Chapter 20 #2
He would never run from a fight, but instead, run toward it. Especially if the danger involved anyone in their DAMC family.
A sharp “Fuck!” yanked her back to the bed.
“What’s wr—” Before she could finish the question, she found herself on her back with Ash’s weight on her. As soon as he kneed her thighs wider, he took her in one smooth thrust.
She guessed him giving her control and her trying new things was over.
Bah. She’d survive this twist.
“So fuckin’ wet,” he mumbled into her neck.
“How can you tell? You’re wearing a condom.”
“Baby,” he breathed, like he couldn’t believe she’d just asked that.
He took her lips next, most likely to end the conversation. With his tongue sweeping through her mouth, he began to thrust long and deep.
He rolled one of her nipples between his long fingers before doing the same with the other. He captured her gasp and subsequent groan, but never slowed his pace.
Clearly, the man was on a mission. She green lit that particular mission since it included orgasms. Especially when, after abandoning her nipple, he shoved a hand between them and he tweaked her clit.
Holy moly. Her sensitive clit began to pulse and so did her insides, clenching and unclenching around him.
After twisting his head to break the lock he had on her lips, he sucked a nipple in deep. The sharpness of his teeth scraping over the tip had her hips shooting up and smashing her pussy against him, driving him even deeper.
But at this point, she was now completely open to him and able to accept the constant pistoning of his cock in and out of her with no discomfort. No pain.
All Ashton. All pleasure.
She was quickly realizing why her club sisters loved to have sex almost as much as the men.
With the right man, it was freaking awesome!
Of course, this particular man was the right man for her.
They had a special connection. More than only sex. It was their family. Their club. Their shared love of body art, evident by all the tattoos she’d personally inked into his skin.
Their love of motorcycles and the MC life.
And now, their love of sex. Only, Ash liked sex in general. She liked having sex with him.
Not that she had anything to compare it to.
But still. Even with her limited knowledge, she could say he got the job done—or would soon—and did it well.
“Gotta come soon,” his plea was muffled since he was still nibbling and licking along her breasts and sucking her aching nipples until they were shiny, swollen peaks.
Oh yes, she had zero complaints.
With his thumb continuing to press and circle her clit, he dug his knees deeper into the mattress and began to power up and into her. Every thrust made her groan, every nip of his teeth along her tender skin causing her to gasp.
Since the man was about to break, she pushed all thoughts out of her head, other than what Ash was doing to her.
Then the heat and pressure building at her core became unbearable. She dug her nails into his damp skin and moaned his name. His pace hiccuped for a second before it went back to the smooth, piston-like motion.
He was whispering something and she had to concentrate on what it was to figure it out. It turned out he was chanting “Fuck” under his breath, using a guttural grunt as an exclamation point at the end of each thrust.
“Fuck.” Grunt. “Fuck.” Grunt. “Fuck.” Grunt.
Realistically, that shouldn’t have been what pushed her over the top. But it was. Simply from the thought of how turned on he was, just like when she’d given him head…
The thought of how fucking her made him lose his shit…
She shouldn’t get off on what seemed like his suffering, but she hoped that suffering was worth the wait.
Her back bowed off the bed and she flung her head back, a wail slipping past her lips as the orgasm he was waiting for ripped through her. Her toes curled, spots appeared on the back of her eyelids, and her nails dug even deeper into his heated flesh.
While she just didn’t want to let go of him, she did let go in another way.
A second later, his hips hitched, and with one more deep grunt, he drove forward one last time, pausing when he hit the end of her. When his cock pulsed deep inside her, it made her have another tiny explosion.
Then, thirty seconds later, a long breath escaped him and, dropping to his elbows, he put more of his weight on her, but not enough to be crushing. She was surprised to find his bulk more comforting than uncomfortable.
Pressing his bearded cheek to hers, his ragged breathing filled her ear. She was temporarily captivated by it, and as the seconds ticked by, it began to get softer and slower.
But that wasn’t the only thing getting softer.
With a groan, he pushed up and rolled off her. He pulled off the full condom, knotted the open end, and sat up. “Got a washcloth in one of those boxes?”
She glanced over at the stack of boxes in the corner of her room. “The one marked bathroom.”
With a nod, he got up.
Since it was a struggle to stop staring at his naked ass when he bent over to dig through the box, she gave up and simply studied the way his muscles bunched and stretched under his tattooed skin.
That was a view she wouldn’t get bored of seeing.
One problem with this apartment: it only had one bathroom and it was in the hallway. Once he found a towel and a washcloth, it was a bold move for him to head out there bare-ass naked, carrying a full condom.
When he returned a few minutes later, he didn’t rush over to his clothes, he climbed back on the bed and gently cleaned her up, wiping between her legs and along her inner thighs. All without a single word.
Once he set the damp washcloth aside, she again expected him to beeline to his discarded clothes. She was shocked speechless when he joined her back in bed and, once settled, pulled her up and over him. Almost like she was a blanket.
What was going on? He originally acted like he didn’t want to do this and now he was lingering?
Weird.