Chapter 16 #2
He kills the engine in the driveway, swings off, then reaches for me.
His hands are steady under my arms as he lifts me down like I weigh nothing, setting my boots on the ground.
Before I can take a step he’s already moving, grabbing the seat, scooting back so there’s room, then hooking one arm around my waist and pulling me right back onto the bike.
This time I’m facing him.
My thighs spread wide over his lap, straddling the tank, knees braced on either side of his hips.
The bike’s still warm from the ride; the heat seeps through my jeans and into my core.
His hands settle on my ass, pulling me flush against him so I can feel exactly how hard he is through both our layers.
“Hi,” I whisper, half-laughing, half-breathless.
He doesn’t answer with words.
His mouth crashes into mine, hungry, claiming, tasting like snow and smoke and the victory he still hasn’t let me forget.
One gloved hand slides up my back under my jacket, the other cups the nape of my neck, tilting my head so he can deepen the kiss.
Tongues slide, teeth graze, and I’m already rocking against him without thinking, grinding down on the thick ridge of his cock.
He breaks the kiss just long enough to rasp against my lips, “You lost tonight, firecracker. That means you’re mine to play with however I want right here. Right now.”
My breath hitches. “Outside?”
“Porch light’s on. Fence is high. Snow’s covering everything else.” His thumb strokes the fresh film over the phoenix on my hip through my jeans. “And this mark? Still warm. Still new. I wanna feel you come apart while it’s throbbing under my hands.”
Heat floods me. I nod, small, frantic, and he growls low in approval.
He unzips my jacket slow, deliberate, peeling it off my shoulders and letting it fall to the snow beside the bike.
Cold air bites my arms, my collarbone, but his mouth is already on my neck, open-mouthed kisses, sucking marks into the skin he exposed last week.
Then he fists the hem of my sweater and drags it up and over my head in one smooth pull.
I’m down to my bra now, nipples already tight peaks under the black lace. The sweater lands somewhere in the snow; I don’t care.
Lucky’s eyes rake over me, dark, possessive. “Fucking beautiful.”
He reaches behind me, fingers deft on the clasp.
One snap, then another, and the bra loosens.
He doesn’t pull it off right away, just drags the straps down my arms slow, letting the cups catch on my nipples before he tugs them free.
My breasts spill out into the cold air; goosebumps race across my skin.
Lucky groans, low, wrecked, and palms both breasts, thumbs brushing the hard tips.
“These are mine too,” he mutters, voice gravel. “Every inch of you. Every fucking part.”
Then his mouth is on me.
He bends, takes one nipple between his lips, hot, wet suction that makes me arch, and sucks hard.
Tongue flicks, swirls, then his teeth graze just enough to sting.
I cry out, fingers twisting in his hair, hips grinding down harder against his cock.
He switches to the other breast, same ruthless attention, licking slow circles, then biting down gently, tugging until I’m whimpering.
“God…Lucky…”
“You’re so sensitive tonight,” he rasps against my skin.
“All worked up from losing. From the ink. From knowing I’m gonna fuck you senseless once we’re inside.
” He sucks harder, pulling the nipple deep, then releases it with a wet pop.
“Come just like this, baby. Come from my mouth on your tits. Let me feel you shake on my lap before I even get you in the house.”
I’m close, dangerously close, just from the heat of his mouth, the cold air on wet skin, the friction of my jeans against his hardness every time I rock.
He keeps going, alternating breasts, sucking, licking, biting, one hand sliding down to press over the phoenix through my jeans, thumb rubbing slow circles right over the fresh mark like he’s coaxing it to life.
“Feel that?” he murmurs, teeth grazing my nipple again. “That phoenix rising while I worship these pretty tits. You’re so fucking strong… and so fucking wet for me. Come on, firecracker. Give it to me. Come all over my lap with my mouth on you.”
The command tips me.
I shatter, back arching, cry sharp and broken in the quiet night, thighs clamping around his hips as pleasure crashes through me. My clit pulses against the seam of my jeans, nipples throbbing in time with my heartbeat, the fresh tattoo burning under his palm like it’s coming alive with me.
He holds me through it, mouth still latched to one breast, sucking softly now, soothing, until the aftershocks fade and I’m trembling, boneless against him.
When he finally lifts his head, his lips are swollen, eyes blown black.
“Inside,” he growls, voice wrecked. “Bed. Now. Gonna strip you slow, eat that sweet pussy until you’re begging, then fuck you until we’re both too spent to move.”
He lifts me off the bike, legs still shaking, scoops up my discarded clothes from the snow, and carries me toward the door.
We barely make it through the front door before the cold night air is replaced by heat, his heat, my heat, the frantic collision of mouths and hands.
The door slams shut behind us, lock clicking into place, and Lucky’s already got me pinned against the entryway wall, coat half-off, boots still on.
His mouth devours mine like he’s starving, tongue deep, teeth grazing my bottom lip until I moan into him.
We strip like it’s a race, jackets yanked off, sweaters tugged over heads, jeans shoved down in rough, impatient pulls.
My bra snaps free under his fingers; his shirt rips at the seam when I claw it off him.
Clothes hit the floor in a wet heap from the melting snow, and then it’s just skin on skin, his hard body pressing me harder against the wall, the cold plaster a shock against my back while his heat scorches everywhere else.
He lifts me effortlessly, hands under my thighs, spreading me wide, and pins me there, my legs wrapped around his waist, the fresh phoenix on my hip throbbing against his palm where he grips me.
Two thick fingers slide inside me without warning, curling deep, thumb finding my clit in the same brutal rhythm he used on my nipples outside.
“Fuck, you’re soaked,” he growls against my throat, teeth scraping the mark he left earlier.
“All this from my mouth on your tits? From the ink I put on you?” His fingers pump faster, harder, the wet sound obscene in the quiet house.
“Come for me again, firecracker. Right here. Drench my hand before I carry you to bed and eat this pussy properly.”
I’m already climbing, too fast, too sharp, nails raking down his back, hips grinding down on his fingers like I can’t get enough.
He crooks them just right, thumb pressing relentless circles on my clit, and I shatter, back bowing off the wall, cry muffled against his shoulder, walls pulsing hard around his fingers as pleasure rips through me in hot, relentless waves.
He doesn’t stop until I’m trembling, boneless, clinging to him like he’s the only thing keeping me upright.
Then he’s moving, lifting me higher, carrying me down the short hall to the bedroom like I weigh nothing.
The door bangs open; he drops me onto the mattress, the sheets cool against my overheated skin.
He follows me down, shoving my thighs apart with rough hands, and buries his face between my legs without preamble.
His tongue is merciless, flat licks up my slit, sucking my clit hard, then dipping inside me like he’s trying to drink every drop of my orgasm. One hand pins my hip down, right over the phoenix, while the other slides two fingers back inside, curling, stroking, matching the rhythm of his tongue.
“Sweetest fucking pussy,” he mutters against me, voice muffled, vibrating straight through my clit. “Taste like mine. Smell like mine. Gonna make you come again, gonna make you scream my name until the neighbors know exactly who owns this cunt.”
I’m already close again, too sensitive, too wound up from the wall, from the bike, from everything. My fingers twist in his hair, hips lifting off the bed, chasing his mouth. He sucks harder, fingers pumping faster, tongue flicking relentlessly until the coil snaps.
I come with a broken cry, back arching, thighs clamping around his head, pulsing hard around his fingers as wave after wave crashes through me. He licks me through it, slow and greedy, drawing it out until I’m whimpering, oversensitive, trying to push his head away with shaking hands.
He rises finally, lips swollen, chin glistening, eyes dark and satisfied as he crawls up my body.
“Three,” he rasps, kissing me deep so I taste myself on his tongue. “Three times tonight and we’re just getting started.”
He settles between my thighs, cock hard and hot against my entrance, but he doesn’t push in yet, just rocks slow, teasing, letting me feel how ready he is.
“Bed’s big,” he murmurs against my mouth. “Got all night. Gonna fuck you slow now. Deep. Gonna make you feel every inch while that phoenix throbs under my hand.”
I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him closer.
“Then do it,” I whisper. “Make me yours again.”
He leans over me, chest still heaving from the way he just ate me out until I came screaming his name, and reaches for the nightstand drawer where he keeps the condoms. His fingers brush the handle, but before he can pull it open, I catch his wrist, gentle, but firm.
“Wait,” I breathe, voice shaky from the aftershocks still rippling through me.
He freezes, dark eyes flicking to mine, questioning.
“I’m clean,” I say, the words tumbling out fast, honest. “And I’m on the pill. Haven’t been with anyone since… well, you know. Years. I got tested last month just to be sure.”
His gaze sharpens, pupils blown wide, breath catching like I just punched the air out of him.
“You saying what I think you’re saying, firecracker?”
I nod, swallowing hard. “Yeah. If you’re…”
“I am,” he cuts in, voice rougher than I’ve ever heard it.
“Clean. Tested right after that last run-in with the club doc. No one since before you walked into my life and fucked everything up in the best way.” He exhales, slow, like he’s forcing himself to stay steady. “You sure? No condom. Just us.”
“I trust you,” I whisper, reaching up to cup his jaw, thumb brushing the stubble there. “I want to feel you. All of you. No barriers.”
Something raw flashes across his face, relief, hunger, possession all at once. He leans down, forehead pressing to mine, breathing me in like he’s memorizing the moment.
“Good,” he rasps, the single word heavy, final. “Because I want nothing between us either.”
He kisses me then, slow, deep, claiming, while he notches himself at my entrance. No rush this time. He pushes in bare, inch by torturous inch, letting me feel every thick slide, every pulse of heat, every ridge until he’s buried to the hilt.
We both groan, long, broken sounds that tangle together in the quiet bedroom.
“Fuck,” he hisses against my mouth. “So hot. So tight. Nothing like this. Nothing like you.”
I wrap my legs around his waist, heels digging into his ass, pulling him deeper. “Move,” I beg. “Please, Lucky…fuck me.”
He does.
Slow at first, deep, rolling thrusts that drag against every sensitive spot inside me, making me gasp with each one. His hand finds the phoenix on my hip again, palm pressing flat over the fresh ink like he’s anchoring to it, like the mark is part of the rhythm now.
“Feel that?” he murmurs, voice wrecked. “My cock bare inside you. My mark on your skin. You’re mine, firecracker. Every fucking part.”
The pace builds, harder, deeper, skin slapping softly, bed creaking under us. He hooks one of my legs over his shoulder, changing the angle until he’s hitting so deep I see stars. His thumb finds my clit again, circling in time with his thrusts, and I’m climbing fast, too fast.
“Lucky…gonna…”
“Yeah,” he growls. “Come on my cock. Come while I’m bare inside you. Let me feel it.”
I shatter, harder than before, walls clamping down around him, pulsing, milking him as pleasure crashes through me in relentless waves.
He swears roughly, thrusts turning erratic, once, twice, then buries himself deep and comes with a guttural groan, pulsing hot and thick inside me, filling me until I feel the overflow slick between us.
He stays buried, breathing hard against my neck, hand still pressed over the phoenix like he’s sealing it with his release.
After a long minute he kisses me soft, mouth, forehead, nose, then eases out slowly, watching his cum drip from me with a satisfied sound.
“Stay,” he murmurs, rolling us so I’m tucked against his chest, legs tangled, his hand splayed protectively over the tattoo. “Gonna clean you up in a minute. Then we’re doing that again. Slower. All night.”
I laugh weakly, boneless and blissed, tracing lazy circles over one of his tattoos. “You’re gonna kill me.”
“Only with how much I want you.” He presses a kiss to the top of my head. “Sleep if you need to. I’m not going anywhere.”
The phoenix on my hip throbs faintly.
His cum is still warm inside me.
And I’ve never felt more claimed, more safe, more his.
Next Thursday Quiztopher Nolan is coming for blood.
But right now? Right now I’m exactly where I belong.