Secret Desires (Roughshod Rollers MC Book 4)

by Mia Ford

  Except for the fact that Ethan’s friendship is the most important thing in the world to me.

  “Ethan!” I manage, pushing him back. His stunned expression is almost funny. My chest is heaving and my hands are shaking. Crap, this is hard. “We need to slow down and think about this for a second!”

  “You kissed me,” Ethan points out.

  “Yes, I know,” I say, running a hand through my hair. My curls are already hopelessly tangled. “I did.”

  “Then I don’t see the problem,” Ethan says.

  There’s that look in his eyes, the stubborn, determined look that says he’ll get his own way. Ethan has always been willful and unwilling to give up until things go the way he wants them to. It’s nice to see that expression on his face again, though not so great that it’s directed at me right at this moment, when I’m already balancing on very thin ice. I swallow.

  “Things will look different in the morning,” I insist.

  “I don’t care,” Ethan says.

  We both know that he will care. But Ethan isn’t thinking about that right now. His pupils are dilated, his shoulders are tense and I can already see interest rising in his pants. It gives me a thrill to know that I did this to him, and I hurriedly stamp down on the feeling.

  “Ethan…” I try again.

  “I don’t care,” Ethan interrupts again.

  He swoops in, bracing his arms around me, and his mouth is on my neck again…and I’m lost. I’m not strong enough to push Ethan away a second time, not when he seems so determined to make every dream I’ve ever had about him come true.

  So I simply give in and fall into his arms, pulling his t-shirt up over his toned chest. If I can’t stop this, I might as well just enjoy it while it lasts, after all. We can talk more about the consequences of it in the morning.

  Chapter Two

  Georgia

  With no more inhibitions, I push Ethan back, this time so I can pull his shirt over his head, almost ripping the soft material in my eagerness. His chest is smooth and toned; as a construction worker, Ethan does a lot of heavy lifting every week, so it isn’t a surprise to see that he’s very fit. It makes me feel even hotter as I run my hands over his skin, feeling every dip and crevice, overwhelmed by the fact that I even can touch him.

  How many times have I wondered what it would be like to feel his muscles moving under my hands, to press my fingers against his skin? He’s slick with sweat already, panting as he pulls me back toward him, his hands gripping my hips hard enough to bruise. He sucks at the skin and I know there will be a mark left there in the morning.

  My hands slide down and press against the lump in his jeans. His cock is eager for me, straining hard against my palm, and I rub some friction against it.

  “Fuck,” Ethan pants against me. His fingers are sliding under my shirt now and scraping against my stomach. “That feels so good.”

  “It’ll feel better without your clothes,” I purr into his ear.

  I slide his belt off and throw it somewhere, raising myself up on my knees and pushing him back. Ethan falls backward easily, looking up at me from the couch pillows, his eyes dark and hungry. His hands wind around my thighs.

  “You’re still wearing too many clothes too,” he says.

  “We can change that,” I promise.

  I meet his eyes and, without looking away, I slide my hands under the hem of my shirt, gripping the soft material. Slowly, I work it up over my stomach, then over my breasts, revealing my white lace bra. Then I pull it up and over my head, dropping it to the ground before reaching behind myself to unclip my bra. Ethan’s eyes never leave mine, and he almost looks as though he’s stopped breathing as he watches me, his mouth slightly open.

  I smile, pleased at the attention. If nothing else, at least I know I’m physically attractive to him.

  When my bra slides down my shoulders and joins my shirt on the floor, Ethan sits up slightly and reaches toward my now-free breasts. I lean over him, giving him better access, and his hands cup the soft mounds, kneading the skin with his fingers until he finds the nipples and pinches them to hardness. I groan at the feeling, my back arching, and lean in further, wanting him to touch me even more.

  “So responsive,” he murmurs. “What if I touch you here?”

  His hands slide lower, running over my stomach until they reach the hem of my jeans, the tips of his fingers on one hand tucking briefly under the material to slide against the sensitive skin of my hips. His other hand drifts further downward, moving between my legs. He touches my vagina, wet in my panties, applying just enough pressure that I can feel it, but not enough to be satisfying. I groan deeply, my hands gripping his shoulders.

  “Fuck, Ethan,” I pant. “Don’t stop.”

  I pull at the button on his pants as his hand slides teasingly back and forth between my legs. The button pops open and he lifts his hips so I can pull his pants down. In his boxers, his cock stands tall, a wet patch from its leaking tip on the material, and I reach out to grip it firmly, making Ethan choke and falter in his movements. Then he pulls down the zipper on my jeans and tugs them down over my legs.

  We kick the pants away and I lean in toward Ethan, pressing the length of my body against him. Our bare skin meets and I feel his clothed erection against my leg, bobbing desperately as Ethan’s hips hump up, seeking contact. I straddle Ethan’s legs, locking my knees around him, my unruly hair falling around us in a thick, curly curtain.

  I pause then, panting. We’re both almost naked now, our sweaty skin pressing together. Ethan is looking up at me, eyes dark with lust, and his hands are on my hips, holding me in place. There’s a burning inferno weaving its way around the both of us, so thick and hot that I can barely breathe with it.

  But I need to take a moment to just look at him, underneath me like this. Part of me is unconvinced that this isn’t just another dream, that I’m not going to wake up at any moment, bereft and alone. The rest of me is screaming that this isn’t going to work in the morning and that things are just going to be even worse for me when this is all over.

  There’s no going back now, though. Unless Ethan abruptly comes to his senses and pushes me away, there’s no way I can stop. Everything about Ethan, the feel of his skin, the touch of his hands, the weight of his gaze on me, is absolutely addictive. I need more of it, to take what I can get from him until the end. Only then can I think about the consequences of my actions, and hope that I haven’t ruined everything for us both.

  “What are you thinking about?” Ethan asks, his voice rough.

  “Nothing,” I say.

  His hands grip me tighter.

  “If you can still think at all, I’m fucking doing something wrong,” he says in a low voice that sends shivers down my spine.

  “Then make me stop,” I dare, pressing a soft kiss against his chest.

  Abruptly, Ethan pushes me up, and then I’m sitting on his legs again, my skin feeling cold as I’m torn away from the heat of his. His fingers pull at my silken panties and I raise myself up as I realize what he wants, letting him slide the material over my smooth legs. I momentarily raise a leg so that they can drop to the floor and then I pull at his boxers, gripping the material and tugging them downward.

  Now completely bare, I feel vulnerable and exposed. It isn’t the first time I’ve slept with a man, but knowing that it’s Ethan I’m with, who is looking at me with such an intense gaze, makes me feel like I’m in the spotlight.

  “What do you want?” Ethan asks me.

  “I want you to fuck me,” I reply with reckless abandon. “I want to feel every inch of you as you slide into me. I want to ride you hard and come with you as we both fall over the edge.”

  Ethan shudders at my filthy words. I can barely believe I just said that to him. But there’s no going back. I’m going to live out every fantasy I have in this small amount of time that I’ve been given with Ethan.

  “Fuck, Georgia,” Ethan groans.

  I reach down between us and w
rap my hand around his leaking dick, making his breath catch. I rub it up and down, smearing the thick leakage on the tip with my thumb, using it as a lubricant to move my hand. Ethan groans gutturally, his eyes rolling back as he slumps against the pillows, helpless to do anything else other than hold onto me while I continue my ministrations. His body trembles beneath me, the muscles in his legs tight, and I almost tip over the edge at the realization that I’m the one bringing him to this brink, too overwhelmed to do anything other than groan and writhe while I touch him.

  “Keep touching me,” he gasps.

  I tighten my grip and lean in, my hard nipples brushing against his chest, closing my mouth against his collar. I nip and suck, raising myself on my knees so I can still move my hand on his dick, and he thrusts desperately into my grip, reduced to breathy moans and gasps.

  “God, stop, I’m going to come,” he pants.

  “Good,” I purr into his ear.

  He pushes me back, which I suspected he would, and I grin as he stares at me, his eyes wild and desperate. I let go of his cock and sit back.

  “I want to come inside you,” he tells me in a low voice and I tremble at the words. God, I want that so badly too. “I want to fuck you now.”

  There’s no more time for teasing. As much as I want to draw this out as much as I can, to take each precious second I can get, we’re almost done. We’re both shaking with need, our bodies eager to chase our oncoming orgasms and get sweet relief from this pleasurable torture. I wish we could last just a little longer, but it always had to come to an end.

  I raise myself up onto my knees once more, spreading my legs as I brace my hands on Ethan’s shoulders. His hands reach up to wrap around my hips and then he looks up at me, our eyes meeting, the weight of what’s happening heavy between us.

  Then he guides me down. His thick cock penetrates me, sliding inch by inch into my body, and I pant as I push down slowly. Finally, he’s fully seated in me and we’re trying to catch our breaths. It’s overwhelming and I have to push my orgasm down before it can burst out of me prematurely, overwrought with just the idea that Ethan is inside me.

  “Move when you’re ready,” Ethan says, his hips twitching as though he wants to thrust up.

  I take a deep breath. Then I raise myself up and thrust my hips back down, spearing myself on his cock once more. His hips snap up to meet mine, his dick straining against the walls inside me. We settle into a rhythm quickly, and I bounce on his lap, taking him in deeper and deeper, the world narrowed to the way that we’re connected so intimately.

  Then Ethan changes the angle of his thrust and my vision goes white as he hits a spot that makes pleasure wrack my body. I choke on the force of the sensation and I falter for a second. Ethan’s hands grip my hips and he begins guiding my body up and down, hitting that spot each time he thrusts until I’m a limp mess following the urging of his hands.

  “Fuck, oh god, fuck…” I chant, barely aware of what I’m saying.

  “You’re so beautiful,” Ethan is gasping, and he thrusts hard up into me. “Fuck, Polly, look at you, this is amazing.”

  I barely register that he’s just said his ex-wife’s name. At that moment, my orgasm hits, washing over me like a tidal wave. Ethan shakes beneath me, thrusting twice more before going still, groaning deeply.

  Slowly, as my heart stops beating so fast and my trembling hands calm, I push myself off Ethan and collapse backward and look at him. Polly’s name is ringing in my ears but I don’t say anything about it. He doesn’t mention it either, and I’m not even sure if he knows he said it. My heart is cracking but I wearily hold it together as we tiredly move to his bedroom, collapsing onto his bed without saying a word.

  Later, when I wake up, Ethan is sitting up in bed, facing away from me. I stare at his back, which suddenly feels like an insurmountable wall. I already know what he’s thinking, and I wish I had more time to steel myself against what I know is coming next.

  I wish my stupid, hopeful heart had already caught up to what my mind knew.

  “Ethan?” I ask; there’s no sense putting it off.

  I sit up, wrapping the sheet around myself, and Ethan turns around. He gives me a small smile and my heart breaks at the apology in it.

  “Sorry, Georgia,” he says.

  “Don’t be,” I say instantly. “It wasn’t just you in this, you know.”

  “I know,” Ethan sighs. He pauses. “I love you, you know.”

  My heart breaks again. I know exactly how he means that.

  “I know,” I say with a nod. “You’re my best friend, Ethan.” I give him a smile, hoping that it doesn’t look as sad as it feels. “I know you don’t love me the way you loved Polly.”

  “I feel like I’ve just used you in the worst way possible,” Ethan confesses.

  “It’s fine, Ethan,” I say. It isn’t, but I need him to think it is. I can still salvage this and have Ethan in my life. “Last night… It was all just about physical comfort.”

  Ethan winces. Part of me is savagely pleased at that, because I’m hurting really badly and I’m hardly a saint.

  “Sorry,” he says again.

  “Stop apologizing,” I say with a laugh. But the sound is unnatural, so I stop quickly. “Look, we can just forget about it, right? It happened, but we’ve been friends for so long that it doesn’t have to mean anything at all.”

  Ethan looks at me with the hope of a drowning man.

  “Yeah?” he asks.

  “Yeah,” I confirm. I wriggle in place and grin at him. “Now, if you don’t mind, I need a shower, then we’ll go pick Lily up. We’re going to get through this, Ethan, all of it.”

  “Thank you,” Ethan whispers.

  I grab a robe off the floor, wrap it around myself, and flee the room. Only when I’m safely in the bathroom do I crouch on the floor and finally dissolve into silent tears. I knew it was coming.

  But that didn’t make this any easier.

  I start awake from my dream.

  It’s still dark outside and I glance at the digital clock beside the bed. The red numbers glow eerily in the room, telling me that it’s five-thirty in the morning. My body feels heavy with tiredness and my eyes are drooping but my head is spinning with too many thoughts to catch.

  Worse yet, I feel very empty. Going to bed feeling bad, and now dreaming about that time… I roll over and face the wall, curling around my pillow.

  It isn’t fair. Ten years ago, Lily was born and Polly was gone. Ethan came to me for comfort and I was stupid enough to believe that one night would be enough for me. I had expected Ethan to apologize the next morning, hard as it had been, and I had half hoped that getting that one night would help me finally get over Ethan.

  Except it didn’t. I just wanted him even more, and my heart broke over and over and over. I must be a masochist to do this to myself; I’ve spent over ten years at the side of the man I love, watching as he never once looks my way.

  I can’t keep doing this to myself. The thought comes abruptly, and it feels huge and terrifying. But I know, without a doubt, that it’s true. I love Ethan and Lily…but I can’t do this anymore. Don’t I deserve to be happy? I know Ethan doesn’t ask me to stay at his side, that it’s a choice I made long ago, so I’m not angry at him for doing this to me.

  I sigh and close my eyes. There has to be a solution, somewhere. I just need to find it.

  Chapter Three

  Ethan

  I yawn widely, stretching my arms over my head. It was a long time before I managed to get to sleep last night, thoughts still whirling in my head. Then, when my alarm clock rang out that morning, I almost fell back asleep.

  Thankfully, Lily had come in to jump on me, shrieking about being late for school if I didn’t get moving. From there, it was a flurry of activity as the two of us rushed around the house, and I barely remembered to grab the thermos of coffee that Georgia had put by for me before she left the house that morning. Once I got to work, I sent my friend a quick message of thanks.
Sometimes I really don’t know what I would do without her.

  “Long night?” Trevor Reynolds asks with a grin, lifting a wooden beam.

  “No, just thinking a lot,” I say with another yawn. “Georgia was over; I got home later than I meant to, and I didn’t want to send her home that late.”

  “Doesn’t she live a few streets away?” Trevor asks teasingly.

  I shoot him a glare, not answering. Trevor likes to tease me about the nature of my relationship with Georgia Turner, who has been around for most of my life. He doesn’t seem to understand how a woman can be one of my best and oldest friends, yet the two of us aren’t fucking.

  There’s no way I’ll ever tell him what happened between us ten years ago when I was desperate for comfort some months after Polly left me. I’d never hear the end of it.

  “She was babysitting for me,” I say frostily.

  “That woman is more a mom to Lily than her own mother,” Trevor says, shaking his head. “You might as well make it official.”

  “I don’t look at Georgia like that, or her at me,” I say tiredly. Why do I have to keep saying the same things over and over again? “We don’t have that sort of relationship.”

  Trevor just snorts. He and Georgia get along very well and, oddly, he started teasing me about her after the first time we all went to dinner with some of our other co-workers. No matter how many times I insist that Georgia and I will only ever be friends, he just doesn’t seem to get the hint.

  It could be worse, though. I put up with his teasing because I know it isn’t mean-spirited. Trevor is one of the few friends that I have outside the Roughshod Rollers, though he gets along well with both Kyle and Grant. Often, he laughs that he’d like to join us…except he’s deathly afraid of motorbikes and wouldn’t be able to keep up with the rest of us on his bicycle.

  “Well, anyway, you look like death warmed over,” Trevor says. “Are you sure you’re alright for today?”