Chapter 11
Chapter
Eleven
CLEO
He’s infuriating—impossibly, unfairly gorgeous, and so damn smug with that crooked grin as he tells me that he does not believe me when I said that our night together was a one-time thing.
Eight months I have not seen him, and every single night, he’s found a way to haunt me. Showing up in the kinkiest of dreams that leave me breathless and soaking wet, tangled in my sheets, I come with his name on my lips.
Damn this biker.
Now he is here—real and solid and sexy as hell in his biker getup—looking at me with those eyes that say he knows exactly what he does to me.
“I do not care if you do not believe me, War.”
“Mason. You call me ‘Mason’ when it is just the two of us.”
“You did not government name me.” I stare at him, mouth gaping.
“Oh, but I did. We both felt whatever the fuck it was that night— you, my sexy little witch, put a fucking spell on me, and now I crave you.” He inches closer, his manly woodsy scent intoxicating.
“No,” is all I can say, making his grin widen.
He licks his lips, one hand going to the back of the sofa, the other by my hip as he moves closer, and I think he is going to kiss me, but he stops.
“Yes.”
“You lied to me, War.” My voice is a whisper, but it is enough to stop his movements.
He looks at me for a few more seconds before pulling back and sitting back down.
“How did I lie to you, Cleo? Please fucking tell me.” Anger coats his voice, but I also sense confusion.
“You watched me all night, no doubt planning your story. You took me to your room and told me that you were not married. Then you fucked me multiple times.” I can hear the hurt in my voice, and his frown deepens as I keep going, “I fell asleep in your arms, War. Then you dreamed of another woman, your wife or whatever she meant to you. Lillian.”
“Wait— what?” he stammers.
“That is why I left. You called out to Lilian, told her that you loved her and that she would be yours forever.”
He sits there, shock etched across his features, his lips parted but no words coming forth. I can see the bewilderment in his eyes, the way his jaw flexes, as if fighting for something to say, but nothing comes.
The silence stretches between us, not doing my heart rate any good. My palms become sweaty, and I feel self-conscious that I am sitting here in just a silk robe that leaves nothing to the imagination.
I swallow the ache in my throat, and look at him, refusing to let my gaze waver. “I won’t do it, War,” I say quietly, but with a conviction that surprises even me. “I will not be the reason someone’s heart gets broken.”
My voice barely trembles.
“Whatever happened between us… whatever might have been, it ends here.”
His fingers curl into fists, but still, he says nothing. His nostrils flare and he rolls his lips in frustration.
“I am not fucking married.” I go to speak but he stops me.
“Shut the fuck up. I am not married; my wife passed away eight years ago. Her name was Lilian, and she was everything to me, my entire world, then she got snatched away and there was fucking nothing I could do to stop it.” His breaths are heavy, his fingers clenching into tight fists then flexing.
I inch closer to him, taking his hands in mine, making him look at me.
“I’m so sorry, War. That must have been heartbreaking for you.”
He nods. “It was. I lost myself for years, which is why I became a nomad. Staying still was suffocating me, so I left. My folks supported me, but my in-laws hated me for it.”
“They should have supported you in your needed time to grieve.”
“I cut contact with them after two years; it was really fucking with my head, but the open road, helping clubs out when needed gave me a purpose again. Things got better. I am not going to lie and say that I was a fucking saint before I met you because a man has needs.”
“Oh, I know all about men and their needs, but, War, I do not think I can give you what you want. I have my own issues.” I sigh. “What we had was amazing; can’t we leave it at that one night, keep it special?”
“No.” He moves before I can blink.
He has me on my back again, my breath caught in my lungs as his body cages me in, and he slips his hand between my thighs, finding me soaked for him.
“So fucking wet, baby.”
“War.” My voice comes out in a strangled attempt.
Sinking two fingers into me hot and slow, I watch him as he uses his teeth to pull the material of my robe off my chest, revealing my tits to him.
Fuck me, that is hot.
“War.” My back bows off the couch as he sucks my nipple into his mouth, hard, his tongue laving at the bud.
“I have not had you in eight fucking months, Cleo baby. The Kings’ women would not give you up to me, so I had Intel do a deep dive on you. You put a spell on me that night, baby.”
“Just fuck me, War,” I hiss, tugging his mouth to mine and kissing him.
God, his mouth is sinful; his tongue dips inside of my mouth, licking me while we kiss. I hear the sound his belt being opened, then his zipper going down, and I know what is coming next.
God, I want it. I have missed his touch, his dick.
Shit, no, Cleo, we talked about this.
I shut down the inner voice so I can savor this last time with him, even though I know it is going to be quick and full of fucking ecstasy. He will know once this is over that this fast, hard, dirty fuck will be our last time.
“Need to be in you, baby. Missed this pussy.” His words smack me right to the core and I whimper for him.
I feel the head of his cock prodding at me, but he does not push in; instead, he breaks the kiss, which has my eyes snapping open.
He is looking at me like I hang on the moon. Shit. Adoration, desire, and need stare back at me, but I also feel apprehension floating between us. We both want different things; well, I think I do. Damn it!
He muddles up my mind with just being here, being close to me.
A smirk appears on his lips, before he nudges into me, stretching me. He growls, sinking deep in to the hilt.
“I want to see your face when you come on my cock. I want to commit to memory how fucking beautiful you are when you come all over me.” He grunts as his thrusts pick up speed.
My tits bounce with every thrust, my legs quivering from the force of having him fuck me.
“Oh shit. War.”
“Mason, you call me ‘Mason’ when I am balls deep inside of you, baby.”
The room is filled with the sounds of our harsh breathing, my pants and his growls. We make up an orchestra of sexual sounds that would rival most porn movies.
Skin slaps against skin, as my body vibrates with the need to come.
My stomach tightens, and my skin feels tight as my orgasm sweeps through me.
“I’m coming.”
“Fuck,” he grunts, as his hips pump in and out of me, drawing out my climax.
His hands grip the armrest for the sofa as he fucks me harder through my climax, chasing his own before his body goes still, his cock thickens inside of me, and a deep animalistic growl leaves his throat as he comes.
Planting his seed deep in my womb.
It faintly comes to mind that he did not put a condom on this time.
Shit.
His head drops to where my shoulder meets my neck; gentle kisses from him make my body quiver. His body rests on mine but not enough to hurt me— my thighs are still pressed tightly to his hips, while my hands are on his balmy back.
Neither of us says anything and so much passes between us.
We breathe together, and we come down from our high together.
Finally, he pulls back, looking down at me with a soft smile on his face.
Oh no, I cannot fall into the trap of War.
“Can you get off me, please? I want to get cleaned up.” I can’t breathe; I feel like his closeness is suffocating me.
He looks at me for a second more, before nodding and slowly pulling out. I feel wetness between my legs and my thoughts are confirmed that he did not put a condom on this time. Fuck.
“What the hell, War? You didn’t put a condom on,” I yell at him, leaping from the sofa.
He lounges back, slinging one arm across the back of the cushions, smiling at me.
“I wanted you bare. Not been with anyone since you broke my dick, baby,” he says proudly, which throws me.
Most men are happy to share their dick with anyone. It is why I have not let myself fall into a relationship, since not all men can be trusted to be faithful.
“Fuck.” I pad to the kitchen and collect a clean washcloth to wipe up the leaking cum from between my legs.
“Such a shame,” he murmurs, getting to his feet and tucking his dick back into his jeans before he does them up.
“For fuck’s sake, War. I never have sex without a condom, I am not ready to be a mother.”
My panic rises, my skin feeling tight again, but for a different reason this time.
My heart is racing in my chest like it is trying to escape.
I close my eyes, trying to regain control of my breathing, when I feel him step into my space.
My eyes pop open to find him smirking like he just caught the canary.
“Again, such a shame. I think you would look sexy as fuck round with my baby.” He walks toward me, as I gape at him.
“No.” I hold my hand up. “No baby. No us, nothing. Stop. Just go, War.”
My eyes close again, then I drop my chin to my chest. Feeling suddenly wiped out, my shoulders sag.
Being me is fucking emotional and draining.
I hear him sigh but I fight to keep my head down. If I look at him right now, I think I would drag him to my bedroom for another round, fuck the consequences.
“Okay, I will go for now. I know that the last hour was intense.” Shit, he has only been here an hour? “I am not letting you go, baby. I gave you my side of things, but I want to hear who hurt you, so I can hunt the cunt down and make him pay.”
I bite my lip to fend off a wave of emotion as tears fill my eyes.
His body softly presses toward mine, and I feel his lips on the top of my head.
“See you soon, babe.” He pauses. “Dream of me.”
My fists clench at my sides, wondering how the hell he knows that I am dreaming of him.
I hear the front door close with a click and I let out a sigh, expelling all of the air I was holding in my lungs. Stepping over to the door, I make sure it is locked, just as I hear his motorcycle pull away.
Falling back onto the sofa, I pull my throw over my body, and let everything speed race around my head, and I do not bother trying to make sense of it all.
My heart, mind, and soul are all at war over War.