9. Rue
RUE
I grab the bedding as Gunnar’s hot mouth feasts on me. “Yes. That’s so good,” I moan.
His big hands are rough on my thighs, but his hot tongue is gentle on my clit. He knows just how to touch me. The perfect balance of rough and careful.
Growling sounds rumble through the bed. He never takes his eyes off of me, looking at me from behind that skull mask.
The man has me so fired up, I’m practically coming out of my skin. “I’m close,” I gasp.
One of his broad fingers dips inside of me, dragging slowly over a sensitive spot. “I’m not letting you come until my cock is buried in this heaven.”
“Now,” I whimper. “Please.”
He takes me to the edge with his fingers, then slows down. “I’ll tell you when. Your come is mine,” he tells me in a smoky voice, never stopping with his hand.
Oh god. He does it again, taking me higher and easing off. I can’t stop myself from screaming in frustration. The devil laughs. His blue eyes dance behind that mask.
“Gunnar,” I moan.
His fingers ease out of me, and he gives me one long, slow lick before he climbs my body.
I’m shaking. My pussy is clenching, desperate for him to invade me. “Please don’t make me wait.”
“Oh, I’m not.” He licks my left nipple and I almost shatter. He moves to my mouth, kisses me roughly, the taste of chocolate icing and my pussy flavor mixing together in a dizzying cocktail.
Then he licks my other nipple, lapping up the icing until I’m squirming, moving my legs, trying to ease the tension. His large right hand flattens on my pelvis, covering my pussy, holding me still. “Not until I’m ready.”
“You’re too freaking bossy.”
He leans down to my ear as he makes a rough, masculine sound. “You fucking love it.”
“I don’t.”
He chuckles darkly, shoving my legs wide with his thighs. He lowers himself until the heat of his body is drowning me in sensation.
I whimper at the tease, shifting below him until he catches both my wrists in his hand again. He growls, low and long. “I want to fuck you bare, Rue.”
For a single beat, I’m not sure what he’s saying. Condom. He wants to go without one. The thought of his bare cock inside me makes my blood heat more. I say in a trembling voice, “I’m good with that. I’m on birth control.”
“Not for long,” he says, tone dropping lower. “I want to breed you.”
I’ve never heard dirtier, more possessive words in my life.
A sharp sensation slams into me, my body twisting as my pussy contracts violently. “Oh my god, I’m coming!”
Cold sensations run over my skin. I’m screaming. Inside, I’m a river of heat and pulsing sensations.
He makes a gruff sound, grinding his cock against my opening but not pushing inside. “The thought of me filling this little belly with my son gets you off that hard, Rue?”
“Yes. Yes,” I wheeze, unable to take a proper breath through the fire that’s scorching my body from the inside out.
Gunnar doesn’t say anything after that. He shoves the thick head of his cock into my pussy, folds my legs over his elbows and pounds me right into my second orgasm.
He’s huge above me, growling from behind that mask. It’s so hot. Such a dirty fantasy, I nearly die from pleasure.
“Need to fuck you from behind, my little treat.”
He flips me over and grinds into me hard, gripping the headboard in one hand and holding me down with the other.
Somewhere in the midst of the pleasure, I seem to slip out of my body and drift into a warm, golden place of bliss.
“That’s it. So fucking beautiful. Surrender to it,” Gunnar murmurs next to my ear as his strokes slow. They’re deep, long, and so good, I’m weeping.
His chest is warm against my back, his pelvis crashing against my butt.
“Let it happen,” he commands me.
I close my eyes as he fists my hair and kisses me, growling down my throat. That’s when I let go and totally fall apart, tears rushing from my eyes.
Somewhere deep in the recesses of my mind, I realize he’s coming—his cock is jumping as he pours his seed inside of me.
I don’t remember him tucking me in, but Gunnar cleaned me with a warm washcloth and crawled in bed behind me.
His stubble catches in my hair, reminding me the mask is gone. I reach for his cheek, sliding my fingers over the warm skin. “Goodnight, my masked biker.”
He rumbles against my temple, squeezing me closer. “Sleep, sweetheart. I’m here to protect you.”
The darkness comes like a velvet blanket and I go. Completely surrendering to it.
I’m startled awake, my eyes flying open in the dark apartment.
“Someone’s at the door,” Gunnar rasps and levers himself out of the bed.
“This better be fucking important. It’s two in the goddamned morning!” he bellows as he scoops up his jeans.
“It’s Logan. I’ve got to talk to you,” yells a male voice on the other side.
I sit up in the bed, pulling the thick comforter—that’s still warm from our bodies—up to cover myself.
Gunnar opens the door. The biker who was with my sister is on the other side, but I can barely see him from the angle the bed is sitting. Their voices are low, but Gunnar’s posture is tense. He scrubs a hand through his thick dark hair.
The door clicks closed a moment later. The lock engages, a loud click in the silent apartment. Wearing a dark expression, he moves into the room and cuts on a low light.
“It was Logan. Your sister needs to talk to you.”
My heart plummets into my stomach. “Why?”
“Something’s happened. She’s okay, but we are meeting them outside in ten minutes.”
“Gunnar.” I scramble to the edge of the bed. “What’s wrong?”
He hesitates, then says, “There’s been a fire.”
With my feet touching the cool tile floor next to his bed, I turn to a solid block of ice. “A fire here?”
“No. At the house you rent.”
A thousand things go through my mind. But I manage to remember that if Claire wants to talk to me, she wasn’t at the house. She’s okay if Gunnar told me she is. I trust him completely.
Shoving my hair back, I ask, “Do you have something I can wear?”
He moves to the closet, pulls out a leather jacket and a pair of track pants in gray cotton. “These will be far too big, but until tomorrow, they’ll have to do.”
I slip into the jacket and pull on the pants. Then I remember I’m still in zombie makeup. “I should wash my face.”