CHAPTER 7
QUINCY
I should probably be embarrassed. Being fucked by a man I’ve just met isn’t normal for me. I’m not entirely sure how it all happened, but what I know for sure is it felt right. So fucking right.
My legs are still a little wobbly, but that could be because we’re back on Hawkins’ bike and speeding closer to the oasis of the city.
I’m still surprised it felt as normal as it did to open up to him. I wasn’t even sure about talking to Margot about my feelings and concerns, but talking to Hawkins felt easy. It wasn’t even something I needed to think about.
How wild is that?
The ride back toward the city doesn’t take nearly as long; at least it feels that way. Isn’t that always the way? The anticipation made every second stretch the first time I was wrapped around Hawkins. Now, it’s like time knows I’m not ready to let go and is speeding up.
I don’t like it at all, but there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. Time, as I’ve learned over the years, marches on whether we want it to or not.
It would be far too easy to let myself get lost in the embarrassment threatening to creep into my mind.
I’ve prided myself on staying in control and not doing things which could get me on the front page of a tabloid.
That would include fucking a random man who just happens to be in a motorcycle club that you met in a poker room which probably shouldn’t even exist.
When we pull up in front of the hotel, I slide off from behind Hawkins far too quickly. Ignoring the people staring at us, I force a smile onto my face. The way he tilts his head slightly, his blue eyes intently staring at me, makes me feel like his prey.
“Thanks for showing me the city from a distance. It was quite the view,” my voice sounds bright, but the words are hollow.
His tongue slides across his bottom lip as he slides off his bike. He looms over me and my pussy clenches. Which is not a good idea because getting cleaned up on the side of the road was…not easy. At least the man travels with wet wipes in his saddle bag.
But now I need a shower.
And a bed. It’s not mine, but it’ll have to do. I have no doubt it’ll be comfortable. Luxury is pumped into this hotel.
“Hollywood,” he growls, “what do you think is about to happen here?”
The valet inches closer to us. “Uh, sir?” He practically squeaks the question at Hawkins who arches an eyebrow without looking away from me.
He’s looking at me like he’s expecting me to take off running. I already know I wouldn’t get far and I’m not too keen on exerting myself at this time.
Hawkins tosses his keys to the guy whose mouth drops open as shock flashes across his features before he gets himself together. “Roll it into a spot. Don’t start it; you’re not riding it.”
“Got it,” the valet sounds far too excited.
But my biker doesn’t even look his way. He doesn’t look back at his bike either. The way he tucks his ticket into the inside pocket of his cut shouldn’t make him hotter. Somehow, he manages it just fine.
He closes the distance between us completely, the toes of his boots skimming my heels. “Did you really think I was going to let you climb off the back of my bike and walk away from me?”
My teeth catch on my lower lip and I’m at a loss for words. It’s not something that happens often after so many years finding my footing in front of cameras and doing countless interviews. But with the light hitting his face and the intensity in his eyes, I’m at a complete loss.
“Let me make this easy for you,” his words are like liquid heat, each one brushes against my skin and makes my fingers itch to reach for him, “I’m coming up to your room. I’m not nearly done with you.”
I look up at him and study his face. The set of his jaw tells me he’s not giving up on this any time soon. He’s dug his heels in. Even though we don’t make sense in so many ways and none of this should be happening in the first place.
He’s not dissuaded. He’s standing tall.
“I’ll never be done with you, Quincy Wells,” his voice drops an octave and turns rough. “You can bet on that.”
Before I can think too much about it, I grab his hand and start walking. He keeps pace with me, and something flutters in my gut when I look at him to find him grinning from ear to ear. I’m reminded that he’s so much younger than me.
Honestly, right now I don’t even care.
I don’t allow anything to filter in beyond the feeling of having his much larger frame following behind me like a puppy. It’s intoxicating.
While walking, I do notice a few people giving him nods of acknowledgement and respect.
It makes me wonder about the place he mentioned earlier, Elysium.
He said his club owns it. My curiosity has been piqued.
The way people look at him while moving out of our path, even though I’m the one leading the way, has me wondering if I’m not giving my biker enough credit.
It feels like it takes forever to get up to my suite. The welcome basket is still right where I left it. Everything looks the same, but nothing feels the same. Nothing.
Suddenly, I’m being lifted by strong arms. I wrap my arms around Hawkins’ neck while squawking, “What are you doing?”
“Shower,” he grunts.
I narrow my eyes at him, but he simply strides toward the large bathroom. “I’m not just going to accept one-word grunts from you, Hawkins,” I bite out the words.
His steps stop and his eyes find mine and bore straight into my fucking soul. “I’m pissed right now, Hollywood. Don’t push me,” he husks out the words like they cost him something.
“You’re pissed?” I can’t help the incredulousness in my voice and I’m not even trying to hide it. “At me?” He nods and I scoff, “Why the hell are you pissed at me?”
“You were just going to climb off the back of my bike with my cum still dripping from your sweet cunt and leave me out there on the curb?” His nostrils flare and the cute biker who blurted out that I’m pretty, is nowhere to be seen.
It’s sexy as fuck.
I throw my hands into the air in exasperation. “I’m going to let you in on something, Hawkins,” I try not to sneer the words, but I fall a little short, “I’m not adept at the whole wham-bam-thank you ma’am thing. I had no idea how this was going to work, and it felt safest to give you an easy out.”
He presses his lips together while his eyes search mine.
I have no idea what he sees on my face, but his anger disappears.
“You’re scared,” he says it like it’s a fact and adds a little nod.
Before I can tell him where he can shove his psychoanalysis, he keeps going.
“You don’t believe my words; not yet. And that’s fair. I’ll just have to keep showing you.”
I blink up at him a few times while he grins down at me and I swear his tail would be wagging if he had one. Then he’s striding toward the bathroom again, his mission back on track.
“I don’t think that’s what I said at all,” I say the words, but they come out far more questioning than they should. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about when you say I’m scared.”
Instead of saying anything, he kisses my forehead and sets me on my feet. He makes quick work of my clothes and then his own. I’m dazed by how efficient he is while undressing us; it’s kind of like his superpower or his magic or something.
What I don’t allow myself to think about is how many women he’s undressed for him to have such skills. Nope. Thinking about that is a bad idea.
Hawkins leads me into the shower after he turns it on and allows it to warm up for a moment. “Come on, Hollywood,” his voice is soft. “Let me clean you up before I fill you with my cum again.”
The promise in his voice has goosebumps rising all over my body and the warm water cascading over my skin does nothing to stop them. But I force myself to be smart. For about three seconds.
“We should talk about that,” the words feel wrong, even though they’re right. “I’m on birth control and it’s been a while since I’ve been with anyone. I got tested for my yearly physical and it’s all good for me.”
His fingers tangle in the hair at the back of my head and he tugs. The movement forces my head back and I look in his blue eyes. They’re burning in a way which makes me want to rub my body against his and never fucking stop.
How the fuck does this man manage to turn me inside out and into a version of myself I’ve never met before. I’ve never felt this kind of fire. I’ve never lived inside this kind of desire.
Only with him.
Only for him.
“I realize you have no reason to trust me,” his voice is strained, like he’s barely holding himself back.
It makes me feel powerful. Invincible. “But I will never do anything that could put you in harms way. Not on purpose. I was tested not long ago and I’m good.
I won’t try and pretend I was ever a monk, Quincy, but you don’t have anything to worry about. ”
“Okay,” my voice wobbles slightly.
Not from fear. From the weight of it all. Hawkins blowing into my life has been a lot and it makes me feel off balance, but not in a way I hate. It’s odd because the alarm bells you’d think would be going off are silent.
It’s possible they’re defective, but I don’t think so.
I think it’s just him.
His hands glide along my skin and I give myself over to the feeling of it. He washes me from head to toe, his blue eyes taking in every inch of me as he does. It makes me want to show off. For him; for his enjoyment.
“You’re fucking stunning, Quincy,” he grits out through his clenched teeth.
Then his fingers slip between my thighs, and he plunges two fingers deep inside of my soaked pussy. Everything beyond the feel of the water on my skin and his strength surrounding me while giving me pleasure disappears.
My hands grip his shoulders and my nails dig in. I cling to him because I’m incapable of doing anything else. “Please,” I plead as my head falls back on my shoulders and I gasp when his thumb finds my clit.