Chapter 8 Xiara
“ H old on tight.”
That’s the last thing Bullseye said to me before he started the engine on his Harley, and we rolled away from the curb, gliding across the pavement on a death machine that rumbled beneath us. The vibrations travel straight up my legs, through my thighs, and seem to center in my core. I squirm on the seat as the friction is just the right amount pressing into my clit through my jeans. With my legs spread and my arms around Bullseye’s waist, I can’t help feeling the urge to grind against the seat.
Heat blossoms in my cheeks as I realize the ride is turning me on.
The longer we remain seated on the leather, the more I can’t help comparing this feeling to the gentle buzz of a vibrator. If I held one in place, it would rest against that sensitive bundle of nerves and cause the same waves of pleasure to course through me.
Now, all I can think about is sex. I’ve been deprived for far too long, and the need in my body is coiling tight, threatening to release with a toe-curling orgasm that’ll leave me breathless and aching for more. My hands press tighter to Bullseye’s abs and the taut muscles that flex beneath my fingers. They contract every time he exhales, and I wonder if he’s as sexy as I imagine without his clothes.
It’s not like I haven’t noticed he’s fucking hot. It isn’t just the dark ink and his confident smile. He has strong shoulders that seem capable of handling every burden and a sweet side that compliments his gruff, biker persona. He helped Xaden with his bike, taught him how to repair it, and tossed the football around in the yard. What kind of man did that for a kid he didn’t know?
A good one. I know that for a fact.
Since we met, I’ve kept Bullseye at arm’s length for multiple reasons. They’ve all mattered. But seeing him with Xaden tonight also proves he’s not just a guy in a motorcycle club. Dangerous? Yes. A threat? Not at all.
I think of how he helped me when I had a panic attack. His words and actions were gentle and concerned. He’s never been cruel or rough, even when he pressed me against my door. The blatant attraction in his hazel eyes worried me before. It doesn’t now. He’s not the type of guy to force himself on a woman.
Bullseye told that blonde skank Heidi to get lost, and I haven’t seen her return. I’m not na?ve enough to think he’s not fucking a lot of women. There doesn’t seem to be any shortage of eager girls after his dick or any of the other Vipers. I get that. It’s the lifestyle they lead, and no one walks into it blind.
I wouldn’t want a new guy in my bed every night, but there is one biker I’m considering. I want to drop the walls I’ve erected and let in a little warmth. I need a rough ride and a few hours to erase all the trauma and pain of the past. There’s a part of me that needs to let loose and be wild, to feel freedom and allow myself to have fun.
Bullseye is the perfect man to fulfill all my fantasies.
The ride ends as I muse over all these crazy thoughts. He parks in his driveway, and we both take off our helmets and inhale the cooler night air. I’m still amped up and, to be honest, horny. I can’t deny it.
When I rise off the seat, I hiss as my jeans rub against my sensitive clit. I nearly moan.
“Xiara?” Bullseye turns, catching my expression.
“Damn, Babe. You okay?”
I nod. “No,” I whisper and nibble on my bottom lip.
He frowns. “What,” he begins when my hand slides down my body to cup my pussy.
I bet I’ve gotten the material damp inside. My panties are probably soaked. This is completely out of character for me, but I can’t help how I feel.
Bullseye swallows so loudly that I know he understands. “Babe. You gotta tell me what you want and need before I act on it myself.”
“The bike,” I try to explain. “The vibrations. They,” I say and falter.
His eyes darken, and he reaches for my hand, tugging me across my lawn, up the stairs on my front porch, and straight to my door. Within a heartbeat, I’ve got my back against the wood, and the night has engulfed us in shadows. Bullseye’s knee stabs between my thighs as he grips my hip.
I’m breathing hard and panting with a need I find hard to describe. My clit is throbbing, and I just need him to touch me . “Bullseye.”
“Fuck, Precious. Give me permission. Tell me to make you feel good.”
“Please,” I beg, and it’s all I get out before he pops the button on my jeans and lowers the zipper. I can’t think beyond the blatant lust I see in his eyes. There’s just enough light for me to notice.
My inked neighbor’s fingers slide beneath the band of my underwear, and then he’s spreading me open, dipping through my slit before he’s pushing two of those thick fingers inside me. “Fuck, Baby. You’re soaking wet.”
I can’t hold back a moan when he begins to pump, giving me part of what I’m aching for, but it’s not enough. My hips start to rock as I grind into his hand. I’ve never been this wanton or sex-crazed. It’s like my brain is completely overtaken by need and desire.
“Use me, Xiara. Come on my fingers.”
I gasp as he withdraws them, tugs on my jeans, and gives him better access. A heartbeat thumps my chest before he’s sliding into my pussy again, pumping into me as his thumb presses down on my clit. “Bullseye,” I groan, arching my back while his lips pepper kisses along my neck. His teeth nibble a pathway up to my ear, and it’s the harsh breaths he can’t hold back that let me know he’s just as turned on as I am.
My legs wrap around his waist as he lifts me. We’re grinding into each other, bumping into my door, and I don’t care about the noises we’re making. It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever done in my life.
I don’t want this to end. I can’t let it. Bullseye’s entire focus is on my clit and bringing me to completion. He knows exactly how deep to go, and he curls his fingers, reaching my G-spot. I jolt as my thighs shake. I’ve never wanted anything as badly as I want his cock inside me when I come.
If he freed his erection right now, I’d impale myself on him. That’s how far gone I am.
It doesn’t take long for me to reach the peak and topple over. I’m crying his name as he keeps moving his talented fingers, dragging out the euphoria that’s permeating every cell in my body. My hips jerk, and I can feel the sticky mess between my legs as he watches my expressions and filthy words tumble from his mouth. I’m unable to comprehend all he’s saying. It’s like I’m in a fog.
I don’t know how well he can see my face, but the hunger in his eyes is unmistakable. We’re so close that our mouths are only a few inches apart. I suddenly want to kiss him and tilt my head up, pulling him toward me as I press the heel of my hand against his shoulders. His lips hover above mine, but there’s no connection.
Instead, he maintains a tiny gap, keeping our lips apart.
The tension in that almost kiss is almost too much to handle. I don’t have a chance to dwell on it because he’s pressing the thick bulge in his jeans against my core, and it reminds me that I’m not fully satisfied. Did I come? Yes. But it’s not the same. His fingers have skills, but it’s his cock I want to feel next time.
I don’t realize how hard I’m rocking my hips or how desperately I want more of him until his low laughter fills the silence.
“Keep grinding against my thigh like that, Darlin’, and I’ll be taking you rough against this door while my cock stretches your pussy for the whole world to see.”
Jesus. This man and his dirty words.
“I know you want my dick, and I’m down to fuck you hard enough to capture every one of your sweet little moans in my mouth, but you need to know it’s just sex. Fucking ,” he clarifies as my eyes widen like I don’t know what the word means. It’s almost insulting. “No woman has a claim to me.”
I blink, processing his words, and with them, the lust that has been clouding my brain begins to fade. The pulsing in my core, however, is a reminder that the man knows how to use his fingers, which only leads me to the conclusion he’s just as accomplished with his cock. It’s an internal war waging in my brain as I pant, neither of us moving.
His words repeat in my head, and I wonder if this is an attempt to fight the attraction we feel. But if that’s true, why does he keep coming around? And that’s not all. He hasn’t withdrawn from my pussy yet.
He’s got me pressed against my front door, hands down the front of my pants, fingers still curled inside me, and it occurs to me that one little word, yes , is all he needs to hear to push me inside the house and make me come the way my body is begging him to do. I hesitate. It’s so fucking fast I think there’s no way he knows the pattern my thoughts have formed.
I’m wrong.
“There it is,” he concludes, fingers twitching inside me. His other hand rises and rests against my throat, tightening reflexively. “Not interested if I can’t commit?”
“I didn’t say that,” I counter, annoyed by his question and the truth that roughly clings to it.
“Don’t need you to, princess. It’s written all over your pretty face.”
“What if I tell you that you’re wrong?”
“You’re not that kind of girl, Xiara. You want the fairytale.”
Fairytale? I want to scoff, but he’s right. I want the bad boy and the happily ever after.
Bullseye knows me better than I know myself. Almost.
His fingers slide free from my body, and I nearly groan with the loss, shocked when they rise and slide into his mouth. He makes a loud, drawn-out show of licking and sucking each digit clean, grinning when I can’t seem to look away.
“You taste delicious.”
God. Why is that so sexy? He’s looking at me like I’m his next meal, and a part of me wants to twist the knob on my door and say fuck it. For once, will it hurt for me to be a little wild and carefree? To stop being the responsible good girl and enjoy a night of carnal delights with a man who can give me all the pleasure I’m missing? Because it sounds so fucking good .
“I can’t give myself away like that,” I finally whisper, disappointed in myself more than him. He’s a biker. A wild, tattooed bad boy who isn’t shy about what he wants and speaks the truth about it. I appreciate his honesty. Hell, it’s refreshing to make out with a guy who isn’t lying or playing games. I’ve dated enough of that type in the past. “I wish I could,” I mutter.
There’s a flash of regret in his eyes, maybe the same disappointment I feel, before his lips twitch with humor. At least, I think it’s humor. Or maybe irony. “That’s the reason I’m walking, Beautiful.”
His palm slides down from my neck skims my breasts and glides across my stomach before resting at my hip. With both hands, he grips me against him, and I don’t miss the hard length of his erection as his gaze remains heated.
“It looks like you’re trying to stay,” I point out, slightly humored that neither of us is listening to our brains. We’re lust-locked, gazes holding out in the hope that one of us will say fuck it.
But we don’t.
“Bullseye.”
His road name tumbles easily from my lips, but I want to know his real name, not the one everyone else calls him. Why? I don’t know. Maybe it’s because he just had two fingers inside me, or I know the intimate husk of his voice when he’s turned on. Or hell, it could be the way he’s staring at me like even if we fuck right now, once will never be enough.
There’s so much chemistry between us. The kind of spark you read about in romance novels, but you know doesn’t truly exist. And it’s that current of electricity, smoldering with heat in his hazel, bottomless eyes, that cinch it.
We might walk away today, but sometime in the future, we’ll both give in. Really, I’m the deciding factor. Today, I’m choosing logic over what I feel. Tomorrow? Next week? A month from now? I don’t know how long I’ll hold out before I decide I need this man to fulfill every dark fantasy I’ve got.
And the sexy, quiet, brooding, intimidating biker senses it. Something flickers in his gaze too fast for me to pin down, but I think he has me all figured out, which is incredibly frustrating. I don’t want to be an open book he can read with my heart barely taped to my shirtsleeve, where he can rip into it whenever he wishes. Not that I think he’s some douchebag that gets off on that sort of thing, but the trail of tears left behind from my numerous failed relationships is far too transparent and glaringly bright for me to ignore.
And then there’s Heidi and the club girls or sweetbutts or whatever the bikers call them and whoever else he regularly fucks. How do I factor in? Am I another notch on a bedpost? He says no woman claims him. That’s a bullshit defense mechanism. Even I can see that.
I don’t even know what to say as he searches my eyes like he’s waiting for something I can’t share. It always comes back to this with every guy I’ve tried to get close to in the last five years, and in my heart, I know the reason: Xaden. The weight of the responsibility for my brother overshadows my own desires and needs. He’s the reason I work a job I hate and sacrifice daily so he doesn’t have to live on peanut butter and ramen. Xaden needs me. I’m all he has left.
The porch light flicks on, and the blinding light steals Bullseye from my sight as I jolt. In a flash, I’m zipping up my jeans and straightening my clothes.
Bullseye’s hands disappear from my hips and take his warmth from my body. I shiver as the space between us feels like miles instead of inches apart. He’s still here. I feel him standing close, but he doesn’t say a word before I hear his boots scuff the wooden floorboards on the porch and then go silent.
Blinking in the light, I finally adjust in time to catch his swagger as he reaches his lawn. There’s no backward glance or acknowledgment that he can feel my stare as it roams every inked, muscled inch of his body. But as two motorcycles pull onto his driveway, I see a slight shift in his demeanor, and he cants his head to the side, showing his profile and the curve of a smile as it dances on his lips.
Somehow, I know it’s just for me and has nothing to do with his club brothers as they shut down the engines on their bikes. It’s a sea of black leather and denim as more members show up. I finally turn around and twist the knob, entering my house as I catch my brother standing by the window. His arms are crossed over his chest, and he’s wearing a scowl. He doesn’t have to speak for me to understand his disapproval.
As I move to close the door, I hear a whistle, and my head snaps back to the porch, catching the group of bikers as they watch me. Most of them are curious or appreciative in their glances, checking me out but not in a lewd way. It felt more like an assessment or approval. Two tick their chins at me: cash and Zoo. I think. None of their gazes linger. Well, all but one. The only biker to stare at me with raw hunger is the one I nearly brought inside. The same inked bad boy I thought I hated a few weeks ago—the one who helped my brother.
Bullseye doesn’t tear his gaze away even after the others all head inside the house and leave him alone. It’s not until the door completely shuts that I’m cut off from his dark, predatory stare. When I lean against the wood, trying hard to steady my breathing, I realize I’m fucked.
I want Bullseye, and I don’t know if I can resist him for long.
Xaden huffs and stomps off, too tired or frustrated to carry on a conversation. It’s just as well. I don’t have the energy to argue right now. It’s late, and I want a bath, some wine, and maybe a few minutes alone without bikers or my brother invading my space. To be honest, I’m still feeling achy between my thighs and will probably grab my vibrator.
Xaden slams his door upstairs, and I sigh. It’s going to be a long night. I trudge upstairs and head into my room, grabbing my pajamas and favorite tool. As I enter the bathroom, I start filling the tub.
My mind wanders, and I can’t help feeling like there are too many guys around. A girl needs a break from testosterone once in a while. Maybe I should get a cat. Or a dog. Another female will balance the scales around here.
I light a few candles, sink into the bubbles, and let the warm water soothe my restless soul.