Chapter 7 - Eden
He's bleeding through his bandages, sitting on my borrowed bed looking like he just climbed a mountain, and somehow he's more handsome than ever.
Davis walked up a flight of stairs with a bullet wound less than two days old just to see me. When has a man ever gone through so much for me? The answer comes immediately: never. Not even close.
My ex cheated on me more than once. Before him, there was a string of men who were fine: adequate, forgettable, the kind who showed up but never really *showed up.*
And then there's Davis, who took a bullet for me after knowing me for three hours and just dragged himself through a clubhouse to make sure I'm okay.
"This can't happen again," I tell him, rewrapping the gauze around his shoulder. "You bleeding through your bandages because you're too stubborn to stay in bed. From now on, I'll come to you until you're better."
He chuckles, and the sound vibrates through his chest. "That's not very gentlemanly of me. Making you do all the work."
"You were a gentleman when you covered me with your body and took that bullet." I tape down the bandage, making sure it's secure. "Now it's my turn to take care of you."
"You're relentless." But there's admiration in his voice, not complaint.
"I believe in doing what I think is right." I meet his eyes, finding them locked on my face. "Always have, always will."
"I agree." His good hand comes up to cup my jaw, thumb brushing my cheekbone. "I believe in doing what's right too."
And then he's kissing me.
His mouth crashes against mine with purpose, claiming, demanding. His hand slides into my hair, gripping tight enough to make me gasp, and he uses the opportunity to deepen the kiss.
I kiss him back with everything I have, my hands fisting in his hair, always careful of his injured shoulder but needing to touch him, to feel him, to confirm he's real and alive and here.
The kiss is desperate, hungry, like we're both trying to prove something, that we're alive, that we survived, that this thing between us is real and worth the insanity.
He kisses me like he's been thinking about it since I walked into his studio. Like he's been wanting this just as much as I have. His teeth catch my bottom lip, tugging, and I moan into his mouth.
I don't want this kiss to ever end. As long as we're kissing, everything is perfect. It's just the two of us in our own little bubble where bullets, motorcycle gangs and danger don't exist. Just his mouth on mine, his hand in my hair, the heat building between us.
When he finally pulls back, his eyes are wide open and he's smiling, a real smile that transforms his entire face. He chuckles, breathless. "Had to do what I thought was right."
"You're an idiot," I tell him, but I'm smiling too, my lips swollen and tingling. "But I'm glad you kissed me."
"Is that all you want? A kiss?"
My body responds before my brain catches up, heat pooling low in my belly. "You're not in condition for anything else."
"You'd be surprised what I can still do without a shoulder." His voice drops lower, rougher, and the sound goes straight between my thighs.
I raise an eyebrow, taunting him even as my pulse races. "Show me."
Davis moves fast for someone who got shot two days ago.
His mouth finds my neck, thick lips pressing hot kisses along the column of my throat.
I tilt my head back, giving him access, and he takes full advantage.
His teeth scrape against my pulse point, his tongue soothing the sting, and I'm already breathing hard.
He uses the momentum to pull me down until I'm lying on the bed, him leaning over me, supported by his good arm. His dark eyes are heavy-lidded, pupils blown wide with desire.
"At least I'm not wearing a shirt already," he says, voice playful despite the heat in his gaze. "But it's time for you to take off yours."
I sit up enough to grab the hem of Nora's borrowed t-shirt, pulling it over my head. My breasts bounce free. I'm not wearing a bra anymore, and I watch Davis's face for his reaction.
I love my curves. I've worked hard to love them, to own them, to stop letting other people's opinions define how I see myself.
But there's always that moment of uncertainty when someone new sees your body for the first time.
The question of whether they'll appreciate what they see or find it lacking.
Davis looks like he just found religion.
"Fuck," he breathes, his good hand already reaching for me. "You’re beautiful, Eden."
He traces the curve of my breast, thumb brushing over my nipple until it's a hard point.
"There's a lot I can do with just one hand," he says, grinning up at me.
"I can't wait to see." My voice is already breathless. "But we stop if you start bleeding."
He nods, then his mouth is on my breast, tongue circling my nipple before sucking it into his mouth. The sensation shoots straight to my pussy, and I arch into him with a moan. He alternates between sucking and licking, his teeth grazing the sensitive peak, while his hand kneads my other breast.
It feels incredible, but I need more. I'm already dripping, can feel my panties getting soaked, my inner thighs slick. I grip his hair, tugging, trying to pull him lower.
"You in a hurry?" he asks against my skin, looking up at me with those dark eyes.
"You'll understand when you get there."
That makes him move. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of my borrowed sweatpants and pulls them down, working one-handed but managing impressively well for someone with a bullet wound. The sweatpants hit the floor, leaving me in just my panties.
Davis stares.
My panties are completely soaked, the fabric darker where it's wet, clinging to every curve. I can feel how slick I am, how ready, and suddenly I'm self-conscious again.
"I get a bit too excited," I say, half-apologetic, half-defiant.
"I can see." His voice is rough, reverent. "And I fucking love it."
Before I can respond, he's diving between my thighs, pulling my panties aside and putting his mouth directly on my pussy.
"Oh fuck—" The words dissolve into a moan as his tongue runs along my slit, licking up all the wetness he caused.
He devours me like a man starving, like I'm the best thing he's ever tasted.
His hands grip my slick inner thighs, spreading me wider, and his tongue is everywhere.
Circling my clit, dipping inside me, running back and forth in a rhythm that has me begging him not to stop.
I've had oral before, but nothing like this.
Davis eats pussy like it's his life's purpose, like he was put on this earth specifically to make me lose my mind. He's focused, relentless, paying attention to every sound I make, every time I gasp or moan or tug on his hair.
"Fuck, you taste incredible," he says against my pussy, the vibration of his voice sending fresh waves of pleasure through me.
I'm gripping the sheets, back arching off the bed, my thighs trembling. It's too much and not enough all at once. My clit is throbbing, my pussy clenching around nothing, desperate to be filled.
"Davis—" His name comes out broken, pleading.
He doubles down, sucking my clit into his mouth while his tongue flicks against it. The combination pushes me over the edge. I come hard, my whole body shaking, thighs trying to close around his head as pleasure crashes through me in waves.
He doesn't stop.
While I'm still coming, still trembling and gasping, he slides two fingers inside me and curves them up to hit that perfect spot.
The orgasm intensifies, transforms into something bigger, and suddenly I'm squirting: liquid gushing out of me all over his face, soaking his hand, the sheets beneath me.
"Oh my god—" I'm mortified, overwhelmed and still coming. "I'm sorry—"
"Don't." Davis's voice is fierce and authoritative. He looks up at me, his face glistening with my arousal, and he's smiling like he just won the lottery. "Don't apologize. I love how expressive you are. How much you're enjoying this."
He's still moving his fingers inside me, gentler now but keeping the pleasure going, drawing out every last aftershock until I'm boneless and panting on the bed.
I can't hold back anymore.
"Fuck me," I demand, my voice raw. "If you really want to see how much I'm enjoying this, get inside me and fuck me."
Davis's eyes go impossibly darker. "Yes ma'am."
He straightens up, using his good hand to undo his jeans. The button. The zipper. Then he's shoving them down his hips along with his boxer briefs, and—
Holy shit.
His cock springs free, thick and hard and already leaking at the tip. He's big, bigger than I expected, and for a second, I wonder if I can take all of him. But then I remember how wet I am, how ready, and I know it'll be perfect.
His hand is wrapped around his cock now, stroking slowly. "But Eden, are you sure—"
"I'm sure." I spread my legs wider, showing him exactly how ready I am. "I need you inside me. Now."
He doesn't need more encouragement than that. Davis positions himself between my thighs, the head of his cock sliding through my wetness. He's teasing, rubbing against my clit, coating himself in my arousal, and it's torture. Beautiful, perfect torture.
"Davis, please—"
He pushes inside.
"Fuck, you feel amazing," Davis breathes, his good hand gripping my hip. "So tight. So wet."
"Move." I wrap my legs around his waist. "Please move."
He does. He pulls almost all the way out before slamming back in, and the angle is perfect. His injured shoulder doesn't seem to slow him down at all. He's braced on his good arm, using his whole body to fuck me, and it's incredible.
"Yes—fuck—just like that—" I'm babbling, words spilling out without thought. "Don't stop, don't stop—"
"Not stopping." His voice is strained, rough. "Could do this forever. Could fuck you forever."