TESSA #2
I lower my mouth, and Tank’s entire body locks when my lips close around the head of his cock. The response sends a sharp thrill through me. This man carried me out of a motel as if I weighed nothing, held me down with his mouth between my legs and fucked me hard enough to shift the bed.
Now one slow pull of my lips makes his hands fist in the blanket.
I take him deeper, using my hand where my mouth cannot. Tank watches me through narrowed eyes, every breath growing rougher as I find the pace that makes his hips shift.
His fingers slide into my hair, holding rather than forcing.
“That mouth nearly got you in trouble the first night,” he says, voice scraped raw. “Turns out I underestimated it.”
I draw back just far enough to answer. “You underestimated a lot about me.”
Then I take him deep again. Tank’s grip tightens. His restraint begins to fracture in small, visible ways. The flex of his thighs, the twitch of his hips, the strain in his arm as he stops himself from guiding my head. I want him close to losing control. I don’t want him finishing yet.
I release him and stand. His eyes follow me as I push my jeans and panties down, then step free. The room is quiet except for our breathing and the distant rumble of a motorcycle crossing the compound.
Tank reaches for me again. This time, I let him. He catches my waist and draws me over him until I straddle his hips. His cock slides against my wet center, the thick length of him pressing between us as I lower my mouth to his.
The kiss isn’t angry, which makes it more dangerous. Tank cups the back of my neck and kisses me slowly, tasting himself on my tongue without hesitation. His other hand moves along my spine, holding me against his chest while I grind over him.
Every movement is deliberate. There’s no need to race toward anything, no fear that he’ll stop because the door is locked or someone will tell me I don’t know what I want.
I rise onto my knees and position him beneath me.
Tank’s hands settle on my hips. “Look at me.” I hold his gaze as I lower myself slowly, taking the broad head of him and then another inch. The stretch burns in the best possible way. Tank’s jaw clenches as my body opens around him.
I keep going until he’s buried deep.
For several seconds, I remain there, breathing against his mouth and feeling every hard pulse inside me.
“This is what happens when the fear’s gone,” I whisper.
Tank’s eyes hold mine. “You’re still here.”
“I’m exactly where I want to be.”
The tension around his mouth eases, leaving something more exposed.
His hands tighten on my hips as I begin to move. I rise slowly, almost letting him slip free before sinking down again. The angle fills me so completely that the second stroke pulls a broken sound from my throat.
Tank’s gaze drops to where our bodies meet. “You have any idea what you look like taking me?”
“Show me.”
He reaches between us, thumb finding my clit as I ride him. The first circle makes my rhythm falter. Tank takes advantage, guiding my hips into a deeper roll that sends pleasure through my entire body.
I brace my hands on his chest and set the pace again.
Last night, he drove me into the mattress until anger and hunger became impossible to separate. Tonight, I feel every inch. The drag as I rise. The heavy fullness when I lower. The way his body strains beneath mine while I control how quickly we lose it.
Tank’s fingers dig into my hips, leaving marks I already know I’ll enjoy finding tomorrow.
“You said you wanted me after tonight,” I remind him.
His thumb presses harder. “I want you after every night.”
The words hit somewhere deeper than the pleasure.
I lean down, bringing our mouths close without kissing him. “Then don’t treat this like the last time.”
Tank’s hand slides from my hip to the back of my neck. “It isn’t.”
He kisses me as I move over him, slow at first, then deeper when my body begins to tighten. His mouth stays on mine while his thumb works a steady rhythm between us.
The climax builds differently from last night.
Not a violent rush but a tightening that starts deep and spreads, gathering with every deliberate stroke.
I try to keep control, but Tank knows exactly what my body does before I come now.
He feels the tremor in my thighs and the change in my breathing.
“Don’t slow down,” he says against my mouth.
“I wasn’t planning to.”
I ride him harder.
Tank’s hips begin to meet mine, thrusting up each time I come down. The impact sends a sharp pulse of pleasure through me, and his control finally starts to break. He grips my ass with both hands, pulling me onto him as he drives deeper.
I’m still on top, but the power has shifted exactly as I want it to.
The bed moves beneath us. Tank sits upright, one arm locking around my waist and bringing my chest flush to his. His mouth closes over my breast while he thrusts up, hard and deep, his other hand tangled in my hair.
Pleasure tears through the slow build and turns molten.
“Tank.”
He lifts his head, eyes black with hunger. “I’ve got you.”
The words aren’t about saving me.
They’re about this, my body shaking around his, his arms holding me close, nothing between us except heat and everything neither of us knows how to say.
His fingers return between my legs. Two rough circles are enough.
The orgasm rolls through me, deep and relentless. I bury my face against his neck, crying out as my body locks around him. Tank keeps moving, holding me close enough that I feel the moment his rhythm breaks.
He drives into me one final time and comes with my name against my skin.
We remain joined, my legs around his hips and his arms locked across my back. Neither of us reaches for distance.
Tank’s breathing slows beneath my cheek. “Still planning to take your time working out what happens next?”
“Yes, and you don’t sound worried.”
His hand moves down my spine. “I know I’ll be in it.”
The certainty makes me lift my head. “Confident.”
“You told me to stop acting as if you were already gone.” His mouth brushes mine. “I listened.”
I kiss him because there’s no argument available that doesn’t sound like agreement.
A motorcycle engine starts directly beneath the window. A moment later, somebody pounds once on the hallway wall.
“Five minutes,” Judge calls.
Tank closes his eyes briefly and shakes his head. “I swear I’m going to break his hand.”
I laugh against his mouth, and the sound feels strange in the middle of a night built around murder and guns. Tank looks at me as if he wants to keep it.
Then he kisses me once, hard and thorough, before helping me to my feet.
Ten minutes later, Tank’s motorcycle waits near the open gates.
The club leaves in staggered groups rather than one loud convoy announcing where they’re headed. Gray and his men are already near the river. Kane and Judge pull out separately, while Cash follows.
Tank gives me the spare helmet. This time, he doesn’t tell me to get on or order me to hold him. I climb onto the bike, slide forward and wrap my arms around his waist before the engine starts.
His hand closes briefly over mine.
In the small mirror, our eyes meet. I see the stern line of his face, the cut across his shoulders and my body fitted close behind him, with no space between us.
Then the gates open.
The ride to the Rivermark is faster than the journey from the motel, but it feels nothing like captivity. I lean with Tank through every curve, my palms flat against his stomach and my thighs tight around his hips. He doesn’t need to shield me from the road; I move with him.