7. Violet
VIOLET
His mouth owns mine. There’s no other way to describe it.
Years of hunger pour into the press of his lips, the scrape of his teeth against my bottom lip, the drag of his tongue that makes my hips roll against him.
I’m in his lap, thighs locked around his waist, and every part of me that spent three years pretending I didn’t need this man is calling me a goddamn liar.
His hands slide up my ribcage under my shirt, and he pulls it over my head. Cool air hits my skin. His eyes drop to my chest, and his jaw flexes.
His thumb traces the edge of my bra, knuckle dragging across the swell of skin above the lace.
He unclips the bra. It falls between us, and he doesn’t look at it. He’s looking at me. His palms come up and cup my breasts, and his thumbs brush across both nipples at the same time.
Goosebumps erupt over my skin, and a feral grin spreads across his mouth.
He dips his head and takes one nipple into his mouth. Hot. Wet. His tongue presses against me, then the edge of his teeth, and I grab the back of his head and hold him there.
His beard is rough against my skin, and the sensation sends my hips grinding down against him again. The hard ridge of him through his jeans is right where I need it, and I chase the friction.
His hands clamp my hips and stop me.
“Not yet.” His mouth leaves my breast. “You don’t get to rush this.”
He flips us. My back hits the mattress, and he’s over me, one knee between my thighs, and his hands go to the button of my shorts. He pulls them down my legs with my underwear in one pass.
I’m naked on his bed, and I don’t care about anything other than this man’s hands on me. He pulls back and slides off the bed, standing at the foot of it, looking down at me. His chest is heaving.
“Spread your legs.”
My knees fall open. No argument from me.
His eyes travel from my face to my throat to my breasts to the space between my thighs, and the look on his face is ravenous. Stripped of every ounce of restraint.
He drops to his knees at the edge of the bed. His hands close around my thighs and drag me to the edge of the mattress. The rough calluses on his palms scrape the soft skin of my inner thighs, and I’m already shaking.
“Duke, I want you to fuck me.”
“You kept your pussy from me for too long.” He presses his mouth to my inner thigh. Teeth. Tongue. A bite hard enough to leave a mark. And my core pulses with need. “So, right now, I’m in control.”
And I like that. I want him to be in control right now.
I open my legs wider.
His mouth moves higher. He’s kissing and biting a path up my thigh until his breath is hot against my center. I’m gripping the sheets with both fists, and I’m already trembling. The anticipation alone is unbearable.
Finally, he puts his mouth on my pussy. He’s not gentle.
He eats me like punishment. His tongue is flat and wide against me, dragging up with enough pressure to make my hips buck, and his hands pin my thighs open.
He sucks my clit between his lips and flicks his tongue against it.
I can’t control the sounds that come from me, and I don’t care who hears me through these walls.
“That’s it.” He pulls back an inch. His lips are wet, and his eyes are savage. He looks up at me from between my thighs. “Let every man in this clubhouse know who you belong to.”
His mouth comes back between my legs, and this time he’s relentless. His tongue works me in patterns he already knows, driving me wild. He hasn’t forgotten a single thing about my body, and that is almost more devastating than the physical sensation.
His tongue pushes inside me, and my hips lift off the bed.
He pushes them down, and I’m spread open at his mercy.
His beard is rough against me, and his tongue is fucking me in slow, deep strokes while his thumb moves up to press circles into my clit.
The sensation unravels me from the center outward.
The pressure builds at the base of my spine, coiling tighter, winding up like a spring about to snap.
He replaces his tongue with his fingers—two at once, with no warm-up and no easing in. He crooks them forward against the spot that makes my legs lock around his head. His mouth seals over my clit again, and he sucks. His fingers curl inside me, and I’m gone.
My orgasm tears through me from the inside out. It starts deep, at the center of my body where his fingers are buried, and radiates outward in waves that roll through my stomach, my chest, my limbs, until my toes curl.
My fingers are fisted in his hair, pulling hard. His name spills from my lips, over and over.
I am nothing but sensation.
He doesn’t stop. He works me through it, tongue and fingers, until the aftershocks fade and my legs are trembling and my grip loosens in his hair.
He stands. Wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes are locked on mine, and the raw possession in them makes every hair on my body stand up.
He unbuckles his belt. Pulls it free from the loops. The leather hisses. He sets it on the dresser. Then he unbuttons his jeans and shoves them down with his boxer briefs.
His cock is thick, hard, and perfect.
I push up on my elbows and reach for him, and he catches my wrist.
“I already told you that I’m in control.” He brings my knuckles to his mouth, bites the ridge of them, and drops my hand. “Tonight is mine. Turn over.”
I roll onto my stomach. His hand lands on my hip and lifts, positioning me on my hands and knees at the edge of the bed.
His palm runs down my spine, slow, pressing each vertebra like he’s counting them, and his other hand grips my hip.
He traces the dip at the base of my spine with his thumb, and the tenderness of it makes my arms tremble.
His hand slides down to my ass. “You took three years of this from me.”
His palm cracks across my left cheek. Hard. The sting blooms hot across my skin. I gasp, my arms buckle, and my face drops to the mattress.
“Again,” I breathe out. “I’m so sorry for everything.”
“Three years of being inside you.” Another smack. Right side. Harder. My fingers twist in the sheets. “You stole that.”
A third. His palm prints are burning on my skin, and I’m pushing back into his hand. The line between pain and pleasure dissolved two strikes ago.
“You left me.” His hand smooths over the sting, gentle now, rubbing circles into the reddened skin. His voice drops, rough and thick. “You destroyed me, Violet.”
“I’m sorry.” My face is pressed into the mattress, and the words are muffled. “I destroyed myself, too.”
“Sorry isn’t enough.” He lines himself up. The broad head of his length presses against me, and my body opens. He thrusts into me in one long, devastating stroke that fills me so completely I forget how to breathe. “This is what’s enough.”
He pulls back and drives in again. I cry out into the mattress, and his hands grip my hips hard enough to leave bruises I’ll wear for days.
“This pussy is mine, Violet.” His pace is deep and rough, his cock grazing my G-spot on every thrust. “No man will ever touch what’s mine. Do you understand me?”
“Yes.”
He bends over my back. His chest presses against my spine, and the leather of his cut is rough against my skin. His hips don’t stop. Every thrust pushes me deeper into the mattress, and I brace my forearms to keep from sliding forward.
“Say it,” he commands. “You’re mine.”
“I’m yours.”
“Louder.”
“I’m yours, Duke.”
“You’ve been mine since the day we met.” His teeth close on the back of my neck, and the bite sends a shockwave straight down my spine. “And you’re going to be mine until I’m in the fucking ground.”
His hand slides under me, between my thighs, and his fingers find my clit. He rubs in tight, fast circles, and the combination of his cock driving into me from behind and his fingers working me from the front feels so good. My arms give out. My face presses into the pillow.
He’s relentless.
His hips snap against my ass, the sound of skin on skin filling the room.
“Nobody else gets this.” He’s breathing hard against my neck, and his thrusts are getting rougher, deeper. “Nobody else gets to fuck your greedy little pussy. You came back to me, and you’re staying.”
His teeth close on my shoulder, and his fingers press harder against my clit, and the second orgasm builds faster than the first. It gathers low and urgent, a hot pressure that swells and swells until it breaks like a dam.
The release rips through me in long, rolling contractions that pull a sob from my throat.
My entire body clenches around him, trembling and pulsing. Each wave is stronger than the last.
I bury my face in the pillow, my moans muffled and unraveled. My body won’t stop clenching around him, and every thrust he gives me draws out another aftershock until I’m shattered.
I never want this to end.
“Fuck.” His hips stutter. His grip on my hip tightens. He buries himself as deep as he can go and holds there. I can feel every pulse of him inside me as he orgasms. His forehead drops to my back between my shoulder blades.
His breathing is ragged. His body is rigid, and for a long moment neither of us moves.
He pulls out. I collapse onto the mattress. He falls beside me, flat on his back, one arm thrown across his face.
The room is quiet except for our breathing.
His arm drops from his face, and he turns his head to look at me. I’m lying on my stomach, my body ravaged in every possible way. His hand reaches over and rests on the small of my back. His thumb traces a slow circle on my spine.
“Let’s never leave this bed,” he says.
“Good plan,” I tell him. “I don’t think my legs work.”
His mouth twitches. The tiniest crack in the intensity. His hand slides up my back and into my hair, and he turns on his side and pulls me into him, chest against chest, his arm hooked around my waist.
The leather of his cut is warm against my bare skin. He never took it off.
He fucked me wearing his colors, and there’s something about being claimed by a man like that.
He rolls off the bed. Opens the bottom drawer of the dresser. Pulls out a folded piece of leather.
He drops it on the pillow next to my face. I unfold it with shaking hands.
It’s a cut that reads: PROPERTY OF DUKE.
“Put it on,” he commands.
I sit up and pull the leather over my bare shoulders. Nothing else on my body.
His eyes drag down over me. “I know it’s late. But it’s on you now, and it’s not coming off.”
Mine. He’s mine. And now every person in this clubhouse will know I’m his.
Duke kisses me, then says, “Let’s go get our son.”
Our son. I like the sound of that.