Chapter 22 #2
Her full lips turn up in a pretty smile.
She’s beautiful, wild. It was my hands that mussed her hair and my lips that made hers cherry red and swollen.
My stubble that scraped across her chin, reddening it.
It was my hands that gave her those peaked little nipples, straining for more just inches from my face.
She looks thoroughly sexed up, and fuck, I feel it straight to my balls.
“Good? Just good?” she teases me, leaning back and shifting just a little, so that she traps my cock between her legs. It pulses angrily against her drenched cunt.
“Yeah. Good.” I grunt. “I’m not a poet. Didn’t even graduate from high school, sweetheart.”
If she’s surprised, she doesn’t show it. She grinds her hips so that my cock slides right to her entrance. I use all my strength and willpower to keep from thrusting up inside of her.
“I’m just a janitor,” I spit, cruelly, even though I fucking love what I do. I like fixing shit.
Turning useless things into something that’s beautiful and workable again.
I know that no member of our club has a job that another brother views as less.
Guys respect each other and we really are brothers.
Anything less and Steel either has your hide or you’re done.
Steel himself grew up much the same way I did, the same way a lot of us did.
He knows what it’s like to come from nothing. To feel like nothing. To be nothing.
“You’re a Steel Rider,” Ami says gently, shaking her head, eyes wide and unblinking. “That’s what you are.”
I let my cock slide into her entrance just a fraction, enough to stretch her wide.
She lets out a moan that goes straight to my balls.
“You know I- I didn’t want to marry you in the first place.
I didn’t want to marry anyone. It wasn’t just because I was young or because I was wild, like everyone thought.
I never thought I’d find anyone who understood.
Anyone who would want me like this. After what happened. ”
She sinks her teeth into her lip again, and I can’t stand the uncertainty on her face. I grip her hips and fuck up into her, hard. She gasps and leans forward to grip my shoulders, her fingers digging in right to the muscle.
Her face slams down to mine, so that our noses touch, then our foreheads.
She doesn’t kiss me, though her lips hover so close she paints my mouth with her hot breaths.
I stay inside of her, throbbing, unmoving, pulsing.
I know she feels it, because her body responds naturally, her muscles gripping me hard.
“You’re beautiful,” I rasp harshly against her lips. “So fucking beautiful. We were made for each other. Now that all the hard years are done. The shit and the pain and every-fucking-thing else. You’re mine now.”
“Y-yes,” she breathes, half an oath, half a sob, but I’ll take it.
I wanted a show. Wanted her to lean up for me and dance, grinding and writhing her hips, but instead, she clings to me, her lips to mine, tears leaking down her cheeks and baptizing me—the only holy waters a guy like me is ever going to experience, and I’m lost.
I’m lost in her.
In her beauty and her passion and the fires that never quite went out.
In her spirit, in her heart and soul. In her flawed perfection.
In how I really do feel like we were made for each other.
Steel might have picked me for her, not knowing either of our full stories, but he made the right decision.
This isn’t about Steel now. It’s not about The Riders.
It’s not about the war we got hitched to prevent.
It’s not about any of that shit. It’s just us. Here. Now.
We both come apart, me winding my arms around her back and fucking up into her like it’s the last act I’ll ever do on this earth.
Her mouth crashes over mine, begging me to claim her, to swallow up each and every single moan and whimper, and breathe my pain and passion, my joy and sorrow and life back into her in return.
I slam into her with wild abandon, and she takes every hard thrust. She eats at my mouth, our tongues twisting and warring, bucking and grinding with me.
It’s not enough. It’s never going to be enough.
Even when I flip her over and drive into her from above, her legs wrapped round my waist, her nails scoring my back.
I drive into her, unleashing myself completely. She bucks below me, canting her hips, taking all of me like she was fucking made for me, assembled out of pieces of my own flesh and blood.
Her screams echo through the room, but this time, this time, before she comes, I take her chin between my fingers so roughly that I’ll probably leave marks on her porcelain skin.
“Say my name,” I command, because I need to hear it. “Look at me when you come.”
Her eyes are heady, her lids riding low, her pupils blown, her lashes starred in dark clumps. She manages to keep them open as I thrust into her hard. I drag my cock out, just the way I know now that she likes, so that I hit every single nerve ending, before I plow back in.
“I…” she pants, her whole body trembling around me. “Gage… yes. Please. Fuck… harder. God… Gage…”
I love hearing it. My name dripping from her lips.
She shatters a second later, slamming her eyes shut and detonating all around me.
Her cunt grips my cock and my balls seize up and I know I’m going to come too.
I can’t hold out, her juices running between us, hot down her thighs, soaking us both, our sweat painting our bodies until we glisten, the messy sounds of our pleasure the only noise that exists in the entire world at the moment.
I pull out, even though every single muscle in my body locks up, and every urge I have screams at me to plant my cock deep inside of her and come until I can’t fucking come any more.
I grip my cock in my fist and jack myself a few times until I paint her stomach instead. I come hard, in long, ropy strands that coat her perfect breasts, her flat stomach, her hips, her thighs. I come hard, unashamed, harder than I ever have in my life.
Looking at her after, wet and glistening, her eyes fluttering open, her staring up at me, completely unashamed and not at all disgusted by what we’ve just done, by me, drives home just how lost I was and how badly I needed to find this.
How she’s my perfect fit in every single way.
Ami stares up at me sleepily, but I’m not ready for this to be over. Not yet.
“We have clean up to do,” I mutter thickly, my cock still hard—which is a goddamn miracle after I just emptied my balls like a firehose all over her.
She doesn’t protest when I sweep her up and tuck her into the shower with me. She lets me clean her, then bends over, gripping her ankles, so that I have to clean her all over again.
By the time we’re finished, scrubbed clean, and fall exhausted into bed, I can’t fight the tide of exhaustion sucking me under. I can’t remember when I last had a restful fucking sleep. Ever. I know this one, this one coming for me like oblivion, it’s going to be different.
“Slow,” Ami whispers as she plants a gentle kiss on my cheek. “This is… we have to move slow. For both of us…” she threads her fingers through the wet strands of my hair, combing out snarls and oddly soothing me, like I’m the one who needs comfort.
It’s the last thing I feel before I’m out, sucked under the black tide of sleep that I so desperately need.
When I wake up, hours later, into the darkness of the room, I’m not entirely surprised to find her gone.
I am surprised to see her, wearing different clothes, sitting with her legs crossed on the couch in the living room, a strange look on her face and a stack of papers across her lap.