Chapter 24
Lydia woke up slowly with Baddy's hands on her. She rolled toward him in bed. Without opening her eyes, she tilted her head and puckered her lips.
He sank his fingers into her hair, holding her in place. She fought to open her eyelids because the onslaught of arousal flooding her kept them closed.
He tightened his grip, forcing her to look at him. "Fuck, you're beautiful."
Then, he kissed her.
No, he kissed her.
She wrapped her legs around his waist, and he rolled until she was on top of him. His tongue tangled with hers, and his cock pressed against her sex. After yesterday, she stopped fighting her feelings. She couldn't deny herself the pleasure of being with him.
Her nipples peaked, and she ran her hand over the soft patch of hair on his chest. She matched each stroke of his tongue, each nibble on her lip, and when he pushed his hand through her hair, she moaned.
He gave her hard and fast, and she loved that he knew exactly what she needed without her asking.
His lips molded to her perfectly. Delicious goosebumps broke out along her arms as his whiskers caressed her sensitive lips, heightening her arousal. It was only the two of them, and every fantastic feeling that came with them being together.
The memories of their night together were more special than anything she had in her life. An experience. A moment. A dream.
Nothing in her life compared to touching him, being with him, smelling him, and having him sink deep inside her. Nothing. Not her job at the diner, not her childhood, and not the pretend world she'd fantasized about while looking through her photo album.
Baddy made her feel complete.
He moved his other hand to her ass and slid her down his body. Her heat rested on his crotch, eliciting a groan from him and a whine for more from her. She was going to explode in a flurry of pleasure if he kept touching her.
She drew a deep breath, the tingle on her sensitized lips lingering after the kiss, and she knew he sensed it too.
Finally, he spoke. "One more before we need to leave."
"Yes." She lowered her mouth to his neck, sucking, licking, and creating a pulse deep in his body that played over her tongue, letting her know he enjoyed what she was doing.
She planted her hands on his chest, and that sleepy, tousled look of his settled right between her legs.
She pushed to a sitting position on top of him and flung her hair down her back.
A slow smile came to his lips. "Fuck me, sweetheart."
He looked down at her sitting on top of him. Her stomach twitched with pleasure. She was more grateful than ever that she didn't get fully dressed after their last time. It was one less layer of fabric between them.
She leaned over him, rubbing against his hardness. "I don't want to go back to real life."
"Once I check in at the clubhouse, I'll come to you in your apartment," he said.
She moistened her lips. "I almost wish I had to work today, so time went faster." She paused, taking a breath and meeting his eyes. "Will you stay tonight with me?"
"Yeah." He closed his eyes for an extra beat, and she gave him the time to absorb what she'd said. She deserved more than a quick fuck. She wanted a relationship. When he wasn't working or hanging around the compound, she wanted to be with him.
He cupped the weight of her breasts. He had the ability to crush her heart. To give him that power over her put her at a disadvantage.
But he was different than her mom's biker boyfriends. He wasn't using her.
"Is this really happening?" she whispered.
"Feel me," he whispered back. "I'm here, aren't I?"
She blinked to focus her eyes. "I want this to be real."
"It's real, sweetheart." He ignored what they were getting ready to do and hooked her neck, bringing her down on his chest. "I'm here."
She swallowed hard. She'd thought for too long that she would never find someone to love. That she'd go through life lonely. It was hard to believe this was really happening.
"Can you handle someone my age?" He stroked her back.
She closed her eyes and nodded. She loved that he was older than her.
"I'm serious, sweetheart." His hands stopped moving. "Can you handle my lifestyle?"
She lifted her head and gazed into his eyes. "I can if you're with me."
He studied her. "Yeah."
She pushed on his chest to sit back up and continue what they were doing, but suddenly found herself thrown in the air and tucked under Baddy's body, his weight settled between her legs.
Her breath, already fast, left her completely. He was magnificent, all hard angles and muscles in a solid body.
Baddy grabbed a condom from the bed. She lifted her head and watched him. His arousal stood proud and hard, like its owner.
He settled between her legs, his cock pressed against her sex, and stilled above her. "Ready?"
She nodded.
"Good." He pressed forward and entered her with a smooth thrust, his eyes staying locked on hers.
She spread her hands across his chest, tracing the intricate tattoo at the base of his throat and spreading over his pecs.
He moved, and all thoughts of taking her time to look at his body escaped her. She pulled him down, pressing her lips to his and accepting his tongue. She needed more of him. He stroked her mouth and her sex, and the two similar sensations flowed through her body, making her skin vibrate.
She took every inch of him, arching up, pressing against him, touching him everywhere, grabbing for traction, and meeting him halfway. Desperate, greedy, and bold enough to let him know that only he sparked these impulses inside her, she eagerly accepted everything he offered.
He pulled her legs apart and positioned her ass higher, holding her hips off the bed.
She panted, knowing in this position she'd have every inch of him inside her. He stared down at their bodies, connected by the same hunger growing in her.
"Want you," he said, which came out more like a grunt of approval. "Every fucking night."
His gravelly voice soothed her soul, and she nodded her agreement. That's all she ever wanted. He needed her the same way she needed him.
He moved his hips, never taking his gaze off her. She grabbed onto the bedspread, and when he placed his finger over her clit, she moaned and brought her legs up to his shoulders. He leaned forward, bracing his hands on the mattress beside her head.
She wanted to remain right here for the rest of time, with Baddy inside of her and her legs wrapped around his body.
The power of his strokes increased, the desperate need for release built, and she gasped. He loosened her clutch on the blanket and linked their hands together.
He drove faster and deeper, touching parts of her that had never been touched. Her muscles clenched and spasmed, stretching and reaching.
"Yeah," he said. "Give it to me, sweetheart. Give me everything."
She gave him everything. Flailing her head, she moaned.
Baddy leaned forward, burying his face in her neck.
His groan vibrated against her skin as each wave of her orgasm drew him closer.
She slipped her hands out of his and wrapped her arms around his neck.
His weight pressed down on her with a groan of pleasure, and she lay there, breathing heavy, skin to skin, hearts pounding.
Against her ear, he whispered, "You're mine, sweetheart."
Bikers were a different breed, and although she grew up in the lifestyle, anything less than bossy and demanding from him would be a disappointment. She took his overprotective stance and stubbornness for what it was—him taking care of her.
He was different than the boyfriends her mother had. Baddy was devoted and satisfied with her. He made her feel better about herself and never put her down. He never humiliated her in front of others.
He respected her, even when they were alone.
She closed her eyes. This completeness and connection with Baddy were what she'd waited for. He was the picture of love and family that she yearned for.
"Am I, really?" she said, snuggling closer.
"Yeah." He kissed the side of her neck, then grinned—a sexy, knowing, full smile that curved his lips and the corners of his eyes. "I'm not fucking around."
She laughed softly and shook her head. He rolled to his side, taking her with him. She yawned in contentment. This was the happiest she'd ever been.