Chapter Thirty-Four
THE WIND WHIPPED against my face as the motorcycle roared down the highway, the engine’s vibration thrumming through every part of me.
I held on tight, my arms wrapped around Chain’s solid frame, my cheek pressed to his back.
The world blurred into streaks of dark and light, the hum of speed drowning out every thought that tried to claw its way in.
Having sex with Chain had been something I wanted—needed—but until it happened, I hadn’t known how I’d react. I’d only ever known the ugly side of it. The pain. The punishment. The way it had been used to remind me of what I wasn’t allowed to want.
But with Chain, it was different.
I’d promised myself I’d live. That I wouldn’t keep hiding behind fear or what the past tried to carve into me.
And it was like he knew.
He hadn’t gone slow, hadn’t treated me like I was fragile. He’d been rough and strong and real. I didn’t want soft. I wanted to be taken, to feel wanted, to stop thinking and just be.
It was everything I didn’t know I was starving for.
And it scared the hell out of me.
Because giving myself to a man—trusting him with that part of me—meant letting go of the control I’d fought so hard to keep. And yet, God help me, I wanted to give Chain everything.
I just didn’t know if I could survive it.
His hand slid down to my thigh as we turned onto the familiar road leading toward the clubhouse, his touch casual but grounding. My heart lifted a little, the corners of my mouth tugging up without permission. For once, the ache inside me wasn’t heavy.
Even with his rough edges, with the danger that came with the club, I knew Chain was good. The kind of good that didn’t need to be perfect. He’d never hurt me—at least not the way men had before. But I wasn’t na?ve enough to think a man couldn’t break you in other ways.
We pulled up in front of the clubhouse, gravel crunching beneath the tires. I swung my leg off and steadied myself as Chain killed the engine. The sudden quiet made my ears ring.
He climbed off after me, boots hitting the ground, eyes finding mine beneath the low wash of the porch light. His voice dropped low—husky.
“Stay with me tonight.”
Simple words shouldn’t excite me, but a slow burn lit up in my chest, spreading outward like someone striking a match too close to my ribs.
I wanted to. God, I wanted to. But the pull between us terrified me more than anything. I was already too close, already tethered in ways I couldn’t explain.
“Let me take a shower first,” I said, my voice softer than I meant it to be, breath catching around the syllables.
Chain’s mouth curved, not quite a smile. “I could take one with you.”
My pulse jumped. “Do people do that?”
“Yeah.” His breath brushed my ear, a quiet rasp. “They do.”
The heat that rolled through me had nothing to do with the humid South Carolina night. It pooled low, twisting sharp and sweet, igniting something I’d kept buried.
“Okay,” I said before I could talk myself out of it.
His fingers brushed mine as we started walking toward my room, not quite holding, not quite letting go. The air between us had changed—thicker now, charged. Every breath tasted like tension.
I told myself it was just another new experience—one more step in learning how to live. But deep down, I knew it was more than that. It was him. It was me, unraveling.
The room felt smaller than usual when we stepped inside. The hum of the air conditioner couldn’t cut through the weight in the air. Chain closed the door behind us, and the sound of the lock clicking was louder than it should’ve been.
He didn’t move at first. Just stood there, watching me. His eyes weren’t demanding—they were patient, dark, focused. But there was heat behind them. A quiet, aching hunger he wasn’t hiding.
I turned toward the bathroom, heart pounding so hard it felt like it echoed in my bones. My hands fumbled with the hem of my shirt, nerves tangling with something molten and rising.
Before I could pull it over my head, Chain stepped in close—so close I could feel the warmth of his breath on the back of my neck. His hand slid over mine, stopping me.
“Hey,” he said quietly, voice low and rough. “If you need space just tell me, and I’ll understand.”
“I know.” And I did. That was the problem. He meant it.
Still, I wanted him there. Needed him there.
“But I want you here,” I whispered.
The bathroom lights were dim, soft gold against the steam curling through the air. I could barely see my own reflection, just the faint impression of flushed cheeks and eyes too bright.
I stepped beneath the spray first, the water searing hot across my skin, but I needed that heat—needed something to match the riot building inside me.
Chain joined me a moment later, and the space shrank. Steam blurred his edges, but I could still feel him everywhere, close enough to taste, to breathe in. Water ran down his chest in rivulets, carving through muscle and old scars. I couldn’t stop staring.
For a breath, neither of us moved. That tension still hung between us, taut and trembling.
Then he reached for me, one hand at my waist, the other brushing a wet strand of hair behind my ear. The touch was light. Tentative. His thumb skimmed my cheekbone, then traced the curve of my jaw.
“You’re sure?” he asked, voice rough with restraint.
“Yes,” I said, barely louder than the water. “I want to experience this with you.”
Something in his expression shifted, like a thread had snapped, one he’d been holding too tightly.
His mouth found mine in the next breath, no hesitation this time.
The kiss started soft, but it deepened quickly—hungry, heated.
Our mouths slid wet and open, breath catching, hands wandering.
His palm splayed over my lower back, pulling me flush against him, and I gasped into the kiss at the feel of him—hard, solid, ready.
My hands explored without thinking—over his shoulders, down the ridges of his spine, nails grazing skin and drawing a low sound from his throat that set something primal loose in me.
We moved like we couldn’t get close enough.
Water pounded down around us, but all I could feel was him.
His hands cupped the back of my thighs, lifting me easily, my back pressed to the cool tile wall.
I wrapped my legs around his waist instinctively, breath catching as the slick heat of him slid against me—close, so close.
“Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmured against my neck, lips dragging a wet path along my throat.
“It’s not,” I whispered. “Don’t stop.”
His mouth moved lower, lips and tongue finding the hollow of my collarbone, the curve of my breast, worshipping every inch of me like I was something sacred—not broken, not fragile—just wanted.
My head fell back, a soft moan slipping out as he teased, kissed, took his time. Every touch was deliberate, reverent—yet there was a tension building between us, aching and impossible to ignore.
I rocked my hips against him, desperate for friction, for connection. “Chain…”
His groan was low, ragged. “Fuck. You feel like heaven.”
Then he found me with his fingers—slow at first, gentle, sliding through slickness and heat. He kissed me as he touched me, deep and full, like he couldn’t bear the distance. I clung to him, chest pressed to his, skin to skin, every nerve lit up.
“Please,” I whispered against his mouth, not even sure what I was begging for.
“I’ve got you,” he said, voice cracked open with want. “Let me take care of you.”
And he did.
His movements grew more insistent, mouth returning to my neck, my shoulder, my lips, until I was unraveling in his arms—hips jerking, nails biting into his back, cries swallowed by steam and water and the relentless rhythm of us.
He held me through it, kissed me through it, and when I finally sagged against him, boneless and trembling, he didn’t let me go.
“You’re incredible,” he murmured, forehead pressed to mine, breath shaky. “You don’t even know.”
I smiled against his mouth, heart still racing, pulse wild.
“Show me, then,” I said.
And he did—again, and again, and again—until the water ran cold and we couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.
***
WE MADE IT back to the bedroom still wet, still half-dazed. Chain toweled off in silence, muscles shifting with each motion, but his eyes stayed on me—watchful, steady. Waiting.
He thought I was worn out.
He didn’t know I was just getting started. Chain had woken up something inside me that had been hiding just waiting on the right man to come along.
I walked to him slowly, water still beading on my skin, hair clinging to my back. He reached for me instinctively, but I caught his wrist mid-air and pushed gently back.
“Lie down,” I said.
His eyes flared—surprise first, then something darker.
Want, yes, but threaded with a kind of awe.
He didn’t argue. Just stepped back and let the backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed.
He lowered himself, slow and obedient, until he was stretched out across the mattress, hands at his sides, cock already stirring again just from the look I was giving him.
I stood over him, letting the silence stretch. His breath had gone uneven. I could see it in the rise of his chest. He didn’t look away.
“You liked taking care of me?” I asked softly, climbing up onto the bed, straddling his hips.
He swallowed hard. “Fuck yeah.”
I leaned down, bracing my hands on his chest. “Let me take care of you now.”
His breath caught.
He was still breathing hard beneath me, heartbeat hammering against my cheek where I lay sprawled across his chest. His skin was hot, slick with sweat, and every now and then his fingers twitched like he was still reeling.
I let the silence hang. Let him think maybe it was over.
Then I shifted.
Slowly. Intentionally.
I dragged my nails down his ribs, featherlight at first. He flinched, muscles jumping beneath my touch, but didn’t stop me.
Good.
I kissed the hollow of his throat, then bit—not hard, just enough to make him hiss and tilt his head back to offer more. His pulse pounded against my lips.
“Thought you were spent,” I murmured, voice dark and amused.
“I—fuck—I was.”
“But not anymore,” I corrected, tongue flicking across the mark I’d left.
My hand slid down his stomach, slow as smoke, until I found him already twitching back to life. I didn’t touch him properly—just let my fingers hover, ghosting so close it made him jerk.
I kissed him slow, then hard—tongue dragging across his bottom lip, biting gently, taking my time. My hands roamed lower, nails grazing down his ribs, then lower still, fingers wrapping around him, stroking until his hips lifted under me.
“Lark—fuck,” he rasped. “You’re gonna kill me.”
“Good,” I whispered against his jaw. “Then die slow.”
He laughed, breathless. But the sound turned to a groan as I shifted my hips, dragging myself down over him without letting him in. Teasing. Controlling. His cock slick against my thigh, twitching as I rolled my hips just enough to make him feel it, but not enough to give him what he wanted.
“Fuck me,” he said, and the sound of him begging lit something wild in me.
“I like you like this,” I murmured. “Under me. Needing me.”
I grabbed his wrists, pushed them above his head, pinning them to the mattress. His biceps flexed, but he didn’t move. Didn’t try to take control back.
I leaned down, lips brushing his ear. “Don’t move unless I tell you to.”
His breath stuttered. “Lark?”
A wicked thrill danced through me. I kissed him again, slower now—dragging my tongue along the edge of his mouth, down his neck, across his chest. I took my time with him, biting, tasting, making him twitch and curse and strain beneath me.
When I finally lined us up and sank down on him, we both gasped—but I didn’t let him thrust. I held him down with my thighs, rocking slow, making him take it the way I wanted.
His eyes fluttered shut. “Fuck, Lark, you feel—shit, you feel so good—”
“Look at me,” I said, and when he obeyed, I rode him harder, faster, chasing my own pleasure and using every movement of my body to own him.
The bed rocked beneath us. My hands pressed to his chest as I ground against him, using him like he was mine—because right now, he was.
“I’ve got you,” I whispered, breath hitching. “You’re not going anywhere.”
“Don’t want to,” he said, voice breaking. “You’ve got me, darlin’. Fuck— I’m yours.”
And I felt it—that sharp, hot coil inside me snapping loose, spilling over as my body clamped around him. I rode it out with a cry, nails digging into his skin as I pulsed around him, pleasure crashing like a wave.
He followed me seconds later, hips jerking up into mine, voice raw and wrecked, eyes locked on mine as he gave in—completely.
When I collapsed onto his chest, both of us soaked in sweat and breathless, he wrapped his arms around me like I was the only thing keeping him tethered to this earth.
“Holy shit,” he said softly. “You’re dangerous.”
I smiled against his skin. “Only if you’re lucky.”