Reckless Road

by Feehan, Christine

  His cock jerked hard. Every cell in his body was suddenly alive, aware. There was no way to miss the unashamed invitation in her voice. The way her tone slid along the walls of his mind like a temptress. His woman seducing him. She didn’t have to work very hard.

  I did make you a promise, didn’t I? I meant every fuckin’ word. Deliberately, he took one of her hands and moved it to the very front of his jeans, curling her palm over the thick monster of his cock. He held his hand over hers as he guided the Harley toward Caspar, finding the way toward his home. He ached for her in every way possible. If she came home with him, they would be alone. They would have a night together. She would need to work the next day, but he would have her alone, just like their first night. He could work with that. Neither one of them was going to get much sleep.

  The house he’d bought suited him perfectly. He hoped Zyah would love it the way he did. It was out a little farther from the ocean than some of the other homes. He wanted to be closer to the trees. The house sat in the middle of three acres, which gave him privacy from neighbors, something important to him. He drove straight up the private drive, through the wealth of flowering trees and shrubs, to the sprawling single-story home. Every time he saw it, he was glad he’d bought it.

  Aside from the main house, there was a two-car attached garage as well as an extremely enormous workshop with three garage bays, something he’d wanted, since he was always working with wood. Brick patios, a firepit, a greenhouse, fenced gardens and even a small fruit orchard had really sold him on the place. The chicken coop was empty at the moment, but someday he knew he would get chickens. He’d always wanted to have them. He didn’t want to think too hard about his reasons why, afraid that might have something to do with his mother.

  Player helped Zyah off the bike as the motion lights automatically came on around the house. He slowly got off, watching her as she wandered around the outside, looking at the things he thought were particularly beautiful in the front of his home. He loved plants. The colors and textures of them. The subtle differences in their leaves and structures even within the same varieties. Apparently, she did too, because she bent over one of his favorites, a lacy fern he’d planted near the front entryway.

  She turned back to him as he pulled off his gloves and held out his hand to her. “Come in and see the inside.” He couldn’t keep the pride out of his voice. He knew most of the other members of Torpedo Ink had problems sleeping away from one another, a byproduct of the torture and rape of their childhood. They wanted eyes on one another. But Player always worried that he would somehow harm the others. He wanted distance from them in order to keep them safe.

  Because he was alone so much, he took pride in his home and worked at making it as nice as he could. The band members came often to jam there, or practice. They wrote music and created songs. He had the workshop so they could build cabinets and furniture. Inside the house were two kitchens, a chef’s dream, allowing him to cook for the others or use the outside brick oven to feed them when they were over.

  They took their boots off at the door, leaving them at the bench where he always left them. He had little places built in at the doorways for his shoes. He preferred to be barefoot in his house, to feel the wood under his feet. Zyah didn’t object, removing her boots and socks as well. He appreciated it. His fellow Torpedo Ink members gave him a bad time about it and said he was a pain, but they usually removed their dirty boots before entering his home.

  Zyah took his hand and he led her into the house. Strangely, he found that his heart was pounding. He hadn’t realized how much it would matter to him that she like his home. It hadn’t mattered at all that anyone else had.

  There was gleaming wood flooring throughout the house. That was a good part of what he loved about it. Vaulted ceilings overhead. That always gave him the needed feeling of space—and he needed space. He had so many nights waking up with nightmares of that dungeon. Of being in chains. Of being confined.

  There were archways, beautiful trim on the windows and custom cabinets built by a master crafter. He appreciated the work. The man had since passed, but Player would have talked with him for hours, and sometimes in the middle of the night he walked barefoot into the kitchen and dining room and had a conversation with the deceased man anyway, just to acknowledge his craftsmanship. Skylights provided natural lighting in many of the rooms, something Zyah couldn’t see at night, but if she was there during the day, she would be able to appreciate the effects.

  He let go of her hand so she could wander around on her own. The floor plan was mostly open, one room leading through to the next with the open archways. She moved slowly, looking into the more formal dining room with the gas fireplace built into the wall. She walked right up to the long table he’d built with his own hands. The thick slab of polished oak that gleamed as bright as the floor. The chairs were made of the same oak, but the high backs and seats were covered in thick square foam with black microfiber material Lana had sewn for him. He thought the effect was striking, and they were extremely comfortable.

  “The table and chairs are beautiful,” she said. “Truly beautiful.”

  “Thanks.” His voice was gruffer than he intended.

  She turned to him. “You made them.”

  He nodded. “Lana did the seat covers for me.”

  She ran her finger over the edge of the table. “This is incredible work, Player. Can you turn on the fireplace?”

  The remote was on the long trim board above the fireplace that ran the length of the room. Flames sprang to life with one press of the button. Immediately, the atmosphere in the room changed. It had been beautiful before, but cold; now there was a warmth, a life, the flames flicking on the walls, dancing, throwing shadows as if for a show. Heat moved through him. He dimmed the lighting in the room until the fireplace was the main source of light, showing Zyah how the flames danced across the wood of the table, changing the color and making the top come to life.

  Player came up behind her, unzipping her jacket as he leaned in, lips close to her ear. “What do you think? The fireplace gives the room an entirely different appeal, doesn’t it?” He poured seduction into his voice.

  She tipped her head back against his chest as he opened her jacket and tugged it off her arms, sweeping her gloves away with the jacket. “I like the way it looks right now. It’s amazing.”

  “I made that table very sturdy. It doesn’t move at all.” His mouth wandered down her neck. Little kisses. Little nips. His tongue tasting her. Savoring her. All the while his hands were pulling the next layer of clothing off of her. A sweater this time. A thin one. He had to back off enough to pull it over her head. Her T-shirt was next. He got that off fast, leaving just her lacy bra. She wore the most beautiful underwear.

  He kept her turned away from him, liking the way it felt to be fully dressed with her skin gleaming in the firelight, and that thin layer of lace, so delicate, stretched around the heavy, perfect tits he thought of far too often. He cupped the weight of them in his palms, his thumbs sliding over her nipples. As he did, he leaned forward and caught the lobe of her ear in his teeth, biting down. She moaned and pushed her bottom back into him.

  “Unzip your jeans, Zyah.” He whispered the words as he slid his hands around to unhook her bra, freeing her gorgeous breasts. As much as he liked her underwear, holding the soft mounds in his hands without anything in his way was much better. He bent his head to her shoulder, biting down on her neck, right where he remembered she couldn’t resist. At the same time, his fingers traced her areolae and then cupped her breasts again, kneading and massaging gently, applying pressure and then becoming gentle.

  “Push your jeans and panties off your hips.” He poured velvet command into his voice, and she responded with another moan, pushing the blue jeans and underwear down her rounded hips and off her thighs as far as she could manage. She was so beautiful. The dancing flames played over her body with loving lights.

  He removed his hands reluctantly so he c
ould take off his jacket and sweater. “Baby, take your jeans all the way off and pull out the chair from the table. The one at the end so I can see your reflection on the wall.”

  She looked up at him, her gaze moving hungrily over him before she nodded and did as he told her. He removed his jacket and shirt but left his jeans on deliberately, only opening them to give his cock and balls relief. He went to her, taking her mouth, kissing her because it was essential in the way breathing was.

  Her hand pushed at his jeans, wanting them farther off his hips so she could stroke his cock, cup and roll his balls. “I’m so hungry for you,” she whispered. “That ride with the bike between my legs was wonderful and torture at the same time.”

  He caught her hand and moved it down her body, his eyes holding her gaze, refusing to allow her to look away. “I want to see how much you want me,” he said, deliberately wicked. He curled her fingers into her slick entrance, coating them, and brought them up to his mouth. Her scent was that exotic mixture that made no sense but was all Zyah. He curled his tongue around her fingers and licked off every drop. Immediately, the taste set up a craving, and he almost laid her out on the table and feasted, but his cock was too thick and hard and he’d never last that long.

  He spun her around and shoved her down over the tabletop. She cried out and gripped the table’s edge on one side, pushing back with her bottom. He could barely manage to roll on the condom he had snagged from his jeans.

  “Hurry, Player. I really need you right now.”

  The soft little entreaty nearly drove him out of his mind. He loved the way she looked as he forced her thighs farther apart. Her bare cheeks gleamed in the firelight. He rubbed them gently, his heart pounding right through his cock.

  “You’re the most beautiful woman in the world, Zyah.” He didn’t mean just her physical body, although he knew she would think that.

  Her head was turned to one side, lying on the table he’d made, her eyes looking back at him, filled with dark hunger, with need. He ran his hand slowly and possessively from the nape of her neck to the seam of her cheeks meeting her thigh. Ignoring his own hunger, he lodged the overly sensitive crown of his cock in her slick entrance. She was tight, and he was broad. She clamped down on him, grasping, trying to pull him deeper into paradise. It was the most shockingly perfect feeling.

  “Player.” She gasped his name. Pushed back hard with her hips.

  He stayed where he was, allowing her to swallow an inch of his thick, broad length, so that he felt every tight, scorching-hot, silken muscle surrounding that inch like a greedy fist. He could feel her heart beating through his cock. It was insane and surreal. She took him to another world. He leaned forward, refusing to go fast, the way his body demanded. The way she demanded. When he leaned over her, he slid in another inch and she cried out. He wanted to do a little crying of his own.

  Instead, he kissed his way from the nape of her neck down her spine. Slow kisses. Claiming her. From her neck to the small of her back. He meant each of those reverent kisses. He stayed still, watching the flames dance over her while deep inside her body her scorching flames surrounded his cock, threatening to burn him alive.

  Bog, baby. He whispered it in his mind. Aching with his need of her. With things he could never say because he knew she wouldn’t accept them yet. He’d done that, brought them to this place through his own carelessness. Now there were too many other things in their way. He recognized she would never believe he wanted her for her. For her beauty. He’d pushed her away over and over. He would have to find a way to make her believe him.

  “Player.” She wailed his name.

  “Gedeon. You know my name.”

  Her lips pressed together and her lashes swept down. Deliberately he inched with excruciating slowness through her tight folds. Her body reluctantly gave way to his invasion. He felt every beautiful increment of her hot, narrow channel. It was unbelievably sexy. She clutched him in a silken fist, clamping down until it felt as if she were stroking him with a thousand tongues, gripping him with pulsing fingers, until she drove the breath from his lungs and the sanity from his mind.

  He watched her breath catch. Turn ragged. Watched the beauty in her face heighten more. Her body took on a glow. Little urgent moans escaped her throat, sounds that only added to the vibrations playing up and down his cock. Her body shuddered with pleasure. With need.

  “Player.”

  “Say my name.” A long, slow withdrawal while her body tried desperately to hold on to his. The muscles were so tight, dragging over his sensitive shaft, the bundles of nerve endings just there at the vee at the broad head. He inched his way, trying to breathe, his lungs raw. She had so much power.

  “Say it, Zyah. Gedeon. Say it for me. I need to hear you say it.”

  He rubbed her cheek when a sob of need escaped her throat. His fingers slid over her slick entrance where they joined. Circled her clit and flicked her gently. Very slowly he began to enter her again. It was a heady, sensual slide, watching himself disappear into his woman’s body. He kept massaging her cheek gently. Then a little rougher. Sliding a finger across her clit. Circling. Flicking. Never varying the speed as he buried himself inside her.

  “Player. Gedeon. I need you to move in me.”

  “I am moving in you.” He caught her braid in his hand, wrapped the long length of it around his fist. Pulled her head so she was forced to arch her back. “How do you want me to move, baby? Because this feels like paradise to me.”

  “Hard. Fast. I need you to move faster and harder. Take me there.” Her voice went back and forth from pleading to demanding.

  He withdrew again slowly. Fire streaked up his spine. “You feel that? Fire. Flames. Burning from the inside out. Do you feel it the way I do?”

  “Yes.” Her breath hitched. “I can barely breathe.”

  He could barely think, let alone breathe. He leaned forward one more time and pressed a kiss to the small of her back and then caught at her hip, even as he kept her head where he wanted it. He surged forward. Lightning streaked through him. She cried out and pressed back into him hard. They came together, a frenzy of need. Of scorching heat.

  Player wanted the feeling to last forever, but there was no way with the flames licking up his body, from his thighs to his groin. Fire danced over both of them, rolled them in a roaring conflagration until every nerve ending was alive and aware. Living for each other. He took her higher when she didn’t think she could go. When her ragged pleas urged him on and yet begged him for release. He couldn’t stop moving, his body taking on a life of its own, surging into hers, over and over.

  Her body suddenly clamped down on his in a series of vicious, white-hot bites of sheer ecstasy. Surrounding his cock with a silken channel of a thousand tongues licking greedily, determined to take every drop from him. Fingers gripped and milked, squeezed down ferociously to jack every last rope of hot seed from his body. The sensation unleashed a volcano stored inside of him. His cock jerked over and over, hard, brutal, savage, unlike anything he’d ever experienced.

  Zyah’s sheath pulsed and rippled around him as he collapsed on top of her. He was lucky to keep his legs under him. He fought to find air and draw it into his lungs as he lay over her, eyes closed, savoring the feeling of near euphoria. He felt as if he’d been flung into some alternate universe, far out past the stars. It had been like that with her their first night together. Every single time.

  Player breathed the scent of sex and Zyah into his lungs and found he loved the combination. He could live with that for the rest of his life. He felt lust for her like he’d never felt for another woman, but wrapped around that, intertwined with it, was something impossibly tender and overwhelming. He knew he was really falling in love with her. He didn’t want to wear a glove. For the first time in his life, he didn’t want anything between a woman and him. Not one single thing. He wanted there to be only Zyah and Player coming together.

  When her body had settled, he pushed the hair from the nape of he
r neck and kissed her there gently before slowly straightening. “Are you all right? I got a little crazy there at the end.”

  “Mmm. Just fine.” Zyah didn’t move, and she didn’t open her eyes. “I’m just going to lie right here and go to sleep.”

  He laughed softly. “There’re three bedrooms in this house, baby. I think we can find you a much better place to sleep if you’re tired.” He kissed his way down her spine to her lower back before slowly and with great reluctance withdrawing. Just that movement triggered a reaction in her body. He felt it as he withdrew, and she smiled and moaned softly, shifting her hips.

  “I like that.”

  “I’ll bet you do.” He knotted the condom. He hated the damn things now. They protected her but kept him from really feeling every inch of her, and he wanted that. “Baby, are you on birth control?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m clean. I haven’t been near a bi . . . a woman in months. Years, really. Not inside her. I had blow jobs, but not inside her. I wouldn’t lie to you. I detest using condoms with you. I’d much prefer to go without a glove. Think it over, will you?” He rubbed her bare cheeks.

  “If you haven’t been with a woman, why do you have condoms everywhere?”

  “I don’t know. Hopeful, maybe. I saw Reaper and Ice find their women. Steele, everyone knew it was Breezy, but then Absinthe found Scarlet. We all thought maybe there was a chance for the rest of us. I wanted to make certain my woman was protected. Now I kind of wish I hadn’t done so much overthinking.”

  She laughed softly and his stomach had that peculiar reaction of a serious flip. Bog, he was bordering on sheer insanity when it came to her.

  “I’ve been thinking about this room, Player. I think I’m really fond of it.”

  He helped her to stand straight. “I was hoping you’d give your approval of the dining room.” He ran his finger from her collarbone to the tip of her breast. He liked to see the marks of his mouth and fingers on her skin.