Raw: Street Demons MC

by Ada Stone

  # # #

  Michael finished texting Craig, easing his mind about the shit going on back home. The Street Demons weren’t a crew of assholes looking to get into trouble. Most of them just wanted the life of freedom that came with a bike and an open road. Devil’s Nest was the exact opposite. They saw their club as a way to push drugs, take up gabling rackets, and run their town down to the stubble if they weren’t given the respect they thought was due.

  The pricks were more like the mafia than a motorcycle club. Street Demons may run medicinal marijuana for a tidy profit and sell sex in their own backyard, but they sure as fuck didn’t sit in no back alley peddling the powder or pussy to kids.

  The sound of creaking hinges drew his attention to the bedroom where he’d left Belle sleeping. He wasn’t usually surprised by people. He had a good eye for what made them really tick, but Belle came out of left field. How any man ever touched her and didn’t get that firecracker to go off was beyond his understanding. Just at his touch, her body trembled. One soft kiss and he could almost hear her clit stiffen with expectation.

  “Hey.” Her soft voice carried across the living room.

  He threw her a casual grin. “Hey, yourself.” Her short hair was a little mussed from her nap, more curls than when she’d fallen asleep. Her clothes were back on—a pity. Those curves shouldn’t be hidden behind some cheap-ass fabric. “You sleep okay?”

  She scratched the back of her neck. “Yeah. Thanks. I don’t think I’ve slept like that in months.” She turned to look toward the kitchen. “Do I smell coffee?”

  “Yeah. I figured if you weren’t up soon, I’d wake you.” Michael shuffled from the window over to the kitchen where the pot had finished brewing. His stomach growled, reminding him it was near dinnertime. “Are you hungry?” he asked, fully expecting her to cry off from eating. The chicks he hung with were always watching their carbs or their fats or their whatever.

  “Starving.” Another surprise.

  He paused for a moment to look at her over the breakfast bar.

  “What?” she asked, raking her hands through her hair. “I can wait. It’s fine.” The blush that snuck up her neck was too adorable to ignore.

  “No, no.” He waved a hand in the air. “I’m just not used to a chick being so honest.”

  “One, I’m not a chick. And two, you asked if I was hungry. It’s not really something worth lying about.” Her lips curled up on one side. Comfortable—she looked comfortable joking with him. Most girls would be hanging off him, trying to get his pants back off and him back into bed. He could see her desire well enough. Her pupils were still large, but she was comfortable with the friendly banter.

  “Well, babe, I can make us some spaghetti. Haven’t been grocery shopping for up here in a while.”

  “Sounds great.” She moved around the living room, getting a feel for the place. The couch looked less natural in the room than her. “You don’t bring all your chicks up here?” Looking out the window, he couldn’t see the smile, but he was sure it was there.

  “No.” Opening a cabinet, he took out a small box of noodles and a jar of sauce and rustled around the cabinets for a pot.

  She busied herself with exploring the cabin, looking at the old family photos hanging on the walls and flipping through a few books that his mom had left on the bookshelves, untouched for years.

  “Food’s ready.” He placed their bowls on the table and took his seat. When she made her way over to hers, he caught her around her middle and pulled her into his lap.

  “I can’t very well eat like this.” She kept her eyes downcast, becoming more interested in her hands by the minute.

  “You’re right.” He lifted her back up and plunked her down in her seat. The blush was back, and he tugged at her earlobe until she looked at him. “You feeling okay? Sore?”

  “Fuck.” She pulled away and concentrated on holding her fork. “I wasn’t a virgin,” she muttered and shoveled the pasta into her mouth.

  He laughed. Damn, she was cute when she was embarrassed. “No, but you might as well have been.” He started eating his own dinner, kicking himself for not thinking about food when he rode them up to the cabin. She deserved something better than spaghetti. “We’ll go out for breakfast tomorrow on the way home.”

  “That’s okay. You can just drop me back at the hospital. I’ll grab something at the cafe.”

  “How long is your mom going to be there?”

  Her body stiffened at his question. She didn’t want to get personal, but he was doing his best to knock her up. What could be more personal than that?

  “I don’t know.” He didn’t like the forlorn sound in her voice. “Depends on the treatment.”

  “What’s wrong with her?” He shoved his bowl away and reached for her, trailing his fingertips over her forearm. Little goosebumps prickled to the surface beneath his touch.

  “She’s sick.” Shrugging off the question, she picked up her plate. Pointing to his half-eaten plate, she asked, “You done?”

  He gave a curt nod but kept his eyes on her. Whatever was keeping her mom in the hospital was bad, really bad. No need to hide from the topic if she was just having her appendix out.

  Michael followed her to the sink where she started rinsing and washing the plates. He wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her back against his body and taking a moment to enjoy how neatly she fit against him. As though her curves fit right into his body, perfectly. Swiping her hair to one side, he kissed her neck. Inhaling, he smiled against her skin. She smelled good, like something familiar and sweet—something he could get addicted to if he wasn’t careful.

  “Leave those.” He pulled her hands out of the sink and spun her around to face him. He grabbed the towel from the hook nearby and dried her hands for her. Didn’t hand her the towel but dried them himself while she watched with shock in her eyes.

  With her hands now dry, he took them and pressed them against his chest. Cupping her face with both hands, he pulled her toward him, leaning down to capture her lips beneath his own. Her response was immediate and strong. Her hands moved from his chest to his hips. His thumb stroked her jaw, and one lick of his tongue had her parting her lips and letting him in.

  She broke away from the kiss before he was ready, so he wrapped his hand around her neck and pulled her back, giving her a hard glare before kissing her again—harder and with more determination. She completely melted beneath him. When he pulled away, her eyes were wild with heat, her lips swollen, and her breath panted over his face.

  “I want…let me…” She slid from his hands and moved to her knees. Right in his fucking kitchen, she yanked at his belt and undid his jeans, pulling out his cock with one hand while looking up at him, searching him for permission.

  He leaned back against the counter, letting her lead this dance. Keeping her eyes locked on his face, her little pink tongue slipped out from between her pouty lips and she licked the very tip of his head, gathering up the bit of pre-cum that snuck out. His eyes nearly crossed when she opened her mouth and sucked him inside. For such a prim and proper girl, she took his cock like it was her life. With one hand wrapped around the base, she stroked him while she licked and sucked him. Bobbing her head before him, he dove his hands into her hair, not forcing her or pushing, just holding her, wanting that extra bit of connection.

  Most girls, he’d just pin down and fuck their face, taking the pleasure they were offering him. But not her, she wouldn’t have that even if he tried it. She was going to give him ecstasy; he wouldn’t be taking anything from her. He groaned, feeling his balls tighten as she went deeper, lower on his cock. He’d ask her later how she got so fucking good at that, if she had so little experience.

  Further down she went until his cock slipped into her throat. He almost burst right there, but she pulled back, sputtering and gagging. She leaned forward again, taking him deep again. His hand tightened around her hair, and he yanked her back.

  “No.” He shook his head. “Enough.�
�� He pulled her to her feet with his hand still in her hair. She winced but didn’t try to break free of his hold. “Won’t make a baby if I come in your mouth.” He winked at her and pushed her against the counter, her back to him.

  He made quick work of undoing her jeans and yanking them down. With only one hand to use, it was a bit sloppy, but in the end, her ass was facing him, all nice and round and soft.

  “Bend over,” He pushed her forward until her ass was protruding out more. “Fuck, you have a great ass.” He slapped it, watching the slight jiggle. “Ever been spanked?” he asked, giving her another swat to the other cheek.

  “N-no.” The fear was laced in her tone, an unsure tremor.

  “Maybe later. I don’t want to wait anymore.” He let go of her hair and spread her ass cheeks, exposing her wet, swollen lips.

  “Oh, God.” She groaned when the tip of his cock, still wet from her sucking him, slipped past her entrance, and he shoved into her up to the hilt. His balls brushed her clit, and she arched her back even more, taking him easier. He held himself still, holding her hips and damn near lost it when she started to fuck him. She began to move her hips back and forth.

  “That’s a good girl; fuck my cock.” He gave her hip a light slap, not hard enough to hurt but enough to make him want to do it again. Faster, she bounced back at him.

  Not one to let too much control slip by, he gripped her hips harder, stilling her. “Now it’s my turn,” he growled in her ear. Pulling her back, he thrust forward. She yelped at the full impact, but he only did it again and again. Fucking hard, fucking fast, that was his way.

  “Oh, God. Oh, God,” she chanted, using the edge of the countertop to push back at him. The sound of flesh slapping flesh filled the room, mingling with her moans and his grunts as they took from each other what their bodies needed.

  She tightened around him, the heated sheath around his cock gripped him even harder. “So fucking tight,” he growled. Reaching around her, he found her clit, hard and wanting. One little flick and she threw her head back with a deep groan. “You like that, huh? When I fuck you hard and rub this little clit of yours?”

  “Fuck. Yes.” She nodded, looking at him over her shoulder. Hair covered half her face so he reached up and grabbed a handful into his fist. Still fucking her harder and rubbing her clit, he rode her from behind, using her hair as his reins.

  “Come, Belle. You come hard right now on my cock, or I swear I won’t let you come at all.”

  Her lower lip sucked into her mouth, and her eyes rolled. He put more pressure on her clit, feeling her clamp down around his cock, feeling the trembling of her thighs as he pushed her harder toward her orgasm. She was going to explode; he could sense the buildup in her.

  “Michael!” She slammed her hand against the counter and bucked back at him as her orgasm hit her full force. She screamed, pushing back at him as the orgasm dragged her along. The pulsation of her pussy dragged his own release from him.

  For several long moments, they were lost in each other. He slammed into her, pouring out his seed into her tight, hot pussy while she bucked at him, taking every last breath of her orgasm.

  When his orgasm subsided, he leaned forward, resting his forehead on her back. “Fuck, Belle,” he whispered. Her shirt was still on, and so was his. They’d fucked like animals in the kitchen, with their pants around their ankles. He hadn’t taken the time to get her to the bedroom, because there wasn’t time. He needed to be inside her more than he needed to breathe at that moment.

  He slipped out of her, bending down to grab her pants and panties and pulled them back up. A trickle of his cum slid from her pussy and ran down her inner thigh. His cum—he’d marked her with his seed.

  “I-I got it.” Her trembling fingers pulled the jeans up the rest of the way and buttoned them. He yanked up his own pants and went about buckling his belt, keeping his eye on her.

  Again, she ran her fingers through her hair and tried to regain a composure he figured she never let go of.

  He pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her and kissing the top of her head. “You okay?” Maybe he had fucked her too hard.

  “I’m good.” She nodded, bumping his chin with the action. “But I’m hungry again.” She laughed.

  He pulled back and smiled. “There’s still plenty of pasta.” He kissed the tip of her nose. The sun had set; it was near dark. Only a few more hours until their deal expired.

  How was he going to give her back?

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Belle stretched her arms over her head before rolling over to her side. Her hands brushed up against a warm body, and her eyes flew open.

  Memories of the previous day—and night—flooded back to her. The naked man beside her was a captain in the Street Demons. And she’d asked him to get her pregnant. What the hell had she been thinking?

  With the morning light came her common sense. They’d had sex. No, not just sex, mind-blowing sex, three—no, four—times. He’d woken her up in the middle of the night with warm kisses trailing over her body, his skilled fingers arousing her until she begged, pleaded, and then demanded he fuck her.

  She groaned as she covered her face with her hands. It had to be the stress. With her mother so ill, her own worry that she’d never have the baby she wanted so badly, and him catching her off guard in the cafeteria, her mind must have blown a fuse or something.

  This man was dangerous. She went out with human resource guys or accountants, not captains of motorcycle clubs.

  She’d heard his club mentioned a few times, mostly decent news. Charity events at the clubhouse and such, but then there was the darker gossip, involving prostitution and drug running.

  He stirred. She jumped. His left arm moved up over his head, giving him a lazy, casual look. The strong, chiseled features of his face were soft in his sleep. The chin length hair was tossed back, exposing another scar along his cheek, higher up toward his ear. The muscles of his body were everywhere. Nothing on him was soft, and if the tenting of the sheet meant anything, his cock was included in that assessment.

  Handsome didn’t suit him; he was more than that—rougher, harder than handsome. To say he was hot felt a little juvenile, but there really wasn’t a better way to describe him.

  “You gonna look at me all morning?” His rough voice scared her out of her examination. One eye opened to focus on her, and his lips curled into a teasing grin. “Didn’t meant to startle you, babe.”

  “I…uh…it’s fine.” She held the sheet tighter around her chest. He’d already seen her, licked her, and fucked her in more ways any other man in her life had, but the need to cover her bare breasts from him hadn’t gone away.

  He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands then sat up, taking some of the sheet with him. “What time is it?” He grabbed his cell from the nightstand and cursed under his breath. “Didn’t mean to sleep in this late. But some gorgeous woman wouldn’t get out of my head last night.” A sexy wink and a crooked smile met her gaze.

  “I should get back to Mom, too.” Turning away from him, she scooted off the bed, taking the sheet with her. When she glanced over her shoulder at him, she realized that by keeping her modesty she’d stripped him of his. He leaned against the headboard with his ankles crossed and his erect cock laying against his thigh. She swallowed and quickly scurried into the bathroom, ignoring his chuckle as she went.

  Now that the new day had dawned, she thought back to her decision to allow this man to get pregnant. While the water in the shower warmed, she placed an open hand over her belly. There could very well be a baby in her womb at that moment. Shaking her head and convincing herself that it probably hadn’t worked, she stepped into the tub and doused herself under the stream.

  It would be days or even weeks before she would find out, but one thing she knew was that she needed to get back to the hospital and try to forget Michael. Even if he wanted to see her again, he was in a bike club, and she wasn’t going to get involved with that.

&nb
sp; After toweling off, she peeked her head into the bedroom to find it empty. Good. With each step she took toward her pile of clothes on the bed, which he must have put there for her, she could feel tenderness between her legs. She hadn’t been a virgin, but having as much sex, in such a rough fashion, as they did during the night left her feeling as though she had been.

  She found him in the kitchen, holding a cup of coffee to his lips and leaning against the sink. One leg was casually thrown over the other as he drank the brew. His shirt, a new black t-shirt, clean and pressed, fit snuggly to his body, showcasing all of his muscles and strength. She swallowed and averted her gaze from the obvious bulge in the front of his jeans.

  “Coffee?” he asked, tipping his cup toward her.

  “Uh, no, thanks. I’ll grab some at the hospital.”

  “I said I’d take you for a real breakfast this morning.” He turned away to pour out his cup and flip off the coffee maker. “If you’re ready, we can head out now. There’s a great diner nearby with the best hash browns in the county.”