you.”

  I turned and walked out of the kitchen, heading straight for the bedroom. I would get my clothes on and go home. Middle of the night or not, I wasn’t staying with him.

  I’d barely gotten my hand on my pants before he grabbed me and pinned me against him.

  “I think a little corner time will settle you down.” He pulled me to the corner of the bedroom and made me face the wall. I tried to flip around. This wasn’t going to work; he wasn’t going to soothe me by controlling the situation.

  But he wouldn’t be dismissed. He flipped me back around and brought his hand down half a dozen times on my bottom. The flimsy material of his T-shirt didn’t protect me at all from the sting of his hand.

  “You stay here and calm down, and I’ll sit on the bed and watch you. When you think you can talk with respect again, we’ll continue the conversation.” His voice was low and controlled. Not in the dark, scary way like before, but in the I have this all under control sort of
way. He hadn’t said the conversation was over; he just said I had to calm down first.

  Which seemed unfair considering he was the one who’d gotten me so mad in the first place.

  “If you hadn’t been such a jerk, I wouldn’t have had to raise my voice,” I said miserably to the corner.

  “You don’t control me, and you don’t punish me, and you don’t yell at me.”

  The bed creaked when he sat down.

  “You’re being an ass.” I leaned my head against the wall. “I just wanted to help you.”