Chapter 9 Hammer
Hammer
Her taste is going to set the bar pretty fucking high, not that it matters. There isn’t any competition. She’s all salt and sweetness and pure, undiluted her.
I kiss and lick a path down her throat, over the frantic beat of her pulse, down to the delicate hollow of her collarbone. Every whimper that escapes her lips, every time her small hands clutch at my shirt, is a brand on my soul. I’m on fire for this woman.
I need to feel her skin against mine. Now.
Breaking away just long enough to yank my shirt over my head, I toss it into the shadows of the room. The movement is frantic, and I see it—the flicker of worry in her eyes as her gaze lands on the bandage on my shoulder. The one she gave me. A frown tugs at my mouth, but it’s not for her.
“Don’t,” I growl, the word coming out rougher than I intended. I capture her chin, forcing those wide, guilty eyes to meet mine. “Don’t you ever feel bad about that.”
Her mouth pinches tight, and I know she wants to argue.
The memory of that night, of her wild, feral anger, surges through me. “That’s what caught my attention from the beginning. A woman with a fire in her, willing to fight.” My thumb strokes her jaw. “Haven’t met one like you before. Not ever.”
I need to erase the doubt, replace it with pleasure. My hands move to the small hills of her breasts, cupping their perfect weight. She arches into my touch, a silent plea that nearly undoes me.
Her nipples are a rosy pink, pebbled tight against my palms. I lower my head, my tongue following the constellation of faint freckles that dust her chest, a map of stars I want to navigate forever.
“You got these everywhere?” I murmur against her skin, the question a husky rumble.
But I don’t let her answer. The thought of her telling me, of robbing me of the discovery, is all wrong.
I lift my head, my eyes locking with hers.
“No. Don’t tell me. I’d rather find them myself.
” Sighing with her next laugh, my lips brush her skin.
“I’ll have you clutching these blankets every damn day, if you’ll let me. ”
My fingers find the button of her jeans, popping it open with impatience. The zipper’s rasp is loud in the quiet room. I push the denim down her hips, and the groan that tears from me is purely animal. “Christ, Destiny. This could be my breakfast every day.”
A breathy laugh escapes her, so unexpected and bright it hits me square in the chest. My cock gives a violent, painful twitch against the confines of my jeans. Fuck. I can’t decide what wrecks me more—the sound of her pleasure or the sound of her joy. They’re both mine. I want to hoard them both.
I pull her jeans the rest of the way off, taking her plain cotton panties with them. And then I just… stop.
I’ve seen my share despite my disinterest. I’m not a saint. But this… this is the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen in my life. Neat and swollen and glistening for me. My mouth actually waters.
Moving down her body, I try to get a closer look without going straight in for a taste.
“This is a first for both of us,” I hear myself say, the words gritty with awe. “Never wanted to taste one so bad in my life.”
I don’t get another word out. Her hands fist in my hair, not gentle, not asking. Pulling. She guides my mouth right where I was desperate to go, and a savage sound of approval rips from my throat as I obey.
Once she realizes how much I enjoy her being demanding, I’m going to be a doomed man.
I lavish her. I feast. I learn the geography of her with my tongue, tracing every fold, finding the tight, desperate little bud at the center of her universe and making it my sole purpose to worship it.
Her hips buck off the bed, her moans turning into a broken, sobbing chant of my name. The taste of her, the scent of her arousal, it’s an addiction I’m forming in real time.
The pressure within my own body is becoming a critical and painful issue. I need friction, some kind of relief.
I lift my hips slightly to undo my belt, and the buckle nicks my knuckle. I fumble with my fly, shoving denim and cotton down just enough to free my aching cock. I wrap a hand around myself, hissing at the contact.
The relief is immediate, but it’s a temporary fix. A dangerous one. Stroking myself while I taste her, while I feel her come apart under my mouth, is a special kind of torture.
I need to be inside her. But not yet. She’s not ready.
I slide one finger inside her, and my eyes practically roll back in my head.
Having experienced her tightness once before, it’s a whole new experience knowing my cock will replace my fingers soon enough.
My grip on my own length tightens, a desperate measure to keep myself from burying myself deep too early.
This has to be an experience for both of us.
“Your finger is big enough as it is,” she moans, her voice dazed, so innocently given that it makes me throb.
She lifts her hips, rocking against the intrusion, taking me deeper, and I see stars.
“That’s it, sweetness. Just like that,” I groan against her thigh, the pet name permanent.
When I add a second finger, she whimpers, a sound of stretch and pleasure all mixed together.
“It’ll be easy. You’re so wet as it is, sucking them in.
Look,” I command, my voice ragged, needing her to see it, to understand what she does to me.
Her hazy eyes flutter open, looking down to where my glistening fingers are buried inside her.
The sight of my thick, calloused fingers slick with her essence is the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen. I push a third finger in, an impressive stretch that leaves us both moaning in unison. The feel of her accommodating me, the tight, silken clutch of her body, is a promise of heaven.
I tighten my grip on my cock until it’s almost painful. I can’t come. Not yet. The mantra beats in time with my pounding heart. This isn’t about a quick release. This is about making her mine.
Pulling away entirely, I don’t regret making her whine in displeasure. Rather, I think it’s a turn on in itself.
The sight of my glistening fingers, slick and shining with her essence, steals the air from my lungs. It’s a beautiful sight. My control, already hanging by a thread, frays completely. I can’t just look. I need to feel it.
I reach down, my gaze locked with her hazy one, and I spread her arousal across my cock. The contact brings a low, guttural moan tearing from my throat. Soon, I’ll be buried in it. Just need to be a little more patient.
To suddenly want something this bad with such intensity is almost laughable. This woman.
I guide myself to her, my tip nudging against her soaked slit.
A shudder wracks my entire frame. I rock against her, once, twice, coating myself in her, the friction a sweet, torturous preview.
Every nerve ending is on fire, screaming for me to just push, to bury myself to the hilt and lose myself in her.
But this is different. This isn’t just fucking. This is Destiny.
I guide my tip to her entrance, the head pressing against that incredible tightness. Her breath hitches, her nails digging into the blankets beneath us. Her eyes are wide, a little scared, completely trusting. And that trust undoes me more than any touch ever could.
I still, holding myself there, at the precipice. “No matter what you decide about this place,” I grind out, my hips trembling with the effort to stay still, “my heart is already yours. It’s yours, Destiny.”
The words are a key, unlocking the last of her resistance. I see it in the softening of her eyes, in the way her body relaxes beneath mine, opening for me.
I push.
Sinking into her feels like a slow, inexorable invasion. She is a furnace, tight and perfect, and the sensation of pushing past her barrier, of being sheathed inside her, is a blinding, white-hot pleasure.
I stop when she groans, fully buried, my forehead dropping to hers. Our breaths mingle, ragged and shared. I give her a moment, let her adjust to the feel of me stretching her, filling her.
“Okay?” I rasp.
She answers with a moan, a soft, breathy sound that goes straight to my soul. Her hips shift, a tiny, experimental rock, and it’s all the permission I need when her pussy quivers in return.
I start to move, a slow, deep rhythm. Each withdrawal is agony, each thrust back in is a homecoming.
Her moans become a steady rhythm, a music that drives me, her body arching to meet mine.
The fear is gone, replaced by a dazed, desperate pleasure.
Her nails find my back, scoring my skin, marking me as hers.
The sharp sting is a counterpoint to the overwhelming softness inside her, and I’ve never felt closer to my limit.
Capturing her next moan with my mouth, kissing her deeply, I give her everything. My control, my fear, my past—it all bleeds out, leaving only this, only her. This is more than sex. It’s a surrender. I am giving myself to her, entirely, holding nothing back.
The pace builds, our bodies finding a frantic, perfect sync. The room fills with the sounds of our union—skin against skin, our ragged breaths, her sweet cries. I feel her beginning to tighten around me, her inner muscles fluttering, gripping me like a fist.
“I’m… Hammer…” she gasps, her eyes squeezing shut.
“That’s it, sweetness. Come for me,” I growl, driving into her harder, deeper, chasing my own peak that’s roaring up my spine. She’s gripping me so good, so perfect, milking me, pulling the climax from my very core.
With a sharp cry, she comes undone, her body convulsing around mine.
The sensation leaves me falling. A groan is ripped from my chest. I bury myself to the hilt one last time, as deep as I can possibly go, and pump my release into her.
My world narrows to her hot, clenching depths and the trusting weight of her in my arms.
I collapse over her, spent, my body shuddering with the aftershocks. I don’t pull out, not yet. I can’t. I just hold her, my face buried in her hair, our hearts hammering a frantic, synchronized rhythm against each other.
Once we’ve calmed, I have to convince myself to pull out. Can’t stay inside forever. Before I can move off of her, she’s wrapping her arms around my neck.
“Tell me that you have a better shower than the ones at the clubhouse. Something better than a stall.” Groaning against my throat, she clings like she needs the heat.
“You can walk right in. Has plenty of space.” Closing my eyes, I realize just how much room it has. Enough for both of us. My cock stirs instantly. “You’ll have to borrow something of mine if you want to shower.”
Releasing me from her death grip, a smile on her lips is what welcomes me as I pull back. “Better for you to start getting used to it now. I’m greedy, Hammer. I’ll steal it all if you let me.”
Fueled by that smile, by the promise in her words, I slide away her, earning a soft sigh. In one fluid motion, I scoop her up into my arms, her surprised laugh a melody to my ears.
She feels right here, her head tucked against my shoulder, her body trusting and pliant in my grasp.
I carry her to the bathroom, to the spacious shower she demanded. This is our sanctuary now. For three days, this apartment is our entire world.
We have three days.
The thought is a timer ticking on by in the back of my mind.
Three days to enjoy ourselves, to learn the map of each other’s bodies without the weight of the outside world.
After that, I get sucked back into the chaos.
Back to the clubhouse, where Judge is set to face down the man who wanted to package Destiny up and sell her for profit.
The darkness of that reality is a cold splash, but it only hardens my resolve. I plan on taking advantage of every second we have, memorizing the feel of her, the sound of her. Just in case something happens.
For this woman in my arms, I’ll fight, and I’ll survive. All my brothers have a reason to fight, a reason to win. And when we do win… things can go back to normal.
I can start something new, something with her.
Who knows, maybe in the celebration, I can find a ring that’ll go nicely with whatever clothes of mine she decides to steal.