Chapter Seventeen
Taylor
The temptation to ask about his son has been consuming me. Well, after he went down on me until I felt like my mind splintered, then lifted me up, walked to the wall, pressing me against it and fucking me like that.
Noah did not stop until he had me screaming his name.
He’s like a machine, I’ve never experienced anything like it.
The last thing I thought would happen is us lying in bed together after all the sex.
He strikes me as the type who showers and dresses and sees a woman out and not with a thanks for the good time as the door closes behind you.
I’d been expecting that and am kind of still waiting for the other shoe to drop. Letting my stupid heart read more into that would be insane. It’s not like we’re cuddling or anything.
Dana had plenty to say about what I’ve been doing. She said with no irony whatsoever given she was panting after a club member, that I needed to stay away. Her logic made sense. Stryker isn’t President. But what difference does it make, really? They’re both a part of it.
Dana tried to fill my head with horror stories but all I keep thinking about is him holding his little boy, getting him what he needed and helping to settle him. Like a true, caring father.
It reminds me of my dad, but I can’t let memories of him into this room with us. That feels all kind of wrong given what he did with my very willing body.
Noah is sitting up drinking a glass of water, the sheet draped over his lap. I can see the outline of his dick the fabric is so thin.
Hard to believe that has been inside me, it’s big and the piercing… He wasn’t wrong when he said it would hurt in a good way. I’m feeling particularly tender right now. Even if I wanted to, I’m not sure I could do it again.
“What are you thinking about over there?”
My head snaps up from the pillow. I’m lying on my side, staring at his dick. He’s smiling like he knows exactly what I’m thinking when I meet his gaze.
“What is the difference between the President and guys who are part of the MC?”
His brow lifts. “Didn’t I tell you earlier I wouldn’t talk about the club?”
“The way I see it,” I shuffle up, pulling the sheet with me so it covers my breasts. “I’m asking about the hierarchy of a hypothetical motorcycle club.”
“When I’m the president of one?” he cocks his head.
“Yeah,” I bite my lip to hide the smile. He’s amused too, he can’t hide that.
“Well, the word President says it all, don’t you think. It’s the CEO of the company, in charge of everything, oversees employees, makes decisions and keeps everyone in line.”
“That’s an unexpected analogy.”
“Best you’re gonna get.”
“So everyone else is like your staff?”
“There are higher ups,” he muses, finishing his water and setting it down. “Board members you might say,” he shifts onto his side and puts his elbow on the pillow, so his head is level with my chest.
“And they all have roles.”
“You’ve looked it up, don’t pretend you haven’t. It’s easy enough to find how shit works on the internet.”
“Okay, fine. I did that. Where does Jesse come into it?” I ask cautiously.
Noah sighs and rubs his forehead. I’m about to say it doesn’t matter when he answers me. “Best friends since we were kids. He’s too good to be in the club and he didn’t want to be, anyway.”
“What makes him different?”
“He isn’t soft exactly,” he looks at my expression and frowns. “It’s got nothing to do with his sexuality. I don’t discriminate like that, not in my club. People are free to be what they want to be, so long as they’re loyal.”
“That’s weirdly admirable.”
“I’m an admirable kind of guy,” he smirks. “Jesse isn’t cut out for the life. And he has his medical issues.”
“So his sexuality doesn’t hold him back, but his disability does?”
“This life is hard sometimes. Jesse wouldn’t be able to cope if someone got hurt because of him. We don’t exactly have an HR department, Cherry.”
“You’re the one who used the office analogy.”
He snorts a laugh.
“What?”
“That is so far from what it’s like.”
I nod. We’re quiet for a moment, each lost in thought.
“At the root of it, we’re a family. Our bond is sometimes thicker than blood. A lot of members have no one, or come from bad backgrounds. They get what they need being a part of the club.”
“That’s sweet.”
He sits up again, his expression incredulous. “Did you call my MC sweet?”
“I called you sweet, actually.”
He bursts out laughing and nudges my leg. “I hope you always think that, Cherry.”
His laughter fades and we get lost staring at one another for a moment.
He blinks out of it first and lowers his eyes.
I’m still covered by the sheet. He slowly starts to peel it back.
I really am tender down there but pulsing heat coils low in my belly from the way he watches as my body is revealed.
He presses a hand to my inner thigh, and it pushes my legs wider, looking at me down there. He blinks and looks up.
“Are you sore?”
I’m surprised he asked. “A little.”
He pushes my legs back together and pulls my hips so I lay down flat on the bed, then he straddles my waist and grabs my breasts, massaging them and teasing my nipples. They harden within two seconds of him touching me.
“Love your tits,” he mutters, dipping forward to suck on my nipple. “I’m going to fuck them.”
“What?” My surprise isn’t hidden.
He moves back and drags his cock up my midriff, letting it rest on my chest. Then he presses my breasts together, trapping it between them. “Like this.”
He pauses and leans over, grabbing a bottle from the bedside drawer. I watch as he pours the lube over himself and it dribbles onto my chest.
My heart is pounding as he tosses the bottle, then massages me, before trapping his cock again. I clutch the sheets as he starts to thrust, slowly at first, his eyes locked on mine.
I’ve never done this before but watching the intensity of his beautiful face as he starts to thrust a little harder has me melting into another dripping wet puddle. I shift my hips trying to get a little relief for myself.
Noah is so lost in what he’s doing he doesn’t notice that I’m close to telling him to fuck me properly.
“Hold them,” he tells me, grabbing my arms.
I push them together and he grabs the headboard and starts fucking himself harder in the channel I’ve created. When he groans and tips his head back, warmth gushes over my chest and throat, spilling down my neck.
I don’t even care that he came all over me, especially when he pulls back and starts to rub it in, holding my neck as he leans in to kiss me. He doesn’t stop, laying himself flat over me, his tongue rolling with mine.
It’s not hurried or charged with lust like his other kisses have been. It’s consuming and makes me feel lightheaded. I grip his hips, partly to anchor myself to something real, because this kiss feels different to anything else we’ve done. More intimate than him being inside me.
Eventually he slows and dots open-mouthed kisses on my cheekbone and jaw. I’m convinced he is about to lap up his own cum when he pulls back. He takes my good hand and lifts me up so we’re standing by the bed.
He gets a feral look in his eyes as he stares at my collarbones. He almost says something but clamps his lips together and leads me to the bathroom. He turns on the shower and encourages me inside. I’m somewhat disappointed when he doesn’t join me, but it’s probably for the best.
Something in the way he looked at me makes me need space. I’m certain he feels the same.
When I get out of the shower, the bedroom is empty but my clothes are laid out. I stare at them, knowing what that means. I’m stupid for being disappointed. He’s made it clear what he’s like.
This felt like more than sex, more than it was last time.
Maybe that’s why he’s doing this.
A noise at the door startles me. He’s wearing jeans and a T-shirt, watching me as I try to pull back the thoughts of him not wanting this to continue.
“I got a call,” he says.
“Oh, right.” I turn my back to dry myself off and pick up my underwear.
The warmth of his body makes me straighten up. He’s right behind me and he snakes an arm around my waist, pulling me back to his chest.
“Believe me, I’d rather stay here but like I told you before, the club always comes first.”
I twist my neck so I can look at his face. I see it in his gaze, he’s telling me any life with him would be this way. What surprises me the most is that I’m not upset about it. Not now he has pulled me against him.
There could come a point when he leaves me in his bed to go. Stupid, stop it.
He brushes my damp hair back then kisses my forehead. “Get dressed, Cherry. I’m not leaving till your safe in your car.”
“It’s just outside.”
“Don’t argue with me.”
“Yes Mr. President.”
He frowns at that and I feel like I massively messed up. In my head it was supposed to be like a kink thing. When it comes to his club, I guess there is no joking around. He taps my ass and tells me to get a move on, then heads out to let me get dressed.
Why am I such an idiot? My cheeks flush with embarrassment and I throw on my clothes, hang the towel back in the bathroom and head to the stairs. I pass by a bedroom and glance inside to see a crib and some toys. It makes me soften again.
He might think he’s the big bad scary president, but he has a baby he loves, and a best friend he looks out for. He’s gone above and beyond to make sure I feel safe after that asshole hurt me.
He’s waiting by the door holding his helmet and keys and my purse, which he passes to me.
“I’m sorry about that flippant comment, it was stupid.”
“It was fine, don’t worry about it,” he rubs a hand through his short hair. “I try to keep it separate from this house. Things are different here. Does that make sense?”
“Yeah,” I nod. He doesn’t need to explain it is about his son. “I won’t do it again.”
He smirks and I flush again at the assumption I made that I’ll ever be here again. Get me out of here now.
I duck past him and open the front door. He follows me, laughing and I give him a haughty look over my shoulder.
He walks me to the car, and I expect him to grab me and assert some kind of authority but he stays back, looking down the street. There is nothing else for me to do but get in the car. Before I fully close the door, I tell him goodnight.
“I’ll text,” he says.
My heart flips over, but I contain my shit and nod instead, closing the door. Noah doesn’t move until I’m driving away, I keep watching in the rearview mirror as he gets smaller, standing there, watching me drive away, and I wonder what he is thinking. If it’s the same thing as me.
It’s going to be really hard to walk away from him.